by Zuri Day
“No worries, Warren. I like to get out of the office and get in the thick of construction on a regular basis. Keeps me sharp and on the cutting edge of new innovations.”
“Well, whenever you and your family are in the area, know that you’ll always have a place to stay.”
Warren’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number but answered right away. “Hello?”
“Drake.”
His heart palpitated as though he were a randy teen with a schoolboy crush. Still, when he spoke it was as though he was the maestro of cool. He gave Jackson a nod before walking away to take the call in private. “The name’s Warren.”
“Isn’t it also Drake?”
“Sure, Reed,” he answered with a smile in his voice. “But most people call me by my first name.”
“I guess I’m not most people.”
He allowed his voice to go low and velvety. “You’re most certainly not.”
A short pause. She cleared her throat.
Warren second-guessed his mack daddy move. True, they’d made progress. But the chances of this being a social call were still relatively slim. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure, everything’s fine.”
You sure are. Warren had the presence of mind not to voice this thought. “How’s Griff?”
She laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard before. He immediately knew that he wanted to hear a lot more of it.
“Whatever you did the other day impressed him. And that’s rare.”
“I drank fire.”
Another chuckle. “He told me about that. Said that you tried not to react even though there were tears streaming down your face and smoke coming out your ears!”
“Only one tear. And no smoke.”
“If you say so.”
Warren walked over and leaned against his vehicle, trying to remember the last time simply talking to a person had made him feel this good.
“You’re probably busy so—”
“No, I’ve got time.”
“There’s a reason why I called you.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s about the cows you bought.”
“Charli, let’s not go there again.”
“No, this isn’t about paying for them or giving them back.”
“Then what?”
“It’s just that...”
He heard her sigh, and remembered the way her breath felt against his cheek that night when they were dancing. And how her breasts had felt crushed against his chest that day by the fence. He wanted to feel more of her. Much more. Despite that it was the middle of the day and that he was a stone’s throw from a group of sweaty men, his groin tightened. He began walking toward his office to...move things around.
“What is it, Charli?”
“We need to sell a cow. One of yours.”
He stopped, and then continued walking. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough? It isn’t easy to ask if something given as a gift can be turned around and sold for profit. But we’ve got a couple of emergencies. A leak in the water tank and a part of the roof that—”
“Charli, there’s no need to explain. Once I gave you the cattle they were yours to do with as you wished.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t want my actions to appear ungrateful.”
Her answer was soft and Warren imagined that almost smile that he’d come to expect, and to love.
“You didn’t even have to tell me.” Now his voice too was soft, and caring.
“Yes, I did.”
They hung up shortly after that, both going on about their day. But for Warren, the sun seemed to shine just a little bit brighter, the grass seemed to be just a little greener and a place that was exclusively reserved for Charli opened up inside his heart.
The next morning, Warren was up and at his ranch bright and early. He had a meeting with the vineyard manager and planned to spend the morning learning more about grapes and the overall operation. He’d gotten a text from Jackson letting him know that the swimming pool crew had arrived and that excavation would begin shortly. Everything seemed to be humming along smoothly. His home would be finished ahead of schedule, the first vineyard yield was a bumper crop, he’d made peace with Griff and felt a closer bond with Charli. Only Tuesday and his week was off to a stellar start. How could it get any better?
He’d just turned on his iPod and was bobbing his head to the sounds of Prince’s greatest hits when his phone rang. He tapped the speaker button. “Yes, Boss.”
“Warren, we’ve just finished digging the hole for the pool. But I think you need to come over here before we go any further.”
Warren detected a seriousness to Jackson’s normally casual tone. He sat up straighter. “Okay. Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem. Uh, I just want you to check something out.”
“Can it wait until later? After I finish reviewing these books?”
“Dexter told me that once upon a time, gold had been found on this property. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m no expert, but the subcontractor just brought me something that looks like a nugget. So I think you’d better come right now.”
Chapter 19
Warren was up in a flash, curious as to what they’d found. Not that he expected that what Jackson had was the real thing. Charles Reed and his grandfather had already been there, done that, and not found any more gold. Still, he grabbed his keys and his phone and within minutes was zipping toward the construction site in his personal golf cart. He parked on the dirt some feet beyond the gaping hole and tried to appear nonchalant as he walked toward Jackson and the man Warren assumed was the subcontractor.
“Good morning, Boss.” He turned to the stranger and held out his hand. “Warren Drake.”
“Tom Peterson.”
“Good to meet you.”
“Warren,” Jackson began, “first of all you should know that I’ve known Tom for more than a decade and would trust him like he was my brother. So you can feel safe discussing this around him. He won’t break a confidence.”
Jackson nodded at Tom, who took up the story.
