Secrets, Lies & Imperfections

by Pamela L. Todd

  “Cold one?” he asked, extending a bottle of beer to me.

  Knowing I couldn’t refuse it without looking like a total asshole, I accepted it with a brief nod of thanks.

  “I’m glad to see you today. If you hadn’t of been here, I would have dropped by your house,” Henry said, lifting his own beer and taking a long pull. “We have some things to talk about.”

  “Finally decided to press charges?” I asked in a sardonic voice.

  Henry sighed. “No, Seth. In fact, we—Max and I—we owe you one hell of an apology.”

  I paused mid burger flip. Okay, that I was not expecting… “I’m sorry, what?”

  He placed his beer bottle down on the prep table beside the grill. “You were right. As soon as our eyes were off the bar, things started to go missing again. We found out it was Ashley, and when questioned, she admitted to being the thief while you were manager.”

  And damn it, I knew I shouldn’t feel some kind of grim pleasure in that, but it would take a better man than me to rise above that much satisfaction.

  “I won’t insult you by asking you to come back to work for us, but I want you to know that I really regret how things went down. We should have taken you at your word and investigated further. I’m truly sorry.”

  He sounded it, too. I gave a shrug. “You didn’t know me. You did what you thought was best for your business.”

  “Maybe so. Doesn’t stop me from feeling like shit, though.” Henry clapped a hand onto my shoulder. “You did incredible things for that place, and your absence has been noted. We’re not pulling in the customers like you used to and profits are way down.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from asking who they had replaced me with, what their plan was for the place and whether or not they even took the same pride in his job as I did. It wouldn’t do me any good to find out who it was or how—badly—they were doing. And besides, I was slowly coming to realize that I didn’t need Henry’s—or anyone else’s, for that matter—acclamation.

  “You know, I have to say, that I’m dreading the day you open your own place.”

  Choking back a laugh, I flipped another burger and gave Henry a look. “I will not be following in the hallowed footsteps of my good father, trust me.”

  Henry smiled. “I didn’t mean a hotel. I meant a club. The work you did for us…you should be doing it for yourself. You don’t need me to tell you that you have a natural eye for the business, and you’d make a goddamn killing.” He chuckled under his breath and took another drink of his beer. “I want it for you, on a personal level. Blake and Marley would be thrilled for you. But as a businessman, you’d give the entire Strip a run for its money. And that scares the hell out of me”

  My lips twitched and I could hardly keep the smile at bay. “I guess we’ll have to see what the future holds, won’t we?”

  Henry raked his eyes over my face for a long second. He laughed again. “Ah, shit. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

  I shrugged. “Like I said, we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “You’re going to kick my ass, aren’t you?” He sighed and shook his head. Henry glanced over his shoulder to where Dad still stood talking with Max. “I’m sorry my partner isn’t here with me for this conversation. He didn’t think it was appropriate, but I decided, given that Marley still works for me and you being her family, that I owed you an explanation and an apology.”

  I held my hand up and gave him a wry smile. “I’m good, seriously. I don’t need him to kiss my ass. I take it Dad already knows?”

  “No, I wanted you to be the first to know. I owed you that, at least. Marley will find out on Monday. It’s unavoidable since she works the club doors. After that, I assume she’ll tell Blake, who’ll then bring it up with your father. It’s up to you whether that’s the first he hears about it or not.”

  Dad already thought I was guilty of my crime. It was his choice not to believe his son. So was it simply pettiness not to give him the hard proof that he was wrong? That he believed the wrong person? Man, it was too heavy for a simple afternoon of barbequing.

  Henry patted my shoulder again. “I’ll leave you to that thought. And please, for the sake of my manners, don’t make my stomach grumble for much longer.”

  I flashed him a smile. “Five more minutes, I promise.”

  Natasha and Marley boxed me in when we all sat down to eat. They pulled me into innocent conversations so I didn’t look like a sullen child with no one to talk to. Even Blake seemed jovial as he chatted, asking my opinion on new movies or music.

