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Wide awake, my fingertips tap out the beat of an earworm that’s held on since my car ride. If I were home, I’d get up and spend the next few hours exhausting myself behind the drums.
Cris has the guest suite outfitted for musicians. Pictures of his family alongside celebrities who have visited Kingsbrier decorate the shelves in this room. They are similar to the one I found of him in the restaurant. The subtlety is name-dropping at its finest. No wonder the drummer who used to back up his dad over a decade ago wasn’t impressive to Mateo.
I reach for a guitar that’s sitting in the corner of the room and pick the strings. Keeping the sounds soft so that I don’t wake anyone, I get lost in the music and push Paisley out of my mind for a while. Triaging the easier headaches first, I prioritize my damages.
The sun is on the horizon when I have a handle on a few things. Amongst early risers, I throw on jeans and a tee and start for the kitchen. Although my travels have shifted around my sleep patterns, I’m not making any final decisions without a cup of coffee. Hearing noises elsewhere in the house, I dress in the clothes I picked up in town, and wander to the kitchen.
“What’s on tap for you boys today?” Daveigh asks over her mug.
Cris is a busy guy. When he’s had meetings at the winery, he’s set me to work on a simple task. One day it was quality control, inspecting wine bottles as they came off the labeling machine. Another, it was packing cases for distribution with the warehouse crew. I’ve enjoyed the change of pace while helping around the ranch.
In my downtime, I’ve actually fed chickens; his son’s chore at the barns across the gravel road in the same area as the veterinary clinic. Daveigh, whose specialty is large breed animals, also showed me how to brush and saddle a horse and we took two out for a ride.
I’d later joked with her that if I thought my ass was killing after driving from North Carolina to Texas, it’s nothing compared to an afternoon sitting bow-legged.
Daveigh is open and honest. I like her a lot—for Cris. My craptastic behavior in my twenties stopped Liz and I from developing a genuine friendship, but if I stayed here, I can see that happening with Daveigh.
“I have some calls to return.” Cris shakes his phone. Scores of messages appear on his screen.
“There are a few I need to make, too.” I inhale the steam and sip my coffee.
I must frown when I do.
“Everything okay, Jake?” Daveigh inquires from the table.
“Oh, yeah, no.” I stumble for the correct answer. “The coffee is wonderful. I was making a mental to-do list. I put up the capital for a small security company. I’m the principal investor and the owner wants to sell to a larger firm. My approval is the last thing standing in the way.”
“My brother-in-law started out as a business analyst for a big security firm in Minnesota. He’s the CFO now.” Cris is toasting bagels.
“Walsh Security?” I gape.
“That’s the one.” Daveigh chimes.
“So, have you met Devon Walsh?”
“He’s family. Married to another brother-in-law’s sister.”
“Devon persuaded his sister to buy the firm out and put it under their home security umbrella. The owner, my friend Trig, would still be in charge of the day-to-day. But he’s interested in shifting his priorities to his family.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with that.” Bringing two plated bagels to the kitchen table and a bowl of cereal for Mateo, Cris stops to kiss the crown of Daveigh’s head.
No, there isn’t, is there?
I excuse myself. Outside on the wraparound porch, I breathe in the fresh country air. I’m not ready to have any sort of deep-feelings discussion with Trig about what changed my mind. So I shoot off a one-word message:Sell.
He’ll understand what I mean. We’ll square up later.
After that, I sift through the apps on my phone to find the email account that syncs to Sweet Caroline’s. There are a million unopened messages, but the search results hit on the one I’m looking for. And as luck would have it, the contact info has a highlighted link.
I love technology.
I hit the guy’s phone number. It rings twice and a groggy man picks up.
“Hey, this is Jake Ballentine. You applied for a job at my club on the East Coast. I know it’s early Los Angeles. Is this a good time to talk?”
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