“I was operating the hydraulic excavator and when I pulled up the bucket and saw something flashing in the mound of dirt, I immediately thought gold. I don’t even know why, because I’ve never seen raw gold before. But I gave my men a ten-minute break and then went to get Jackson. That’s when he called you.”
“Because he showed me this.” Jackson opened his palm.
Warren’s curiosity immediately turned to excitement. He knew it in an instant, without even touching the piece, without further examination. His grandfather had a jar of nuggets that he kept on his desk. Nuggets that Warren and his brothers used to play with as children. He’d probably never know how his grandfather missed it during his search years ago, but there was no doubt about what Jackson held—a piece of solid gold.
He reached for it, and with his back to anyone who might be watching, held it to the sun. “Yes, this is a nugget. No doubt about it.”
“Do you think there could be more of it?” Jackson asked.
“Hard to say, but I don’t want you guys to do anything else here until I find out. Tom, is there any way we can suspend this job for today and have your guys come back tomorrow?”
“They won’t feel too good about missing a day’s pay but yes, we can do that.”
Jackson spoke up. “Tom, I’ll give four hours’ pay to the men who are already here.”
“I appreciate that.”
Warren pulled out his phone. “I need to make a couple calls and then I’ll know where to go from here.”
Just as he was about to dial, he heard crunching gravel and looked up to see Richard approaching. Intuition kicked in. Warren pocketed the nugget.
Richard adjusted his sunglasses as he approached. “Morning, fellas!”
“Morning, Richard.” Warren gave Richard a fist bump. Jackson and Tom also responded to his gre
eting. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Good. They’re doing the electrical wiring in the house right now, which is above both my skill set and my pay grade. So I thought I’d come over here and see if I could help with the pool that I’ll hopefully be spending a lot of time chilling in next summer!”
“Did you ask Brandon about what other work was needed over there?” Jackson asked.
“Couldn’t find him,” Richard easily replied. “That’s why I came looking for you.” He looked around. “Though now that I think about it, I just saw what looked like the whole crew leaving as I walked over. Is everything okay?”
“Equipment situation,” Jackson quickly answered, hoping that the noncommittal statement would suffice. “We’re having to rearrange some things, shift some jobs around. So I’m going to have to ask some of the men to take the day off, you included. I’m going to still provide four hours’ pay for everyone who has shown up.”
Richard looked at Warren, who spoke up right away. “Looks like today is going to be an easy one for you, since it’s just now ten o’clock. You’ve been talking about wanting to try out the golf course. I can give security a call so they’ll let you through the gate, and you can get in eighteen holes.”
Richard’s look was contemplative as he nodded. “I just might take you up on that. But tell you what, I have something else that I need to take care of. So let me get back to you.”
“All right, man. No problem. Go on and handle your business. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Warren waited until Richard was out of earshot and then turned back to the men. “I’m going to make these calls from my office. Jackson, I’ll keep you posted.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
Warren jumped back into the golf cart and headed to the office, but by the time he’d reached the vehicle-filled driveway, he’d changed his mind. This was a conversation with his father that he’d rather have face-to-face. He headed for his SUV and pulled out his phone.
“Hey, Dad,” he said as soon as Ike answered. “Where are you? I’d like to come over for a minute.” He got into his car and turned on the engine. “Why do I need to see you? What would you say if I told you that we’ve been excavating dirt to install the swimming pool...and found gold?”
Chapter 20
Warren drove through the towering, gold-plated gates that served as the entrance to a true paradise, the exlcusive Golden Gates enclave. Even though he’d been here practically his whole life, he still marveled at its opulence and beauty, still appreciated the grandiose entrance with its tons of flowers and spouting fountains and beyond it, the stately mansions and immaculately landscaped lawns. He went down the street and turned the corner into a cul-de-sac sporting only three homes: those of his oldest brother, Ike Jr.; his godparents, the Madisons; and his parents.
“Hello!” he announced, walking in the unlocked door. “Dad?”
“Back here, son.”
Warren walked toward the back of the house and entered his father’s home office/library. The faint smell of rich Dominican tobacco from Ike Sr.’s beloved Montecristo cigars tickled his nostrils as the blues music that often played low in the background of any room his father inhabited reached his ears.
He entered the room, his head immediately bobbing to the strains of B.B. King’s guitar. “Hello, Dad.”
Ike Sr. turned down the music. “Son!” He got up. They hugged. “Now, what in the world is this about finding gold?”
Warren reached into his pocket, pulled out the small nugget and set it on the shiny mahogany desktop.
Ike Sr. whistled as he sat back down. He picked up the nugget, turned and held it to the sunlight streaming in from the window behind him. “Well, there’s no doubt. This is gold, all right. Daddy said there’s no way that could happen. You know I called him as soon as we hung up the phone.”
“I figured as much.”
“Yes, he said that he and Charles spent almost three years, off and on, looking for more rocks. Said they’d dug up a good many acres trying to strike it rich, though he had to admit they didn’t check all one thousand of them.”
