by JA Huss
“Excuse me,” I say, stopping in front of his table. “I heard there’s a clothing-optional beach around here. Do you know where I can find it?”
He looks up from the newspaper he’s reading with a scowl. “Really?” But then he stops when he sees me, tilts his head, and laughs. “Huh, I was gonna lay into you for such a lame pickup line, but OK. I can take a minute to chat you up about a nude beach if you want.” He winks at me.
I let out a long breath. “Can I sit?”
“Sure. What’s your name, darling?”
God, he sorta sounds like Fletcher too. “Tiffany,” I say, taking a seat across from him. “But my friends call me Tiffy.”
“Yeah?” he says, putting a hand up to stop a waiter. “A drink for the lady? What will it be?”
“Um, how about a Scotch on the rocks?”
“Scotch it is,” he says. “Top shelf.” And then he winks at me. “I’m Walker, Tiffy. Nice to meet you.”
I fidget in my chair. “Nice to meet you as well.” Shit, now what? That was so much easier than I expected.
“What do you do? Here with your husband for a long weekend?”
“Oh, no.” I laugh. “Not married. Not yet anyway. I’m here… well, I work at the Landslide Hotel and Casino and I’m just here to relax today.”
“Got a tee time? Maybe I’ll join you?”
“Oh, no. All done with that. Just need a drink now. What do you do?”
“You played alone?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“No, um, I was on a date, but it didn’t go well. So I left him on the course and came in here to wind down before I have to ride back to the hotel with him.”
“My lucky day then.” He smiles big and lifts his drink, just as mine is delivered. “Cheers,” he says.
I clink his glass and take a long sip of alcohol. Shit, I’m nervous. Now what? The obvious stuff is out of the way. On to the tips, I guess. Tongue, bite lip, play with lip, and something called the toe-leg combo.
“Tiffy?”
“Yes?” I ask, coming back to the present.
“Daydreaming?” He laughs.
“What’d I miss?”
“What do you do at the hotel?”
“Oh, I, ah—” Shit. I can’t tell him I’m Tiffy Preston. This is not a great example of making good decisions. “I’m a dancer.”
What the fuck? How did that come out of my mouth?
“Dancer,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “What kind of dancer?”
“Well, err, you know, like a showgirl.”
“Wow,” he says, sipping his drink while giving me a coy look. “I’m gonna have to come see you perform.”
“You really should. Tomorrow night.” I laugh at that, knowing full well Fletcher’s show is on tomorrow night.
He lets out a chuckle that sounds a little bit like a growl. “It’s a date.”
“Shit, I was kidding.” I say, laughing.
And then he reaches up and scratches his scruffy chin. My eyes immediately dart to his fingers, and then his lips. Lips, Tiffy, I tell myself. Do the mouth thing.
I take another sip of my drink, letting the sticky liquid cling to my lips, and then my tongue darts out and sweeps a small drop into my mouth.
His eyes are fixated on me. So I improvise. Because hell, I’m on a roll here. He’s right where I want him. “So what are you doing here alone?”
“Stood up,” he says.
“What? No way. You? Who would stand you up?”
“You’d be surprised.” He grins, taking a sip of his beer. “So I figured I’d wait around and see if my luck changes, and sure enough, here you are.”
OK, Tiffy. Concentrate. Toe-leg combo. What the fuck can that mean? Why didn’t I listen to Fletch in the car? I run all the possibilities through my head and only come up with one thing. Footsie? Is that still a thing?
I have no idea. But it’s as good a move as any. So I slip my shoe off under the table, cross my legs, and start swinging them. I hit his leg after a few tries and look up to see him smiling at me.
“What are you doing?” he asks with an air of amusement.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump your leg. So, what do you do?” I ask again.
“I’m… an investor.”
“Oh, nice. My father does that too. What do you invest in?”
