Dirty Money(43)

That? I'd miss it. I miss it already. Feels like I've been hollow for days.

"I want Ivy back," I tell my brother.

"Then go git 'er," he tells me, like I'm the stupidest man in the world. And maybe I am, because I'm letting her get away.

That shit's about to change.





Chapter Fifteen



Boone

"Jack here?" I ask, heading to the front desk. My accountant scuttles in  behind me, holding his briefcase. I act like this is normal shit and  smile. "Tell him Mr. Price is here to see him."

The receptionist is all fake smiles for me today. "Jack Jackson, Jack Farrington, or Jack Richards?"

Like I remember? They're all the same to me-con men and chauvinist  assholes that talked over Ivy and tried to steal her business. I'm going  to make them respect her . . . the hard way. I glance around the  office, looking for a familiar blonde head, but I don't see her. "First  one," I say, since I need to pick a name.

She nods and dials a number. "Mr. Jackson? Mr. Price is here to see you."         

     



 

Before she can put down the phone, Jack's heading down the stairs toward  me, all smiles. He's even more orange today than last time. "Boone," he  calls out as if we're great buddies. "I'm so glad you decided to come  back."

"Wanted to buy some real estate," I drawl. "Thought you'd be the man to see."

"I am absolutely the man to see," he agrees, giving my accountant a  curious look. He extends a hand to me and, when I ignore it, gestures at  a conference room, his smile growing a little more forced. "Interested  in the house I mentioned?"

"Actually, I'm wantin' to buy a business office," I tell him as we  stroll into a fancypants tiny office with a ridiculous table. I look  down the hall as we head in, but there's still no Ivy. God, I miss her.  Soon, I tell myself. You'll see her very soon.

My accountant sits down next to me and opens his briefcase, pulling out the checkbook.

"Where's Ivy today?" I ask.

Jack's smile gets a little thin. "I'm sorry to say that Ms. Smithfield is no longer with the company. We had to let her go."

"I see." Rage burns in my gut. I think of Ivy-my Ivy-being cast out on  her ass by this jerk. Ten bucks says she did nothing wrong. They're  punishing her for something to do with me. I clench my hands under the  table. Today, I was just gonna buy this business and give it to her.

Now? Time for a new tactic.

"I can assure you that this won't interrupt your business with us in the  slightest, Mr. Price. There are many excellent real estate agents  here-"

"Such as yourself?" I drawl.

He grins at me like we're buddies. "Such as myself. So what kind of  office are you looking for?" Jack asks quickly, changing the subject.  "How many employees are you looking to house?"

"I want this office."

His eyes widen. "This one? But it's not for sale-"

"Oh, come now, Jack," I tell him smoothly as the accountant opens his  books and poises his pen. "You and I are businessmen. I think we both  know anything's for sale for the right price. And I want this office.  Here. Today. Right now."

He frowns at me like I'm crazy. "You want us to vacate the office today?"

"I'm willin' to make a very generous offer for this building and all the  furnishings. I'll even give you an hour to get all your important  documents and computers out of here." And I smile, trying to look like  I'm just real focused on owning this particular building, like it's no  big deal.

Like I ain't gonna burn this shit to the ground the moment we shake  hands. Because Three Jacks? These assholes are going down in flames, and  it's gonna be for Ivy.

All for Ivy.

"Now," I say, leaning forward. "Let's talk business, you and I. I'm sure  we can come up with a number that will make you a happy camper."



Ivy

My phone rings just as I'm scooping a double-decker cone and getting  chocolate ice cream all over my hands. The ringtone is loud and brassy,  and I wince as it continues on even as I finish the customer's order.  Over in the tiny cubby that passes as an office at Two Scoops, the shift  manager is glaring at me.

I wipe my hands clean on a towel and sigh at the stains of chocolate on  my white work polo. I can't afford a second shirt, so I'm going to have  to wash this one in the sink when I get home. My phone gives one last  buzz and I race toward the back counter where I left it. "Sorry," I  whisper to my boss, and go to turn off the ringer on my phone when a  message pops up.

