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“Really? That’s great.”
“Is it?”
“Course it is. How old’s this kid?”
“Eight.”
“Then you eat McDonald’s and watch cartoons for two months. It’ll be simple.”
“It’s not that simple. The guy who’s our new boss, he’s the guy I met in Rome.”
“What guy?” She gasps. “Not the guy you rocked the Kasbah with?”
“The very same. But I think he might be a crook. He was talking on the plane, and I overheard him. He mentioned hurting people. He’s loaded, and everyone out there was bowing down to him, cops and everything. I’m not sure I should do this.”
The office door opens, and Hunter walks in. “Time’s up,” he says, taking the phone from my hand and talking into it. “She’s got to go.” He hangs up before tossing it back to me. “What’s your answer?”
“Why do you need a babysitter for two months?”
“No questions. Yes or no. Are you doing it, or am I bringing the next person on my list in here to ask them instead?”
I take a deep breath, looking out into the main body of the office through the open door. All those eyes looking back at me. Any one of them could be fired next, and I have the power to stop it.
He reads my mind. “Christmas in a couple of months,” he says. “Tough time to job hunt. Plus, you get my dream. Your own boutique, like you, always wanted. It’s only two months. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I turn back to face him, nodding as I do. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t work for a criminal.”
12
Hunter
* * *
“Sit down, Hunter.”
My father hasn’t looked up from his newspaper yet he knows I’m standing in the doorway.
I shake my head in disbelief. “All the people in here walking back and forth. How did you know it was me?”
He folds the paper, leaning back in the chair, his cheeks red as the leather. “You think a father would not know his own son?”
I take the seat opposite his. At once, one of the butlers appears with a tray. Two glasses of whiskey are handed out.
He shrugs at me as I give him a look. “It’s after noon. What’s the problem?”
“Thought you were supposed to be cutting down,” I say as he drains half of his in one gulp.
“If I’ve got to die, I’m going out happy.” He lifts his glass into the air. “Ideally drunk. Here’s to getting you getting one over on Ivanov.”
I raise my glass as the butler closes the door, leaving us alone. For a minute, the only sound is the clock ticking on the dark wood-paneled wall to my right.
“You like this club?” Father asks. “Only you look uncomfortable.”
“I have a lot of work to do. You called me in from Ivanov’s building just as I was getting going with it all. Said it was urgent. Now I’m here. You want to discuss the club?”
“Patience, my boy. You must develop patience if you are to take over.”
That gets me sitting up straight. “So you’ve made a decision?”