“The usual. Stock, bonds.” He nods in the general direction of the bar. “And now golf courses.” He stares at me. Hard. And then I feel something touching my leg. His foot is bare too. And it’s rubbing up and down my calf in long, slow caresses. He has a look of amusement on his face and the whole thing makes me draw in some air with surprise. It’s almost like he’s using Fletcher’s moves against me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I stand up at the sound of Fletcher’s voice and bump into his back, that’s how close he’s hovering.
“Fletcher,” I whisper. “Keep your voice down. This is my new friend, Walker. Walker, this is—”
“Nice to see you again, brother.”
“Brother?” And that’s when I see the beaded silver chain around Walker’s neck and the other half of what is probably the grandfather’s dog tags.
“Fuck you,” Fletcher spits out. “We stopped being brothers nine years ago. Come on, Tiffy, we’re done here.”
“Is this your disappointing date, Tiff?” Walker says, standing up and staring straight at Fletcher. “The one you walked out on?”
“Um, I’m not sure what’s happening,” I say. But Fletcher has a grip on my hand and he’s already pulling me through the bar towards the door. Everyone is looking at us, and the heat of embarrassment creeps up my neck and flushes my face.
I look down at my feet as I’m tugged back out into the parking lot. The limo is gone, I’m sure not expecting us to leave so soon. And the parking lot is packed, so I doubt it found somewhere close by to wait. Fletcher pulls me along the asphalt, not saying a word until we reach the edge of the golf course and he walks me into the woods. We follow a dirt trail until the sound of people and traffic recede, and then he lets go of my hand and grabs his hair with both fists.
“What the fuck were you doing with him?”
“What? You sent me in there to flirt with a guy. How the hell was I supposed to know he was your brother?”
“I sent you in there to flirt with Jim. The guy at the bar. You blew him off and made a beeline for my fucking brother!”
“I didn’t know he was your brother! What is your problem? And why did you have someone in there? Did you set me up?”
“Tiffy,” he says, taking a firm grip on my upper arms and shaking me a little. “What kind of man do you think I am? I would never send you into a bar to pick up a stranger. Jim is the guy who works with me. He’s there to play a role and watch over you. I would never put a girl in danger like that. It’s all controlled. It’s all set up. It’s all—”
“Fake,” I seethe. “Everything about you is fake, Fletcher. Not one thing is real, is it?” He just stares at me, that tongue of his doing a dance against his top teeth.
“Well?”
He shakes his head at me and pulls out his phone. “Roger, we need to be picked up. South entrance, near the putting green.” And then he ends the call and starts walking the way we came in.
“Fletcher?” I call out.
“Follow me, Tiffy. Now.”
“No,” I shout. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the hell is going on. Is this matchmaking thing fake too? Do you plant men for these girls to reel in, so you can pull it off? Are their relationships fake? Did you sell each girl to the biggest bidder? What kind of men do they marry? Foreigners looking for a green card? You’re some kind of sex slaver! So when will they find that out? After they give them their hearts? After those few get married? Will the guy get pissed off one night and tell her their whole life is fake?”
Fletcher turns back to me slowly, his face nothing but anger. “Don’t pretend like you know me.
And don’t,” he seethes, “accuse me of fraud.”
“Then why was that guy there to meet me?”
“I told you,” he says in a lowered voice. “To keep you safe.”
“So I was supposed to flirt with him. And then what, Fletcher? Was I supposed to win or lose that game?”
He just stares me down.
“Lose, I take it. So you could be the good guy and come to my rescue. Make me feel better about my failure? God, you’re sick.”
“You don’t even want that guy. So what do you care? If it was Cole, it would be real.”
“How do you know? You’re just a conman, Fletcher. You trick people. You lie and you cheat. I’m done with this, OK? I’m going back to San Francisco the first flight I can get. And just fuck you, OK? I’ll send someone to replace me and they can decide what happens.”
I start walking back the way we came, and he reaches out for my arm as I pass him.
