Suited (St. Martin Family Saga)

SUITED

St. Martin Family Saga

Gina Watson

Copyright © 2013 by Gina Watson

Suited

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

1

"Y
ou need to
get your ass home and stay there. Dad’s not gonna live forever, you know. His cholesterol is over three hundred and his blood pressure is so high the doctors forced him to take retirement.”

Those were the words his twin brother had spoken to set this plan into motion. But Camp was right—Dad wouldn’t be around forever. And the truth of it all was Cash had grown weary of the Vegas lights and never-ending nights. So much so that he’d started to develop crippling migraine headaches. Sometimes the headaches knocked him out for days.

As Cash’s truck crossed the Louisiana state line, he thought it weird how he noticed the most subtle changes. The terrain beneath the tires changed, as evidenced by the now audible and constant low thrum. The landscape changed from thick groves of pines and oaks to wisps of moss-covered cypress. Their long thin arms and fingers looked like something from the set of a horror movie. He truly loved Louisiana, and appreciated the beauty of the murky, watery slush. He realized he’d missed the exotic landscape that was as much a part of him as the molecules and cells that comprised him.

Cash sighed as the memories rushed at him. There were those who had said it would have been better if Cashel Gray St. Martin had never been born. He’d heard the whispers wherever he went. “
Cash is a disgrace to the St. Martin name
.” Some had said it wasn’t even St. Martin blood coursing through his veins. That cut had hurt the most since everyone knew he was an identical twin. Most thought he wouldn’t make it to thirty. Unfortunately for the townsfolk, that number had come and gone.

When his father had pulled the plug on his college funding, Cash had left town. That had been eight years ago. Cash had come to understand his father’s actions. He’d been anything but appreciative for the money his dad had already given him. In college he’d been arrested for public drunkenness, public lewdness, DWI, DUI, drug possession, even assault and battery. He’d spent four years in college alongside his twin brother. The only difference was that at the end of four years, Camp had a degree in business and Cash had a reputation of the negative variety.

It wasn’t as if Cash hadn’t learned anything. He’d already had his own business when his father pulled out. And he’d been successful at breaking campus records. He’d played host to the largest-ever campus parties, concerts, and poker games. He could earn over five thousand dollars in a weekend, tax-free. His father had said, “I’ve paid for four years of college, boy, with precious little to show for it. In business when you have an investment that’s dead weight, you cut it loose.” That was the moment Cash learned that the St. Martin children were just pawns in his father’s game. He thought of Camp and how he always did what was expected of him, even if he didn’t want to. Camp had gone to work with their father to learn the ropes of commercial construction. Cash could never have done it.

Cash inhaled deep and used his blinker to change lanes. Countless times his is father had cleared his name, using family connections to have all charges dropped. So he had his father to thank for his clean record. But on that fateful day eight years ago when his father cut him loose, he’d left behind everything, including his girlfriend Isabela Petrovich, and struck out on his own. He’d loved Isa. He could still feel her silky nakedness come to life in his hands. Croatian born, she had thick and shiny jet-black hair, bronzed olive skin, and almond-shaped coffee-bean-colored eyes. He’d loved her exotic looks. She had the longest torso he’d ever seen. God, he was hard just thinking about her, even after all these years.

He’d seen his brothers over the years during holidays and for special events, but it wasn’t until recently that he’d seen his father—at the film festival to celebrate Cal’s accomplishment. His graduate thesis project, a documentary film about ALS disease, had won the Independent Film Fest’s documentary feature film category.

At the event, his father hadn’t said word one to him, even though Cash had gone out and surpassed them all with his successes. His name was well known, and not just by other gamblers. He’d made countless television appearances, been on too many reality TV shows, had two books currently on the New York Times bestseller list,
and
had done a Gillette commercial. He had other big-name sponsors as well. He was a millionaire in his own right, twelve times over.

He’d thought this homecoming would be a chance for his father to see that he’d turned his life around, that he was actually worth something. Cash had made a name for himself in Las Vegas as a professional poker player. A successful one. On paper it added up to millions, but who was he to quibble with the details? His royalty checks added to that income on a daily basis. He could take it easy for a while and that was what he intended to do. If Camp wanted him here, he was going to get his wish in spades. Whatever Cash did, be it gambling, drinking, fighting, or fucking, he always went all-in.

