by Robin Kaye
“I will.”
“And tell her to break a leg.”
“Okay.”
“And give her back her lucky rock. She might need it.”
“I will.”
“Tell her if she gets nervous, to just picture the audience in their underwear.”
What? “No way.”
“Why? It works every time.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want Nicki to picture anyone in their underwear—ever.”
Rocki started giggling—something he’d never heard before. The woman had a great laugh, but he’d never heard her giggle.
He ended up taking her coffee out of her hands because she looked about ready to spill it. “What’s so funny?”
“You are. You sound just like a father. My dad used to say I wasn’t allowed to date until I turned forty.” She wrinkled her nose. “Jackson obviously agrees with him.”
Slater was beginning to appreciate exactly why Jackson didn’t like him. He couldn’t imagine liking anyone who might look sideways at Nicki—even if she were Rocki’s age. “I’m thinking Nicki should join a convent. That whole chastity thing is suddenly very appealing.”
“You’re Catholic?”
“No, but I’d be willing to convert.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”
He dropped Rocki off at Pop’s and went to Francis and Patrice’s place. He parked the car and headed up the walk.
The storm door flew open and Nicki was out like a shot, running right for him. “Slater! You’re back!”
He caught her when she leapt into his arms and gave her a hug—at least someone was happy to see him. “How are you doing, squirt?”
“Great now that you’re home.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. “So, did my lucky rock work?”
“Yeah, Nicki. It worked great. Rocki kept it with her the whole time.”
“See, I told you nothing bad can happen when you have my lucky rock with you.”
He pulled the rock out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Rocki asked me to give it back to you in case you needed it today. I hear you’re the star of the play.”
“Not the star—I think the Snow Witch is the star, I’m just the hero.”
“Heroes are stars too, Nicki.”
He held on to her, not that he’d had any choice. The kid was a real monkey with her too-long arms wrapped around his neck. She smelled like Johnson’s Baby Shampoo and peanut butter—her drug of choice. He waited for that weird feeling he always got when he saw her, and though it was there, it wasn’t as overwhelming as it was the last time. Maybe he was getting used to her.
Patrice stuck her head out. “You two get back in here. It’s cold and Nicki doesn’t even have her coat on.”
Slater smiled at Patrice and carried Nicki into the house. “Hey, Patrice, thanks for letting me go with you this morning.”
He set Nicki down and Patrice wrapped him in a hug and kissed his cheek. Visions of Francis killing him made the already awkward hug even worse.
Patrice smirked at him and gave him a get-used-to-it-buddy look. “I’m just finishing up. Give me a minute and we’ll go.” She headed back to what he guessed was the kitchen.
He bent down to Nicki’s height. “Is she always so affectionate?”
“You mean hugging and kissing and stuff?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. You get used to it after a little while.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t either, but then she hugs and kisses me every time I see her and every time I leave. After a while I realized I didn’t hate it so much.”
“I guess that’s a start.”
“That’s what I thought too and she always smells real nice. Bree and Rocki too—they’re all big-time huggers.”
“So if you don’t like hugging much, how come you always hug me?”
Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “’Cause like Storm and Logan, you’re real big and strong but you need hugs as bad as I do. They’re like medicine. You don’t like taking it but it will make you feel better eventually—at least that’s what Pop and Ms. Patrice say.” Nicki tugged on his hand and gave him a commiserating look. “But until it starts workin’ it’s not fun.”
“How long does it take?”
“Pretty long.” She shivered. “But now, don’t tell anyone, but it’s kinda nice sometimes.”
He tried to swallow the lump that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat like the hot dog he’d choked on once. “I can see that. Hugging you doesn’t weird me out as bad as it used to.”
Nicki wrapped her little arms around his waist, looking up at him, her chin resting on his chest with eyes so big and trusting and familiar. One look at her see-into-your-soul eyes and tenderness melted through him like warm syrup over pancakes.
Patrice stepped out of the kitchen with two little girls in tow and a knowing smile on her face. “Coats and hats on everyone.” She shoved a bag against his chest. “Hold Nicki’s costume.”
“Got it.”
Patrice took both her girls’ hands. “Let’s go.”
Nicki grabbed his hand and pulled him outside the door. “Handholding is a big deal with Ms. Patrice too,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I caught that. So you want to ride with me or with Patrice and the girls?”
“I’ll go with you. I don’t want you to be lonely.” Nicki jumped into the back of the Jeep. He wasn’t sure why, but didn’t want to ask. He still had a lump in his throat over the whole hugging thing and that smile that felt like some kind of precious gift.
When they arrived at the school, he was left in the auditorium with Patrice’s two kids. The three-year-old climbed on his lap and she and her big sister told him about their visit with Santa. Slater wondered if Nicki believed in Santa—hell, he wondered if she ever believed in Santa.
Patrice had gone to help Nicki get into her costume and didn’t return until the lights lowered.
Once Nicki stepped on stage he was mesmerized. Nicki charmed everyone in the audience. For a little kid, she was amazing. Something welled up inside him and it took him a while to figure out exactly what it was since it wasn’t something he felt often: pride. Bone-deep pride. The kid got a standing ovation and he had been the first one on his feet.
