Getting straight to the point, Prez asks, “What about Candace?”
Dustin’s head swings my way. “That’swhat you led with to get him to listen?”
“It’s the only thing I could think of to get his attention.”
“It worked,” Prez replies. “So?”
“So, um. It’s going to be hard to hear. It’s just, well…”
“You sound like a blubbering idiot.” Prez grabs Dustin’s beer.
“Greedy little shit,” Dustin tells his friend as Prez guzzles the second beer down.
“You snooze, you lose. Continue please. And use your big words, JD.” Prez motions at me with his bottle.
Dustin peers warily between us. “Are you sure you want to tell him here, in a bar?” He’s looking at me like Bill did when I told him I was happy that my father died and I was quitting football.
So, I tell Prez about Candace’s role during my five-year absence. His response is to punch me in the face. Why is that now becoming a habit with everyone in my life?
Chapter 37
“Fallon, he can’t work there. I forbid it.” Yeah, I’m acting like a spoiled brat. I may have added a little foot stomp as well to emphasize my point.
“I just flew halfway around the world for twenty hours straight and you’re coming at me with that?”
I huff at him. “Fallon.”
“Shut the fuck up and come give me a hug. I’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed him too. Every foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, egotistical part of him. We wrap our arms around each other for a very long hug.
“I may or may not have secretly missed you a little,” I tell him. He smells like the spearmint gum he chews. “How long are you staying?”
Fallon kisses the crown of my head and steps back. “The rest of the week and then I leave for New Zealand.”
It always bums me out when he leaves. I’m like a puppy waiting by the door that gets uber excited when their owner returns from work.
“So, you’ll tell him you made a mistake and rescind the job offer?”
He pats me on the head and walks into the kitchen. “Nice try, pipsqueak. Where’s Knox?”
“Not here and stop trying to change the subject.”
Fallon must detect my sour tone because he quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Trouble in paradise?” He starts opening and closing cupboards in fast succession. “Where the hell did you put my Jameson?”
“Next cabinet over, bottom shelf.”
“Ah, there we are.” He grabs it and pours a tumbler, adding one ice cube and swirling.
“Fallon, please answer my question.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” This time I do stomp my foot in earnest and huff out a breath. Possibly a pout too.
“I mean, no, I’m not rescinding the offer. JD’s more than qualified. He’s a sports celebrity. He would bring in a lot of attention and future donations for the center just by being there. He’ll be good for what we want to achieve with the nonprofit.”
