Dirty Money(11)

Wynonna just shakes her head, as if unable to believe the story. "I've  heard billionaires are eccentric, but this story really is nuts.  Crushing over a company advertisement? You're pretty, sis, but can't a  billionaire have anyone? A model? Actress? Anything?" Her face is  worried. "Are you sure this isn't a prank?"         

     



 

"I know, I wondered about it, too." I'm trying not to be hurt by my  sister's open skepticism, because it is strange. "He said I'm elegant,  though, and he wants someone with a bit of class to them. It's so odd. I  get the impression he's looking at this as more like a business  transaction than an actual relationship. He's decided he needs a classy  girlfriend and I'm the one he wants."

Of course, that doesn't explain the scorching looks he sent in my direction all night, but I don't tell my sister about that.

"Well, I'm glad you turned him down." She gives a small shake of her  head, as if unable to believe it. "We need money, of course, but not  that bad."

I say nothing. She doesn't realize how desperate I've been feeling  lately, because I work hard to make sure she feels secure. Like she  doesn't have to stress about going to college. I want her to have the  choices I didn't have when I was eighteen. I want her to have a  different path than I did when Mom ran off and Dad went to prison, and I  was forced to drop out of high school a month before graduation. I want  her to have fun and take the classes that excite her, and go to frat  parties and whatever else she wants to do. I don't want her to spend her  college years flipping burgers or scooping ice cream like I did,  because that put food on the table and kept my sister out of foster  care.

And if I have to work a little harder to make ends meet, I do. I always  do. The last thing I want is for Wynonna to stress, like she is right  now. Her young face is unhappy at the thought of me being harassed.  Which it wasn't-it was a very determined client taking me out for  dinner. "I told him no, Wynonna. You don't have to worry about it. It's  just a funny story and I thought I'd share it."

The worry on her face eases and she smiles. "You should pass him off to  someone else, Reba. I don't want some creepster bugging you because he  thinks you're pretty."

"He gave me his phone number and told me to call him with houses. I just  won't call him," I soothe her. "I don't think he lives super close to  here so it's unlikely I'll see him again."

"Okay." She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "You'll get other commissions, I promise. This one just seems sketchy to me."

I don't know if it's sketchy as much as it is just strange. But I nod.  It's not worth upsetting my sister. I'll just scour Craigslist for some  leads tonight and take some stuff to the consignment shop in the morning  to get grocery money. No big deal. Maybe she's right. Maybe Boone-Mr.  Price-does have something shady in mind and I'm too gullible to see it.  "So how was your day? Did you register for classes?"

Wynonna's face lights up. "Oh, Reba-"

"Ivy," I warn.

"Ivy, you should see the college campus. It's so cool!"

I settle in and listen to my sister gush about her future, trying hard not to think about my own.



Boone

She won't call me.

Pretty, classy Ivy Smithfield won't return my phone calls. I mean, it's  to be expected. I ain't in her league. I ain't even close. Even though I  have shitloads of money now, to some people I'm still a dirt-grubbing,  uneducated redneck. You can't change some people's minds, and even  dangling an enormous commission in front of Ivy's classy little upturned  nose won't get her to give me the time of day.

I'm disappointed. I thought we connected at dinner. She didn't leave  early. She didn't toss her wine in my face. She talked to me-steering it  back to business, always-but she was pleasant and funny. I thought  she'd call me in the morning.

But she hasn't.

It's been a week now, and I haven't heard a peep. Not a call. Not a  text. Nothing. I reached out to her a few times and left voicemails. She  didn't return those, either.

She's deliberately avoiding me, then.

I ain't even mad; I'm just disappointed. Did I want Ivy to fall into my  arms and throw all her clothes off? Fuck yeah. But the fact that she's  not going to come easy just means that I've got a little bit longer to  wait before she's in my bed. That's all right. I can be a patient man if  it's for something I truly want.         

     



 

After seven days of silence, though, I get tired of being patient and set my brothers on it.

