Everything Changes

by Bybee, Catherine

  “But he’s complicated by the fact that you work with him . . . or did. So he isn’t someone you would instantly try and date. You had to look past all that to start dating him.”

  “Now that I don’t really have the job, it seems like a stupid reason to not date him. Jobs come and go, ya know?”

  “Exactly.”

  “How often are you guys able to see each other?” Parker asked.

  “Every week is different. Weekends are a given so far. He flew to New York last night to meet with a potential investor today. But when he comes back, I’ll either meet him in LA or he’ll come here.”

  “You can always look for a job in the city.”

  Grace sighed. “I might not have a choice. But I don’t want to change my employment to accommodate my boyfriend. If I can even call him that.”

  “I think that’s a safe bet.”

  Grace looked over the railing to see Scout rolling around on the grass at the bottom of the driveway.

  “I really don’t know how he labels me.”

  “Future Mrs.?”

  “It’s a little soon to be talking like that.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

  “I really haven’t.” But she was now that Parker had planted the seed.

  “Mrs. Locke has a nice ring to it.”

  “Stop, you’ll jinx it.”

  Scout bounded up the steps and somehow had completely covered himself in mud. He ran straight to Grace and looked like he was going to jump in her lap.

  “No way, dog.”

  Scout thought it was a game and started to bark, and as he did, he placed one paw on her leg.

  “Ewwww!”

  She and Parker both laughed.

  “I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid,” Grace said. “I wonder if Dameon likes pets?”

  Parker laughed harder. “Yeah, right . . . you’re not thinking about being a wife.”

  Grace found a clean spot on the dog to pet. “Maybe just a little.”

  “I think that went well.” Tyler sat across from Dameon at a crowded coffee shop in Manhattan’s financial district.

  “It’s always easier to win over investors when you meet with them in person.”

  Dameon had come to the conclusion that pushing through the next two years without the financial help he went into it with was reckless on his part. Too many people in his company were depending on his corporation to pay their bills. And even though the profits would help him reach all his financial goals without an investor, the risks could bankrupt him if it all fell apart. Watching what Grace was going through helped him take the plunge to start looking for the right fit.

  “I have the feeling that their concern about all the wildfires in California is the only thing holding them back.”

  “The photographs didn’t help. If they pass, we might try and focus on West Coast firms.”

  “It’s a different life here.”

  There was a half a foot of snow lining the streets, and people were bundled up from the top of their heads to their booted feet.

  Dameon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He saw an image of his mom light up the screen. She didn’t usually call him in the middle of a workday.

  “I should get this.”

  Dameon accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, honey. Am I disturbing you?”

  “You never disturb me, Mom.” Dameon glanced at Tyler, who was smiling at him. “What’s up?”

  “I won’t keep you long. I just called to ask if you sent the clown.”

  “Did I send the what?”

  “The clown?”

  Yep, she said clown. “What clown?”

  His mom started to giggle. “You should get your money back because only half of it came.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Maybe Tristan sent it.”

  “Mom, can you start over? Is this clown a person or a doll or what?”

  All he could picture was some kind of stuffed animal.

  “No, it’s not alive. But it looks like it could be. Only it’s sliced in half. It’s the darndest thing.”

  If his mom wasn’t giggling as she talked, he would swear she was having some kind of a stroke.

  “Mom, what were you doing before the clown showed up?”

  “I was sleeping. Tristan gave me these cookies that help me sleep. You know I’ve had trouble since your dad passed. These cookies really help.”

  Dameon rubbed his temples. “Tristan gave you cookies?”

  “Yup.”

  Damn his brother. “Any chance these cookies make you hungry?” Dameon found Tyler listening intently to one half of the conversation and quietly laughing.

  “Of course they do. There’s a little bit of pot in them.” His mom whispered the word pot and started to laugh.

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  “Oh, honey. Don’t cuss like that. Just come over and make the clown leave.”

  “I’m a little far away.” And it was obvious that his mom was hallucinating. Dameon’s thoughts turned to Grace. “I’ll see if Grace can come over and help.”

  “I hope it doesn’t scare her.”

  Dameon shook his head. “I’m sure she can handle it. Just stay in the house and please don’t eat any more cookies.”

  Tyler quietly laughed.

  “Okay, honey.”

  Dameon hung up the phone and shook his head.

  Tyler busted up. “Tristan is the one who works in a marijuana dispensary, right?”

  Dameon dialed Grace’s number. “I can’t make this shit up.”

  “Hello?”

  He tuned out Tyler’s laughing to talk to Grace. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

  Grace pulled into Dameon’s mom’s driveway thirty minutes later. The house sat in the hills of Glendale in a subdivision that looked like it had been built somewhere in the fifties.

  The front yard was minimally landscaped with a single maple tree and an evergreen hedge that separated the yard from the sidewalk. She double-checked the house number with what she’d written down and knocked on the door. She stood waiting for several seconds and started knocking again.

  Still nothing.

