Zenith Rising (35 page)

“Sounds like you raised them all.”

“Kind of. Mom put all the money in a trust
for me. She set up a yearly allowance for my father upon her death,
knowing he’d blow through her millions in a matter of a few years
without a second thought. She kept all the money for me since she
trusted me more than him. So when I turned twenty-one, it all
became mine. Now I control what my father gets, and what the twins
get. So yeah, I kind of see to their financial needs.”

Spencer shifted. “You’re for real? You have
control of all your family’s wealth?”

“Every cent.”

“Why do you work?”

“I’m not much of a traveler. I always wanted
a life, not a lifestyle.”

He whistled. “The heiress stuff is real then?
You don’t act like it. You act like a doctor. I know you have money
from that. I guess I never gave much credence to the Heathersby
stuff.”

“It’s real. I just don’t care. Heathersby
Shipping is run by professional managers, I never wanted anything
to do with it. I have some cousins who work there, but I never did.
I do, however, control the lion’s share of our family’s money.”

“He took your mother’s name… I can’t get over
that.”

She grinned, relieved to know Spencer found
that part the hardest to believe about her family.

“Yes, well, some people don’t have the kind
of integrity you do.”

He looked over at her sharply. “I don’t have
any integrity.”

“Yes, you do and in large amounts. Just like
you have kindness, loyalty, caring, and talent. So much damn
talent.”

He shifted his ass in her car seat. “You’re
delusional.”

She smiled. “Would you like to meet my
family? Dad and Cora are back from Venezuela, and the twins are
around, I think. Next weekend they’re having a get-together.”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s just dinner, not an opium den.”

He sat up straight.

“Will you come?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, looking annoyed. She
smiled and felt pleased. Second battle she won today.

****

Spencer followed Erica to the front door of
the Heathersby mansion, which housed the famous dynasty. Massively
huge, with as many floors as the average office building, it
appeared very ornate, featuring columns, porches, large, round
windows, and a tower on one end that offered breathtaking, distant
views of Puget Sound.

Spencer hated it on sight. It represented all
that he knew nothing about. The types of people he wanted nothing
to do with. He would have preferred entering prison to entering
Erica Heathersby’s family mansion.

Walking right in, no butlers or maids stood
on duty inside. They walked into a ridiculous room of overstuffed
furniture, and delicate tables, with knick-knacks and dust
collectors scattered throughout the entire gilded, gold and crimson
room. Who actually decorated like this?

“Pumpkin? Is that you?”

“Yes, Dad, it’s me,” Erica replied, rolling
her eyes at Spencer. Then, in walked a handsome man, with graying
hair, and perfectly smooth features. Had a little work done?
Spencer was sure of it. Erica’s father came toward her, dressed in
a tan leisure suit, and striped shirt. He wore expensive loafers on
his sockless feet. Hugging Erica, he leaned back, grinning. “You
get more enchanting every year, darling.”

Erica snorted. “Dad, you’re so full of
shit.”

He laughed. “And that’s what keeps the ladies
chasing me. Now, who is this?”

Spencer was expecting to meet an upper crust,
uptight, asshole, and not the jovial, grinning, almost
stupid-sounding man who Erica so casually called “Dad.”

“This is my boyfriend, Spencer Mattox.
Spencer, this is my dad, Cameron Heathersby,” she said, winking at
Spencer as she enunciated his last name.

Spencer cringed. Twice now, she referred to
him as her boyfriend. Was he? Was that what it was? When a guy
dated only one woman? And thought obsessively about that one woman?
Was it a relationship because he couldn’t even notice other women
anymore? Let alone consider screwing them? Was that the reason? Was
he really okay with being Erica’s boyfriend?

“Mr. Heathersby,” Spencer said stiffly,
shaking the man’s hand.

Cameron lunged forward, slapping Spencer on
the back. “Shit, man, if you’re dating my beautiful daughter,
forget the mister crap. Just call me Cameron.”

Spencer didn’t like to be touched. Or even
shake hands, and now Cameron’s arm was draped around his shoulders.
Spencer had never met the parents of a woman he was dating before;
and didn’t like any of it so far.