  Must be all the sex Marley was giving him.

  Either way, it wasn’t the most painful meal I’d had to sit through. And somehow, I ended up being the last one to leave. Dad was first out the door, pretty much the second he finished chewing, having some matter or other to attend to. Mom had a meeting with a friend, which I think we all knew was code for a date, though Blake and I didn’t ask her to clarify. Natasha had to get back to the hotel and Max and Henry were both monitoring the club since apparently the new manager was a far cry from a decent one.

  I was helping to clear up and was loading the dishwasher when Blake hopped up on the counter near where I stood. He bit into an apple, though how he still had room after the feast I’d delivered them that afternoon was beyond me.

  “You don’t have to do that. You cooked. Leave the cleaning to us,” Blake said, chomping into his fruit.

  “I know,” I said with a shrug. “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “It’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Seth,” Marley said as she entered the kitchen with another stack of dishes.

  “It’s no trouble, really.”

  “So, I noticed you and Henry had a nice little chat earlier. I’m glad to see there isn’t any bad blood there,” Blake said.

  Turning around, I tried to read the expression on Blake’s face. I was waiting for more from him, for him to say that it was good of Henry considering I’d apparently ripped off his business. But nothing came. And there didn’t appear to be any hostility in his gaze or body language.

  “Yeah. He’s a good guy.”

  Blake nodded his agreement and Marley moved to stand between his knees. “I hate to ask,” Blake said, “but I wouldn’t be a good big brother if I didn’t. What are your plans now? You’ve got a mortgage and bills, Seth. I get you’re going through a shit time, but you can’t ignore your responsibilities.”

  I closed the dishwasher door and leaned against it. Folding my arms across my chest, I rested my hip against the counter as I faced them. “What makes you think I have a mortgage?”

  Blake blinked. “I thought you had bought that place of yours.”

  “I did. Outright.”

  There was a second or two of silence before Blake’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. He barked out a short laugh. “What? How in the hell did you manage to buy a house outright?”

  “Because I’ve barely touched a red cent of my trust fund or the money Dad paid into my bank account every month.” I knew Dad had done the same for Blake. When we were both in college, Dad had paid us an allowance of sorts—an obscene sort of allowance—and continued to pay it while Blake figured out his next move after graduation, and while I ‘fornicated around Europe’.

  “Jesus Christ, are you serious?” Blake asked, his voice quiet.

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Well, shit.” Blake chuckled and bit into his apple. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “And I had enough change left over to buy my own club and cover the start-up costs, including renovations, buying in stock and employee wages for the first year.” I shrugged. “You know, just in case it crashes and burns and I can’t afford to keep it open any longer.”

  This time Blake and Marley stared at me in a stunned silence for close to a minute.

  “Yes, I’m being serious. Yes I’ve thought it through, and yes, I’m more than prepared for what hard work it will be.” I glanced between them and couldn’t help but laugh at the
looks on their faces. Slack-jawed and shocked out of their socks. I wish I’d had a camera.

  “Holy crap,” Marley whispered.

  “Fuck me,” Blake murmured.

  “Eloquent as always, guys,” I said with a smirk.

  With a little squeal of excitement, Marley launched herself at me. She threw her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me so tight I thought she would cut off my air supply. “Oh my God, I am so happy for you!”

  “Thanks, Marley,” I said quietly, my chest tight with some unknown emotion.

  Blake hopped off the counter and patted my shoulder. “Ditto, little brother. Ditto.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I leaned against the worn and peeling bar and crossed my legs at the ankles. Irritation prickled under my skin and I had to keep reminding myself that he was here to help, not take over. Unfortunately, the one quality we Hamilton brothers shared was apparently pigheadedness.

  “Blake,” I said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “I keep telling you, man, I hate that idea.”

  Blake looked over his shoulder at me before returning to his sketchpad. “Why are you so against it? This building has the potential to be luxury modern, ahead of its time, and could kick the ass of some of the best clubs in Vegas. You could pull in some serious revenue here.”

