Bad Behavior [Confuct Series #2]

by Jennifer Lane

  “Finally!” Ben cried victoriously, still panting a bit from exertion.

  Grant glanced at his watch and his expression turned from affectionate to anxious. “Only twenty more minutes till show time,” he croaked. “You’ve done a good job distracting me, though. Thanks.”

  “No prob.”

  Grant crossed to the door and peered out at the small stage area next to the piano, to the right of the bar. He gulped, letting his eyes float over the gathering crowd sprinkled at the semicircle of tables arranged around the bar and stage. His attention was immediately drawn to two stocky men standing behind one table. They reminded Grant of his father’s goons. Casting his eyes down to the three men seated at the table, he caught the gray hair of his boss, who spoke animatedly to his guests. Scrunching his forehead, Grant wondered if Alex had his own bodyguards. Then he studied the profile of the man next to Alex and drew in a sharp breath.

  “What is it?” Ben asked from behind him.

  “That’s the governor of Illinois!” Grant exclaimed. “Governor Tom Grogan. What’s he doing here?”

  “Holy shit—you’ll be singing for the governor?”

  Grant turned to look at his nephew with widening eyes. “Holy shit! I’ll be singing for the governor. Oh, no!” He spun around and desperately stared at the table again, hoping his eyes had deceived him. However, when he looked back at the bodyguards, he detected an earpiece. They had the look of secret service types. One protection agent leaned in to whisper something in the governor’s ear, at which time the third seated man, whose back faced Grant, turned away to give the politician some privacy. When Grant saw his face in profile, he stopped breathing.

  “You okay, Uncle Grant?”

  “Th-Th-That’s Will Taylor.”

  “What?” Ben craned his neck around to get a look for himself. Sure enough, the man he’d seen in Angelo’s study was sitting right there at the table.

  “That’s Sophie’s dad,” Grant numbly announced, beginning to feel nauseated.

  “Maybe Sophie asked him to come and give you support too?”

  Grant shot his nephew an incredulous glare. “He hates me! He’s already tried to break us up several times, including last week after he ran into me at the compound. Sophie almost left me because he told her I was working for the family.”

  “But you’re not!” Ben instantly recalled Angelo lying about Grant being on the payroll. He felt sickened that his uncle had almost lost Sophie as a result of having to retrieve him from the compound. He had to do something.

  “I can’t do this,” Grant choked out, almost hyperventilating. He weaved his way over to a chair and collapsed into it, murmuring, “I can’t sing, not with him out there. What the hell is he doing here? I—I can’t sing. And if I don’t sing, I get fired, I go back to prison, I lose Sophie…”

  “It’ll be okay, Uncle Grant.”

  Ben’s promises barely registered with the man holding his head in his hands.

  Patting his uncle’s shoulder a few times, Ben instructed, “Just sit here, okay? I, um, I gotta run to the bathroom—I’ll be right back.”

  Stepping out of the side room, Ben took a deep breath and headed straight for Alex Remington’s table. As he quickly approached the three men sitting there, one of the agents stepped forward, ready to pounce if he made any sudden moves. The men ceased their chatter and curiously stared at the boy.

  “You’re a little young to be in a bar, aren’t you?” Alex asked.

  “That’s okay, Alex. He’s just looking for an autograph,” Governor Grogan reassured him. “Do you have something for me to sign, son?”

  Ben dismissively waved his hand. “No, actually I’m here to talk to him.”

  All interested parties followed Ben’s pointed finger to the surprised face of Will Taylor. “Who the hell are you?” Will asked.

  Ben swallowed against his tightening throat. “Ben Barberi.”

  Will flinched, and his blue eyes turned icy. “You’re Logan’s son? You’ve been staying with my daughter?”

  “Yeah.”

  The governor watched the interaction with interest, already quite familiar with the Barberi crime family. He’d been furious when Angelo Barberi had weaseled out of extortion charges. The governor’s advisors had warned him that failing to put the notorious crook behind bars might cost him the upcoming election.

  When Ben said nothing further, Will tried again. “Well, what do you want?”

