by Vi Keeland
Once I’d been watching a YouTube video about lakes in Northern California to fly fish in, and when I’d mentioned I was thinking of taking him up for the day, he started to recite all the best spots to fish for different things around the lake. Apparently, he’d watched the same video I’d stumbled upon—only about a hundred times.
I took the lures from the box and checked out his handiwork. They looked no different than the ones you’d buy in the store.
“Wow. Good job.” I held up one. “I call dibs on using the woolly bugger first.”
Lucas chuckled. “Okay. But that one’s the bunny leech.”
“I knew that.”
“Sure you did.”
***
“So how’s school going, buddy? We’re getting close to summer break.”
“School’s okay,” he frowned. “But I don’t want to go to Minnetonka.”
My body turned rigid. I knew Lucas’s dad lived there. But I didn’t think anyone else knew that. “Why would you go to Minnetonka?”
“Grandma’s making me go to her sister’s. She lives in the middle of nowhere. I’ve seen pictures. And when she comes to see us, all she does is sit on the couch and watch dumb soap operas and ask me to rub her feet.” He paused. “She’s got onions.”
“Onions?”
“Yeah. On her feet. They’re like weird bumps that are all bony and stuff, and she wants me to rub them. It’s gross.”
I chuckled. “Oh. Bunions. Yeah, they can be pretty gnarly. How long are you guys staying?”
“Grandma said a whole month. Her sister’s having…” Lucas held his fingers up to make air quotes “…lady-parts surgery.”
His delivery would have made me laugh if we’d been discussing anything other than him leaving for a month and going to a place his mother never had any intention of taking him. “She said I’m gonna meet a whole bunch of family. But I’d rather stay home and go to soccer camp.”
What the hell was Fanny up to now? The two of us definitely needed to have a talk when I dropped Lucas off this afternoon. She hadn’t mentioned anything to me about missing any visits, and I’d already paid for the summer-long soccer camp it seemed he would miss. But I’d learned better than to promise Lucas I could make his grandmother see what was best for him, so I attempted to put the topic on the backburner for later and not let it ruin our Saturday.
“How’re things going with Lulu?” Girls were a new topic of discussion lately.
Lucas cast his line out into the lake, and we watched it plunk down into the water at least sixty feet away. I’d be lucky to reach half that. He locked the drag and looked my way. “She likes Billy Anderson. He’s on the football team.”
Ah. Now it makes sense. Two weeks ago when I came to pick him up, he’d asked me if I could talk to his grandmother about him trying out for the football team. She’d told him it was too dangerous of a sport. He’d never expressed an interest in anything but soccer before, and God knows I tried to get him to throw a baseball and football around. But he was almost twelve now—about the age I was when I discovered twelve-year-old Cheri Patton would jump up and down and cheer for me if I scored a touchdown. Damn, that girl had great pom-poms.
“Oh yeah? Well, don’t worry. There’re plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Yeah.” He moped. “I think I’m gonna like an ugly one next time.”
I held back my laughter. “An ugly one?”
“All the pretty ones are so bossy and mean. But the ugly ones are usually pretty cool.”
Maybe he should be advising me on girls, instead of the other way around.
“That sounds like a good plan. But let me give you one piece of advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell the girl you decided to like her because she wasn’t one of the pretty ones.”
“Yeah. I won’t.” He reeled in his line with a smirk on his face. “I bet the girl wearing your shirt when you changed her tire a few weeks ago was really, really mean.”
I laughed. The kid didn’t miss a thing. Normally, I didn’t bring women around Lucas. Not that I didn’t think he wouldn’t be cool with it, but because the relationships I had didn’t generally last too long. Except a few weeks ago when he’d met Elena—the hot little meter maid who took care of more than one fantasy I’d had about a girl in uniform. We’d spent the night before my regular every-other-Saturday visit with Lucas at my place. Ten minutes after I’d picked him up, she called my cell to say her car needed a jump outside of my building—where I’d left her still in my bed. I couldn’t very well not go back and take care of her car when she’d taken such good care of me. So Lucas met Elena. I’d said she was a friend, but apparently he’d put two and two together. The little shit.
“Elena was very nice.” Until I didn’t call the entire next week. Then she told me to fuck off. And suddenly yesterday I started getting parking tickets when I parked in my usual spot outside the office.
“My friend Jack says you should ask a girl three questions, and if she answers no to any of them, you shouldn’t like her.”
“Oh yeah? What questions are those?”
Lucas counted off on his fingers, holding up his thumb for one. “First, you ask if she’s ever let anyone copy her homework.” He raised his pointer finger. “Second, you ask if she can eat more than one slice of pizza. And third…” He added his middle finger. “You need to know if she’s ever gone out in her pajamas.”
“Interesting.” I scratched at my chin. I might have to test this theory myself. “Does Lulu eat more than one slice of pizza?”
