The Perfect Stroke(77)

“Gray…”

“I love you, sweet lips.”

“About damn time,” Ida Sue says, slapping me on the back and jarring my attention from CC, but not before I can use my thumb to gently drag away a couple of the small tears that have fallen from her eyes. “Now, I want to see this garage I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Ida Sue, are you sure? It’s liable to be pretty boring,” CC tells her while trying to clear her throat and button down the emotions that are showing on her face.

“Nonsense. I get to spend the day with my new daughter. How can that be boring?” Ida Sue counters. CC’s eyes jerk to mine and I just smile to try and calm her as best as I can. Ida Sue is a tornado; it’s best she learns that now.

“Well… if you’re sure,” CC says, sounding a little lost.

“Definitely.”

“We should head out then. I have a phone conference I can’t miss this morning. Gray, I…”

I kiss her before she can say something I might not want to hear. It’s a brief kiss and nothing like I would give her if my mother and Jansen weren’t around.

“Jansen and I will pick you up around three this afternoon. We’re going to look at the scenery and maybe go out on the course for a bit. I need to keep my stroke in perfect form before the big tournament.”

CC hugs me tight, her lips get close to my ears. “I can confirm that your stroke is more than perfect, Crayon Man.”

I kiss her gently on her forehead with a laugh. “Always busting my ass. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

I stand beside Jansen as CC and Mom head out. The door has been closed for ten minutes before I finally shake off the feeling of contentment that thrums through my veins and I only do it then because Jansen demands my attention.

“Let’s get a move on, son.”

I nod agreement, but I’d rather follow my woman to that garage and spend the day with her.





I stare at the phone as the last amount of hope I had fades. Mack’s bank wouldn’t help at all. I kind of expected it, but I was still… dreaming. I was dreaming. There’s going to be no magic way out of this and there’s not one to blame but me. Would Banger be as disappointed in me as I am in myself?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hear growling outside my office. At first I’m afraid Ida Sue has done something, but that’s Jackson yelling. With a deep breath, I go outside, wondering what my next catastrophe is. “I asked what the fuck you were doing here?”

“Do you have a problem with this man, Claudia dear?” Ida Sue asks. I don’t turn to look at her, though. I’m busy staring into the eyes of David Riverton. He’s here, at my garage. He’s with three other men, all dressed in suits, though the other three don’t look nearly as expensive.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Riverton?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice civil, but not entirely successful.

“I’ve brought by the company engineers.”

“And why the fuck would you do that?” Jackson growls.

“Because they want to get some early measurements in.”

“Why would they need measurements?” I ask, fear curling tight in my stomach.

“Oh. I forgot to tell you the plans I have for this place, didn’t I?”

“You can take your plans and stick them up your ass where the sun doesn’t shine. That’s what you can do with your plans. Claude isn’t about to sell this place to the likes of you,” Jackson yells, and that sick feeling in my stomach only gets worse. I know the color is gone from my face.

“Oh my, it seems you’re keeping secrets from your employees, Claudia. I take it he doesn’t know. I completely understand. Though, you might want to explain it to him soon. That way, instead of showing up here to a job he doesn’t have anymore, he can go straight to the unemployment office. Honestly, he might want to go there sooner. However, I suppose I will be hiring a few when I take over.”

“You’re going to run a garage? I have trouble seeing that,” I tell him, ignoring the way Jackson is staring at me.

“A garage? Good heavens, no! I’m going to be demolishing the garage. I’m going to be turning this place into a landfill station.”

“You’re what?”

“It seemed apt that it becomes a place for garbage, since that’s exactly what built it to begin with.” His verbal blow is delivered hard, striking me and momentarily robbing me of breath. He’s never been a father to me. The fact that he’s putting me through all this is proof enough of that. Still, it’s hard to hear the man who fathered you call you garbage.