The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  "Right," he said, doubtful. He took a small piece of cloth from his pocket and began to clean his glasses. "So which band did your boyfriend play in?"

  Cassie bit her lip in order not to giggle at the stunned expression on Adriana's face. "Corrosion of Sanity," she replied coolly.

  Eric returned his glasses to his face. "Aptly named, no doubt."

  "Now wait a minute." She tapped a blue nail against the table. "They're great. Some people can't understand hard rock."

  "Yes, the mutilation of good sound is hard to understand. At least you have a better taste in friends than in music."

  "Now wait—"

  "We can argue about that later. Right now I have a pretty woman to impress." He suddenly grabbed Cassie's hand with surprising familiarity and stood. "I want to show you something. Don't worry, Drake, I'll bring her right back." He led her to the checkout counter and looked up at the chalkboard. "Pretend to look at the menu."

  She did.

  "I'm Drake's brother," he explained.

  "I know. He told me about you and your sister."

  That revelation gave Eric pause for a moment; then a secret smile touched his mouth. "You're supposed to act surprised and say 'But you look nothing alike.'"

  She looked at him, confused. "But you do look alike. You're both very good looking." To her surprise a tint of red touched his honey skin. She turned away to hide a smile.

  "Yes, well. Anyway." He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

  "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "You didn't embarrass me." He flashed such a wicked grin, Cassie instantly knew he could be just as dangerous as his brother. "I just figured out something."

  "What?"

  "Why Drake's always such a lucky man." He changed the subject. "Since we didn't have much, it forced us to take value in the things that mattered, find beauty in things others might ignore." He scratched his cheek and pointed vaguely at the menu. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

  "You're saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

  He shook his head. "No." He placed his hands behind him and rocked on his heels. "I'm saying we've seen ugly things and you're not one of them."

  "I know I'm not ugly."

  He turned to her. "But you don't know that you're beautiful."

  She patted him on the shoulder. This one was more serious than Drake. "You don't need to worry about me. What your friend said didn't bother me. Besides, Drake and I are just friends."

  His brows furrowed. "But I thought—"

  "That we were something more?" she interrupted, not wanting him to name what they were. "No, that's not possible. We're from two different planets. I'm from Earth and only you know where he's from."

  Like Drake, he didn't smile at her humor. Instead, he softly swore. "So you're not interested in him?"

  "Of course I am. I enjoy his company, but we both know the type of woman he deserves."

  Eric adjusted his glasses and swore again.

  "You know, that's a bad habit of yours."

  "Don't worry, I have plenty of others." He studied her for a moment. "So you're just friends, huh?"

  She didn't know why he kept repeating the fact. "Yes. Close friends."

  He swore with feeling.

  She nudged him when an older woman stared at him in shock. "Stop that."

  "Sorry. Come on, we'd better return before Drake decides to get us."

  He deposited her in the seat, glanced at his brother as if he wanted to say something, and then his eyes fell on Adriana. "Who are you anyway?"

  "Adriana."

  "That's what I thought." He spun on his heel and left.

  She looked at him speaking to Kristin. "What the hell did that mean?" Adriana grumbled to no one in particular.

  "What did he have to show you?" Drake asked.

  Cassie shrugged. "Just the pastry section."

  He frowned, but said nothing. His eyes watched her.

  "What a dreadful bore," Adriana muttered. "I don't know what he's doing out with that bimbo. I bet he reads the dictionary for fun. He's got intellectual written all over him."

  "Sinful man," Cassie teased, feeling Drake's eyes on her, but trying to ignore them.

  Drake abruptly stood. "Let's go home."

  He offered to drive her home, but Cassie said she preferred to return with Adriana.

  "You're trying to punish me for what Kristin said, aren't you?" he asked.

  She quickly denied that, not wanting him to see her as shallow. "I just really need to work on my book. It's going nowhere. I've been distracted, happily of course. But now I have to get to work."