  “I need to tell you something,” Ben said, his voice quivering. “I was there.”

  “What?”

  “I overheard the whole thing. I heard Angelo lie to you when he told you Grant’s working for him. He’s not. I promise. The only reason my uncle was there was to get me—he was worried about me.”

  “Will, what the hell’s this kid talking about?” the governor asked.

  Ignoring him, Will narrowed his eyes. “Sophie told me some story about Grant being there to retrieve you, but I didn’t believe it. Now you’re saying it’s true? You were there?”

  Ben nodded eagerly.

  “Why do you care about this? Why does it matter what I think about Grant?”

  “Because my uncle’s about to sing in the bar tonight, and he freaked out when he saw you here. He, uh, he knows you hate him. I thought if you knew the truth, you might not hate him so much.”

  Will glared at Alex. “Grant Madsen’s this new singer you were telling me about? The singer you dragged me here to see?”

  When his friend nodded, Will’s face reddened further, and his voice rose. “Did Sophie put you up to this?”

  “Why are you so upset, Will?” Alex responded calmly. “Sophie asked me to keep it a secret when I hired Grant because she wanted to surprise you or something. I thought I’d invite you here tonight and save her an extra step.”

  “Did she tell you Grant comes from a Mafia family?”

  Alex nodded. “She did. She and Grant told me how he’s on parole, just like her.”

  “Then why the hell did you hire him? Are all your employees felons?”

  Alex’s jaw flexed, and he glanced over to see the governor’s reaction to Will’s accusations, but Tom looked placid as always. Turning back to Will, Alex insisted, “I hired Grant because Sophie loves him and trusts him. And I trust her. Maybe you should give it a try someday.”

  “How can I trust her when she dumped her career down the tubes, all for one man? For—for…” Will glared at Ben “…for your father! He purposely ruined my daughter’s life. Did you know that?”

  Seeing the devastated expression on Ben’s face, Alex warned, “Will.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ben broke in, trying not to cry. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. “I’m sorry for what my dad did. But if you could just give my uncle another chance—please, he needs this job.”

  Suddenly Ben felt a set of strong hands clasping his shoulders, and he looked behind him to find his uncle, looking pale and upset. The protection agent’s hand snaked toward his holster.

  “Ben, what’re you doing?” Grant asked.

  “He’s trying to convince me you don’t work for the Barberis,” Will retorted snidely.

  Grant nervously looked at Will. “I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with them. But I know you’ll never believe me.” He clenched his teeth and nodded at the governor. “Governor Grogan.” Then he turned to his boss. “Mr. Remington, um, I think I have to quit, sir. I’m sorry for letting you down, but I can’t do this. I should’ve known better than to try something like this.”

  Ben whipped around to face his uncle. “But you’ll go back to prison if you don’t have a job!”

  “I’ll find something.”

  “What if you can’t?” Ben pleaded.

  “I’ll find something,” Grant repeated, trying to feign confidence. To his horror, Ben burst into tears. Drawing his nephew into him, Grant asked, “What is it, buddy?”

  “Don’t leave,” Ben whimpered, burying his face in his uncle’s chest as Grant patt
ed his back, not knowing what else to do.

  “Don’t you leave me too,” Ben cried.

  Stunned, Grant looked up at the three powerful men, all of whom wore helpless, uncomfortable expressions.

  “You gotta sing. You can’t lose this job,” Ben begged.

  Clearing his throat, Grant asked, “Would you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?” When all three nodded, Grant led his nephew back to the side room.

  After they were out of earshot, the governor looked at Will. “What was that kid saying? Are you mixed up with the Mafia, Will?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If they’re threatening you, I can protect you,” Tom promised.

  “Really?” Will exploded. “Just like you protected Sophie from that scumbag Logan Barberi? That’s Madsen’s brother, by the way, in case you didn’t catch that. My daughter’s now dating the brother of the man who sent her to prison. And there’s fucking nothing I can do about it. The only thing I can do is keep my mouth shut and pray that my baby stays safe from those monsters.”