“So come in, come in. Cora Lynn! Our girl’s
here.” Cameron nearly bellowed in Spencer’s ear. Spencer jerked
away and caught Erica’s expression as she stood off to the side,
laughing at him. He finally cracked a smile. At her. And the
situation. How serious she must have thought he was being. And what
must she think of being called “Cora Lynn’s girl?”

“Get ready,” Erica said under her breath, and
in the next moment, Spencer knew why. Cora Lynn was a robust woman
with bright red hair, too much makeup, faux leopard-skin pants, and
a tight, plunging necklined shirt to match. She wore big heels, and
bigger hair and a smile as wide as if she were greeting the Queen
of England just then. Nothing like the cold, heartless socialite
Spencer pictured as having stolen Erica’s dad from her dying
mother.

“Ohhh! Our little darling is back! Gosh! Look
at you! Every bit as beautiful as your mama! More so. Oh, come
here, girl.” Cora Lynn clapped her hands together like a happy
five-year-old seeing her birthday cake. Then she rushed forward,
taking Erica into her arms, and pressing her against her massive
chest. Spencer was the one smiling at her now. No wonder Erica
couldn’t hate her. It would be like hating a clumsy puppy. She
seemed too oblivious to suspect that Erica might resent the
mentioning of her mother. “And now our house is again complete. The
twins are here, and now you. Oh, darling! It doesn’t get much
better than this. Guess what we made for dinner?”

“I can’t guess, Cora Lynn.”

“We’re having... Wait! Who’s this?” Cora Lynn
said as she suddenly spotted Spencer and her eyes widened with
delight.

“This is Spencer, our girl’s boyfriend,” her
father said and Cora Lynn smiled.

“Boyfriend? Erica, you naughty girl, you
didn’t mention any boyfriend. Especially, one so handsome. Well
come in, let me get a good look at you.”

Spencer looked to Erica for help. He fully
expected to meet a snobby, suit-wearing CEO type, and his cold,
proper, tea-sipping wife. By contrast, he found himself being
gawked at, clucked over, and hugged more than once. He was helpless
and couldn’t escape it. They didn’t care who or what he was. They
were so happy to have him there with “their girl,” they didn’t even
notice he was unlike any of Erica’s usual dates.

Cora called for the twins, and in came
Erica’s siblings. Cam was as handsome a man as Erica was a woman.
He had the same white-blond hair, and captivating, engaging smile.
He was tall and slender.

Then Spencer met Cam’s sister, Morgan.
Spencer instantly knew the type of girl she was: trouble. As Erica
told him, Morgan was nothing like her. She was smaller and chubbier
with honey-blond hair that she teased around her face, leaving the
longest strands to cascade down her back. She had big, blue eyes,
and wore only black and white, better suited for her mother,
compared to Erica’s classy, fashion-conscious clothing. She was
big-boobed, like Erica, and flaunted them to the world by wearing
no bra. Her big, half dollar-sized nipples were nearly completely
visible through the sheerness of her black top. Spencer kept his
eyes fastened on her face, feeling pretty sure Morgan Heathersby
was big trouble with a capital T.

Dinner was casual, loud, and full of boasts
at a table fit for any king and queen. The family didn’t fit the
mold for the wealth they enjoyed. They didn’t care when sauce fell
on their expensive-looking rug, or the rings left by their wine
glasses on their amply sized wooden dining table which could easily
have accommodated twenty-four people. Spencer was so surprised by
the easy, graceful way they interacted with each other and with
him, that he couldn’t quite believe they were for real. Dinner was
fabulous, and served on mismatched china, while everyone pushed and
passed the food around at will and on request. There was no
formality displayed whatsoever, either in the serving of the food
or when the diners started eating. In fact, their manners were
rather atrocious.

“So, pumpkin, how’s the doctoring going?”
Erica’s father asked as if he were inquiring about her last
manicure. Didn’t they realize how important Erica was? Or that her
very hands actually affected people’s lives? Changed and even saved
women’s lives?

“Fine, Dad. Just fine.”

“Anything new?”

“Oh no, you know, just the usual. Babies and
routine exams,” Erica said, glancing at Spencer. What about the
libelous pamphlet attacking her? Or when she was got attacked, and
had to spend the night in the hospital? What about all that? What
about all the lives she saved? The baby she delivered from a dead
mother and placed in the hands of her grieving father? What about
everything she did in a day that was so fucking miraculous? What
about all that? And why didn’t her family seem to know anything
about it at all?