  Grace looked under the planter by the front door and found the house key Dameon said she’d find. Feeling a little awkward letting herself into a home she’d never been to before, Grace called out Lois’s name as she opened the front door. “Lois?”

  “Back here.”

  Grace sighed in relief and let herself in.

  “Did you bring the pizza?”

  She followed the woman’s voice to a back room behind the kitchen. Lois sat on a sofa with a pile of laundry and a bag of potato chips. She glanced up and smiled at Grace. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

  Grace smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Locke. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

  “No, no, of course not. I’m sure Dameon said it was okay.”

  “He did.”

  Lois patted the pile of laundry beside her. “Come sit down. Let me get a good look at you.”

  Grace moved around the table holding the partially folded laundry and scooted the clothes aside so she didn’t sit on them. “Dameon was a little worried. Said something about a clown?”

  Lois waved toward the front of the house. “Oh, he’s in the other room. I just left him in there since he wasn’t hurting anything.”

  Grace bounced back to her feet. “Can you show me this clown?”

  “Sure.” Lois knocked the towel she was folding off her lap as she stood. Backtracking the route Grace had taken to find Lois, they stopped in the living room, and Lois pointed to a recliner in the corner of the room. “He’s right there.”

  Grace looked at the empty chair.

  “Can you show me the cookies you were eating?”

  Lois scowled. “Did Dameon tell you about the cookies?”

  Grace nodded.

  In the kitchen,
Lois pulled out a cookie jar and a plastic bag inside. There wasn’t a label, just a handwritten note: Eat ¼ to sleep. Grace sniffed the bag. Oh yeah, it had been a while, but she knew that smell. A tiny sticker on the bottom of the bag said 120 mg each.

  “Mrs. Locke. How much of this did you eat?”

  “I had one of the four, just like it says.”

  Grace turned the note to her. “It says take one quarter.”

  “Oh. That’s dumb. Who eats only a quarter of a cookie?”

  Grace tried hard not to laugh.

  The doorbell rang and Lois rubbed her hands together. “That must be the pizza.”

  The cab dropped Dameon off in front of his mom’s house at ten thirty that night. The porch light was on, and the flashing of light inside the front room suggested someone was watching TV.

  He let himself in and walked around the corner.

  Grace was curled up asleep on the couch under an afghan his mother had crocheted sometime in the seventies.

  He took off his jacket and set his suitcase on the floor.

  After a quick check in his mom’s bedroom to confirm she was there and asleep, Dameon went back in the living room and sat at Grace’s feet.

  The motion on the couch woke her. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  She sat up, looked around. “I must have dozed off.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “How is she?”

  Grace started to chuckle. “Your mom is a riot.”

  Dameon ran his hand through his hair, surprised there was any left. “She was higher than a kite.”

  “You have no idea. She took a hundred and twenty milligrams before Bozo showed up.” Grace pointed to his father’s recliner that had a sheet thrown over it. “She had to hide the clown.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Grace rubbed her eyes and crossed her legs under her. “For a tiny woman, she sure can eat. Pizza, chips, popcorn, ice cream . . . it was like a twelve-year-old’s slumber party. She finally went to bed a couple of hours ago.”

  “I’m going to kill my brother.”

  Grace clasped on to his hands. “It’s okay. She didn’t read the instructions right.”

  “Still gonna kill him.”

  “Outside of a sliced-up clown sleeping in the chair, there wasn’t any real harm done.”

  Dameon kissed her fingers. “Thanks for rushing over.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. Your mom is adorable. She showed me every single picture she has of you growing up. Even the naked ones.”

  He was too old to be embarrassed about naked baby pictures. “I owe you.”

  Grace shook her head. “What are girlfriends for if not to rescue parents who ate too many edibles?”

  Dameon laughed for the first time since the phone call. “It’s like Christmas all over again.”

  “Only no raw turkey.”

  He laughed at that.

  “How did the meeting go?”

  Dameon settled on the couch, toed off his shoes. “Good. I’m not sure if it’s the right fit, but they seemed interested.”

  “What wasn’t right about them?”

  “It’s not that it isn’t right. Just different locations. I can’t help but think a West Coast company would be best.”

  “So you keep looking until you find the right partners.”

  “I think I’m pressing my luck,” he said as he pulled her into the crook of his arm.

  “Oh, why is that?”

  “Finding the perfect business partner and the perfect woman in the same year seems impossible.”

  “Ahh.” Grace looked at him with a smile. “We met last year.”

  Dameon laughed again, then lowered his lips right above hers. “Yes, we did.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Grace found herself spending a lot of time at Dameon’s project house in the canyon.

  He’d given her a key so she could be there even when he was stuck in the city. Not that she stayed the night without him, but she did use the house as a workstation. Even if the city wasn’t sanctioning her efforts, she didn’t think they would be in vain if she jump-started the project. If she left the city, the work she did could be used by whoever took over for her. And even if they didn’t, she knew what the city needed. Besides, it was the only way she knew to pay Dameon back for everything he was doing for her.