Farah: OMG IVY CALL ME ASAP

Farah: SERIOUSLY

Farah: You need to get down here. It's important!

I shoot an uneasy glance at my boss, but she's busy staring at her own  phone. There's no customers in line at the moment so I type a quick  message back.

Ivy: What's going on?

Farah: Your boyfriend is at 3Jacks and you need to come get him

Ivy: What? Boone?

Farah: Yep he's looking for you

Farah: And he says he's gonna torch the place!!1!! He just bought it and  now he's going to torch it! WTF!! There are firetrucks here and  everything1!! I had to clean out my desk!1!!         

     



 

What?

I immediately think of the golf course.

This is retribution. Oh my god. He was insulted at Three Jacks and so  now he's going to buy the building and raze it to the ground just like  he did with the golf course. I'm alternately horrified and delighted. I  hate the Three Jacks for how they treated me, but I'm also tangled up  with worry about Boone. Does he still hate me? Is he going to come after  me and Wynonna next?

Actually . . . I'd be fine with that, because I could use the money he'd  give me for the trailer and pay all the bills I'm behind on.

I grab my purse from behind the counter. "I have to go," I tell my boss.

"Your shift doesn't end for three more hours," she says, jumping up from  her stool with an angry look on her face. "If you leave, you're fired."

"I know," I call out, shoving my phone in my pocket as I race out the door. "I'll pick up my check later!"

I have to see Boone. I have to know what's going on.

And, okay, I want to watch Three Jacks burn to the ground if it's going  to go up in flames. Because I'm petty and vindictive like that.

My heart hammers as I drive over to the old office. I haven't been back  here in the week that's passed since I got fired. I've been too busy  scraping together work to pay the bills. I'm a little nervous that I  just also quit my newest job at Two Scoops, but I've got Burger Grill  that I start at on Monday, so there's that at least.

Really, I'd drop both jobs if it meant I got to see Boone again.

As I pull into the parking lot, I see Boone's truck and my heart hammers.

I called him twice after we parted, and he never returned my calls. It's  a little twist of justice, I suppose, for all the times he called me  and I never returned the calls. I should have, because it feels like  crap to be ignored. And I hate that I only called twice. I should have  called him more. I should have kept trying, tried to explain myself to  him. Emailed. Shown up at his trailer. Something.

But . . . I was too ashamed. I hated that he'd found out, and I hated  that he was so upset by it. What could I possibly say to make it any  better? I still mentally cringe thinking of Winky Jack and his shitty  comments about me flipping burgers at the black-tie dinner.

I hope Boone doesn't hate me.

I park my car next to his and close my eyes, pressing my forehead on the  steering wheel. "Please, give me a chance," I whisper. "Please let me  win you back."

But over and over, I picture him burning down that golf course with the  expression of smug satisfaction on his face. And I worry there won't be  forgiveness for someone who tricked him.

If there isn't? I'll . . . well, I'll go on. I'll be sad, miserable and  alone, but I'll carry on because that's what I've always done. I'll  continue to put one foot in front of the other and give Wynonna the best  life I can. But for once . . . it would be nice to have something that  was for me. Someone that I could love as selfishly and wildly as I  wanted.

Not just someone. I want Boone. I don't want anyone else, don't even  want to entertain the thought. I've always been a cautious person, and  I've been flirted with and dated a few times, but no one has interested  me enough to want more, to want to rearrange my entire busy schedule  just for a few minutes in his company. With Boone, it's different.  Everything's different.

And I've fucked it all up.

My phone buzzes with another incoming text, and I'm positive it's Farah,  asking me where the heck I am. I can't stall any longer, so I take a  deep breath and get out of the car.

Farah's there on the sidewalk, a box of desk stuff tucked under her arm,  staring at her phone and texting with her thumb. She looks up as I  approach, noting my pink Two Scoops sun visor and my chocolate-stained  polo. "I'm glad you're here. The Jacks are freaking the fuck out!"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Why do I care if the Jacks are upset?"  I'm kind of glad they are, actually. "I don't work here anymore."