I’d never known Sebastian to do anything unlawful, but he was fond of cutting corners with accounting and taxes. I’d overheard enough when in their home to understand he skirted the rules.
Don’t insultme.Let me know by nine in the morning or I’ll give the job to someone else.
I doubted that was true, because I would not have been Sebastian’s first choice for anything, especially a position that supposedly would upend my life and end dad’s and my financial worries. He needed me, but for what? How could I be of use to my stepfather when he had the house, the money, and the company?
All I had that was of value to Sebastian was my name: Davidson. A name I was considering getting rid of. Heston MaverickDavidson. I pictured a guillotine falling and slicing my last name into a basket, and me holding it up and parading it around.
That was more than a tad dramatic, but I was still angry at Father for being so cruel to Dad.
While I wished I was brave enough to march back to the clubhouse and demand the guy explain why he was looking at me, I had to get home. One last peek at his broad shoulders and dark hair tied in a ponytail, the elegance of his clothes, and the way he casually leaned on the railing, and I turned away.
Did rich people have a handbook where they studied poses?
This is the way a poor person stands. Don’t do that. Lean just so and put your other hand in your pocket.
I sniggered and imagined Sebastian studying just such a book and posing in front of the mirror, but never quite getting it right. Unlike the country club guy who was probably gifted that book, if it existed, the day he was born.
Two bus rides and a walk and I was finally home. Dad wasn’t in the living room. Not a surprise as the TV was on.
“I’m home.” I poked my head in the door, expecting to see him engrossed in a telenovela. But he was in bed, unblinking eyes staring at a place on the wall, his uneven breathing more of a whistle.
“Dad!” I raced to the bed and shook him.
“Stop, I’m fine,” he groused. I took his hand and pressed his clammy skin on mine.
Damn, I would have been home much earlier if I’d had the car. I felt bad leaving Dad alone for so long.
“Do you feel like eating?” I mentally rummaged through what was in the fridge. “Does an omelet sound good?”
“Only if you share it with me.”
I sat by Dad’s bed as we ate our very late lunch, and when he fell asleep, I crept out and took the spare tire to the closest gas station. When I returned, I changed that tire for the flat and went back to the tire place, not wanting to be caught out again. With Dad being so ill, I couldn’t risk having the car out of service.
When I was done, I took a shower and started dinner. But Dad’s rattling breathing punctuated the air. I couldn’t delay my decision and texted Sebastian.
Fine, I’ll take the job. I also emailed him the ballpark figure of what we needed for the operation, though the final amount depended on how long Dad stayed in the hospital.
The phone rang, rousing my dad from his long nap. Damn, Sebastian was calling me.
“Who is it, Heston? Is that the hospital?”
The only calls I got were from the hospital or my work when someone didn’t turn up for a shift.
“It’s a friend, Dad.”
I strolled into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Yes.”
“Here’s the deal.”
Was it off that neither of us said hello?
“Planet Partners is looking to merge with us.”
By us, he was referring to the company my father built that he now owned and ran. Dwell: A Davidson Real Estate Company. I wasn’t part of the equation.
“Okay.” Sebastian was the sole owner, and he didn’t need my signature, so I couldn’t fathom what part I was playing in this saga.
