Dirty Money(34)

"Big Lake. It's a drillin' town, not much to look at. Some fracking,  some oil, lots of rigs. 'Bout three, three and a half hours west of San  Antonio." His hand is on my knee as he drives, and has been ever since  we got in the cab. I think he just likes touching me. And really . . . I  like him touching me, too.

"I thought most of your stuff was further west than that?"

"It is. I purchased up some property from an old friend who ran dry.  Pretty sure I can squeeze a few more wells out of it. Ran my rods over  the place and there's still life there."

"Your rods?"

"Dowsing rods."

I look over at him. "Like . . . the little sticks that shake if you find water?"

"They point, and it works for oil as well as water." He grins. "And I'm pretty good at it."

"So it's not just an old wives' tale? It works?"

He nods slowly. "It's how I find all my wells. I don't let my boys drill  without me picking the spot first. I used to do consulting, you know.  Dowse for the competition. Now I just buy up all the adjoining land and  milkshake 'em like the bastard I am."

I don't even know what milkshaking is. "I'm surprised you're superstitious, Boone. You didn't seem the type."

"Oh, I ain't as bad as some. I know some guys that put laxatives down  the hole, convinced that works. And some get a preacher or any other  sort of holy person to come and pray over their wells. Me, I just stick  to the dowsing."

I give my head a little shake, surprised by all this. "It's just strange  to me to hear a billionaire say that. What do your investors think?"

"Eh, I don't really ask 'em." He shrugs. "I don't run my business like  most do. I let my suits run the company and I do my thing. I know rigs,  and drilling, and that's what I stick to. I let the company do what it  wants as long as it makes me money, and I meet with my suits to make  sure they're doing their jobs. Other than that . . ." He shrugs.

"You don't want more control over your company?"

"Nah."

"But . . ."

"What if it goes under?" He shrugs again and switches lanes. "I got my  money tucked away. My brothers are investing in some other businesses.  Clay's got some camo technology business he's big into right now, and  Knox is looking at what to do with his shares. Oil goes bust all the  time. Wells dry up. Oil prices drop. You make hay while the sun shines."

It's crazy to me that he's so blasé about potentially losing a fortune. I  can't even imagine. I'll eat an expired can of soup just because I  can't imagine tossing it out and wasting the money. We come from such  different worlds, he and I, even though we have a lot of similarities.

But it just drives home to me that all this money he spends means nothing to him, and it's everything to me.

We chat a bit back and forth as he drives, his hand remaining on my knee  like a possessive brand. Even though I've lived in Texas all my life,  I've never driven west, and it's amazing to me how different things  seem. Eventually there's a little sign that says BIG LAKE, TEXAS and a  motel. There's a couple mom-and-pop diners, and then more of the strange  skeletal metal contraptions that are the lifeline to the oil industry.  It's all so foreign.         

     



 

Boone eventually takes a few turns down a gravel road, and then we pull  up to a row of pickup trucks parked in front of a metal trailer. Off to  one side is a rig, and I can see men moving on the platform. Two other  men in hardhats are talking in front of the trailer. Both of them wear  suits despite the heat, and look just as out of place as I feel.

"Here we go. You finish your cookies?" Boone asks as he parks the truck. "Or do you need to eat some more?"

"I couldn't possibly eat another bite," I assure him, patting my  stomach. The man bought practically a dozen and made me eat every single  one over the last few hours. The plasma donations have been taking a  lot out of me, but with the sugar and carbs, I'm feeling better.

He studies my face, as if making sure I look healthy enough, and then  nods. He gets out of the truck, then comes to my side and opens the  door, offering me a hand to help me out.

"I'm not dressed for this," I chide him as my heels wobble in the dirt.

"I got some boots you can wear inside the trailer. We'll get you a  hardhat, too." He tucks my hand in his arm and escorts me forward. "You  look beautiful, anyhow."