  She coordinated the work with Tyler, and learned that Dameon had purposely pushed himself into the driver’s seat solely to get to know Grace better. According to Tyler, Dameon was determined to win her over from the moment they met.

  As the project coordinator, Tyler really was the person to talk to.

  A good week after the clown cookies came and went, Carson asked for her to come into his office. The city was requesting a meeting, but Grace needed to be prepared.

  The law office was in Sherman Oaks, and Carson had already coordinated with Dameon’s schedule to be there.

  She met Dameon in the lobby and kissed him hello. “You didn’t have to break out of your day to be here.”

  “Carson asked me to come. Besides, if it affects you, it affects me.” They walked to the elevator together.

  “And when did that happen?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “When did our individual lives become ours?”

  In the elevator he turned and kissed her again. “I don’t know, but I like it.”

  Considering the richness of the suit Carson had worn on their first and only meeting, Grace expected the office to be one of opulence and stature. But holy wow was this over the top. Sleek lines and rich woods. The kind that made the perfectionist in her sing. Whoever had designed the interior had spectacular taste.

  Dameon told the receptionist who they were after they walked into the lobby. She didn’t delay as she led the two of them to Carson’s office.

  “Thank you both for coming,” Carson said as he walked around his oversized desk to greet them.

  The men shook hands before Carson turned to her to do the same. “You look good, more relaxed.”

  “I’ve had some time to come to terms with what’s happening.”

  “Good. It’s better to approach this stuff rationally.”

  Grace took the seat Carson offered. “Easy for you to say when you’re on that end.”

  He laughed. “Very true.”

  With all of them seated, Carson opened a file on his desk. “The city contacted me yesterday. They said that Mr. Sokolov has officially filed a lawsuit against the city.”

  “What ambulance-chasing lawyer agreed to that?” Dameon asked as he squeezed Grace’s hand.

  “No one we know, so yes, it’s probably exactly that. But, since the suit has been filed and you’re named as the witness and representative of the city, you now have the obligation to answer the complaint.”

  “In English,” Grace said.

  Carson picked up a packet of papers and handed one stack to each of them. “In short. Sokolov had to tell the courts why he feels he has a case. We’ll go over this line by line, but he is trying to paint a theme that you’ve taken bribes in the past, and he says he has proof that you did.”

  Grace glanced at the legal papers without reading them. “What proof?” She looked up to find Carson staring at Dameon.

  Dameon had his nose down reading the papers. He paused and looked up. “My name is in here.”

  Carson nodded once. “It is.”

  “What?” Grace skimmed the papers again. On the second page she found Dameon’s name. “Acquired private texting conversations between Mr. Dameon Locke and Miss Grace Hudson.” Grace read the next part to herself.

  DL: What can I do to convince you to keep today a secret?

  GH: My price is steep.

  DL: Name it!

  GH: Never mind. I’ll hold onto the information to lord over you.

  DL: I see how this works. Blackmail.

  GH: We all have our ways and means.

  Grace turned to look at Dameon. “That ba
stard stole my phone.”

  “So this conversation did take place?” Carson asked.

  “As damaging as this sounds, there’s a simple explanation for it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She smiled at Dameon. “This was before Dameon and I started dating. He followed me into a nail salon, and I wouldn’t talk to him unless he was sitting in a chair.”

  Dameon looked at Carson, and put a hand in the air. “I swear I didn’t like it.”

  Grace laughed. “He got a pedicure and I was giving him a hard time.” She looked at the piece of paper and started to paraphrase the text . . . “‘What can I do to keep today a secret?’ He’s talking about the pedicure. ‘My price is steep.’ That’s me poking at him. This is all a joke.”

  Carson was biting his lip. “Did you pay cash?”

  Grace shook her head. “No, Dameon paid with a credit card.”

  Now Carson laughed. “Okay, good. I need a copy of that statement.”

  Dameon was smiling. “I’m never going to live that day down.”

  Carson pushed those papers aside and pulled up another one. “My first thought was to throw the evidence out. Sokolov didn’t obtain it legally and the message wasn’t sent to him. Pretty cut and dry. But it might explain this.” He handed over a statement from her bank.

  She and Dameon looked at it together. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

  “Look at your savings account. I’m guessing you have online banking you access through your phone.”

  “I do.”

  “Then Sokolov has access to your account numbers,” Carson said.

  At first glance, she saw the number. “That’s not right.”

  “What?” Dameon asked.

  “The amount. I don’t have twenty thousand in my savings, I only have five and some change.”

  She turned the page to find three deposits of five thousand dollars each added to the account. “What is this?”

  “Good question. I was hoping you had an explanation for it. The first thing that stands out is the even amount. Five thousand. The other thing is when they were deposited. These were cash deposits through a mail drop during the Christmas holiday.”

  “My Secret Santa gave me fifteen grand?” Grace asked.

  “Or someone is going out of their way to make it look like you had extra money you can’t explain going into your account. And since your December statement just came out, you didn’t notice it until now.”