2

C
urrently en route
to Camp’s house, Cash had settled back into the slow pace of Whiskey Cove. His headaches had diminished and for the past few weeks, he’d been staying with his brother Logan, helping him get his shit together. After last night’s party, he knew Logan would be fine.

Cash parked his truck under the carport next to Camp’s SUV and grabbed his duffel bag from the back. He checked out the neighborhood. All of the yards were neat and the grass unnaturally lush and green, as if it were a contest. It was no surprise, Camp was the clear winner. He’d always been an expert on all matters domestic. Cash wondered how two people that had shared the same womb could be so different.

He knocked on the door. It took a while for Camp to get to the door since they’d been up late last night celebrating Logan’s birthday. After the party fizzled out at Jessie’s house, some of them, Camp and Cash among them, had gone to the brewery to keep the party going, Camp had suspected Logan couldn’t wait for the party to end, as he couldn’t keep his hands off Jessie. He was glad Logan had pulled his head out of his ass before he lost the woman he loved.

Camp opened the door in his boxer shorts and with only one eye open. “Christ, Cash, since when do you rise before noon? It’s six thirty in the morning and it’s Sunday.”

“Nice to see you too, bro. I figured you’d be getting ready to go to church with Kim and her folks.”

Camp grumbled at that. It had been a sore subject between him and Kim, but Camp didn’t like to attend church and Cash constantly teased him about going. He’d said there were too many prying eyes for his tastes. After his divorce, they’d driven him crazy with their whispers and raised brows.

“Come in. You want coffee?” Camp asked as he walked to the kitchen, adjusting his crotch.

“You gonna wash your hands?”

“Do you want the fucking coffee or not?”

“Damn, you’re moody when you don’t get your beauty sleep.”

Camp set out coffee and Oreos. That was how Camp started every day. He’d done it for so long now, it seemed normal. The familiarity of it—the sight of Camp pulling off a cookie top and biting into the cream filling—brought a smile to Cash’s face. It was good to be back home. He’d missed his family.

Around a mouthful of cookie Camp asked, “So you getting an early start on the drive back?”

Cash sipped his coffee before saying, “Actually, I’ll be staying for a while.”

“Really?” His brother’s eyes went shock wide. “You gonna stay at the estate?”

Cash shook his head. “Nah, I thought I’d stay with you.”

Camp looked him square in the eye.

“What?”

Camp shook his head. “I’ve gotta work and I’m an engaged man. I can’t be dealing with your shit.”

Had nobody realized that he’d changed? Not even Camp? “I assume you’re referring to the drugs, fights, and parties of my youth. That was eight years ago. I don’t do those things anymore.”

“But you’re still gambling, and that’s what led to all of it.”

“I’m gambling professionally. There’s a difference. Besides, I can’t do that from Whiskey Cove and I need a break. So am I welcome here or not?”

Cash let out a frustrated breath. “Of course you’re welcome; you’re my brother. Plus I can use the help.”

“What help?”

“I told you about Dad—the cholesterol and the blood pressure. Have you spoken to him yet?” He tilted his head expectantly.

Cash narrowed his eyes. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“Well, he’s gotta cut back at the business.”

“Yeah, what’s that got to do with me?”

Camp arched a brow. “I need you to oversee a project.”

“I don’t know. I’m not really feeling it.”

“Are you saying you won’t help? You’ve got the business background, and I don’t have time to train someone new.”

“Shit, of course I’ll help, but just until you have time to train someone, all right?”

Camp nodded and sipped his coffee. “Sounds good. We’ll start tomorrow.”

The next morning they drove to Baton Rouge, a fifteen-minute commute from Whiskey Cove. The project that Cash was to oversee was for a seven-hundred-thousand-square-foot mall that would include two large anchor department stores. The assignment was bigger than Cash had expected.

“Uh, Camp, this is a large project.”

“Yeah, well, it’s either this or the casino hotel in Lake Charles, take your pick. Mind you, this one’s local.”

