Blow (18 page)

“It’s parked up the street,” he said.

I took the keys he was handing me. “Thank you.”

A crowd of women walked in as he left, and the rest of the afternoon sped by with so many customers. Peyton and I never had a chance to talk privately again.

At six thirty, Rachel, Peyton, and I finally walked outside, all complaining that our feet were killing us. Rachel’s boyfriend was waiting for her in his car and as soon as she spotted him, she fled, yelling, “See you Tuesday,” as she got in.

Peyton and I both stood there smiling at her.

I turned to Peyton. “Wow. What a great day.”

“High five.” She raised her hand.

I slapped it. “You were amazing today.”

“No, you were.”

Feeling smug, I lifted my chin. “I do know my shit.”

She threw her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “You are great at this. The soft opening was amazing. Now you have two days off—take the time and relax. You deserve it after the hours we’ve put in getting ready for the opening. I don’t expect to see you here until we reopen on Tuesday. There is nothing for you to do until then. You need a break. You’ve been going nonstop for weeks. I’ll come in tomorrow and restock, and then stop in on Monday to check the deliveries.”

“You sure?” I asked, feeling guilty leaving her to do all the cleanup.

She nodded. “I’m sure. You got any plans?”

“No,” I said emphatically.

“Not going to see Mr. Big Dick?”

I gave her a little shove. “Stop calling him that.”

“Well, are you?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Hey, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be involved with the Mafia, so I wouldn’t worry about that.”

I smiled at her and answered, “I’m not.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but wasn’t sure it wasn’t, either.

Peyton had no idea what was going on with my sister. In fact, I’d told her she was in rehab for drug use, like I’d told everyone else. I felt bad lying but knew it was for the best. The fewer people involved, the better.

“Good. If he asks you out, go.” Apparently, Peyton wasn’t finished with the conversation about Logan.

I rolled my eyes.

“I mean it. Just ignore what I said earlier. That was stupid of me to bring it up.”

“Already forgotten.” I winked.

She gave me another squeeze. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I plan to.” She made a rather vulgar movement with her hips.

“Not
that
good,” I added with another wink.

“It’s our first date, and it took him a month to ask me out, so I won’t get my hopes up.”

I had to laugh. “You’ve gone on more first dates in the short time I’ve known you than I’ve gone on in my entire life.”

Not that dating had ever been on my mind.

She responded with a hearty dose of laughter. “What can I say, I love men—just not the same one for long.”

As we started to walk in different directions, I half turned. “Oh, and you’ll call me if any good deliveries arrive?”

There was a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Yes, I’ll call you if the sex toys are delivered. Are you antsy to check them out?” She winked.

“Peyton,” I admonished. “No.”

She shook her head. “Whatever you say. Oh, and Mr. Big Dick would be a great place to start.”

No words. I had no words.

“I’m talking about the dating scene.” She tossed the words over her shoulder with a giggle. “Not the sex toys. But both would work.”

The thought hadn’t escaped me.

But it wasn’t going on a date with him that had been on my mind.

LOGAN

I
t wasn’t the same table.

The floor had been ripped up and replaced.

Yet the kitchen still held the ghosts of that night.

My father set his fork and knife down. “Logan. What’s on your mind, son?”

I’d been silent about Elle and O’Shea since I’d arrived over an hour ago. I’d even agreed to eat dinner with him, which I never did.

Not here, anyway.

I pushed the plate of chicken and rice away and tried to pull my shit together. I needed to man up. I couldn’t sit at the fucking kitchen table in my father’s house and eat dinner?

I lifted my eyes to his but kept my head bowed. “That it’s time for a face-to-face with Patrick.”

He slid my plate back toward me. “That’s not a good idea.”

Man up,
I reminded myself. I raised my fork to my mouth but with each bite I chewed, I felt more and more like I might explode. “Why not?”

He plowed a hand through his hair. “You know why.”

My fists clenched under the table. “So what? His prick son has a hard-on for me. It’s not going to change anything.”

In frustration, my father shoved his chair back and pointed his finger at me. “I’m warning you, Logan: you go anywhere near Patrick or Tommy after all these years and mention O’Shea, it will set off all kinds of warning bells.”

I stood up. Paced to the counter. To the refrigerator and opened it. To the sink to pour a glass of water. Fuck, he was right. Besides, he was stuck in Boston for life for what I’d done; I couldn’t risk getting him into trouble either.

His eyes were on me.

Tracking me.

I could tell.

Finally, I asked, “What if I give you the money to deliver to Patrick?”

My father practically choked. “You know we’re talking about ten million to settle the score?”

I leaned against the counter. “Yeah, I do.”

“Even if you had that kind of cash handy, why would you give it up for someone you just met?”

I shrugged. “I can’t explain it.”

“Do you have that much?”

Uncertain, I shoved my hands in my pockets. “No, but I should be able to get it.”

With slow strides, he crossed the kitchen and stood next to me. “Involving your grandfather Ryan will come with all kinds of strings. And even if you get the money, I don’t know if it will help, son. It could backfire. We don’t have a clue what O’Shea is up to or what it is Patrick is really after. I have to say, I’m almost certain Patrick is looking for something more than the cash.”

