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“I won’t forget that, Marchenko.”
His kiss seals the promise.
Chapter31
Conner
Curiosity has gotten the better of me. My aunts aren’t in the habit of asking to meet for lunch. In fact, I’m sure this is a one-of-a-kind event that has never happened before in history and is bound to never be repeated.
Though I recall Micah’s warning that Matilda is on the hunt for corporate accessories, I’d like to hear the pitch on the off chance it’ll be entertaining. There’s no doubt she’s recruiting Gage for his superior financial skills. There’s even less doubt that she sees me as nothing more than a famous name to use for publicity. Frankly, I have about as much interest in the property business as I have in knitting blankets but maybe this outing will be good for a laugh.
Besides, I have nothing else to do. Haven is busy this afternoon, escorting Lita to various therapy sessions. I’m getting bored with sitting at home and dodging calls from nosy reporters.
The Cyclones rookie quarterback put on a good show this past Sunday and pulled off a win. I hope he works out. The team deserves some good fortune.
Though I’m told my head is healing just fine, the fact that my playing days are over is an entirely different kind of wound and it’s still fresh. Each time I remember how I’ll never again run out under the stadium lights and fire a pass into the end zone, I console myself with thoughts of Haven.
The old idea that I just didn’t have what it takes to fall and to fallhardhas been shattered.
I just fucking love that girl. It’s that simple, and that complex.
Right now I’m in the thick of the glittering downtown business district. Everyone who passes me looks pissed off, whether staring at their phone screens or glaring straight ahead as their shoes click on the yellow cobblestones carpeting this section of Emerald City.
I’m meeting my aunts at a restaurant called The European Cavern. The hostess who greets me at the door sounds like she might come from Texas and there’s nothing especially European-ish about the interior vibe, which just looks like a standard high priced eatery where everyone drinks from crystal fluted glasses. Or maybe this is what Europe looks like. I don’t know, I’ve never been there. I should ask Gage. He lived in Europe for years.
Whatever the theme, this is clearly a lunch destination for people who view themselves as super important. They all have the same haughty my-shit-don’t-stink pinch to their uptight faces. If Micah were here with me, he would have taken one look at the setting and walked right the fuck out.
The hostess leads me past tables where hushed conversations are happening over plates that hold food served in tiny portions. Beats me why places that boast the fanciest gourmet fare need to be so stingy. Give me a basket of cheese fries and a loaded double burger any day over the plate I’m looking at right now, which features a puck of possible tuna fish squirted with lines of something that looks like barbecue sauce but probably isn’t.
“Here is your party, sir.” The hostess gestures to a large corner table where my aunts are slurping from wine glasses and not speaking.
“Thanks,” I say at the exact second Matilda notices my arrival and beams.
“There’s our nephew.” She’s using her acting voice right now. That’s what Dani calls it. “Conner, you’re looking so healthy. We’ve been incredibly worried.”
I have zero memory of ever receiving any affection from my aunt but here’s Matilda, fluttering around the table to assault me with her perfumed arms while sending air kisses in the general direction of my face.
At least Alta doesn’t break character. She silently raises her glass a few inches and then just keeps drinking.
“You should have talked the boys into coming with you.” Matilda fans a napkin on her lap.
I’d probably be forced to bribe Micah and Gage to get them to tag along but there’s no reason to point that out.
“Maybe next time.” Scanning the menu, I see no burgers, fries, pizza or steak. I don’t even see fried chicken. “Ah, fish and chips. I ordered that from a food truck once. Good stuff.”
“That’s the children’s menu,” Alta says.
I flip the menu face down. “Then I’ll order a double portion. Cool?”
“Of course, Conner.” Matilda has now decided to sweet talk me as if I’m five years old. “You are allowed to order anything you would like.”
“Gosh, thanks Auntie Matilda. If I promise to lick my plate clean can I also have dessert?”
See? I can be obnoxious too.
Alta titters into her glass.
Matilda switches to business mode. She moves her hands as if she’s straightening papers that aren’t there. Matilda loves to give monologues. This one features a detailed list of all the hotels and luxury office towers and other boring projects currently in the Yellow Brick Properties pipeline.
