by Stacy Gail
“The hospital told us you were drunk.”
“No, that’s not what they told you. All the doctors who treated me and the police who investigated—hell, even Justin’s coach who helped me get him into the car when I picked him up from that stupid party—have all told you otherwise.”
“The hospital told us you were—”
“Some no-name desk jockey worded it in a stupid way! But I don’t even care about that anymore,” she added before her father could hit the repeat button yet again. Claire was right, Becks realized in a flash of impotent rage, heading over to the stove when the kettle began to whistle. They would never stop accusing her of killing their son. If they accepted the truth, they’d have no choice but to face how their neglect of their remaining child had been nothing short of evil. “I’ve built a life completely separate from you. I have my own circle of friends, a home that I’ve made for myself out of literally nothing, and I have my work. None of that has anything to do with you, so there’s no reason our paths should ever cross.”
“Your work is what forced us to come all the way out here,” Martin bulldozed ahead when she would have told them to leave. “We can’t turn on the fucking TV without hearing your name. You’d think this town has never produced a goddamn artist before, the way everyone’s going ape shit over… over what, exactly? It’s all ‘Becks created this and Becks made up that, come get it tattooed on your ass.’ We’ve had enough of it, and we want it to stop.”
Bitter, acid-edged anger churned so deep inside that in that moment, she fully understood how a crime of temporary insanity could be a plausible thing. “‘We,’ huh? You feel that way too, Mom?”
Janine jumped like a frightened rabbit. “Me? Well, it’s like your father says…”
Becks made a sound between disgust and impotent rage. Typical. “If you don’t like it, change the channel.”
Martin’s lips pulled back in a soundless snarl. “It’s on every channel.”
Payne’s PR campaign was just beginning, playing on their Chicago roots to drum up free support from local media outlets for her exclusive line of artwork for House Of Payne. The ultimate goal, of course, was to springboard from that point into the national, then international markets, until the whole world was clamoring for one of her designs. Payne had laid it all out for her the night before, and while she knew they were in for a long haul when it came to promotion, she wasn’t daunted. Payne would be with her every step of the way.
“Your irritation over hearing my name, and therefore being reminded that I exist, isn’t my problem.” Grabbing up the tin of tea, Becks poured hot water into a mug while struggling to swallow a vicious knot that was burning a hole in her throat. “And my business isn’t yours.”
“Business.” He snorted and looked to his wife. “You hear that, Janine? She’s calling those stupid doodles of hers business.”
“She’s always been very talented with her drawing, Martin.” Her mother’s voice was pitched low, with no discernible emotion behind it. That was her mother in a nutshell. She had always been a carefully maintained blank support wall whose only purpose was to hold up whatever shit her husband spouted. “If it’s how she earns a living, it’s business.”
“You know what real business is? Pro football. If my son was still alive, he’d be in the pros by now. He’d be a fucking millionaire. That’s business.”
Becks doubted Justin would have grown big enough to have been drafted, but arguing over what her brother might have been was useless, in poor taste and heartbreaking. The callous dismissal of her art as doodles, however, struck a match to an old, old fury. “Just because you don’t understand the value of what I do doesn’t mean it’s worthless. There are people in the world who actually value my artistic abilities.”
“Then they’re a bunch of idiots.”
“Get out.” The words burst from her at last, ringing loudly with the anger, grief and bitter pain that had had a lifetime to build up. Uncorking it at long last was like removing a festering splinter. “You said that I was dead to you, remember? You shouldn’t even be here, talking to a dead person, so get the hell out and never bother me again.”
“Becks,” her mother warned, her voice so thin it almost disappeared.
“Bother you?” Martin’s face turned purple as he also let loose with the volume, putting her raised voice to shame. “That’s rich, coming from you. Let me tell you what it is to be bothered. Being bothered is having you splashed all over the fucking news every five minutes like you’re somebody. You don’t deserve that kind of attention.”
“Get out!” Tears of helpless fury she refused to acknowledge dripped from eyes that burned like fire. Stopping herself from throwing her tea in his face through sheer force of will, she instead banged the mug down on the counter, marched to the door and yanked it open. “Get out now and never come back.”
“You know why you don’t deserve that attention? Because you’re nothing. You’re not like Justin, who had a talent for something that was real, something that I could be proud of. You’re a fucking artist, and everyone knows that’s code for loser.”
She flinched as each poison-tipped word struck home. She’d always suspected her father had felt that way about her. Now she knew, and that knowledge made her want to curl into a ball of pain and disappear forever. “Shut up and get out.”
“What’s the matter?” His bully’s face was terrible, as nightmarish as it had been when she’d first come to after the accident. It was as though he hadn’t moved one inch out of that moment, frozen in a grief-state that had twisted him into something monstrous. “Truth hurt?”
“Get. Out. Now.”
“I’ll say it again. You’re a loser. You hear me? A los—”
Strong arms shot through the open doorway with the unexpectedness of a lightning strike. Stunned into stillness, Becks watched as familiar hands clenched on the lapels on her father’s coat, dragged him bodily through the door and threw him out onto the wide landing beyond, where Mr. Janek stared at the unfolding scene. Her father skidded with the force of being thrown and almost fell, while a man followed in his wake like a stalking lion, his broad shoulders heaving with every breath.