“She eats salad.”
He said it like the word was a curse. But there was something to that. When I take a woman to a nice Italian restaurant or steakhouse and she orders a salad—half the time not finishing it because she’s too full—that’s never a good sign.
“Let me ask you something. How did your friend Jack come up with this test?”
“He’s got an older brother who’s eighteen. He also told him that if you tell a girl you have three testicles, she’ll always let you show her your wiener.”
That one I’d most definitely be trying out. I wondered if it would work on Little Miss Daddy Owns a Winery.
“Uh, I don’t think you should try out that last piece of advice. Could get you arrested for indecent exposure.”
Lucas and I spent our entire day fly-fishing. He caught a bucket full of trout. I caught a tan. When I drove him back to Fanny’s house, she was her usual friendly self. I had to stick my foot in the door to keep her from slamming it shut in my face after Lucas and I said goodbye.
“I need to speak to you a minute.”
Both hands flew to her hips. “Is your check not gonna clear?”
God forbid that happen.
“My check is fine. As was the one that I gave to Kick Start, the day camp I paid for Lucas to go to this summer.”
Fanny was a pain in the ass, but she was sharp. She didn’t need anything explained to her.
“Have to help out my sister. He’ll get to go for half of it.”
“And what about my Saturday visits?”
She ignored my question. “You know, he’s been asking a lot of questions about his mother this week. I found some old journals of Sophia’s. They make for some pretty interesting reading.”
“He’s too young to read his mother’s journals.”
“That’s the problem with young people today. Parents protect them too much. Reality isn’t always perfect. The sooner they learn that the better.”
“There’s a difference between giving a kid a dose of reality and scarring him for life.”
“I guess we’re lucky it’s up to me to determine what will scar him and what won’t, then.”
Yeah, right. “What about my weekends?”
“You can keep him until six instead of five when we get back. It’ll make up the lost hours.”
Unbelievable. “I promised him I’d see him every other Saturday. I don’t want to let him down.
”
She flashed a vicious smile. “Think that ship’s already sailed.”
My jaw flexed. “We had an agreement.”
“Maybe it’s time we renegotiate that agreement. My electricity’s gone up because of the new phone and computer you bought him.”
“You get your check right on time every month, and I pay for plenty of extras like camp, school supplies, and whatever else he needs.”
“You want him to go to that camp so badly. You keep him for the month I’ll be taking care of my sister.”
“I work late and travel all the time.” Not to mention my job was at stake, and I’d be working even more the upcoming months.
Fanny stepped back from the doorway, into the house. “Looks like you’ll be breaking your promise come next month then, won’t you? Just like you did to his mother. Some things never change.”
She slammed the door in my face.
Chapter 7
* * *
August 1st
Dear Me,
Today we made a friend! It didn’t start out like we were going to be friends, though. I was practicing throwing a softball at the pitch back the old owners left in front of our new house, and a boy stopped on his bicycle to watch me. He said I threw like a girl. I said thank you, even though I knew he didn’t say it to be nice. Bennett got off his bike and let it fall to the ground, not bothering to use his kickstand. It looked like he did that a lot because the bike is pretty scuffed up.
Anyway, he walked over and took the ball out of my hand and showed me how to hold it so I wouldn’t throw like a girl anymore. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing together. And guess what? Bennett and me have the same teacher when school starts next week. Oh, and he doesn’t like to be called Ben.
After we were done playing ball, I was going to show him around the new house. But mom’s new boyfriend Arnie was home. He works at night, so I’m not supposed to make noise during the day because he sleeps. So we went to Bennett’s house, and his mom made us cookies. Bennett showed me a notebook of stuff he made. He draws really good pictures of superheroes! Guess what else? I told him about the poetry I write, and he didn’t laugh. So today my poem is dedicated to him.
The summer is rain.
A little girl sings outside.
She drowns in music.
This letter will self-destruct in ten minutes.
Anonymously,
Sophie
Chapter 8
* * *
Annalise
Something was off.
Not one insult or smart-ass comment since I walked into his office twenty minutes ago. I’d typed up our list of the accounts we’d each agreed to keep and which we were pushing off to staff. But I realized a few we were reassigning had upcoming meetings already scheduled, and we should probably attend those to smooth out the transition. I rattled off the clients and dates while Bennett sat behind his desk, continuously tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it.
“Yeah. That’s fine,” he said.
“What about the Morgan Food campaign? We didn’t talk about that one because the request for proposal hadn’t come in yet. It arrived this morning.”
“You can take it.”
My brows drew down. Hmmm. Not going to question that one aloud.
I crossed that off my list and kept going. “I think we should have a staff meeting—a joint one. Show both our teams that we can act as one, even if it’s just an act for their benefit. It’ll boost morale.”
“Okay.”
