Dirty Money(44)

Behind us, a fire truck roars into the parking lot. Farah stares at it, then looks over at me. "You think this is all a stunt?"         

     



 

"With Boone?" I laugh. "No. On our first date he burned down a golf course because someone pissed him off."

"Is he a pyro?" Her eyes are wide.

I shake my head. "He just doesn't like being ignored or mocked. So he  finds a way to get people's attention. This usually does it." Funny how I  thought this was the most bizarre thing when I met Boone, but now I  understand him. He refuses to be treated as if he doesn't matter, and if  it means getting people's attention in the most over-the-top way? He'll  do it to make his point. It's all just money to him. Easy come, easy  go, just like he said.

"Ivy!" Jack Jack crosses the sidewalk toward me and Farah, a weepy Janet in tow. "Thank god. You need to stop this madman!"

"Madman?" I ask politely.

"Yes! He went in the building with a can of gas and matches, and kicked  everyone else out the moment the paperwork was signed!" Jack leans in.  "He's going to burn the place like some sort of arsonist!"

"Well . . . did you sell it to him?"

Jack straightens, his eyes narrowing.

"Because if he bought the building and you agreed to it, then it's not  really arson, is it?" I give him my sweetest smile. "He owns the place  so I'm sure he can do what he likes to it."

"But it's the heart of Three Jacks," Jack protests.

"I didn't even get to take all my stuff," Janet wails at his side. "There are entire file cabinets I didn't get to!"

"He didn't let you clean the place out?"

"He only gave us an hour," Jack says, indignant. "The other Jacks have  their offices locked. Can you imagine the shitstorm when they come in  and find out that the place has been burned to the ground?"

"So why did you sell?" I ask. When Jack Jack's face goes purple with  outrage, a laugh threatens to bubble up in my throat. "It's because he  offered you an obscene amount of money, didn't he?"

Jack narrows his eyes at me. "Are you laughing at this, Miss Smithfield? Because I fail to see what's so fucking funny-"

"Ivy, can you please just go in and talk to him," Farah asks. "I don't  think Jack would have sold the place if he'd have realized that the guy  was planning on burning the building down."

"This is an historic building," Jack agrees, jumping into the  conversation again. "It has been completely refurbished under my watch  and brings pride to the name Three Jacks and-"

"And you sold it," I butt in. "Which is on you." Farah gives me an  unhappy look and I raise a hand. "Don't worry, I'll go in and talk to  him." Talking to Boone is pretty much my entire reason for being here.

"Thank you," Farah says. She shoots an unhappy look at both Jack and  Janet, and then looks at me, expectant. As if I'm going to fix this.

I . . . kind of don't want to fix it. I want to take one of the gas cans  and help Boone light the place up. Is that bad? I'm not sure I care.

I open the elegant glass door that leads into the Three Jacks lobby. I  remember coming into this office for the first time, and thinking about  how incredibly beautiful the building was, and how they must cater to a  lot of high-end clients with such a fancy place. I remember thinking  that I'd give anything to work at an office as posh as this one. That  all my problems would be solved if I could work here.

Funny how perspective changes. I've been less stressed working at the  ice cream shop for the last week, because at least there, I know my  paycheck is guaranteed. I know no one's going to swoop in and take it  out from under me. And really, there are no high expectations I can  never hope to fulfill.

There's a faint, acrid scent in the air as I step inside, and it's  silent in the lobby. It's so quiet that I almost miss the fact that  someone's sitting at the front desk. It's Boone, wearing a suit, his  back to me. His shoulders look broad and gorgeous in the jacket, and I  experience a pang of loss so great it nearly brings me to my knees.

I had this gorgeous man and I lost him.         

     



 

He turns slowly in the chair, and I see he's playing with a book of  matches. As I watch, he plants one foot and then the other on the top of  Janet's desk. "Just the person I came here to see," he drawls. "Do you  go by Ivy or by Reba?"