  “You’re talking about excluding a shitload of people, Blake. I’m not cool with that.” With a sigh, I pushed off the bar. I wandered into roughly the center of the room. We were in the ground-level section of the building and this area was already my favorite. Huge exposed steel beams dominated the space above my head, a long, curved bar that had seen better days last century up was against the back wall. The windows were high and currently filthy, barely letting any natural light inside. Past the cosmetics, I could easily visualize how I wanted this room to be.

  “Okay, hotshot,” Blake said, hopping up to sit on the bar. Not a move I would have made, given there was some questionable stickiness to it, and the fact that Blake was wearing a suit that no doubt cost at least four figures. But that was Blake. He probably had a dozen just like it hanging in his closet at home. “Paint me a picture.”

  I grinned and spread my arms out wide. “First off, completely strip this place back to the bricks—I want exposed walls, none of this crumbling whitewall shit. I want hardwood flooring throughout, not that varnished shit. I want real, authentic and imperfect. The windows—old school colored glass, blues and greens. I’m going to have long, high tables here, with mismatched stools. Booths along this wall, smaller cube-style seats in the corner…and suede stools lining the bar. And the bar… Shit, Blake, it’s going to be beautiful. Like a piece of fucking art. Like the floors, I want solid wood. Raw, with knots and grains. I want all the liquor along the back wall, lit from above for ambience. Fridges so you can actually see what you want to drink. And the best goddamn cocktail menu this town has ever seen. The waiters will wear black pants, white shirts, skinny black ties and suspenders. Slicked back hair, and artists with a cocktail shaker. This place…it’s going to be a heady mix of old-school speakeasy and timeless elegance. It’s going to be fucking beautiful.”

  For a moment, Blake didn’t say anything. His lips twitched but I jumped back in so he didn’t have time to answer.

  “This is going to be a cocktail lounge, laid-back for starting a night out, or unwinding after a club. The basement is going to be a pub, with bar food and dozens of beers on tap—a real out-of-the-way place to relax, grab a drink after work or unwind with a couple of friends. And upstairs…upstairs is going to be an edgy club with guest DJs and dark corners and fucking sweet music.” I heaved out a breath, unable to stop the manic grin from spreading across my face. Holding out my arms again, I turned in a circle. “This entire place…it’s going to be like no other experience in this world. And it’s going to be available for anyone who wants to be a part of it. There will be something for everyone, and no one gets excluded.”

  Blake jumped off the bar and set down his sketchpad. “Then get your ass over here. We’ve got some serious work to do.”

  For the rest of that day, Blake listened to my every thought. He tried to change my mind on a few, explained the difficulties with some and managed to talk me out of a couple of my crazier—and impossible—ideas. He sketched a few rough layouts, and I have to say, it was obvious my brother had talent. When he’d volunteered his services to be my architect, I’d initially wanted to turn him down. The negative part of my brain warned that he wanted to get close just to see me fail, or worse, turn it into his vision and not mine.

  But I was on that whole positive thinking and working-my-ass-off-to-achieve-good-things kick, and accepting help—genuine and priceless help—went hand in hand with my new philosophies. Blake was extending an olive branch. Turning him down would make me a complete asshole.

  And now that we seemed to understand each other and we both realized we were only trying to help the other, I was really excited to be working with Blake. It wasn’t about two brothers putting their stamp on one project. He simply wanted to help me put my stamp on my own project.

  “Man, I’m fucking starving,” I said, standing up from where I’d been sitting on the floor while Blake drew a potential mock-up of the front entrance. My back popped and I told myself to get used to it. The coming months would prove there would be more back-breaking work involved.

  “Tell me about it.” Blake pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and slid his fingers over the screen. “Marley’s ordering Chinese. You want some?”