“Don’t,” I say, yanking my arm away. “Don’t even touch me. You’re everything I thought you were that first night at the show. Everything and more. You’re the most pathetic mess of a man I’ve ever met, Fletcher. You’re nothing but a pretty face with a dark soul.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Come in,” I call to the knock at my locker room door in the gym.
“Helloooo?” Tiffy’s BFF, Claudio, calls as he peeks his head inside.
“I’m packing, asshole. I’ll be out of here when I’m done. So tell Miss Preston to calm the fuck down and—”
“Whoa,” Claudio says, putting both hands in the air. “Hold the phone, cowboy. Unpack your bags, take a deep breath, and put on your I’m-not-an-asshole hat because I told Tiffy you had one.”
“What?” I squint as he enters and closes the door behind him. “I got a pink slip in the email this morning. So I’m just gonna do everyone a favor and be on my way.”
“Plans have changed, Fletcher. Randall Preston is coming here tonight to see the show.”
“What?”
“And Tiffy asked me to come down here and ask you to stay for tonight. She says she will make sure you get a bonus if you stay.”
“Tiffy sent you?”
“Mm-hmm,” Claudio says, his lips pressed together tightly in a hard smile.
“She wants her old man to do the honors, or what? She wants to humiliate me in front of him to make herself look better? No fucking thanks.”
“It’s just one show, Fletcher. And he’s not coming to fire you. He’s coming because TravelXpress is going to be here to rate the hotel for a deal they are running next month online.”
I just stare at him.
“Have you heard of TravelXpress?” He looks stressed.
“Sure, it’s like a booking website. They charge a fee though, so I don’t use them.”
“They charge a fee, Fletcher, because they are the biggest online booking agent in the world. And they visit and review every hotel, every flight, every car rental company they put up for special promotions. Cole has managed to get the Landslide up for a review, and they are coming tonight. A five-star rating from TravelXpress would be a very big deal.”
“So now Tiffy needs me.” Bitch.
“They’re here to see the show too. It’s the headline act, so if they rate you five stars, it could be a boon to your… career.”
I laugh at his hesitation to call what I do a career. “Can you be any more condescending?”
Claudio stares at me for a minute and then lets out a deep sigh and turns away. “There’s more, Fletcher. And I shouldn’t tell you this, but you need to understand. Mr. Preston is leaving Tiffy this hotel. It’s all she’s going to get in the will.”
“Will?”
“He’s dying, Fletch. He’s got an inoperable brain tumor and was given six months to live. And that was five months ago. He’s deteriorating fast and he’s made some… unusual decisions about his money in the past six months. For one, Tiffy will get this hotel and nothing else. Not even her trust fund. She will be prohibited from selling the hotel for ten years. If she can make it work, she gets the trust fund once it matures. If she sells it, or it goes bankrupt, she loses everything.”
“What kind of asshole does that to his kid? Jesus Christ.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Claudio says, shaking his head. “But you’re wrong. I’ve known Mr. Preston most of my life. And I know why he’s doing this. He talked it over with me before that brain tumor was ever diagnosed. So it’s not some whim from an eccentric dying man. It’s got solid logic behind it.”
“So Tiffy wants me to save her hotel so she can cash in on the trust fund money ten years from now? Fuck that.”
“Tiffy doesn’t know, Fletcher. She has no idea he’s made these changes to the will. He sent her here to take things over and learn the ropes before he dies.”
“You just said she sent you down here to beg me to stay.”
“She did, but only so when her father gets here, he won’t be disappointed in her. She wants the hotel to get a good rating, but not for the reason you think.”
“Ah, I see. She wants some bonus money, I get it.”
Claudio grunts. “Wow. You really are an asshole.”
“I just call it like I see it.”
