Page 84 of Final Proposal

I tried.

I opened myself up and really tried.

Lesson learned.

Just like everything else in my life I’ve ever loved . . . it’s gone.

Never again.

Ford

“So what’s the real reason you decided to fly out here and visit me today?” I ask, cutting straight to the point we’ve been tiptoeing around for the last few hours.

I was shocked to hell to look up and see both Ledger and Callahan standing in the foyer of the inn, assessing the progress.

We only tag-team when shit’s serious. Don’t they know I know that? And they’re tag-teaming me.

What’s the fucking deal?

Why are they here? Because they sure as fuck haven’t let on as to the why during the tour of the site. Nor during the lunch they pulled me away for. And definitely not during our catch-up session where Callahan bragged about his daughter and Ledger puffed his chest at his soon-to-be born son.

Lord help us that soon there’ll be a miniature Ledger running around. One is more than enough.

The two of them look at each other and then back out to the ocean beyond from where we stand on the balcony bar. Neither will look at me.

They are so obvious it’s ridiculous. “Which one of you is the good cop, huh?” I ask.

“Isn’t it enough that we just want to see our brother?” Callahan asks, his smile unconvincing.

That tone. I know it, and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.

“You’re the one playing good cop?” I bark out a laugh and nudge Ledger. “Seriously? Callahan?” Callahan lifts a middle finger my way. I shake my head in return. “So what gives, since clearly the two of you are here for a reason?”

“You’re not answering our calls,” Ledger says. Always all business. I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to get to the point.

“I answer plenty of them.” Just not the ones I don’t want to deal with.

“I’ll rephrase. You’re being selective in which calls, which texts, you respond to. Is that better?” Ledger asks.

“You know you missed us,” Callahan says.

“I did. I always do. Sometimes. Except for when you’re bullshitting me. Which is now.” So much for having each other’s backs. Sure, we went through some struggles a few years back, but once Callahan got his shit together and lost the chip on his shoulder, I was certain we were headed in the right direction again. That we were there for each other. But now . . . now there’s this. The biography. Their disregard for how it has affected me. And now we’re right back to the animosity, to the agitation, and fuck if I have a clue how to fix it. The last thing I want is for them to bring it all here. It’s about time they head back home. “Get to the point. I’ve got shit to do.”

“I’m sure you do.” Callahan snorts.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Testy. Testy,” Ledger says as he crosses his arms and studies me.

“And off come the gloves,” Callahan mutters.

“Let me guess. We need to show a unified front and do a press tour for the book. Heaping praise while having fake smiles plastered on our faces,” I say.

“Well, on the whole, the book is good,” Ledger says. “Neither of you said otherwise when you received your advanced copies.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I mutter. Has he not been listening to me? Has he not been hearing me when I speak?

“No. I’m not. We don’t have to like every single sentence in there, but overall, it was a fair representation of who Dad was. The man he was. Why wouldn’t we want to praise it? To promote his legacy? It’s not like the author fabricated a bunch of bullshit. These are Dad’s words. It’s a living piece of history that’s allowed us to get to know more about him. It’s a way for our kids to see the man he was in his own words. Do you not see that?”