Payne.
What the hell was he doing here?
“Stop,” Payne roared when Martin rounded and looked for all the world like he was going to launch a rabid attack. “You take one motherfucking step toward Becks or her apartment, and I’ll have the police so far up your ass you’ll be coughing up badges and donuts for a week.”
“You’re the one who’d better worry about getting arrested, you prick.” Her father looked positively maniacal as he bared his teeth at Payne, his hands rhythmically clenching as though he couldn’t wait to punch something. “You assaulted me.”
“They’d be on my side, asshole. Everyone in the building heard Becks screaming at you to leave. All I’m doing is getting rid of a menacing intruder.”
Her father’s face darkened to puce. “I’m her father, not an intruder. This is family business.”
“Wrong. Becks has no family.”
“That’s not true.” Her mother cringed past Payne to join her husband out on the landing, stress turning her complexion the color of rice paper. “We’re her parents.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” came the cold response, and the bloody viciousness edging his voice made Becks glance at him in surprise. “But I stand by my statement. Becks has no family. You cut her out of your lives. You don’t get to change your minds whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“And you,” growled her father, stepping forward with fists clenched, “don’t get to tell us what to do, shithead. This is none of your business.”
“If it has to do with Becks, everything about this is my business.” Payne’s snarl went toe to toe with Martin’s, as dangerous as her father ever dreamed of being. “She’s mine now.”
Becks stared at Payne’s back, dumbstruck, while his words reverberated all the way to her soul. She was his no
w? The independent woman in her should have immediately red-carded him for that attitude, but the quiet serenity that swept over her like a soothing balm kept her still. Maybe it was because she finally had confirmation their feelings were mutual. With everything inside her, she knew he was the one man in the world who fit her perfectly. He was the yin to her yang, the glue that held her together. Payne was hers. It only made sense that she was his.
With a calm she had never felt while in the presence of her parents, Becks moved to stand by Payne’s side and looked at her parents. “You need to go. Now.”
Martin looked at her like she’d spoken in a foreign tongue. “You’re kicking us out? If you do this, it’s forever. You want to live with that?”
“I’ve been living with that until you changed the rules and decided I wasn’t suffering enough. But if it makes you feel better to think all this is my fault, go right ahead.” She smiled grimly and almost cried in gratitude when Payne caught her hand in his. “I can take it.”
“You…” That look was back, that maddened, borderline-violent grimace, and at last she was able to recognize it. Hatred. Her father genuinely hated her. For existing, for surviving while Justin died, for whatever reason his grief-poisoned mind had come up with. “You are going to regret this decision.” With that, he caught his wife by the arm and tugged her down the stairs toward the exit.
Chapter Fifteen
If fury could be measured in terms of the hurricane scale, Payne was sure his would have maxed out at Category 5. The need to beat the shit out of something thrummed like a living thing inside him, despite the gentleness he used to guide Becks into his office. No self-respecting man had a right to talk like that to anyone, much less his own daughter. Yes, there happened to be a genetic tie between them, but it didn’t give that dick license to verbally kick the crap out of Becks. It had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to demolish that… that…
Bastard.
There had to be another word Payne could use. But really, some labels just fit so fucking perfectly.
“Why did you come back to the loft after dropping me off?”
Becks’s voice dragged him out of the sea of rage trying to drown him. “Mr. Janek called me.”
“You gave him your number?”
He shrugged, restless and needing to move. “In case there was an emergency that had to do with you, I thought it was best that your landlord had me down as a contact number.”
“Wow, you did that?” She shook her head and looked up at him with such melting gratitude he almost stopped right there on the stairs to kiss her senseless. “That was incredibly sweet of you, Payne. Even if my parents showing up was hardly an emergency.”
“I think it qualifies, and obviously so did Mr. Janek. He said he’d made the mistake of letting your parents in, and that you might need help.” He shot her a meaningful glance as they entered his office, and he took her coat to toss it along with his over the back of an armchair. “You know what I’m going to say about that, right?”
“Something along the lines of Mr. Janek rendering your fancy new security system completely pointless? The thought crossed my mind as well.” She stretched her arms over her head before rubbing at her neck with an absent grimace. “For what it’s worth, I was able to watch the whole thing go down on the new view screen. Thanks to your generous contribution to my building’s security I wasn’t caught off-guard, so it wasn’t a complete bust.”
“Come home with me tonight.” He moved behind her, pushed her hand aside and squeezed at the rock-hard muscles in her shoulders. His rage deepened at the tense knots he found there, a rage that was soothed when her head drooped with an appreciative sigh. “I’m seriously not liking the idea of you going back to the loft.”
“I doubt Mr. Janek will let them back in if they show up again. Which won’t happen, by the way. I’m sure of it.”
If only he could say the same. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I won’t be able to sleep tonight, worrying about whether or not you’re okay, or if you’re being harassed by that…” Bastard. “Your father.”