Hiding my surprise that he didn’t dismiss me right away, I pressed on. “But, if nothing else, you think it could be an option?”

He tapped his fingers on the counter. “It’s a risky option. I have a meeting set with Patrick on Tuesday to go over operations. Let me see what I can get out of him. If it’s the girl or the source he wants, there’s a chance not even the full kitty will suffice to settle the score.”

“You really think he won’t take the ten million as settlement?”

Another shrug. “Like I said, I just don’t know. In the meantime, I’ll ask around to see what kind of operation O’Shea or his wife might have had going on. How big it was. What, if anything, anyone knows.”

I nodded in agreement and started the pacing again.

With narrowed eyes, my father pointed his finger at me again. “But you have to stay out of it.”

Every muscle in my body was taut. “I told you, I can’t do that.”

His jaw clenched. “I know what you said and now I’m telling you, if you want my help, you’ll lay low. In fact, I think you should pay your grandfather a visit.”

Playing stupid was never my game. I knew what he meant, so why I chose to answer the way I did, I have no idea other than the fact that it was on my mind. “Good idea. I think I’ll go see Killian.”

Exasperated, he picked up the pot of rice and started toward the sink. “I’m not talking about my father and you know it.”

Still, playing stupid or not, his remark irked me. “And I’m not going to New York.”

He heaved a deep sigh.

The argument was all too familiar and I had to get out of there. The more I paced the floor, the more it felt like the ghosts were closing in.

In a huff of frustration, I headed for the door. “I’ll call you later.”

ELLE

I
approached with caution.

The car was parked right where the mechanic said it would be.

I had one hand in my purse, as it was getting late, the area was unfamiliar, and I was uncertain as to the safety of my surroundings. As soon as I got in, I locked the car and looked around the interior. I was worried about what I might find, but it looked just like it had before last night.

Once I was satisfied, I didn’t waste time staying parked on the street. The sun was setting and although I’d never been afraid of the dark, tonight I felt like it was somewhere I didn’t want to be.

The traffic was light and the ride to Erin’s house in Weston didn’t take all that long. Her neatly trimmed hedges and classic colonial home looked every bit Erin’s style. She was a woman who had married her high school sweetheart and whose life had been overtaken by her children. Erin was a bona fide soccer mom who also held a position on the PTA board. She took care of four kids, a husband, and their house, and she never had time for herself. I wasn’t sure if I envied her or pitied her.

It didn’t matter—that would never be my life.

I rang the doorbell and immediately heard the sound of little footsteps coming my way.

The door swung open. “Put ’em up or I’ll shoot,” William drawled.

William was Erin’s oldest and at seven, he was quite a little man.

I raised my hands. “Don’t shoot.”

Disappointment flickered on his face. “That was too easy, Elle. Next time you have to draw your own gun.”

Little did he know, I was toting a real gun in my purse. “You mean like this?” I pretended to have a gun pointed at him.

“Whoa, you’re fast,” he said, his eyes like saucers.

“Elle, is that you?” Erin called from the kitchen.

“Hi, Erin. Yes, it’s me.”

“Come on in. Clementine is just finishing dinner,” she said.

“Race you to the kitchen,” I challenged William.

He promptly took off, practically mowing over Conner on the way.

“I want to play,” Conner said. Conner was five and always wanted to be doing what his older brother was doing.

While they sped ahead, I walked past the family room, which was completely littered with toys, and stepped on a Lego or two in the hallway. Erin’s house was always chaos, but the kids always seemed to be laughing and having fun.

Given that, I guessed, what did a little mess matter?

I passed dozens of pictures on the wall. Mostly of the kids, who obviously ruled the household. I stopped at one in particular. It was of a family of five. I knew it was Michael and Erin and their parents, but I wasn’t familiar with the third child. He was an older boy, and his eyes were just as ice blue as Michael’s and his mother’s. I would ask Erin, but she didn’t like to talk about her parents. She and her father didn’t get along, and for that matter, neither did Michael and his father.

The kitchen was in the back of the house and I knew just when the boys reached it.

“I win!” William yelled.

“No, I win,” Conner countered.

“I think you both won,” I said from the archway.

I knew better than to look around but I still did, growing a bit uneasy at the mess. Bottles, cups, and bowls covered almost every inch of the counter. Pots and dishes filled the sink. Crayons and markers were all over the table, and I couldn’t help noticing someone had decided to try his hand at sketching on the wall.

Finally, my eyes landed on a little treasure. Clementine sat in a booster chair with a tray of food and beside her in a high chair sat Braden. Braden and Clementine were practically the same age. I think Braden was a month or two older.

Erin turned around in her chair. She was wearing sweatpants and her fiery red hair was in a disheveled ponytail. She looked how I felt—exhausted. Taigh, who was six weeks old, was at her breast. I think she was still breast-feeding Braden and I wondered how that worked.

“Mama!” Clementine shrieked when she saw me.

My heart stilled and panic struck at the same time.

With uncertainty, Erin’s eyes darted to mine.

“She’s never called me that before,” I managed to say, not sure how to respond to either Erin or Clementine.

Erin waved her free hand dismissively. “It’s the only word Braden knows. They’ve been copying each other all day. She even wanted to drink from my breast.” Erin let out a laugh. “And he wanted to drink milk from her sippy cup.”