Patrice nudged his arm. “Your little girl did an awesome job there, Slater.”
“Yeah, she did, didn’t she?”
“Look at you. You’re practically beaming.”
Nicki came to meet them and he swooped her up in his arms. “You were incredible, squirt.” He planted a big kiss on her cheek and watched a blush cover her face. “I’m so proud of you.”
Nicki put her hands on his face and looked at him. “Really?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of anyone—ever.” He gave her another hug, set her down, and watched all the parents with their kids, wondering if he stood out as a newbie. He didn’t look much different from any of the other guys shuffling around the lobby—a little younger maybe, but hey, he had been just a kid when he and Marisa had hooked up.
Nicki stood beside him, holding Callie’s hand. Nicki was small, but damn, Callie was tiny. If Nicki was his daughter—he’d missed so much. It hadn’t bothered him before, but then when Francis and Patrice’s chubby-cheeked little girl climbed into his lap earlier, he’d tried to picture Nicki at that age and drew a complete blank.
Nicki tugged on his hand. “I gotta go back to class now. Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it, squirt.” When she smiled, he realized he’d meant it. He didn’t want to miss anything ever again. “I’ll be by to pick you up this afternoon. Okay?”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, Nicki. I promise.” He watched her get
in line to go back to her classroom. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiled and waved, and just like that, he knew what he needed to do, and he was going to do it today.
Slater walked Patrice and the girls back to their car. Patrice buckled Callie into her car seat. “Slater, are you coming back to Pete’s apartment with us? I promised I’d show him the pictures of Nicki’s play.”
Damn, pictures. “Good thing you were there. Rocki told me to take pictures and I forgot.”
“You were too busy puffin’ up. I swear you men are somethin’ else. You’d give Francis a run for his money in the proud papa department.”
“You go ahead, I’ve got something I need to do. I told Nicki I’d pick her up after school. We’ll be back after that.”
Patrice’s eyebrow rose but she didn’t ask. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
He waved her off and then phoned Pop.
“Hey, how’d Nicki do?”
“She did great. The kid might just have a future on the stage.”
“Oh good, I’m glad to hear that. Nicki was nervous.”
“Pop, where’s that lab you told me about? Do they have Nicki’s DNA?”
“It’s on file. All you have to do is show up. I’ll e-mail you all the particulars.”
“You know how to e-mail?”
“Shit, son. I might be old but I’m not that old. I’ll send it to you. Just give them the case number and tell them to put a rush on it.”
“Will do.”
“I’m proud of you, Slater.”
“Thanks, Pop.” Slater jumped into his father’s Jeep and smiled, because now, at least, he could relate.
• • •
Rocki sat at the family table in the back of the Crow’s Nest—they weren’t open yet, not for another hour or so, but Skye had decided it was easier to cook breakfast for a crowd in the Crow’s Nest kitchen than in Pete’s apartment.
The mushroom-leek frittata she made was orgasmic and the fact that it was on Pete’s diet was amazing.
Storm had been keeping his distance, which was fine with Rocki. He and Jackson talked boats all through breakfast, and last she saw, they were heading upstairs to check out the plans for a racing boat Storm had just designed.
Skye cooked, so Logan had been relegated to dish duty. It looked as if everything was back to normal with the two of them, since Skye was wearing an engagement ring. Another one down.
Rocki pushed aside the feeling of the last woman standing—or in her case, falling—and told herself she was not jealous. After all, she’d never once thought about getting married. She’d never thought she’d ever find anyone who would love her just for herself and not for her trust fund. But then she’d never met someone like Slater. To him, her money was more of a detriment than an asset. She didn’t agree with that either, but maybe it was better that way.
She stared into her coffee cup and wondered when Slater would be back. It was weird; he’d dropped her off a couple of hours ago at most, and she already missed him.
“Oh, I’ve seen that face before—just not on you.” Bree pulled up a chair and sat. “If it’s this bad now, what are you going to do when Slater takes off for Bahrain?”
Rocki shrugged. She didn’t know how much Bree knew about Slater’s situation with Nicki, and as much as she’d love to talk to Bree about it, she didn’t think she should.
Patrice flew through the door, waving her phone. “I just dropped the girls off so I’m free—for a few hours at least.” She hurried over to the table. “You wouldn’t believe how great Nicki was in her play!”
Bree moved over, making a spot for Patrice. “Let’s see the pics. I was so bummed I couldn’t go. Damn meetings.”
Patrice held her phone so everyone could see and flipped through the pictures. From Rocki’s perspective, it looked as if Nicki lit up the stage.
Patrice sighed. “I swear Nicki stole the show. She didn’t forget one line. You should have seen Slater. He had a smile so wide—it could span the Brooklyn Bridge.”
Rocki scanned the restaurant. “Speaking of Slater, where is he?”
Patrice shrugged. “He said he had something to do. He was all hush hush about it—like it was supersecret or something.”
