That was it. He wasn’t digging another hole. No gift was worth this.
“So . . . I’m dying to know. What did you get?”
Caitlin’s voice was patchy at best, but if he stood with one foot on top of the cab of the tractor he was standing on and dipped his right shoulder a little, he could hear her. Glancing up, he noticed Gus studying him from a second-story window. “Uh, it’s complicated, but it involves land, building materials, and slave labor.”
“They’re giving you a shopping mall?”
Jason dipped his shoulder a little more. “Not exactly.”
“So it must be the land, right? They’re giving that to you?”
“Uh, land’s got a lot to do with it. Yeah.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Well, whatever it is, I gotta survive this geriatric cowboy until he gives it to me. Or when I get back. Or . . .” Jason sighed. “Or when I’m finished . . .”
Wait. That was it? . . . That was it! Jason laughed.
“Finish what?”
“You know what? Let me get back to you, okay?”
Jason climbed down from the tractor. Looking through the windows, he could see Gus fiddling with the antennas on his television set. “So that’s it.” Jason slapped his hands together. Then winced. He was going to have to get an ice pack.
High up on a distant hill, Gus leaned against the door of his truck. The kid had been at it for six hours, working straight through lunch. Gus watched him measure, check, recheck, dig deeper holes, even start over a couple of times. He’d put up fifty-seven fence posts, ten of them today. It was back-breaking work.
And miracle of miracles, he’d actually been showing up to breakfast. Early, even.
Gus spit his wad of tobacco out and looked up to the sky. “You know how to pick ’em. I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think he had it in him.” Chuckling, Gus climbed into his truck and poked a toothpick between his teeth. Driving down the hill, he turned onto the long gravel road that led to the other side of this acreage. One of his crews was busy working on another part of the fence, but Gus waved the three men into his truck. They hopped in and Gus headed toward Mr. Fence.
Jason was busy packing the circumference of a post and didn’t notice the truck until he stood up. Gus slowed down and the crew hopped out. Jason watched as one of them picked up a post.
“Let’s go,” Gus said to Jason.
“I’m not done,” the kid said, out of breath.
Gus smiled. “Work’s never done on a ranch.”
He watched Jason turn toward the fence line, a satisfactory smile emerging on his lips as he took in the view of all he’d accomplished.
“All right. Whatever.” He dropped the shovel and climbed into the truck.
Gus turned on Patsy Cline. He was sort of glad this kid wasn’t a big talker. There was nothing worse than hearing somebody yak everyone to death.
Jason napped on and off until they arrived at the airport.
Gus pulled up to the curb. “You know,” he said, turning to look at Jason, “you do any work like you did here, you can do anything.”
Jumping out of the truck, Jason grabbed his bag from the back and stood on the sidewalk, staring at Gus. “Now aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I don’t think so. Shoot.”
“The gift. I came here to pick up a gift, remember?”
Gus howled. This kid was something else. Likable enough, but a little slow.
Gus gave him a short wave and pulled into the airport traffic. He hated traffic.
chapter 5
that was the gift?” Jason could hardly contain himself, and it didn’t help that Hamilton and Miss Hastings looked completely amused as they sat across from him in the conference room. “I do manual labor for a month, and you’re trying to tell me it was a favor? To me?”
“The gift of work,” Hamilton said with a glance toward Miss Hastings, as if she might be able to explain it better.
“Wow.” Jason looked back and forth between the two of them. “Congratulations,” Hamilton added.
“Look, Hamilton, just tell me what my total inheritance is. I’m over this.” He gestured at the room like it was responsible. If he thought it would help, he’d drive his fist through the wall, but then he’d probably have to fix it himself.
But to Jason’s surprise, Hamilton stood up to leave. Jason’s heart skipped a beat, and he rushed to the other side of the table. “Where are you going?” He glanced at Miss Hastings. “Where is he going? Can you tell him to come back, please?”
Miss Hastings gave him an apologetic shrug as her eyes followed Hamilton out the door. Jason ran after him. “Mr. Hamilton! Mr. Hamilton . . . Hey!” Jason stepped in front of him in the most polite way one can cut someone off. “Mr. Hamilton, sir, please . . .” Jason took a breath. “I think it’s only fair that I know the amount of money that we’re dealing with here. Don’t you?” His voice rose with every word. Hamilton just looked bored. “I mean, I’ve been gone for a month. Just tell me what do I have to do? What is it?”
“Red said ‘a series of gifts.’”
Jason’s nostrils flared. The last thing he wanted to do was restrain himself, but something told him smarting off might be a little costly at this point. He looked at the ground, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn’t have gotten him slapped by his mother if she were standing nearby.
“Let me add a personal note,” Hamilton said. “I, too, think this is a waste of time, but it will end shortly because you are going to fail. I expect you to fail and to fail miserably.” Hamilton stepped around him and headed for his office, then stopped. He turned toward Jason. “Now, if you do want to continue, make an appointment with Miss Hastings.”
Jason’s mind reeled. He didn’t want to give up. He glanced at Miss Hastings, who had followed them and was sitting at her desk with perfect posture, attentive eyes, and an expression that made him want to take on the old man.
