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Chapter One
David
The flight attendant smiles flirtatiously at me, offering a glass of champagne. Flashing her back a cocky grin, I accept the flute and take a sip as Uncle Bill slides into the chair across from me. It’s nice that Uncle Bill decided he wanted to go to New York because now Max and I don’t have to fly commercial from Chicago. The Haven Financial jet is somewhere in Florida for a management conference that Max bailed out of for Timmy’s wedding, and the Haven Property jet is somewhere over the Atlantic. One of the board members has been visiting some of our sites in the UK. Maybe I should buy another one just for my use. I hate flying commercial.
If I was going to get one just for me, I would use this as inspiration. Uncle Bill’s private jet isnice. The ten seats with belts are gray leather, with highly polished mahogany tables between the sets. There is also an upholstered fabric couch that seats three, where Max will be relocating once we’re in the air. He’s half asleep now.
My cousin lounges beside me, wearing dark shades. He’s hungover as hell after the wedding last night. My brother’s wedding to Uncle Bill’s old PA, Angie Shepherd, was the reason we were all in Chicago. The new PA, Cathy Milleneau, chats with the pilot for a moment before taking a seat behind us.
Max falls asleep quickly after we take off, but I take the opportunity to get out my iPad and answer some emails, my eyes flickering occasionally to the flat screen TV to my right, mounted on the wall above a matching shiny mahogany sideboard toppedwith fixed glass vases filled with calla lilies. Some 24 hour news channel is broadcasting there.
The last time I was on this plane, there were peonies. Angie’s bouquet last night was calla lilies. I wonder if this is an homage to her. Unbuckling from his seat across from me, Uncle Bill wanders off to chat in a low voice to his PA. Probably about his itinerary when they arrive in New York.
I know exactly what my itinerary is going to be. A shower, a nap, and hitting up my favorite nightclub. After Uncle Bill had me unceremoniously kicking my girlfriend Robyn out of his English Manor house, leading up to Christmas, I’ve been relishing being single. It has been ratherenjoyable.
A quick glance at Max confirms that he’s probably not going to be in any state to join me tonight. He’s only a year older than me, but he’s already showing his age. His hangovers are taking longer and longer for him to get over. Fuck, I’m not looking forward to turning thirty this year. Not if the sleeping asshole on the couch along the plane is any indication of my future.
Uncle Bill wanders on back as I’m putting my iPad away. He takes his seat across from me again, flashing me a smile. “Where do you recommend I eat dinner tonight?”
I glance sharply at him. This better not be a hint that I’m supposed to join him. I love the guy, but I am jonesing hard for my favorite nightclub. It’s not exactly Uncle Bill’s scene.
I throw in a few names, and Max wakes up at some point, adding his input to the conversation. We are interrupted by the pilot’s voice crackling over the intercom. “We are about to begin our descent into New York, Mr. Westerhaven. If you and your guests could all take your seats and buckle up.”
“Fucking finally, I just want my bed,” Max mutters under his breath. I snort. Yeah, he’s turned into an old woman now he’s thirty.
Thankfully for Max’s hangover, the landing is smooth, and the taxiing is short.
“Welcome to New York, Mr. Westerhaven.”
Uncle Bill nods to the flight attendant, who is now standing beside us, gesturing along the plane toward the door, which the co-pilot is opening.
Max and I follow Uncle Bill’s lead as he exits the plane, Cathy bringing up the rear. There is a spacious town car waiting for us on the tarmac as we de-plane. Max sighs, sinking into the buttery leather seat with his back to the driver. Cathy slides in beside him and Bill and I climb into the seats facing forward.
Luckily for Max, his Fifth Avenue condo is our first stop. He looks up at the building with fondness, turning as the driver opens the door for him.
“Thanks for the lift, Uncle Bill,” Max grins, nodding to Cathy and flipping me off as he stumbles out of the car. The driver hands his building doorman Max’s suitcase, climbing back into the car to take us to our next stop, my modern glass and steel building on Central Park North.
I am not the only one to climb from the car when it glides to a stop in front of my building, the driver opening the door and stepping back. To my surprise, Uncle Bill climbs out of the car with me, though Cathy remains in the vehicle.
Despite his presence beside me on the sidewalk, only my suitcase is removed. Unlike Max, I’m more than capable of handling my bag. I grab the handle, leading Uncle Bill into the building. My doorman Paulie greets me, nodding respectfully to Uncle Bill as the town car with Cathy in it has pulled back into New York traffic.
Uncle Bill doesn’t speak as the elevator pipes classical music around us on the ride up to my penthouse. I open the door, gesturing for him to lead the way in. He nods, striding in and moving over to the large feature windows, his eyes locked on the treetops as I duck into my bedroom to deposit my suitcase.
It’s clear he wants to speak about something, so I take the world’s fastest piss, hurrying back out to the sprawling open plan living area. Normally, the second I walk through these doors, I relax. Not today. Uncle Bill has something on his mind, and I can’t think of what I might have done to fuck up. Ryan’s the one who seduced a waitress at Timmy’s wedding. I was the best man, and on my best behavior.
When I re-emerge, Uncle Bill is standing with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out over Central Park from my lounge room floor-to-ceiling windows. He turns at the sound of my footsteps on the hardwood floors and gestures to the comfortable white fabric three-seater couch.
Intrigued, I take a seat, lounging against the soft throw pillows that match the couch’s fabric as Uncle Bill seats himself in one of the wooden armchairs perpendicular to me. He crosses his legs, his thumb stroking his short graying beard as he studies me carefully for a long moment. After what seems an age of fighting the urge to fidget, he finally opens his mouth. Uncle Bill could always make me nervous.
“I’m thinking it’s about time we re-vamp the Haven Property image.”
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees as I watch him. That doesn’tsoundlike I’m about to be reamed out. That’s nice to know.
“It’s been over ten years since it’s had a face lift. I’m thinking about a new marketing campaign, logo, website… the works.”
“It’s probably about time.”
I squint over at him. What’s brought this on? They say major life events cause some people to make drastic changes. Uncle Bill had heart surgery last year. He could be leery about his future because of that. Though Angie assured us all that Uncle Bill was perfectly fine now, so maybe not. Then again, it could have been Timmy’s wedding. The first of our generation to take the leap. Could that have Uncle Bill feeling his age?