  Drake nodded, accepting the explanation. "All right. I'll see you later."

  For some odd reason, she felt as if they were saying good-bye.

  Chapter 11

  "What a load of crock," Adriana said, shutting the door to her spiffy blue Acura.

  Cassie snapped her seat belt. "It's not."

  "I know." She pointed at Cassie. "And you know that you would be at his place right now if it hadn't been for that woman."

  "Her name is Kristin."

  "I don't care what her name is." She checked her rearview mirror, then pulled into the street. "Something that wiggles that much should be kept in a box."

  "What about her friend?"

  Adriana shivered. "He should be dusted once a week. A dull, analytical, left-brain who has to analyze everything before it can be enjoyed. What did he mean by 'That's what I thought'?"

  "He's just thinking aloud."

  "He should try thinking quietly like the rest of us."

  "Shame he's so good looking," she said, wondering if her friend had noticed.

  "I'm afraid that the glare from his spectacles blocked my view."

  "Oh, so you didn't notice his light brown eyes?"

  "They were dark brown."

  "Oh, right," Cassie said, trying to keep a straight face. "Must have been the glare."

  Adriana laughed at herself. "All right, you caught me. I admit he's good looking, not as good looking as Drake of course, but that's all I'll admit. It's completely wasted anyway." She changed the subject. "How's the book?"

  "Dead on arrival."

  "You're still stuck?"

  "Like a pig in a doggy door."

  "That says something." But she didn't say what.

  * * *

  Cassie tried to believe that Kristin had nothing to do with her decision to come home, but the woman's words kept repeating in her mind—fat, fat, fat. As big as a whale. She'd probably dream about Drake with a harpoon in his hand. She was fat. That was the truth and that's how people would see her. She tried to use Eric's words to calm her stormy thoughts. Both he and Drake didn't see her that way and that was something she could cling to. But it didn't help. It was Drake's fault women saw her as competition and felt the need to tear her down. It happened with Timothy. She would have to make sure she didn't appear as a threat and that's how she would maintain their relationship until the reunion.

  She suddenly felt chilled and shut the window. She secured the latch, then stared at it, confused. How had it opened? She was positive she had locked it before she left. She shrugged, dismissing any sinister thoughts. The building was old anyway and nothing had been touched. She secured the window with a stone and headed for the computer.

  * * *

  Two days later, Drake hadn't heard from Cassie and figured she was busy. So he found himself watching an action film with Eric. "Heard Lance was singing your praises because of Pamela," Eric said, staring at the TV.

  "She's a good kid. Cassie instantly took to her."

  Eric nodded, then began muttering prime numbers.

  Drake tapped his leg. "You don't like her, do you?"

  "I don't know Pamela."

  "Cassie," he corrected.

  "Sure I like her." He slouched lower in his seat. "She's fun."

  "But there's a problem."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Be
cause you start muttering prime numbers when you have something to say but won't." He sent Eric a smug look. "You're not the only one safe from Henson predictability."

  Eric shifted in his chair. "I saw Malcolm the other day. He has a black eye."

  "It wasn't me." He flexed his fingers. "I didn't have time to get to him."

  "I know. He walked into my fist first."

  Drake stared at him, shocked. "That's not your style."

  "I know." He glanced at his swollen knuckles. "He said a few things that sort of set me off."

  Drake didn't ask what because he knew his brother probably wouldn't tell him.

  Eric pushed up his glasses. "As you can probably guess we're not friends anymore."

  "Hmm. What about Kristin?"

  He shrugged, nonchalant. "Gone."

  "You don't seem sorry."

  "I'm not. I never make a big investment in people." He cleared his throat. "You should do the same."

  He paused. "Why?"

  "Makes life easier."

  Drake clasped his hands behind his head. "If you have a point, make it."

  Eric hesitated. He hated getting involved in other people's relationships, but Drake was his brother after all. "I think you see your relationship with Cassie in a different way than she does."

