Quest (The Boys of RDA Book 4) Page 9

  Images of kittens with cute balls of yarn and the hot uniformed firefighters who rescue them from trees fill my mind on the walk to the gym. A hot fireman with tattoos.

  And of course Mittens would be adorable. She’d be mostly black with a smidge of white on her feet — hence the name — and a white ear too. Drew could not say no to Mittens. He’d buy her kitten treats and toys. The man’s a softy at heart.

  Lost in thoughts of Mittens, I’m halfway down the hall before my brain registers the increased noise seeping from the gym doors. Teenager hoots and hollers echo off the hallway walls. My steps pick up until I run the rest of the way, fearful of what I’ll find at the end.

  I should have never left them alone. They’re teenagers. Who knows what they do when the responsible older figure isn’t around. I remember those years and its scarier to think that now I’m the responsible figure.

  We’re all doomed.

  The gym door crashes against the wall, the metal bar slamming. The commotion from my entrance startles the room and sound stops. A group of tall similarly dressed teenagers between the ages of twelve to seventeen huddle in the middle of the room.

  “What’s going on?” I use my best adult voice. Fake it until you make it, at least that’s what the band Seether taught me.

  Travis, wearing one of the center hoodies we passed out at the Holiday party and a pair of ripped jeans, steps out from the crowd. “Miss C., this dude says he’s your boyfriend, but he dunks like an old man.”

  The group of boys part and in the middle of their circle stands Grant holding a basketball to his chest. He smiles, but it’s a little more sheepish than I’ve ever seen before. Almost like he’s realizing right this very moment how bad of a decision this was. He’s toned down the preppy frat boy look today, but even in his dark jeans and a light green polo, he’s obviously out of place.

  I have options on how to handle this, but only one comes to mind quickly enough. Sarcasm.

  “That’s because he is an old man. Plus he wouldn’t want to scuff those pretty boy shoes he has on,” I don’t yell the words, but they’re loud enough to penetrate the group.

  All eyes fall to Grant’s perfectly white tennis shoes. He probably picked them up on the way here since I’ve never seen him wear anything even close to tennis shoes. That and their impeccable whiteness — they haven’t gotten much street wear.

  A chorus of “Ohhhh.” Comes from the crowd and a few boys pat Grant on the back in consolation.

  “You’ve been owned, son,” Travis says to Grant laughing as he does so.

  To the casual outsider it seems harsh, but I’ve done Grant a favor. Now hopefully they’ll treat him like one of the guys. A little razzing will help the group accept him. He should probably also work on his dunking skills.

  Grant, apparently thinking he’s in the clear, dribbles the ball a few times and sets up a shot.

  “Grant!” I yell at the exact moment he lets the ball glide from his fingertips. The shock makes his throw a complete air ball. “My office. Now!”

  A new round of “Ohhhhhs” rings out in the gym, but this time I’m not concerned with sparing him.

  Travis shakes his head patting Grant on the back. “You’re in trouble.”

  I pull open the gym door not waiting for Grant, but the metal clinks again when he reaches it. I’m in my office by the time he makes it over the threshold.

  Standing behind my desk I wait for him to take a seat in the chair, but he doesn’t. “You can’t be here.”

  He leans against my desk both palms flat, getting into my face. “Why not?”

  Not to be intimidated I cross my arms and lean into him. “Because I haven’t approved your paperwork.” What better excuse than he doesn’t have clearance? State law and all that.

  He smirks, leaning back and settling into the chair. One leg crossed over the other, suddenly he’s a man at ease. “Yes, you did.”

  I leaned further across the desk. “No I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. When I played soccer this spring you ran and approved everyone.”

  My mouth falls open in irritation, and I remember back to the day I ran checks on everyone in the RDA gang. I scowl.

  “I still have copies at home if you want me to bring them in for you to look over.”

  “No,” I grind out. I’m required to keep copies. They’re somewhere in the filing cabinet in the back of my office. “Well… you’re not my boyfriend.”

  Yes, it’s ridiculous. But who does he think he is, coming in here and getting my guys to like him?

  His smile grows. “Were we dating? Because we certainly didn’t break up. So if you thought we were dating before,” he pauses and I give him time to think about his next words. “Then I guess we still are.”

  Why does this man insist on antagonizing me? He always thinks he has to have the last word. It’s annoying.

  “Why are you here?” I give up and sit in my chair.

  Grant props one leg on the other. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he gets serious. “To apologize, beg for mercy, tell you what a moron I am.”

  Well at least we agree on something. “Did you tell William?” I ask, worried about his answer.

  I’m not worried William would hear the news and come looking for his daughter. I’m concerned because when Grant tells him I know he won’t get the reaction he wants. It will ruin the image Grant has of his long-time friend. Is it possible I’m more like my mother than I realize?

  “Of course not, Clare. It’s not my story to tell.”

  “Thank you.” We’re all saved from the soap opera that is my family. At least for today. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am to have that family fuck it up somehow. “So, what do we do now? I imagine you’ll see a lot of him.”

  “I’ll work it out,” he says with authority. “You’ll never see him again.”