I crossed another item off, then set my pad and pen down and watched him more closely. “And the Arlo Dairy campaign. I thought maybe you could do some of those exaggerated-body-part superhero sketches to include with our presentation.”
Bennett tossed that damn ball up into the air then caught it. Again. “That’s fine.”
I knew he hadn’t been paying attention. “Maybe you could sketch the VP of Operations. I bet she’d look great with a bigger rack.”
Bennett tossed the ball up and his head swung in my direction. His glazed-over eyes seemed to come back into focus, like he just woke up from a nap and for the first time saw me sitting there.
The ball fell to the ground. “What did you just say?”
“Where are you? I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, and you’ve been so agreeable I thought you might have the flu or something.”
He shook his head and blinked a few times. “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.” Turning his chair to face me, he picked up a tall coffee from his desk. “What were you saying?”
“Just now or the whole time?”
He stared at me blankly.
I huffed, but started over. The second time around, when he actually paid attention, my adversary wasn’t as agreeable. Yet he still seemed off. When we were done going through my list, I thought he might need some cheering up.
“My parents really liked you…”
“Especially your mom.” He winked.
Now that comment seemed more like the Bennett I’d come to know over the last week.
“Must be early-onset senility. Anyway, they showed me your proposal for their ad campaign. It was really good.”
“Of course it was.”
For a second, I reconsidered what I’d spent days mulling over. His blazing ego didn’t need any more fanning. But my parents deserved the best advertising campaign possible. And that wasn’t mine, unfortunately.
“As much as it pains me to say it, your ideas were better. We’d like to go forward on the radio copy and magazine sketches you proposed. I have a few tweaks, and I’d obviously like to stay on the campaign as the point person, but we can manage this campaign together. And I’ll let Jonas know it’s my family and give you credit for bringing in the better pitch.”
Bennett stared at me for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he leaned back into his chair, steepled his fingers, and squinted at me like I was a suspect. “Why would you do that? What’s the catch?”
“Do what? Tell Jonas?”
He shook his head. “All of it. We’re in the middle of fighting for our jobs, and you’re going to hand me a W that’s an easy point for you.”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. Your advertising is better for the client.”
“Because it’s your family?”
I wasn’t quite sure about the answer to that. The fact that it was my parents’ winery was a no-brainer. But what would I do if this were a regular client we had both pitched? I honestly didn’t know if I’d be handing him anything. I’d like to think my morals would have me putting the client first, no matter what. Yet this was my job on the line…
“Well, yes. The fact that it’s my parents made it an easy decision to put the client first.”
Bennett scratched his chin. “Alright. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I opened my to-do-list notebook again. “Now, next order of business. Jonas sent us an email this morning on the Venus Vodka campaign. He wants ideas by this Friday, and he doesn’t want us to tell him who came up with which pitch. I think he wants to make sure we have direction early because he doesn’t trust we’ll be able to work together well enough.”
“Would you do that for any client?”
“Be ready early when the boss asks? Of course.”
He shook his head. “No. Use my campaign if you thought it was better than yours.”
Apparently I was the only one who’d changed subjects. I closed my book and leaned back in my seat. “I’m honestly not sure. I like to think I would put any client first, that I’d act ethically in their best interest, but I love my job, and I’ve invested seven years working my way up with Wren. So, I’m ashamed to say, I can’t really answer that with certainty.”
Bennett’s face had been stoic, but a slow grin spread across it now. “We might get along after all.”
“What would you do in that situation? Do what’s best for the client or for yourself?”
“Easy. I’d bury your ass, and
the client would get second best. Although, on the off chance my work was actually second best, it would be by a hair, so the client wouldn’t be suffering much.”
I laughed. Such a damn cocky bastard, but at least he was honest. “Good to know what I’m up against.”
We spent the next half hour going through open issues and then decided we would get started on the Venus campaign later in the day because we both had afternoons jam-packed with meetings.
“I have an appointment with a client at two. I can probably be back at the office by about five,” I said.
“I’ll order us in some dinner. What are you? A vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, beegan?
I stood. “Why do I have to be any of those?”
Bennett shrugged. “You just seem like the type.”
Too bad eye rolls weren’t a form of exercise. God knows, I’d be in tip-top shape after being around this man. “I eat anything. I’m not picky.”
I’d made it to the door when Bennett stopped me. “Hey, Texas?”
“What?” I needed to stop answering to that name.
“Have you ever let anyone copy your homework?”
My nose wrinkled. “Homework?”
“Yeah. At school. Back in the day. Could have been in grammar school, high school, or even college.”
Madison might not have done a single math assignment on her own for most of algebra. “Of course I did. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
***
My appointment went longer than I’d anticipated, and the office was almost emptied out by the time I got back. Marina, Bennett’s assistant—or rather our assistant—was just packing up her desk.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Did you let Bennett know I got delayed?”
