“You knew that accepting the award would bring greater public scrutiny, sir,” Nathan says, trying to calm Pops down. “That the press would run with old rumors and play up some photos is expected.”
“Bullshit! You know exactly who leaked this, Nathan. If you'd done your fucking job like I ordered you to do, there's no way the press would've gotten hold of those pictures. Hell, I'm friends with the owner of that casino! But now security camera footage of the night they gave me the award is out there. How the fuck does that even happen?”
“Maybe it's someone else,” I try to add, knowing it sounds lame as soon as it comes out of my mouth, but I have to try. Katrina, I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into. “There have to be a lot of people who might have an ax to grind with you, Pops.”
He ignores me, still staring at Nathan. “I don't care what it takes, I want that bitch found. Not next week, not tomorrow, not this evening. I want her found now. I don't give a shit if she's left New Orleans, left the States, or is hiding in the deepest shithole in the darkest back corner of the world. You find her, Nathan. You find her, and... take Jackson with you. He obviously thinks this is all some sort of fucking joke, so you take him with you. And when you find her, you force her on her knees, and you slit her fucking throat right in front of Jackson here. Show him what a real man does.”
A real man? So a real man is a guy who pitches a tantrum and throws things around his office, his potbelly hanging out and his face looking like he's about to have a goddamn coronary? A real man is someone who acts like a preschooler when his shit's exposed? Or is a real man the guy who's cheated on his wife so many times it's fucked with her head to the point she's a fucking basket case, and then when his shit's brought to the light of day, can't even handle it himself, but orders someone else to take care of it for him? All these thoughts flash through my mind, but I keep my mouth shut, even if I can't keep a look of disgust off my face.
Nathan looks disgusted as well, but nods. “I understand, Mr. DeLaCoeur.”
“Then both of you get the fuck out. Actually, no, Jackson... you stay here. I want to talk with you.”
Nathan gives me a glance, and in his green eyes I see a message. He'll wait for me to finish my conversation with Pops before anything else. I nod just a fraction of an inch, then turn my attention to Pops as Nathan closes the door behind him. “What do you want, Pops?”
He slams his hands down on the desk and screams, his breath stinking and spewing over the space between us. “What the fuck are you doing, disrespecting me like that in front of Nathan? How dare you contradict me in front of the staff!”
Contradict? What the fuck is he talking about? I was trying to deflect him, calm him down. “Pops, that wasn’t my…”
“Shut the fuck up!” he yells again, at least taking a seat. “Jackson, it's bad enough that you embarrassed yourself, and yes, embarrassed me. You've been a disappointment your entire life, really. At least Andrea has enough sense to try and make something of herself, even if she does refuse to act like the proper daughter I've tried so hard to get her to be. But you had your uses. It's time to grow the fuck up, and that means seeing that life isn't all parties and limos and threesomes with sluts. Sometimes it means making hard decisions and doing hard things.”
“Like ordering your attack dog to do your dirty work for you?” I ask before I even realize what's coming out of my mouth. Pops starts to turn red again, and I decide to just fucking go with it. “You've made your own bed. Now you're upset that someone's calling you on it? What about the rest of the family, Pops? Did you ever think about us in your little tirade?”
He slams his fist on the desk, sending a pen cup flying. He's staring daggers into my face. “I promise you, Jackson, if you ever disrespect me like that again... you'll find that Katrina Grammercy isn't the only person who can have her throat cut in front of someone she knows. Get the fuck out.”
I get up, and I make my way out to the hallway. I immediately go looking for Nathan... once again, I have to know.
I find him in the back after twenty minutes of searching, where he's indulging in his other hobby, animals. The plantation still has a stable attached to it, and while it doesn't hold horses any longer, the Great Dane that Nathan keeps there is nearly as big as a pony. “Nathan.”
He holds up a hand, and I see in his right hand he's holding a stiff-bristled brush that he's currently using to brush down the dog. “Yes, Maverick, you're a good boy. I know, I promised you a walk this morning, but I've got some business to attend to, so I'm going to have to keep this short. Tonight though, you and I can go for a romp in the back acres all you want. Wouldn't you like that?”