Jason cleared his throat. “Okay, look, Mr. Hamilton, I’ve been acting like a moron about this whole thing, and I’m sorry. And now I see exactly what you and Red have in store for me, and I think it’s exceedingly beneficial.” He actually had to stop and smile at himself. That was good. He looked Hamilton in the eyes. “So what’s the next gift?”
“You’ll know.”
Jason’s Charger R/T roared into the parking garage of his apartment building. It shattered any hope of silence, and it always made heads turn, especially when his tires squealed, like they did as he pulled into his reserved parking space at thirty miles per hour.
That was about all the joy he was getting out of life at the moment, and even that was a stretch. But at least he was home. His arm muscles were burning like someone had lit them on fire, but strangely, he was in a good mood. Whistling, even, as he threw his keys up in the air, caught them, and noticed two tow-truck drivers taking a break near the back of their truck.
“Howdy,” one of them said.
If he never heard that word again, it wouldn’t be too soon.
As he rode the elevator up to his apartment, he wondered how someone could live like Gus had for so many years. He was all for nature, but for him a houseplant and a good view would do. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what Gus did all day long. Build fences? Herd sheep? Milk the cows?
The thought of that kind of life made Jason want to go hug his big-screen TV. Soak in his Jacuzzi. Lie on his leather couch. Heck, he might even treat himself to a massage.
Heck. That was funny. The ghost of Gus, still haunting him. Just don’t say it out loud. He had a reputation, after all. In some circles, quite a good one too.
He went through a mental checklist of all the things he needed to do today. He wasn’t coming up with much, except returning to Hamilton’s office this afternoon. Jason wasn’t sure why the urgency, but Miss Hastings had said, “You’ll be eager to come. I promise.”
Yeah, right. Eager. Hardly. But he’d put on a good show.
The elevator doors opened and Jason pulled out his key. He flung open the door to his apartment.
And then, like a punch to the stomach, he lost his breath.
Scrambling back downstairs, he flung open the parking-garage door just in time to see his car being pulled behind the tow truck. “Wait!” He bolted for the iron gate, which was closing as the tow truck turned onto the street. “Wait! That’s an eight-thousand-dollar paint job!”
Hamilton watched Jason’s fingernails dig into the leather armrests of the boardroom chair in which he sat. The dark room held the sounds of Red’s laughter from the video screen. Judging from Jason’s reaction, Red was lucky he was dead. At the moment, Jason looked like he could kill someone.
Red wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.
Jason had come home to a completely empty apartment, stripped bare of everything that wasn’t nailed down. Hamilton wished he could’ve been there to see his face. But right now his face was doing plenty of emoting.
Finally Red spoke. “Ah, well, you don’t begin to live until you’ve lost everything. Heck, I’ve lost everything three or four times. It’s the perfect place to start.” He smiled at the camera.
“For most of your adult life, you have been the life of the party and an easy touch for a lot of weak hangers-on. Now let’s see who your real friends are.”
Hamilton froze the picture. Jason just stared forward, hardly blinking, almost like he was in shock. Miss Hastings turned on the lights again.
Finally, Jason spoke. “I was at your funeral, and there wasn’t a single person there who wasn’t on your payroll or didn’t have something to gain from your death.”
With that, Jason looked calmly at Hamilton. “What exactly is he asking me to do?”
“He wants you to come back at the end of the month with one true friend,” Hamilton said.
Jason rose and walked out.
Hamilton looked at Miss Hastings. “Why are we even wasting our time?”
“It’s what Red wanted,” she replied.
Hamilton stared at the frozen image on the screen in front of him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
A low hum of conversation surrounded them inside their favorite restaurant, high class and inaccessible to the general public. Jason watched Caitlin devour the food in front of her—with good manners, of course. Jason’s food sat untouched on his plate as Caitlin mindlessly talked about her day. She did like to talk. Jason wondered if she would even notice if he got up and walked away. Sometimes he wanted to. It felt like he could drown in her words. The waiter appeared, a tight grin on his face as he gently fished for compliments. He glanced at Jason’s plate, then looked at Caitlin. “And how were the lobster tails?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
He tipped the wine bottle over his forearm and poured more wine for Caitlin. But his attention was on Jason. “The lady was enjoying a Montrachet. And, sir, the Margaux. I hope it met your expectations.”
“It was terrific. Thank you.” Jason sighed. Go away.
“We don’t get too many requests for the ’78. It’s a bit too pricey for some of our patrons.”
Jason looked up, not bothering to smile.
“I’ll just leave this with you now,” the waiter said, placing the bill on the table.
“Caitlin, where do you see our relationship?” He dropped his credit card on the tab and the waiter snatched it and left.
Caitlin’s eyes, twinkling in the candlelight, widened in expectation. “What are you asking me, Jason Stevens?”
“Just thinking. How long have we been going out?”
“An appropriate amount of time.” She brushed several stray wisps of hair off her forehead. “Long enough.”
“See? My thoughts exactly. I was thinking that maybe we should begin to take us—” She leaned forward, hanging on his every word.
“—more seriously.”
“Yes?”
“But there’s something I want to ask you first.”
“Jason, if you’re talking about a prenup, isn’t that sort of passé?”