“I’m so ashamed you saw all of that.” With a long sigh, she turned under his hands and smiled with bitter humor. “I know I told you that I was estranged from my family. That was embarrassing enough. But I’m absolutely mortified you’ve now witnessed how much I’m hated. I’m sure you’re wondering what must be so incredibly wrong with me to make my own father feel that way.”
He made a sound of disgust before pulling her roughly into his arms. “That thought never even crossed my mind, Becks. He’s an abuser with a mile-wide mean streak, anyone could see that. You don’t deserve the blame for his actions, and he doesn’t deserve the excuse.”
“Maybe my dad would have been able to tolerate me better if I had been born a boy.” Her tone, though resigned, seemed stronger as she rested her head against his shoulder. “At the very least, he probably would have been able to appreciate the latest version of who he was, because it had to do with the most important thing in his universe—himself.”
“A narcissist on top of being an abusive asshole, huh?” He calmed himself by inhaling the lush fragrance of her hair. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Martin Delgado’s a legend in his own mind. He can do no wrong, and his only interests in life are football and being a plumber. Everything beyond that realm he considers useless.”
“That’s one small realm. Though I guess that’s the only way he can keep being the ruler of it. If he expanded his horizons, he’d be forced to see he’s nothing more than King Shit of Turd Hill.”
Her huff of amusement was music to his ears. “Please tell me that’s a tattoo.”
“If it’s not, it should be.”
“I suppose I should have known he’s always thought of me as a loser,” she drawled, clearly trying to play it light, but all it did was make Payne ache to beat her father to a bloody pulp. Then she raised her head with a laconic smile, and his need for violence vanished under a wave of awe. Damn, she was strong. Anyone else would have been crippled by their own parent verbally tearing them down, but not his Becks. “I mean, I’m an artist, something he could never understand if he had a dozen lifetimes to try. He couldn’t even understand a guy I dated briefly in high school when he won an ice hockey scholarship from Boston University. My dad told him to drop that ‘pansy’ sport and become a ‘real’ athlete like he’d been in high school, which was a football player. That was the last date that boy and I ever had, now that I think about it,” she added, and slanted him a careful, searching look. “When it comes to my personal life, my father has a way of blowing it to smithereens.”
“Since I want you to come home with me, I think it’s pretty obvious he didn’t have that effect on me. I want you with me, Becks,” he murmured when she still hesitated. “But even more than that, I want you to want to be with me.”
“I do want to be with you. You have no idea how much.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t want you to be bothered by my extra baggage.”
“I don’t see how either of us could be bothered by that so-called baggage. Not when I’ve got twelve-foot high fencing all around the estate, the best security money can buy and no Mr. Janek manning the front gates. Come on,” he added as she loosed a reluctant chuckle. “Think how good it could be. Going to bed together. Waking up together. Andreas will be thrilled to have you around to show off for. I’ll make room in the studio for you and we can bug each other about shading and proportion. We could even make a video of your art process right there and have it uploaded by the end of the week. In case you haven’t heard, I’m pretty handy when it comes to making videos.”
She burst out laughing, just as he had hoped she would. When she flung her arms around his neck, he felt like he’d conquered the whole goddamn world. “You’ve got yourself a deal. On one condition.”
“Anything.” Never had he meant it more than he did no
w.
Her smile was so sinful it had to be illegal. “About our little game of Too Hot… I demand a rematch.”
With a laugh, he hugged her so tightly her feet left the floor just as his office door opened. He looked up as Scout came in and screeched to a halt when she saw them. “Scout, you might as well get used to seeing Becks hanging around here more often,” he said while his office manager stared at them as if they’d been engaged in something lewd. Which was weird, because in the past Scout had in fact caught him in far more compromising positions than this. “Whatever PR plans you have on tap regarding the upcoming exhibit, I’d like to have Becks included whenever possible. Would you mind getting together with her to coordinate a promo schedule?”
“No problem.” Scout cleared her throat and offered Becks a tight smile that never reached her eyes. “I’ll try and make this whole experience as painless as possible, Becks. If you have any questions or have a problem with anything, just let me know.”
“Payne told me why you’re called Scout,” Becks said, smiling. “But it’s something else again to see you in action. I hope you get paid enough to scout out all the problems a man like Payne can bring to your doorstep.”
“You have no idea,” Scout muttered.
“I think she’s angling for a raise.” When Scout offered another tight smile and looked away distractedly, some inner warning flag went up. “Speaking of problems, was there a specific reason you came in? You look like someone who just got sand kicked in her face by the playground bully.”
Quickly Scout rearranged her features into an over-bright smile. “Everything’s manageable, so no worries on that score. I do need to talk to you about what we have lined up today, starting with the sales rep from Rattatat Tat Machines. He’s downstairs in the lobby, offering to demonstrate his ergonomically sound, low-vibration machine on just about everyone who’s walked through the door. I’d throw him out, except a low-vibe machine would cut down on hand fatigue. Do you want to give his gizmo a try before I show him out?”