  Is it possible? Would Grant choose me over his lifelong friend and business partner? I shouldn’t get happy over a ruined friendship, but a thrill rises up at the thought someone picked me.

  “I’ll keep you far away from him for the length of the contract, and then when it’s over no more deals.”

  I lean back in my chair shocked. This is what I get for thinking I’d be a first choice. “Didn’t you say it’s a five-year contract?”

  Grant flinches and I hold out hope he sees how crazy this idea is.

  “Clare,” he says my name sadly, but yet with a bit of reproach. Like I don’t know how the world works. “The terms of the contract are ironclad. There would be court battles, lost revenue, and two families absolutely torn apart.”

  Once again I’m not worth the hassle. I sigh, tired with the whole thing and ready to finish this day and drink beer with Drew. Maybe his whole theory of baseball, pizza, and alcohol isn’t so far off.

  “If you ever change your mind and decide you want to meet him, tell me.”

  I make a dispirited noise over the fact Grant ever thinks I would change my mind about wanting to meet my sperm donor. “Yeah sure. I’ll keep you in the loop. Is that it then?”

  “No.” He shakes his head like he expected my answer, but asked anyway. “I’m willing to do the work to win you over, Clare, but you need to fill out the comment card on occasion. Tell me how I’m doing.”

  I actually laugh. “That is the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of you.”

  “If you think that was nerdy you definitely can’t come to a guys’ night.”

  “Oh? You’re having a guys’ night now?”

  “Of course. Why should you girls get to have all the fun? It was our comic book store first.”

  “I don’t think that’s the way Aspen and Marissa see it.”

  Grant shrugs standing from the chair. “Am I forgiven? There are teenagers I need to school in the ways of basketball.”

  He’ll need a ride to the ER later tonight, but I agree to it regardless. “Fine, but only if you promise to never discuss my father again.”

&n
bsp; “Deal.” He reaches across the desk and shakes my hand. “Now what are you going to do about dinner tonight?”

  “Dinner? I have to feed you?”

  He laughs. “No I thought I’d feed you and Drew, but you should definitely decide on a place now or else he’ll have us eating at Giorgio’s again.”

  I draw in a breath at his insinuation. “You did not bash Giorgio’s did you?” I follow Grant out into the hallway acting hurt. “I request it as much as he does.”

  “Is this your way of telling me I need to get used to eating more Giorgio’s?”

  “If you plan to be around.”

  **

  “When does Drew get home?” Grant asks leaning up against the counter in my kitchen.

  He followed me home after work and hasn’t left. I’m not sure what to do. I’m confused because Grant’s back to his normal happy self. Like nothing happened between us and it hasn’t been two days since we’ve spoken.

  How do men not realize that’s a big deal?

  And to top it off he’s been great. I’d forgotten how much he makes me smile or laugh when he’s around. Plus the kids at the center genuinely like him. Grant spent the rest of the afternoon with me shooting basketballs with the kids and happily making a fool of himself.

  It was nice… until it reminded me why I fell for Grant in the first place. That was annoying.

  I close the refrigerator door not happy at any of our snack options. “No idea. He texted he had to stay late. A problem with the wedding arrangements or something. I don’t know the whole story.” His boss is planning the wedding of the century.

  The next spot to check for food is the cupboard above Grant’s head. I push him out of the way and stand on my tip toes to check in the corners. If Drew found and hid the brownies I’d been hiding from him, he’s in major trouble.

  “And your roommate upstairs?”

  “Who knows? We never see him.”

  “He doesn’t use the kitchen?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as odd?” Grant scoots back into the space when I give up the search.

  Damn Drew and his thieving hands. He probably ate all the brownies.

  “No. It strikes me as awesome. He’s my favorite roommate.” He doesn’t steal brownies for one. “We’re one roommate short. Once someone moves in we’ll have to share the kitchen with them.”

  “I haven’t had a roommate since college. It sounds fun.”

  Only a rich person who isn’t forced to live with a roommate would think it sounds fun.

  “Yeah, it sure is. If you find sharing public spaces with a person who steals your snacks and doesn’t wipe under the toilet every time fun, then yes you should try it.”

  “The Moores have a family rule. We never pay rent only mortgages.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.” Does he hear the shit coming from his mouth?

  “Me living in a hotel is driving my grandfather crazy.”

  I stop the hunt for food and turn back to Grant. “You know, sometimes it’s easy to forget you’re rich, but then you open your mouth.”

  He shrugs switching sides of the kitchen to lean against the other counter. “When are you going to show me your bedroom?” There’s a twinge in his voice making me think he’s not interested in my décor.

  “And what are you planning to do in there?”

  “Test the springiness of the bed.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It’s a valid concern,” Grant continues and I’m sure he buys the shit he’s trying to sell me.

  “What if I am one of those girls with a bed full of stuffed animals? A big unicorn pillow right on top.”

  “Will his beady little unicorn eyes watch me as I have sex with you?”

  “Probably.”

  “It’s okay. We can put him on the floor.”