“She doesn’t know he’s dying, Fletcher. She doesn’t know the will has been changed. She doesn’t know anything. All she knows is that the hotel will be rated this weekend and she wants to make him happy. She knows he’s sick, he had a small stroke and a heart attack last year and some other minor things. But he’s been lying to her. He says it’s stress. That his heart is weakening. Things like that. They worry people, but they don’t make them break down and be sad. And when she finds out he could die any moment, she will break down. Tiffy is not Mr. Preston’s biological daughter. Her mother, Tessa, met him at one of the Preston Resorts in New York City where she was a waitress. Tiffy was four and they were living in a hotel fifty blocks away, so her mother would bring her to work and hide her with the maids. The hotel manager found out when Tiffy took some toys from a room while she was waiting for her mother to finish work. Tessa was about to be fired when Mr. Preston stepped in and saved her job. They became friends. He adored Tiffy. Treated her like a daughter. When they married three years later Mr. Preston decided to adopt her. He’s been a good father, Fletcher. Her mother died a while back, and Randall never wavered in his love and support of Tiffy.”
“Then why cut her out of the will, Claudio? It’s fucked up.”
“It can’t be helped. Mr. Preston was a lot older than Tessa when they married. In fact, he’d been married three times before. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d have no children, he’d never remarry, and he pledged his entire estate to a multitude of charity funds. They’re counting on him to deliver. And he’d never go back on a pledge.”
“So Tiffy is left with nothing.”
“Nothing but this hotel. And she doesn’t know it yet, but she’s worked for him since junior high school and he’s been investing her paychecks this whole time. It was enough to purchase the Landslide a few months ago. He’s trying his best to set her up for success.”
I rub a hand down my face as I take all this in. “And now he’s dying?”
Claudio nods. His face is very sad.
“And Tiffy doesn’t know?”
“No. Nothing. Not even that she owns this hotel. Not the part about losing her inheritance. None of it.”
God. Life is fucked up.
“And I know you two are in some kind of argument, but Fletcher, she needs this to go well. Not for the hotel, don’t think that’s why I’m here begging. She needs to please her father. All she wants in this world is to make him proud. And if you leave, the show will fail, the hotel will get a subpar rating, and she will feel like she’s failed him. She’s a sweet girl, Fletch. You have to see that.”
“She is,” I agree. “I think she’s genuine. And nice. But she doesn’t believe in me, Claudio. She thinks I’m scum. So why shoul
d I care if she gets her wish? Why the hell does her happy ending have to depend on me when all she sees when she looks at me is a conman?”
“I understand,” Claudio says. “I do. But… just give it some thought. Just take a few hours to think things over. Don’t pack yet. Please.”
I look at him and see a true friend. Tiffy is lucky to have him on her side. He loves her. He just wants to protect her from the reality that will come crashing down soon enough. He wants to give her one more win before that happens. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you,” he says, backing up towards the door. “Thank you.” And then he turns and leaves.
I sit down on the cold wooden bench alongside my locker and put my head in my hands.
Nothing is ever what it seems.
Katie, the girl I put under contract. She’s perfect on the outside, but so damaged on the inside, she paid me money to fix her.
Tiffy, rich beyond belief. Well-educated and polite. A daddy’s girl from top to bottom. And her heart is about to be broken in teeny-tiny pieces. I can see that coming. I can tell she loves her father from the few times she’s mentioned him in conversation. She does care what he thinks. His opinion of her is the one thing that defines her. Just like the opinion of that asshole who hurt Katie is the one thing that defines her.
I can see why Tiffy wants Cole. And not because he’s rich and would take care of her. Especially if she has no idea her inheritance was never hers. I think she likes Cole because he’s dependable. A mountain that stands tall and strong in a valley filled with storms. She needs to feel safe. And even though Randall Preston has provided her with that since she was a small child, there is still that feeling deep down inside her that knows.
It can all be taken away in an instant.
I slam my locker closed and walk out. I walk past all the rich assholes who feel the need to be perfect so strongly that they work out while on vacation, and then make my way up the stairs to the lobby.
I spy Tiffy talking to the people at the front desk. She’s dressed much like she was yesterday. Cream slacks instead of tan. The shoes are high and fancy, but they are a light peach color, like her flowing blouse.