  "I know she's hesitant about marriage, but in time she'll come around."

  "So you don't mind being friends?" he asked cautiously.

  He frowned. "Friends?"

  "That's what she says you are."

  "Like buddies?"

  He nodded.

  Drake let his hands fall. "She said that?"

  Eric nodded again. "I know she likes you, but I don't think she's serious. You've already told me she has other guy friends. How do you know she doesn't sleep with them too?"

  "She doesn't." His voice was ice.

  "Fine." Eric was in no mood to argue. "So you are the only one she sleeps with. Do you really think that's enough to make you different?"

  Drake stared at the TV.

  "I'm not saying you should dump her. I just think you should lighten up, perhaps get some girlfriends of your own."

  Drake dismissed the idea. "She's just confused." A malicious grin swept across his face. "Fortunately, I know how to make it clear for her."

  * * *

  Cedric pulled his cap lower as he watched the girl come out of the restaurant. She really bugged him— always looking so good and cheerful. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he missed his job. He'd liked wearing a uniform and being part of a team. It hadn't always been fun, but it was better than hanging with his boys all day. They were getting old and some of the stuff they did made him nervous. If Henson hadn't tried to show him up he would still be there. He hadn't even been given a second chance because she'd taken it from him.

  "You think you're something, don't you?" he sneered when she passed him.

  She ignored him; he followed.

  "You know this used to be my job. You don't have to act like all that. I know how much you're making and could make a lot more."

  Pamela stopped and stared at him. "You're not bad looking for a stalker."

  He gazed at her, stunned. "What?"

  "Although I guess stalkers don't have a certain look, do they? I'd have to say I'd rather have you stalking me than someone else. You don't look scary, just angry."

  "I'm not stalking you."

  "Then why have you been watching me after work all week?" She suddenly smiled. Cedric blinked. The girl was crazy, but cute. "I know why," she said. "You're afraid to ask for your job back."

  She was supposed to be angry or defensive, not grinning at him as if he were her new best friend. He had come for a fight and she was ruining it for him. "You have my job."

  "No, I don't. You quit." Pamela lowered her voice. "Bad move. You had it made. I bet you know that now. Fortunately, you're in luck. We need a new dishwasher. The hours are good and I know Mr. Henson can make the work fit into your schedule when school starts." She dug into her backpack and handed him a card. "He's at his main office right now. I wouldn't wait."

  Cedric stared at her, amazed. Girls like her never talked to guys like him. Let alone gave some advice. He knew that he probably looked like an idiot. But he didn't know what to say.

  She smiled shyly. "Well, bye."

  "Why are you being nice to me?" he asked as she turned.

  "I had a cousin like you." She hesitated. "We buried him three months ago." Pamela lowered her eyes, but he already saw the building tears. He had a strange urge to comfort her, but instead buried his hands in his pockets and watched her walk away.

  * * *

  Drake had to stop himself from rubbing his ears in disbelief when his assistant announced that Cedric had come to see him. He thought for a moment, then called him in.

  Cedric came through the door wearing a cap low on his eyes and an extra-large T-shirt. "I want a job," he announced.

  Drake leaned back in his chair, quickly remembering why he had gotten rid of him in the first place. "So?"

  "I heard that you needed a dishwasher."

  He nodded. "That's right."

  "I could do it."

  Drake straightened his tie and watched him.

  Cedric came toward the desk. "Come on, man, give me a break."

  Drake rested his elbows on the armrest and placed the tips of his fingers together. "What's my name?" he asked quietly, his eyes unreadable.

  "What?"

  "Oh, I forgot." He let his gaze fall. "Hearing loss comes with an attitude problem."

  Cedric sighed. "Mr. Henson."

  He looked up. "Yes?"

  "I want a job."

  Drake leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "I don't care what you want I'm a businessman. What can you give me?" He smiled coolly. "I've already seen what you can do and haven't been impressed."