  Inside the dressing room, Grant rubbed his hand over Ben’s back. “I’m so sorry you lost your dad,” he murmured soothingly. The boy seemed inconsolable. Months of pent-up grief came pouring out of him, and Grant had no idea what to do. “Listen, I’m sure I’ll find another job, Ben.”

  “No, you w-w-won’t,” he sobbed. “And then your mean PO will throw you b-b-back inside.”

  Grant suppressed a grin. Jerry had sure made an impression on his nephew. He suddenly noticed he didn’t feel nervous anymore, just concerned for Ben. Screw Will Taylor—he’d already come between him and Sophie too many times, and he didn’t want the man to upset his nephew too.

  “Would it help if I tried to keep my job?” he asked Ben.

  Ben immediately looked up to stare at his uncle with glistening eyes. Sniffing, he nodded vehemently. “You’ll sing?”

  “I’ll try, okay?” Grant forced a smile. “It’s just like fifty push-ups. I’ll take one at a time and do my best.”

  Just then the piano player, Andy, stuck his head in the room. “Boss told me we gotta get started. You ready?”

  Grant took a deep breath, feeling butterflies dive-bombing his stomach. He glanced at Ben, then looked back at Andy. “Let’s do it.”

  Patting Ben’s shoulder, Grant asked, “Can you stay? It’d be nice to see at least one friendly face in the crowd.”

  Ben nodded and watched his uncle join the piano guy to approach the stage. He looked like he was walking to the gallows.

  The bar was already loud and busy, and most patrons didn’t notice the two men settling themselves onstage. But then Andy played a few riffs on the piano, and a hush fell over the room.

  Leaning against the wall right outside the dressing room, Ben was surprised when a waiter approached him. “Mr. Remington would like you to join him at his table,” he informed him, gesturing to a chair next to the hotelier. Ben bit his lip and nodded, walking over to sit next to his uncle’s boss.

  As Andy continued playing the piano, Grant plastered on a fake smile and grabbed hold of the microphone. The solid wooden stage beneath his feet made him long for the gentle rocking of Roger’s ship, and the dark interior of the bar felt quite different from the sunshine of the river. It’s the same song to start, he told himself, running his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. You can do this.

  “Welcome, everyone!” he boomed into the microphone, feeling encouraged when his voice came out clear and strong. “Welcome to Capone’s Spirits, the best of Old Chicago!” A wall of exhilarating noise bounced back to him with a smattering of applause, hoots, and cheers.

  Grant swept his eyes across the room, watching people happily clink their glasses and continue chattering away. His gaze landed on a pair of light-blue eyes that stared at him excitedly. Refusing to look at the men next to Ben, Grant focused solely on his nephew as he gestured to the piano. “Andy Beecham on the piano, folks! And I’m Mick Saylor, here to take you back to a special time in our city’s history. Have a great time tonight, and remember the wise words of Dean Martin: ‘You’re not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.’”

  Grant found the crowd’s rousing laughter invigorating. Andy began pounding out the familiar intro to My Kind of Town and Grant closed his eyes for a second, envisioning his sexy Sophie serving drinks on the deck below while he brought home a cruise full of happy passengers.

  As he began singing, his smile morphed from plastic to genuine. His velvety voice cradled and embraced each note, and the audience knew they were in good hands. Several of the women in attendance were absolutely riveted, believing the song was directed right at them. Who was this crooning, dark-haired hunk?

  Feeling the energy of the evening, Grant cruised through Mack the Knife and several other songs before he suddenly realized he and Andy were starting their sixth song—the last in the set. Where the hell had the time gone? Grant was so absorbed in connecting with the song and the audience that time had become fluid and unimportant. He never wanted this fun to end, and he exchanged a goofy grin with his nephew, who basked in the glory of his uncle’s success, oblivious to the high-powered men who surrounded him.

  A curious transformation was also underway for Will Taylor. He couldn’t believe he was actually enjoying the performance by his daughter’s mobster boyfriend. Madsen was certainly a charmer. He performed each song with panache and skill, yet also possessed a sense of humility and vulnerability that made him instantly likeable. Will found himself inexplicably drawn to Grant, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  As Andy began the rolling melody of their sixth song, Grant announced, “This song is for Bonnie.” Then he began I’ve Got You Under My Skin.