Well? I text Seth. He's wearing a fancy suit that he recently  purchased-Seth's the one that likes nice clothes-and is sitting in the  lobby of Three Jacks Real Estate. Even shaved his beard and slicked his  hair down all nice and neat like he's going to a wedding instead of a  real estate office. Clay wanted to go and spy for me, but we look a lot  like my dad and more like full brothers instead of half. Seth's blond  and baby-faced and eight years younger, so he's the perfect one to go in  "disguise."

SETH: She ain't here I don't think. I'm sitting w/some lady named Farah  & she is telling me all about this bldg. Historic or some shit.

Yeah, they did the same to me. Everyone there's damn proud of that shit. To me, it's just old. I text Seth back.

B P: Where's Ivy?

Seth: Ivy's desk is across from hers I think. Empty. Lunch maybe?

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. Ten in the morning. Ain't lunch, I send back.

SETH: Maybe another client. Hey, u think I shld buy a house?

B P: I don't give a fuck.

SETH: Some of these places r pretty sweet. I need a bachelor pad for the lil mamas to hang at.

I rub my face, frustrated. Seth is the youngest of my stepbrothers and  also the one that can't be serious for a moment. Maybe it was a bad idea  to send him. I stare at the street sign ahead of me, scowling. I'm  parked at the curb a few blocks down so Ivy doesn't think I'm stalking  her.

I mean, it's not really stalking if I send someone else to do it. And  really, I ain't gonna bother her if she just doesn't want my money. I  just want to know she's alive and showing up to work. If she is, it  means she's not laid up in a hospital somewhere, and I don't want that  at all. I'll figure something out.

SETH: Wait, she's here now. Just came in.

B P: She look ok?

SETH: Ur right, she's pretty. Amazing legs.

I growl at my phone. I want to see her legs for myself. But is she ok?

Seth: She looks tired. Just sat down. Keeping her arm clenched.

A moment passes.

Seth: Farah is chatting w/her. She donated blood.

Huh. That's a random thing to happen midday. She got any clients there?

SETH: Nope.

B P: I'm coming in, then.

I've never been one to fear confrontation. All I want's an answer. If  Ivy's ignoring me because she never wants to see me again, I'll go away.  If there's something else going on, I need to know why she's not  answering my calls. She's the one that I want. It's all decided. The  only thing I need is her to realize it.

So I get out of my truck and walk the two blocks over to their snooty  little office. I didn't dress for the part like Seth did; I'm in a  T-shirt and jeans, and wearing my favorite hat. Least I'm not covered in  West Texas dust this time. I go in the office and the receptionist's  look tightens as she claps eyes on me.

"I'm here to see Ivy Smithfield," I drawl.

"Did you have an appointment?"

"Yup," I lie. It's kinda an appointment. She promised to call me back and never did. In my mind, that counts.

The receptionist nods stiffly and picks up her phone. "Shall I let her know who's waiting?"

I shake my head slowly. "Naw. Just get her up here."

Her eyes narrow at me. "Ms. Smithfield? You have a client waiting in the  lobby." She sets the phone down and her mouth purses as she looks at  me. I bet if this place had security she'd have called it on me already.  She's got that look about her. Like a guy ain't allowed to be low class  in her lobby. It'd be funny if it wasn't so damn ridiculous.

But then Ivy walks in, a cool drink of water. She's so fucking gorgeous  she takes my breath away. Her hair is pulled up in a high bun, and she's  wearing a beige suit jacket with a dark red skirt and tall fuck-me  shoes. She looks so damn sexy I want to throw her over my shoulder and  run off with her. Instead, I just smile broadly like this was all part  of my grand plan.

She looks surprised to see me, and then guilty. But she recovers  quickly, moving forward and extending her hand toward me. "Mr. Price.  It's nice to see you."         

     



 

"Is it?" I ask, and instead of shaking her hand, I raise it to my mouth to kiss her knuckles.

Her face flushes bright with color, almost as red as her skirt. I half  expect her to pull away but she lets me kiss her hand, and I make sure  to brush my thumb over that soft skin afterward. "I wasn't expecting any  clients today."

"Then you got lucky I showed up, didn't you?"