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A chuckle falls out of his mouth. “No, intern. Macie is doing the shit I sent her to do like the good assistant she is.” He makes his way toward me and pulls me into a hug. “Baby Dunagin, the antichrist. You’re scarce these days. What brings you in?”
I pull away and look up at him. “Ha. Ha. Don’t hate because I tell it like it is. I live in the same house I always have, tool. You know where to find me. You’re the one whoring around California on the company’s dime.”
“Why be celibate when I haven’t found the one?” the dumbass says. “I hear you’re not abstaining these days either. When am I going to meet this boyfriend of yours that I keep hearing about from Dad? Scared I’ll beat his ass? Word is he’s around my age. And he’s left quite the impression.”
A laugh slips out as I try to picture Landon getting his ass beat. It doesn’t come. I’ve seen Landon fight. I’ve never seen my brother in a brawl. He is a lover, not a fighter. I purse my lips. Yeah, I doubt Landon would come out on the losing end.
I’m not sure I’m ready for the two of them to meet. I don’t know what would be more awkward—them hating each other or becoming friends. Knowing their personalities, it could go either way. “Eh, one day,” I say, the smile giving me away. I’m sure schedules will align at some point. It’s not like he lives with us anymore. Like Landon, Preston is grown. He has a demanding job, a social life at the peak of his twenties, and his own place. “But are you really surprised that I ended up with an older guy?”
He laughs. “No. I am surprised you haven’t run him off, though. Baby D is a little hard ass. I’m honestly curious to see what kind of guy appealed to you.”
I grin. “An asshole to the core.”
His laughter deepens. “Makes perfect sense. What are you doing here? You never come to the office.”
I take a deep breath, getting back to the reason I came. I do have other things I need to be doing, and planes don’t wait. “I need to talk to Dad about something. Saw you first.”
He walks to his door and opens it, nodding his head for me to come through before him. As I walk in the direction of Dad’s office, I can hear Preston on my heels. I know Dad is here. I verified it with a text. He may be surprised, but he won’t be blindsided.
“Can you get me the numbers by Monday?” Dad’s voice echoes through his office as I get close to the cracked door. “I’m ready to move on this.”
“I’ll have them to you by noon,” a man’s voice returns in a way that’s obvious Dad has the phone on speaker. “Hawaii is a good decision. It’s a hot spot.”
“I’ll wait for the report,” he says, just before Preston’s knuckles rap on the door. “Come in.”
He pushes it open, my eyes instantly meeting my dad’s. One side of his mouth pulls up. “My little tyrant, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have some business that I’d like to discuss with you.”
His smirk relaxes and his eyes move to my brother. “No clue. She didn’t say.”
He looks back at me. “Come in and shut the door.”
I walk in and grab the doorknob. When I turn to close the door, Preston is standing in the doorway, hands in his pants pockets, a smirk on his face. I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, all cryptic like, and then he turns and walks off. Douchebag. I shut the door.
Dad is reclined back in his chair when I take a seat on the other side. I drop my keys and cell phone on his desk. “Should I be concerned?” he asks without a moment of hesitation.
“I don’t know, should you?” I bite back, a little bitchier than I meant. I should have expected it. It’s always going to be assumed that I’m in trouble when I come to my parents unannounced because I’m so much more independent than either of my siblings were. I don’t give a shit about my parents’ money, and I take care of myself. Still, I get a little butt hurt over it when I shouldn’t. Not really. I’ve spent years letting people see what I want them to see, so I can’t fault them for expecting that version of me.
“Just making sure my little girl is still in there,” he says, catching me off guard. “As much as I love that you stopped by, it’s rare, so what did you need to see me about?”
Right, because what typical seventeen-year-old visits her dad at work?
“Do you still have that music contact?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
He sits up straight and props his forearms on the edge of his desk, lacing his fingers together, which means he’s taking me seriously. That’s a good sign. “I have a lot of contacts. Which one specifically?”
“From the record label.”
For several seconds, he just stares at me. “Why do you ask?”
I don’t know why I’m nervous. Nothing, and I mean nothing aside from Landon Scott makes me nervous, but I am. Maybe it’s that this is so personal for them, and in turn for me. “I was hoping you could turn them onto a band.”
“I don’t stick my neck out there for things I don’t know. I’m not in the music business. It’s a cutthroat industry. I also don’t use my name for personal gain.”
He knows exactly what I’m referring to. One thing I know about my dad: he’s smart. That’s why he has so much fucking money. He knows the ins and outs of business. He’s good at numbers. “It’s not personal gain. They’re good, and none of them know I’m doing this. They just need the right contact to hear them. Before the lead singer’s girlfriend died, they had an offer to tour with a headliner band. They backed out. I can prove they deserve a second chance with a few taps on my phone.”