  In his mind he pictured Sophie’s big brown eyes, creamy-smooth complexion, tousled blond hair, and striking figure. He was surrounded by warmth as he considered her genuine caring for him and for others. He loved her keen intelligence, her clever sense of humor, her authentic hope in the world. She’d nestled her way under his skin, into his heart—deep inside him—and now he couldn’t function without her. He could never lose her. Grant belted out the last stanza, thoroughly warmed by images of his Bonnie.

  “We’re taking a break now, folks!” Grant said as the last notes faded away. Did he actually hear groans of disappointment? He looked over at the piano, and Andy winked at him. It had been quite an auspicious beginning.

  As background music started up again over the speakers, Grant heard his boss calling, gesturing him over to their table. Sneaking a glance at Sophie’s father for the first time since he’d started singing, Grant was surprised to find Will’s glare had faded. But it had been replaced by an unrecognizable expression. With uncertainty, Grant took a seat next to Ben.

  “Looks like I got my entertainment locked down!” Alex grinned, reaching around Ben to thump Grant on the back.

  Grant exhaled with relief. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Well done,” the governor offered.

  Blushing, Grant responded, “Thank you, sir. I wasn’t quite expecting the governor of Illinois to be watching my first performance.”

  Tom chuckled. “Alex and I go way back, and I just had to be here.” He elbowed Alex in his side. “He’s all excited about his new bar.” Just then one of the bodyguards nodded at him. “Well, time for me to head out. I can’t let that campaign trail grow cold.”

  They all stood as the governor shook hands with Alex and Will, nodding to Grant and Ben across the table before being ushered out by his protection detail.

  Slowly Grant’s eyes widened. “Uh, Mr. Remington? You and the governor are friends? And you and Mr. Taylor are friends too?” Receiving a nod of confirmation, Grant then asked, “Did Sophie get me this job?”

  Alex grinned. “I’ve always had a soft spot for Will’s daughter.”

  “You didn’t know?” Will inquired.

  “No, sir.” He felt quite touched by Sophie’s behind-the-scenes help, just when he
needed it most. Thank goodness he hadn’t walked out of here earlier.

  A waiter came by and set a highball in front of Grant.

  “What’s this?”

  “From the lady at the bar,” the waiter answered, nodding to a sultry black-haired woman staring from across the way.

  Grant’s lips parted and his cheeks reddened. “Oh, um, thank you,” he stuttered, having no idea how to handle the situation. Ben started giggling.

  A moment later a waitress sauntered over, placing a margarita in front of the singer. “From the woman at the table over there, three o’clock.” Grant’s blush deepened, and Ben’s laughter increased.

  “Looks like you have some admirers out there, Grant,” Alex said, stifling his own chuckle.

  When a third waiter arrived with yet another drink, Grant protested loudly, “Aw, come on! What am I supposed to do with all these?”

  “You keep this up, you’ll single-handedly keep my bar in business,” Alex said warmly.

  When Ben surreptitiously reached for one of the untouched drinks, Grant quickly slapped his hand away. “Back off, Al Fredo.”

  Ben rolled his eyes, but smiled.

  Will found himself angry at the women buying all these drinks for Grant, wantonly making passes at him. Didn’t they know Grant was dating his daughter? He’d dedicated a song to her! When that thought entered his mind, Will could scarcely believe it. He shook his head, trying to prevent Grant from worming his way into his good graces the way he’d done with Sophie.

  “So, Ben,” Will said suddenly, “why were you at Angelo’s? Do you go there often?”

  “He’s not allowed,” Grant answered for him. “It was a momentary lapse of judgment on his part, but he won’t be returning. Or he’ll be in even more trouble.”

  Will continued looking at Ben. “You got in trouble?”

  Ben shrugged. “I almost got arrested by that parole officer dude.”

  “Jerry Stone was there? Why?”

  Again, Grant answered. “I asked him to be there, sir. It’s a violation of my parole to go there, but I had to get Ben out. Officer Stone was great.”