  “Oh no. You can’t put Mr. Sparkles on the floor.” It’s the most ridiculous name I can come up with in the time crunch.

  Grant tilts his head to the side with a questioning look. “Do you have unicorn pillows in your room?”

  I hit him on the shoulder and walk toward the hallway. “No, but what would you do if I did?”

  “I told you. Throw them on the floor. Not even a room full of crazy animals would keep me away from you.”

  I stop in of the middle of the hallway and turn back, my eyes bright with excitement. “What if I had a doll who looked like your mother?”

  Grant shakes his head. “That was a Seinfeld episode and again we’d stick her in a closet,” he says laughing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  The limo hits a bump and Grant’s champagne swirls around his glass. “Of course it is. Now that you’ve decided we’re dating you’ll be seeing a lot of these people. It’s good to get to know them.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  It’s surreal. I’m riding in a limo drinking champagne on the way to a ten-thousand-dollar-per-plate dinner. Honestly the whole thing is a bit disgusting. At first I refused when Grant told me how much each plate cost, but he talked me into it by promising he’d already paid. Plus the money is going to charity. But it still feels wrong… like I don’t belong here. I haven’t run the math, but I could eat for years on what he spent on one plate, charity or not.

  There’s also no guarantee I won’t freak out in the middle of dinner and have a Britney Spears circa 2007 breakdown while calling out the rich people. I warned Grant of this possibility, but he said he’d take the risk.

  “You should have let me buy you a new dress,” Grant says adjusting one of the cufflinks to his three-piece suit. I’ve never noticed how the third piece in a suit sets it apart from other suits, but it does. That little vest is enough to make me consider taking him back home later. People can make all the penguin jokes they want. Grant looks hot in black and white.

  I pull on the top of the green sparkly dress, the same one I wore for the charity gambling event we held in April to raise money for the center. “Do you not like this one?”

  “No, I love it. It brings back good memories. But it’s a new event, so you should have a new outfit.”

  His reasoning sounds like something his mother concocted to get his dad to spend more money on clothes. No one who lives in the real world buys a new dress every time they go to a party. Of course, most of my party experience is sitting around a game room with beer and a sports game.

  Even the charity event in April was more fun and laid back than the night I’m expecting now. Grant fussed over every little detail. It’s obvious he’s nervous about tonight and wants me to make a good impression. What he doesn’t understand is that’s never going to happen. They will spot me as poor a mile away.

  The limo slows and stops. Grant finishes his champagne in one large gulp. I’d finished mine within the first three minutes of our ride. Let’s hope there’s more inside.

  “Will Aspen and Finn be here?” I ask. A friendly face beside me would be nice.

  “No.” The door opens from the other side and Grant steps out.

  He waits for me to release a deep breath and silently promise it will be over soon before I allow him to guide me to the front doors like a proper gentleman. Tonight’s swanky event is happening in one of the city’s mansions.

  We make it halfway across the marble entryway before someone calls Grant’s name. He’s a man about Grant’s age dressed in a black suit with his hair gelled back perfectly and a deep blue tie. It’s like he stepped off a GQ cover.

  “Grant, it’s so good to see you. I heard you bought Del Fray, but you must make more time to get out of the office. You haven’t stepped foot in the club in weeks.”

  My ears perk up at the mention of Grant belonging to a club. I can’t imagine he means the dance club. We are in a busy city based on a peninsula. Where are the people hiding a country club? It’s probably hidden away on top of a tall building since they like heights
so much.

  “You’re involved in Del Fray?” I ask before Grant has a chance to answer the other man’s questions.

  He gives me a questioning look and pats me on the hand. “Yes, we bought it.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “You’ve never been interested.” Grant does this weird condescending chuckle and turns back to his conversation like he’s done with me.

  The man standing across from us tracks me from head to toe with his eyes and then shakes his head. “Or is it you’ve been busy with other things?”

  My mouth drops open. Can he not see I’m standing right here?

  Fifty minutes pass… or three. I’m not sure. But a long damn time goes by before Grant turns to me. “This is Clare. She runs the city youth center.”

  Grant’s friend reaches out to shake my hand. “It’s so good to meet you. It’s always nice to meet someone who’s devoted their life to giving back to the needy.” It’s said with a lilt on the words that leads me to believe he doesn’t mean any of it.

  “Yes, some of us find that important.”

  Grant tugs on my hands a fraction, but it’s enough to make me see red. Rather than tell him and the whole room off like I want, I stand quietly beside him with a small smile even though it practically kills me.

  When he turns back to me he has his stupid goofy grin I normally find cute plastered all over his face. He’s clueless he’s done anything wrong. He wraps his arm back around mine like we’re now attached to one another. “Clare, this is Jeffrey. We went to school together.”

  Probably a rich stuck-up prep school. I can’t see good old Jeffrey surviving San Francisco public.

  Grant and Jeffrey — I’ll never be able to think of the name Jeffrey without a snotty sneer again — exchange a few more pleasantries. The two minutes go by overwhelmingly slowly. Armageddon will take less time to kill us all, but Jeffrey eventually sees someone more interesting and makes his way to them.