“Well, see, I was thinking—”
Suddenly the waiter stood above them again. Jason sighed loudly as he looked up.
“Excuse me, sir. The charge card company has declined the charge.”
“That’s impossible,” Jason said. “I don’t have a credit limit. Just run it through again.”
“It’s always our practice to ‘run it through again,’ but they declined.” The waiter’s polite tone had taken a serious departure.
Jason pulled out his wallet and threw another card down. “Okay,” he continued as the waiter left again, “so I was thinking, um, well . . . Maybe it would be a good time for me to move in with you.”
Caitlin’s chin dropped. “You move in with me? Why? Half my wardrobe’s at your penthouse.”
Jason threw in a shrug. “It’s just for a change of scenery. Besides, I’m remodeling my place.”
Caitlin leaned forward. “A remodel? But who’s your designer? I know everyone in town.”
“I should’ve said I’m beginning to remodel. I’ve only really started with the demolition—”
There was the waiter again. And this time he was accompanied by the manager. “I’m sorry, sir,” the manager said, her voice overly loud, “your bank is on the line. They’d really like to speak with you. I must insist.”
“Look, guys,” Jason said, lightening his tone and giving the manager a smile, “I’m having a little bit of a setback. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed, all right?”
He glanced back at Caitlin. She looked mortified. “Sweetie, I’m switching accounts right now, and I’m . . . temporarily out of money. Is there a way you could pay for this?”
Caitlin’s expression fell. Like she’d jumped off a cliff. “Jason?” Her tone rose in disbelief. “You’re, um . . . you’re . . . asking me to pay the bill?”
Jason nodded. Did she have something in her eye or were those actual tears?
Like she’d just heard news of a family member’s death, she shoved her chair back, stood, threw her napkin onto the table, slung her purse over her shoulder, and rushed from the room.
Something was definitely dead—including, apparently, his credit line. Luckily, thanks to a lot of charm and namedropping— including, of all people, Red—the manager agreed to let him go.
As soon as he hit daylight, he flipped open his phone and hit speed dial.
“Jeff? It’s Jason. Listen, I need a favor.”
“You need a favor? Ha!” his friend snorted.
“What’s so surprising about that?”
“Nothing, man,” Jeff said, chuckling. “What do you want?”
“I need to borrow some money.”
“You’ve been drinking!” Jeff laughed outright this time. “I can tell.”
“Jeff, I’m serious. I need to borrow some money.”
At this, Jeff was silent.
“You owe me. Dude, I’m rolling over—”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? I’ve been there for you countless times. You owe me! That’s it. Bottom line.”
“Jason . . . Look, man, I would love to, but I’m not really in a position to—”
“Who was the one who loaned you ten grand last year?”
“Yeah . . . Like I said, that was for my mom, who was sick in the hospital . . .”
“You know, I could’ve come up with a better excuse when I was twelve years old!” Jason sighed at the silence on the other end. “All I need is a place to sleep.” More silence. “I don’t get what the problem is, dude. You can let me spend the night, one night.” He waited but heard nothing. “Hello?”
Another male voice replied. “We’re sorry. Your cell phone service has been discontinued. If you think this is an error, please—”
Jason snapped the phone shut and squeezed it tightly in his hand, then slammed it against the concrete. Pieces flew everywhere, and a nearby man scuttled aside with a nasty loo
k.
“Can I help you?” Jason growled. The man hurried his pace. “Yeah. Shut up.”
Jason took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Think. Think! With a longsuffering gaze to the west, he began to walk against busy traffic on the street.
On grass nice enough to be carpet, Jason caught his breath. He didn’t think of himself as out of shape, especially after his time in Texas, but he felt every inch of his billion-mile walk to his mother’s house. At this point he’d even be willing to drive a minivan. Anything to keep from having to walk, like someone from the first century.
The enormous mansion, glowing from the light within, elegant to the point of senselessness, glared down at him. All this for one woman. What did she do with all those rooms?
Lucky for him, she had all those rooms. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. He trudged up a driveway so long it deserved to be named a street till he finally reached the front door. Ringing the bell, he could hear the chimes announcing him. He would’ve just walked in, but he’d made that mistake before. His mother . . . well, she liked men. A lot. And seeing her making out with one on the sofa had been enough to last ten lifetimes. He was definitely permanently scarred, and if he ever had to sue her, he’d bring it up in court and ask for pain-and-suffering money.
The door swung open, and his mother’s anticipating eyes suddenly grew round with shock. She slid a hand in front of herself as she secured her silk robe closed. Jason looked away with an eye roll and waited.
“Jason!” she gasped, like he’d been missing for years. “Um . . . what a surprise!” She smiled. Sort of.
Jason started to step around her and into the house. “Mom, you’re never going to believe this.”
Her hands hit his chest, pushing him back out the door. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in,” she said.
Standing back out on the porch, Jason stared at her. “I’m having a bit of a situation,” he said curtly. “I need some help. I need to borrow some money.”
She patted his cheek. “Of course you do. Everyone needs money.” She cleared her throat and fixed an awkward gaze on him. “Um, didn’t your grandfather leave you anything?”