  Cedric shifted from one foot to the other, feeling awkward under the intense gaze. "I messed up big time and I was wrong."

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  "You don't have to be so hard, man."

  Drake rubbed his chin. "The door is right behind you."

  Cedric threw up his hands—frustration, anger, and helplessness evident in the gesture. "Man, I don't need this." He stormed out, slamming the door.

  Drake sighed and returned to his work, fighting a small amount of guilt. Perhaps he'd been too hard. But then again life wasn't kind.

  "Mr. Henson?" He glanced up and saw Cedric peering from behind the door. The smug arrogance was gone from his tone. "I really need a job. I'm a good dishwasher, I wash all the dishes at home. I'll arrive on time and everything."

  "Why should I give you a second chance?"

  "Because you won't regret it."

  Drake held out his hand, wanting to smile with pride but frowning instead. "You make sure I don't regret it or you will."

  After Cedric left, he lifted the phone to call Cassie, but immediately replaced the receiver. Cedric wasn't the only one who needed to learn a lesson. He buzzed his assistant and scheduled a business trip to Florida instead.

  * * *

  Cassie slammed down the telephone. Nearly two weeks and Drake hadn't returned her calls. Kristin must have changed his mind about her and he had chosen the coward's way to dump her. Damn him! She had thought about calling his cell phone but didn't want to appear desperate. She would not bow to him again. She would not allow him to handle her emotions this way. So it was over, huh? Good riddance.

  The doorbell rang expectedly. She had invited Adriana over for a serious session of male bashing. She opened the door and in a fit of anger, lunged at the person standing there. "Get out of my sight!"

  Door 712 swung open. "What's going on out there?"

  "We're fine," Drake said in a quiet voice. He removed Cassie's grip on his shirt.

  "We're not fine," Cassie countered. "I want him to leave."

  Mr. Gianolo glanced from Drake to her, then back to Drake again. "Seems like everyth
ing is under control." He shut the door.

  "Men," Cassie said, disgusted.

  Drake frowned down at her. "Why are you so upset?"

  She hit him in the chest. "You don't call for nearly two weeks and you ask me why I'm upset?"

  "I was busy. I had to travel to Florida on business."

  She held up her hand in the shape of a phone. "And you couldn't call to tell me this?"

  "Well, I—"

  "I would have understood," she cut in. "But no. You didn't have the decency to call. One moment you're everywhere I turn and then poof, you're gone."

  "Things got crazy. I rehired Cedric."

  Her anger subsided into surprise. "You did?"

  Drake nodded. "He came to my office and asked for a job. At first the staff wasn't pleased to see him again, but he's doing very well."

  "I'm glad. I know how much—" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Wait. That's not the point."

  He rested against the door frame and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I also had to meet with a new delivery service since our old one is under new management. There was a menu change and a new assistant manager to break in, plus a big catering affair. I didn't think I needed to call you. We're just friends after all."

  Cassie narrowed her eves, suspicious. "What are you up to?"

  Drake pushed himself from the frame and walked into the apartment. "I'm not up to anything, babe."

  She closed the door and glared at his back. "Don't call me babe."

  "Sorry, buddy. You liked it when Kevin did. What do your other male friends call you?"

  "They call me Cassie. Now listen here—"

  He sat. "How's your book coming?"

  "Fine." She sat next to him, determined to get answers. "Why didn't you return any of my calls?"

  He yawned. "Are we back to that? I explained that I was busy. Besides, I didn't think it was urgent since you didn't call my cell phone." He leaned forward. "I'm not staying long. I just came by to say hello and see if you'd be free for a bazaar later this week."

  A bazaar was too public. "How about a movie?"

  "Are you free?"

  "I don't know."

  He stood and patted her on the shoulder. "Call me when you do."

  "Drake, stop acting like this," she demanded, annoyed.

  "Like what?" He rested his hands on the back on the couch. "A friend? I thought that's what I was."