Do I? My hair's a mess after our makeout session, my panties are still  damp, and my suit is wrinkled from hours in the car. I probably don't  have a lick of makeup left on my face. I feel awkwardly out of place as  he leads me toward the others. I can almost guess what they're thinking  as they eye me. Gold digger.

"Boys," Boone greets as we approach. "Say hello to Ivy, my fiancée."

Oh shit, again? My cheeks heat with an awkward flush even as I extend my  hand in greeting toward them. "Realtor," I correct with a smile on my  face. "He meant realtor."

"Sure, realtor. For now." Boone seems undeterred. He gestures at one  man, then the other. "This is Roberts, and this is Gorham. They're on  the board at Price Brothers Oil. I came out to check on the new rig and  dowse for another. Thought I'd bring company with me." He smiles at me.

He's the only one. The two men in suits are completely stone-faced under  their hardhats, gazing at me with completely blank expressions. I can't  tell if they're pissed or annoyed or pleased to see me.

"I promise not to get in the way," I say politely, keeping my smile on my face.

Roberts nods, and then turns to Boone. "There's some business we need to  go over that came up at the last meeting. Do you have a moment?"

Boone glances over at me. "You want to go grab yourself some shoes, baby? They're inside the trailer."

Both men in suits are staring at me and I'm starting to feel like a bug under a microscope. "Sure."

He kisses my forehead. "I'll be in in a moment, then we'll start the tour."

I climb up the metal steps into the trailer, and as I do, I'm half  expecting him to slap my ass. He doesn't, and then I feel like a jerk,  because of course he wouldn't. He doesn't need to be a macho asshole to  let the others know that I'm his. Boone doesn't have to show off in  front of anyone. He never does. I feel a twinge of guilt that I've been  unfair to him, even in my own head. He's given me no reason to doubt  him.

I'm just a jerk and keep looking for excuses to be frustrated with him, I  guess. Like I want to somehow find this massive flaw so I can be  justified in keeping him at arm's length.

I enter the trailer and a wash of cool, recycled air hits me. There's a  window unit chugging away, but the inside of the trailer is empty. It's a  bit of a mess, too. There's a few maps on the wall that I can't make  heads or tails of, and a corkboard covered with notes, schedules, and  other bits of paper. There's a shelf full of binders behind a cheap  desk, and the desk itself is covered in more papers, more binders, and a  phone. Everything looks cheap, just a little bit dirty, and cluttered.  There's a row of boots behind the door, along with a few extra hardhats.  I pick up one pair of boots that look the smallest, but they're dirty  and there's no socks. Erm.

Boone enters a moment later, talking with either Roberts or Gorham-I  don't remember which is which. They discuss meters and barrels and I sit  in a folding chair in the corner, so I don't interrupt. The man in the  suit hands over stacks of paperwork and Boone signs them even as the two  argue about investments and drilling and other things I politely try  not to listen to, since it's none of my business.         

     



 

"That's the last of it," Roberts says, closing a folder after Boone  signs off. "There's a meeting with the board Tuesday at ten in the  morning-"

Boone shakes his head. "Change it to Wednesday."

"Wednesday at ten in the morning," Roberts amends smoothly. "Will you and your brothers be there?"

"I'll be there. Dunno about them."

Roberts nods at him and heads toward the door. He nods at me as well,  and then leaves without a good-bye. The door shuts behind him. Boone  rubs his beard, an irritated expression on his face.

"Friendly," I say to Boone, teasing.

Boone snorts. "I didn't hire him because he's a nice guy. But he likes  to be in charge of all the shit I don't like to be in charge of, so it  works out well."

"I don't think he liked me," I point out.

"He don't like anyone," Boone says. "Even me. You're in good company."

That makes me chuckle. "And you're okay with that?"

"Long as he spends all day in the boardroom and not me? Hell yeah." He  gets to his feet and comes to my side. "You find some boots?"

"Yes, but there's no socks." I wrinkle my nose. "I'm not sure I like the  thought of cramming my foot into someone else's boot without one."