Cash spent the morning listening to Camp detail the logistics and meeting with the project team. At lunchtime they went to a local deli and ordered shrimp po’ boys while they talked about the building timeline. The first thing needed was the preconstruction phase, including cost analysis studies and working with a geotechnical engineer to build the foundation. Southern Louisiana was plagued with what was referred to as “gumbo” soil. When it rained, even lightly, the soil turned to sticky, waxy mud. That required extra diligence at the onset of every building project, as the soil first had to be built up. Camp had already scheduled the meeting with the engineer, and he was due at four o’clock that afternoon.

“So you’ll meet with the engineer?” Camp’s brow rose as he anticipated Cash’s response. Cash nodded. “I’ve gotta shoot over to Lake Charles, and I’ll be there through Wednesday, but we can catch up when I get back.”

“Sounds good, bro.”

They stood and Camp reached out to Cash, holding him tight for several seconds.

“Cash.” Camp’s mouth dropped and twitched. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re home. I felt disconnected and unbalanced while you were away. Worried, you know, that you might end up hurt or worse.”

Cash wondered what he was getting at. Had Camp really been worried? He’d never said anything. Not strongly enough that Cash had ever taken him seriously.

“We’re twins.” Camp held his fist to his heart. “I love you, man. It’s been too long, and I’m glad to have you back.”

Cash responded by punching him in the arm. “You need to check your fiancée’s purse for your balls the next time you see her.”

Camp offered a sly smile as he said, “I think you’ll enjoy what I’ve planned for the afternoon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” With that, he left. Cash wondered if too many Oreos had finally caught up with him.

They were identical twins, but that was where the similarities ended. Camp would quietly smolder in the corner, intense as hell planning his attack. Cash, in comparison, was like a bull out of the gate. Camp kept his hair cropped close to his head while Cash let his flow long and loose. Usually his hair found its way into his eyes. Camp’s body remained un-inked while Cash’s was peppered with tattoos, mostly tribal and poker related. He had a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and his left wasn’t far behind. He’d commemorated each World Series of Poker and World Poker Tour win with the hand that delivered it. Since he’d won each six times, he had more inked skin than un-inked.

The metal chair squeaked as he leaned back and recalled how he’d acquired a permanent scar through his eyebrow during one of his college game nights. Some friends had gotten a little rowdy, had a little too much coke, and were not altogether satisfied Cash had won their money fair and square. They’d accused him of cheating, and one had pulled a knife. He’d awakened in the hospital with a concussion and a laceration on his face. It had been quite close to his eye, and the doctor had told him he’d been lucky. Cash fingered the spot in his brow. Luck had everything to do with it. Cash never cheated. He didn’t need to.

These contrasts made it easy to tell the twins apart. Physical differences aside, there were also differences in their demeanors. Cash called Camp Mr. Play It Safe, a nickname he hated. When it came to their life philosophies, they were as different as oats and grits. Cash liked to play it fast and loose, leaving everything to chance and the luck of the draw, whereas Camp only did what was tried and true, planning everything down to the letter. Everything Camp did revolved around the expectations of his father and society. Cash suspected expectations were even the reason he’d proposed to Kim. He wondered if those expectations were wearing his brother down. The dark circles under his eyes were permanent, and he was anxious and easily irritated.

That afternoon Cash worked on his laptop in his truck as he waited for four o’clock to roll around. He would have worked in the temporary office, but his phone was dead and he was making use of the car charger. Cash was fiddling with the program his father’s company had developed, in order to complete a cost analysis of the construction project, when the atoms in the air shifted. His heart started to race, and his breathing went shallow. A black Camaro pulled up to the construction trailer, and immediately the hair on the back of Cash’s neck stood on end. He knew it was her. He just couldn’t figure out why she was there.

Cash watched with dropped jaw as long and shapely bronzed legs exited the car first. When the rest of her came into view, Cash’s body pulled into her direction, yearning for contact. She was wearing a dress that hugged every curve, and on her feet were black stiletto heels. Her hair was as long and thick as it had ever been, and the sun’s rays caught the shiny locks. Her head shimmered like a mermaid fresh out of the water.

“Goddamn.”

He was trembling. But that wasn’t all. Cash could feel the precum that was making his boxer shorts moist.
What the fuck
? He’d not done that at the mere sight of a woman since his college days.

Not since the last time he’d been with Isa.