“Supersecret?” He hadn’t told her he was going out. But then she didn’t know if that’s what people did when they were seeing each other. It wasn’t as if he had to check in with her or anything, but if she were going out, she’d probably tell him what she was doing. Maybe. Shit, she didn’t know how to do this relationship dance.
Patrice turned her tell-me-all gaze on Rocki. “So spill.”
Rocki looked up from her coffee. “Spill what?”
Patrice did her Cher hair flip. “All the details. And don’t go pretending it’s all casual between you and Slater—after you reamed Storm—that’s not gonna fly, girlfriend.”
“Yeah.” Bree smiled. “I haven’t seen Storm look so dazed since that night I hit him with the frying pan. It’s really impressive you could get a reaction out of my husband with only the threat of bodily harm.”
“You’re not mad?”
Bree laughed but it wasn’t a funny ha-ha laugh, it was a you’d-better-talk-or-we’ll-torture-you-for-a-long-long-time laugh. “Are we mad that you kept a world of secrets from us, or that you threatened my husband’s ability to reproduce?”
Guilt rushed over Rocki like a tidal wave. “Both, but mostly the first one.”
Patrice rocked in her chair. “Rocki, look, we love you—you know that—and we’ve discussed this.”
Of course they had. Knowing Bree and Patrice, they had a plan to extract information in the most efficient and possibly painful way.
“We realize that when you first met us, you didn’t know who you were dealing with.” Patrice ran her hands up her sides, framed her face, and did a little shimmy. “You had no way of knowing how absolutely fabulous we are. So okay, we understand why you didn’t trust us enough from the get-go to let us in. But, girlfriend, that doesn’t explain why we’re just hearing about it now.”
“Because if I had said something, I would have come off like either a liar, or a showoff or both.” She sipped her cold coffee. “But mostly, I didn’t want to change our relationship. Money changes everything.”
Bree looked from her to Patrice. “I think that’s a bunch of bunk. Frankly, I couldn’t care less if you’re rich as Roosevelt—”
“But you were weirded out with Storm and Thomas’s friendship because the man owns a ten-million-dollar boat.” Bree was so busted.
“So I had a few moments—mostly because I knew what kind of women Storm dated—women who were rich and beautiful—”
“Like me?”
“No, not like you. You’d never be the yacht-club, mean-girls type, no matter how much money you have.”
“That’s true enough. I never fit in and believe me, I went to school with women who were the very ones you feared.”
“I know not everyone in your tax bracket is like that, but I imagined the ones he knew were. How does someone like me compete with that? It was a natural fear. But I got over it and you know I did, so you can’t use that as an excuse.”
“I was afraid and I saw no reason to complicate things. I’ve been happier here, living on what I make, being my own person, than I have ever been before. I love you guys.”
“And we love you.” Bree and Patrice said in stereo.
“I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to stop shopping at thrift stores or going out and scoring deals at Macy’s just because I can afford to pay full price.”
Patrice nodded. “I totally get that—shopping is a sport.”
“Exactly. Besides, I don’t think of the family money as something that’s mine. That’s not how Jackson and I were raised. The family trust is a responsibility. Kind of like a family heirl
oom—you have to protect it, take care of it, and make it grow until you can hand it down to the next generation.”
“So you can’t spend any of it?”
“I could if I wanted to. I can’t tell you how many of the girls I went to school with blew their fortunes. I just think that’s really tacky and stupid.”
“Totally.” Bree nodded.
“Me, I stopped drawing from my trust fund after I got this gig. I wanted to prove I was able to make it on my own. I wanted to prove I’m more than just the balance of my trust fund.”
Patrice went to the coffee station and brought a pot back, refilling their cups and taking one for herself. “So what do you do with all the money?”
“Jax and I have a foundation—the Sullivan Trust. We give a certain amount each year to worthy causes. I have my favorites—I like to give money to schools and rec centers in support of the arts, especially around here. I want to make sure the music programs aren’t cut so I gift money earmarked to buy instruments, pay music teachers’ salaries, and support after-school music programs. But other than that, I don’t have much to do with it—”
Bree sucked in a breath. “The Sullivan Trust? You gave a grant to the Red Hook Revitalization Committee?”
Rocki shrugged. “I thought it was a great cause.”
“I didn’t know. Thank you.”
“You weren’t supposed to know. See”—she shook her head and threw her hands up—“now it’s getting weird.”
Bree let out an oh-please groan. “Dramatic much? It is not weird at all. I thanked you when you volunteered your time to help clean up the park and that wasn’t weird.”
“I don’t have much to do with the trust or our investments. Jax is the numbers guy in the family and he deals with all that and sends me updates.”
Patrice looked at her and then looked down. “So the reason you didn’t tell us wasn’t because you thought we’d turn into a bunch of moochers, was it?”
“No.”
Patrice relaxed and then smiled. “Good. Now let’s get to the juicy part. What’s going on between you and Slater?”
“I don’t know. He’s wonderful but he’s going through a lot of stuff and I was too. It wasn’t a great time for either of us to get involved. We’re just taking it a day at a time and we’ll see how things shake out.”