“Gosh, why don’t you take a vacation more
often? Get out some? God, you act as if you’re chained to your
desk. Or you know, like sixty years old. Why not live a
little?”

“Because my patients depend on me,
Morgan.”

Morgan waved her hand. “So send them to other
doctors. Whatever. I can’t see why you spend your days looking up
strange women’s butts.”

Spencer put his fork down with a loud
“clink!” and looked around. No one else noticed, paused, or gasped
in astonishment after hearing Morgan’s comment at the dinner table
to Erica. Erica looked across at him when she noticed his look. She
smiled hesitantly, as if to say,
it’s okay.

“Yeah, why would she want to spend her days
saving women’s lives, delivering their babies, when she could be
sitting around, tanning herself, like you do? Yes, I’m sure your
life is a whole lot more interesting than Erica’s, Morgan.”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. So did everyone
else’s as they all stared at Spencer.

Spencer glanced around. “Do any of you have a
clue about what she does all day? How many women she helps? How
many lives she saves? The long hours she works? Or how hard she
works while you guys all laze around in
her
mansion?”

Erica’s look was astonished. So were her
family members.’ Spencer started to stand, feeling pretty sure her
father would ask him to leave. Instead, he stopped when he heard
someone clapping. Puzzled, no, stunned, Spencer looked at the head
of the table where her father rose, clapping his hands together.
Was he mocking him? Spencer had no idea.

“That, young man, was a very impassioned
speech. And a wonderful testament to our girl here. Thank you for
reminding us of what Erica has chosen to with her life. Yes, we all
need to take stock of that more often. We all should learn from her
sterling example.”

Spencer glanced at Erica. Was her father for
real? Or making fun of him? But then, no, he couldn’t be for real.
No one could be that bat-shit crazy.

Cora Lynn lifted her wine glass. “Here, here,
I propose a toast to Erica.”

Erica shrugged her shoulders, while her lips
struggled to suppress a smile. Spencer too felt spasms of laughter
in his gut. Erica’s father and Cora were truly crazy. Certifiably,
freaking crazy. No wonder Erica dealt with Tamira so well.

The twins also lifted their glasses, so what
else could Spencer do, but lift his? Erica rolled her eyes.
Apparently, her family was proud of her when they weren’t just
totally clueless, shiftless, lazy, selfish, ne’er-do-wells.

“So Spencer, are you a doctor too then? Do
you work with Erica?”

Spencer froze. Morgan was looking up at him
with wide blue eyes. “No. Not even close. I just work at the
building where Erica’s practice is located.”

Erica smiled and nodded. “He’s also a
musician. His band should be getting back together any time now.
But until then, he’s paying the bills by working for the
practice.”

“What kind of musician?” Cam asked, visibly
interested. “I jam some on the piano.”

Erica rolled her eyes, shaking her head
toward Spencer.

“I can play the piano, guitar, drums, just
about anything I want, I guess. But mostly, I play the piano.”

Erica didn’t know that and sharpened her gaze
on him.

Testily, he added, “And Erica’s wrong… I
don’t have a band that’s getting back together.”

“Yes, he does. He’s just shy about it. The
band is
Zenith
, and Spencer writes all the music for them.
Someday soon, they’ll be on the rise again, and will be fucking
brilliant.”

Her eyes were on him as if they were alone
and not right in front of her family. He was shocked she said the F
word at her family’s dinner table as cavalierly as she said hello.
No one seemed to care though. This wasn’t the formal, pedigreed
gala he pictured in his mind. Erica’s intense gaze was making him
squirm. The conviction in her voice that he was brilliant at
anything, made him want to pull the buttons of his shirt from his
throat so that he could breathe.

“I doubt that,” he mumbled and turned away
from her stare, trying to ignore her belief in him. And her
incessant goodness.

Later, after dinner and dessert, while still
marveling at how loud and crazy the Heathersbys were, Spencer was
lounging in their oversized living room, his third vodka and tonic
in hand. Morgan came over and sat next to him on a weird love seat.
It was claw-footed, and upholstered in red velvet and almost looked
like it belonged on the set of a porn movie.