  “Nah, it’s…” I glanced at Blake and he was already tapping out a reply to Marley, barely even hearing what I was saying. Fuck it, why the hell shouldn’t I join them? This was a two-way street, and my rebuilding relationships wouldn’t get anywhere if I turned down every offer made. “Actually, yeah, that sounds awesome.”

  Blake looked up from his phone. “Sorry, what did you say? I told her to get a whole bunch of everything. That cool?”

  I stuttered a laugh. “Yeah, man, it’s cool.”

  Somewhere in the distance, a door screeched as it was pushed open. Blake and I exchanged a glance before turning toward the source of the noise. A pair of heels echoed throughout the room a few seconds before a woman came into view.

  It took me a few moments for my brain to realize that not only did I know her, but that I really fucking knew her, and that it was Cassidy.

  Cassidy.

  Cassidy. Here. Now. In my place.

  In a disconnected sort of way, I realized that she looked really nice. Good. Good enough to add to anyone’s spank bank. She wore a well-fitted pale-blue sundress that flared out at her hips. It had a high neckline and a short skirt that showed off those gorgeous tanned legs, and a pair of navy shoe-boot things with a stiletto heel made them seem even longer. She had taken care with her hair—doing whatever shit girls do to get it to shine and lay perfectly.

  Christ, she was beautiful.

  Cassidy cleared her throat and smiled, though it wobbled as if she were nervous. “Hi.”

  I blinked.

  Blake elbowed me in the gut.

  “Hi,” I said, barely hearing my own voice. What was she doing here? How did she even know there was a here here? How did she even know I’d be at this particular here?

  Cassidy flashed her wobbly smile at Blake. “I’m sorry. I dropped by your house. Again. Marley told me where I could find you.” She looked back at me. “Well, you.”

  “Yeah, Marley’s real helpful like that,” Blake said with a charming smile. He smacked me in the arm with his sketchpad. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I nodded without taking my eyes off Cassidy.

  She looked at the floor and the walls and pretty much anywhere that wasn’t me. Once Blake was out of sight, she let out a shaky breath. “I had this big speech all planned out. But now that I’m here, I can’t remember a single word of it. How messed-up is that?”

  “What do you need a speech for?” I asked, moving across the ro
om to lean against the bar that I wasn’t completely sure would even hold my weight. Blake had sat on it a lot that day, and the old girl looked as if she couldn’t take another sitting.

  Cassidy took a step toward me but stopped herself from coming any closer. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. That morning after I called you…I must have replayed it a thousand times in my head.”

  I frowned. Had I hurt her? Shit, when I told her not to call me, did I hurt her feelings? Stupid asshole, of course you hurt her feelings. What a dumb-ass. What a selfish dumb-ass, only thinking about my own self-preservation.

  “I was so selfish when I called you. It didn’t even occur to me that it might be hard for you to see me. I just…I just missed you, and out of everyone I could have called, it was you that I wanted. I stopped denying myself what it was that I really wanted and gave in to my drunken alter ego because I couldn’t have done it sober.” Cassidy wrung her hands and peered up at me with large, endlessly sad eyes through her thick lashes. “I’ve missed you, so much, Seth. And I hated myself for it. I hated that I could miss someone that had hurt me so badly.”

  I looked down at my lap. And we were back to this. Again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Cassidy cried, taking three quick steps toward me. A tear rolled down her flawless cheek and she made no move to wipe it away. “I keep doing this—keep hurting you, but I’m trying to explain how screwed-up my thought process was.”

  Forcing a smile, I waved my hand for her to carry on. “It’s fine, seriously.”

  Cassidy sighed. “And after that morning, after you told me not to call you again, I couldn’t shut my brain off. Couldn’t stop thinking about you for a single second. I mean, what kind of player, what kind of manwhore who only cares about his next lay tells a girl not to call him? Shouldn’t he be trying his best to worm his way back into her good graces? Use the fact the he did her a solid to try and curry favor?” Cassidy thrust her hands into her hair. “I was driving myself crazy until it hit me—like a fucking Mack truck.”