“Exactly.”
Ike leaned forward, placed the phone on speaker and hit Redial. Soon the deep voice of his father, Walter Drake, filled the room. “I still don’t believe it,” he declared by way of greeting. “You rascals are trying to pull my leg.”
“Believe it, Grandpa,” Warren said, followed by a laugh.
“I’m looking at it right now, Daddy. It’s sure enough gold.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Where did you find it?”
Warren explained where on the ranch he’d planted the vineyards, and where in relation to those he was building his home and the swimming pool, where the nugget had been found.
“So you’re talking about the southeast portion of the property, right?” Walter asked. “Over there, close to the Reed property line.”
“Not the furthermost part,” Warren corrected. “And not necessarily so close to their line, either. I made sure to keep a good deal of land between my personal property and the fence. So if there’s gold to be found, chances are it is now all on Drake property.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Walter repeated, his voice a mixture of incredulity and respect. “Congratulations, boy. If you’ve indeed found gold, you’ve done what your grandfather tried to do and couldn’t. Not after that little bit of luck we had just after we moved there. And that wasn’t enough to retire on or anything, just enough to make us hungry enough to spend twice as much as what we’d found to try and locate more!”
The men laughed.
“I didn’t know what to do next, Grandpa. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Well now, lookie here. I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do.”
Warren sat down and leaned forward, the second and third generation ready to listen to what the first generation had to say.
* * *
Someone else was listening, but no one was talking. Richard sat outside Acquired Taste, Paradise Cove’s upscale restaurant and lounge located in a quaint strip mall about midway between Warren’s ranch and the gated community of Golden Gates. He lounged in his Eldorado, nodding his head to his beloved old-school soul while listening even more closely to the intuition that had served him from the time he was the little boy of a single mother down in New Orleans, during his precarious years as a teen and young adult navigating the drug game and through four hard years in a federal prison. And his intuition was screaming that Warren was hiding something, that there was a reason that he’d wanted all the men gone from his place. But what?
That was the million-dollar question. Because for a man who had for the last three months said that moving into his ranch house was his top priority, Warren seemed a little too unconcerned today that work got done.
What’s up with that?
Richard didn’t know, but he planned to keep his eyes open—on the job site and off—to find out just why his inner voice was suggesting he pay attention.
He’d just changed the song on his stereo, going from the “Joy and Pain” of Frankie Beverly and Maze to the rich tenor voice of Eddie Kendricks when he saw her: medium height, long black hair, curves in all the right places. She was smartly dressed in a cute beige suit and high heels. Her sunglasses looked designer and her Louis Vuitton looked genuine. Richard had been sitting in his car trying to decide whether or not he wanted to eat in the restaurant or actually take Warren’s advice and hit a drive-through before hitting the greens.
His decision had just been made. Totally confident in his looks, even in jeans and tee, he spritzed on a touch of designer cologne before exiting his car and strolling toward the restaurant entrance. Once inside, he squinted while his eyes adjusted to the darker interior. Looking for her.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the cute brunette said to him, her bright smile rewarded with a smile of his own. “Welcome to Acquired Taste. Table for one?”
He found her. “I think I’ll sit at the bar.”
Richard strolled over and without looking at the woman, sat several stools away. It was a little early for the lunch crowd, so there was no one between them. He reached for the menu, placed a drink and food order and then busied himself checking messages and responding to Facebook posts on his cell phone.
Several moments passed. He received his brewski, took a swig...and waited.
“Excuse me.”
Bingo! You’ve still got it, brother...you’ve still got it! But he ignored her. With a woman this beautiful, he knew that not being paid attention was rare.
“Excuse me,” she said again, a little louder this time.
He liked the sound of her voice, light and cultured, strong enough to suggest that she wasn’t a total pushover but light enough to tell him who’d be in control. He finally looked up. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that you were talking to me.”
“No problem.”
She smiled. He liked that, too. Something about her seemed familiar. He rarely if ever forgot a pretty face. Then he remembered. He’d seen her the other night at the dance. If memory served him correctly, she’d talked to Warren at some point that night. Interesting. And perhaps advantageous. He turned on the charm, returning her smile while letting his bedroom eyes narrow ever so slightly, knowing that his long eyelashes now partly shielded his smoky orbs: a look that he knew drove women wild. Or so he’d been told.
She sat straighter in the bar seat. “I was just wondering if you were getting a signal in here. I’ve been trying to access the internet but it’s not working.”
“I’m on Facebook right now,” he said, turning the face of his phone toward her so that she could see. “It’s working for me just fine.”
“You must have the touch,” she responded. An obvious flirt.
“Indeed, I do,” he said matter-of-factly, because it was the truth.
“Do you mind if I come over there? Maybe the internet just doesn’t work on this side.”
