Chapter 5
Dalton
I glanced over the entire list I had composed that morning, and the check marks representing each completed job from the day. It was still early afternoon, but after one more check of emails, I could not bring forth any more work that needed doing. With that good news in mind, I decided an afternoon jaunt to my favorite local coffee shop was in order. I loved a great shot of caffeine this time of day, but seldom was granted the opportunity.
The picky clientele of my building always had a laundry list of items that were of a “most urgent” nature. I prided himself on the maintenance of the building since I had taken over, and how timely I could accommodate their requests. Prevention of common items like trash, weeds, broken stones, and other outer area items were well within my control. That left only the internal apartment items, and today had been a good day with only twelve such requests.
Keys in hand and a pep in my step, I made the eight-block trip in record time, taking in the fresh air and warm breeze. I greeted the barista behind the counter, who immediately picked up a cup. “Normal order?”
“You know me, Sam,” I sheepishly grinned, acknowledging how predictable and boring my life had become. I pulled out my wallet and paid. After placing a dollar in the tip jar, I glanced about and was brought up short when my eyes alighted on Brittany at a table in the far-right corner of the coffee shop.
She had a laptop out on the table in front of her and a deep furrow marred her forehead. As I watched, she scribbled something on a notepad before viciously attacking her keyboard. I watched this routine for a minute or so, before Sam handed me the beverage I had ordered.
“I see you noticed our new regular,” Sam said with a grin. “She’s been coming in for a week straight. Always sits alone, despite more than one offer I have seen customers make to keep her company.”
I threw him a glare. “She’s one of my tenants. I’m not interested in her any more than ensuring her apartment is in good repair, and she pays the rent.”
Sam shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that.” He walked away, laughing out loud.
I glanced at the door and back at Brittany. Before my better judgement could take hold, I headed toward her table.
“Hi,” I said trying to get her attention away from the laptop that appeared to be frustrating her.
“Dalton,” she said, looking up with me with a question clearly evident in her eyes.
“This has been my favorite coffee shop for a long time,” I said, holding out the cup I held as if it would prove my point for why we’d landed at the same place.
“I’ve never seen you in here before,” she said peevishly.
“Well, I have a lot of demanding tenants that tend to keep me busy. Normally, I’m in here late at night,” I said.
“Hmm,” was her only reply.
“What are you studying that’s making you so mad?” I asked.
“Business ethics,” she said with a snarl. “I cannot read this without getting so angry. Some of the world’s leading executives are the biggest crooks. This is what I’m paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to learn, how to do what they do without becoming just like them. I would rather throw myself off the bridge than continue to read these case studies. Do you want to sit and distract me for a little bit?”
I was shocked as I looked at the other chair. “You sure?”
She moved the top of the laptop down onto the keyboard. “Absolutely.”
Her words said one thing, but her eyes still spoke of mistrust. I had to wonder where that was coming from. Was it just me, or did all men make her nervous? She was a mystery wrapped in a conundrum, and each encounter with this woman kept me further and further off balance.
“So,” I said. “I have to ask—do you just not like me, or is it men in general?”
She stared at me for a good few seconds without a word. Finally, she said, “I like most men just fine, but you unnerve me. Normally, I can read people. I know their agenda and I like knowing exactly where they stand. Men in my acquaintance are easily placed in three categories: my father’s business associates, those who want to do business with my father, or those who think I have enough money to complement their lifestyle. I’m having a hard time getting a read on your intentions, though.”
“My intentions? I’m pretty simple. What you see is what you get.”
“You seem to keep showing up wherever I am, and trying to be friendly. Then the other day you looked mad when I told you about my sister, which by the way I never talk about her to anyone.”
I sighed and put my coffee on the table, “I’m sorry. I once knew this girl, in fact we dated for a while. It was off and on. She kept going back to this guy, who used her as his own personal punching bag. I tried to protect her, but—” I sighed loudly this time as the worst moment in my life played across my brain. “He eventually killed her, just like your sister. Your story hit a little too close to home.”
“Oh god.” Brittany reached across the table and laid her hand over mine. “I’m so sorry.”
She realized too late her involuntary reaction to my story. She pulled her hand back fast. Not before the spark of electricity arched across our conjoined skin. I pretended not to notice, as I watched her place the hand in her lap.
“So, did your parents have other children?” I asked after a tension-filled moment.
“No, they just have me now. No pressure to be the family success story,” she said with a wry grin. “Let me tell you, my father always wanted a boy and now he’s had to make do with me. He’s making the most of it, though, with a solid plan on how to best leverage me to his advantage.”
“I know the feeling,” I said. “I think my dad just doesn’t tell anyone he has a son. When I became so errant he knew I couldn’t be controlled any longer, I think he just threw in the towel. He even started grooming a right-hand employee to take over the company.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel worse, but I have known your folks for years. Just so you know, your dad does actually tell people about you,” Brittany volunteered. “I also know Jameson Holland, the man set to succeed your father now at the company. He’s a nice enough man, but I’m certain your father will always hope that you come home to take up the reins.”
“Seriously? I really thought he had given up on me,” I said with a hopeful half smile.
“Yeah, I once heard your father tell someone you hit a rough patch as a teenager but you’re trying to pull your life back together. Is that true?”
“I would love to say I can pull my life together and go back to the company my family started one day to help carry it to another generation. But sometimes people make mistakes so big they just cannot come back from it, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”
Brittany appeared to mull my statement over for a moment. I saw a return well of pain in her own eyes, and had to wonder why someone with so many resources at her fingertips seemed to have a firmer depth of regard for the pains of life. I would love to be the man that changed her world for the better, but I truly believed that my secrets would never be forgiven.
“Your parents have enough resources to buy a small country, at least that’s what the papers claim,” she said with a tinge of humor. “I’m certain they would help if you just asked.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I believe that if I extended the request, my mom could compel my dad to help. I just don’t want to involve them in my life today. They deserve to live free of my choices.”
We sat in silence, each obviously deep in thought after that. I sipped my coffee and thought about the weird turn this innocuous conversation had taken from that of a simple hello. Staring across at Brittany, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. She seemed so prim and proper when I had walked into the apartment complex that first day. The truth I was fast finding out was a far stretch from that. I wondered how many secrets she was willing to share.
Only one way to find out.
“I think I would rather hear about you and your deep dark secrets,” I said. “Tell me something you have never told another soul.” I threw the challenge across the table, and waited.