I'm momentarily taken aback. We're playing with all the cards out on the  table, are we? Then, I realize there's nothing else to hide, not  anymore. I'm already at rock bottom. "Only my sister calls me Reba, and  I'm pretty sure she does it just to piss me off."

Boone smiles a little. "Ivy, then."

"Yes, just Ivy. I'm the same person, no matter what you think."

He nods slowly and studies my clothing. "What is that getup?"

"The official employee uniform for Two Scoops Ice Cream and Malt Shoppe. I think I just got fired, though."

"Do I need to go burn it down, too?"

For some reason, that strikes me as incredibly funny and I start to  laugh. I press my fingers to my lips, because it shouldn't be funny, and  yet I can't stop laughing. A moment later, though, my laughter is  turning into sobs. "When did everything go to such shit?"

"Baby girl, it's always been shit. You've just been too stubborn to notice."

Another laugh hiccups out of me. "I guess you're right."

"Come here." He gestures, indicating I should join him at Janet's desk.

I swipe at my stupid, leaky eyes and glance back through the tinted  glass windows of the lobby. Out in the parking lot, another fire truck  is pulling up, and I see Jack Jack pacing while on his phone. Everyone  else is waiting, their boxes in hand, confused and uncertain looks on  their faces. No one knows what's going on. "I came to talk to you," I  tell him as I approach, my steps slow and cautious. I want to rush  forward and fling myself in his arms, but I'm not exactly sure how  that'd be received, so I play it cool. I'm holding my breath as I  approach Boone, and as I do, I wish I had taken off my stupid cap, or  not spilled quite so much ice cream on the front of my shirt. He wants a  lady and right now, I'm the furthest thing from it.

But there's no more hiding between us. I have to be who I am-dirty shirt, dirty past, and all.

There's a hint of defiance in my stance when I move to the side of the desk and stand next to him. "Here I am."

He swings his feet back down off the desk. Boone's hands go to my hips,  and he looks at them thoughtfully, as if trying to decide what to do  with me. I can feel my body respond just to that small touch, and I'm  disappointed when all he does is pick me up and set me gently down on  top of Janet's desk, right in front of him.

I look around, because it feels too vulnerable to look right into his  face. There's burned-out matches on the desk, and I pick one up. "What  are you doing, Boone?"

"Thought it was obvious, baby girl. I'm gonna fuckin' torch the place."

I give him an exasperated look and point the dead match at him. "You  can't buy and burn down every building in San Antonio just because the  people inside are dicks."

"I," he says, and pulls the match from my fingers, "am a billionaire. I  can do whatever I want. And if they're dumb enough to sell the place to  me, then they don't get a say in how I treat the building."

I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling,  because wasn't that just the very thing I said to the others outside?  Not five minutes ago? "And you're going to burn this place down?"

"To the fucking ground," he agrees, a devilish smile curving his mouth.  His beard brushes against the starchy white collar of his suit, and my  fingers itch to touch him.

God, I miss him so much. I feel like an addict that's had to go cold  turkey . . . and doesn't want to. "Just because they're jerks?"

"No." His gaze moves over my body. "Because they were mean to you."

My heart seems to stop in my chest. My body prickles with awareness of  him, and I'm on the verge of crying again. This time, though, I give in  to my impulse and reach out and caress his cheek, letting his beard  tickle my hand. "You're doing this . . . for me?"         

     



 

He turns his face and kisses my palm. "Ivy, I'd do everything for you."

"I thought you hated me," I whisper. The tears I've been fighting against so hard start flowing like rain.

Boone captures my hand in his, and kisses my palm again. "I love you,  Ivy or Reba or whatever you want to call yourself. I was hurt, yeah, but  I think I was more hurt that you lied to me than the fact that you're  not this person I built up in my head. None of that shit matters." He  nips at my fingertips.

"You never called me back-"

"I was fuckin' depressed because it felt like I'd lost you, somehow.  Took Clay coming over to kick my ass and make me realize that nothing  had changed. I still feel the same way about you."