Chapter One
Jordan
Twenty Years Ago
“Jordan, this is the last straw!” My father thundered, purple in the face with anger. He clenched his hands into fists and slammed them down on the polished dining room table. “I’ve had it with you and your shit!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be here anymore, anyway!” I yelled back, storming upstairs and slamming the door to my room. As I looked around the blank white walls, hatred and anger filled me. Fuck my father, I thought. And fuck every member of this stupid fucking family!
I paced from one end of the room to the other, stomping hard on the plush carpet. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew that things had to change or I would be miserable for the rest of my life.
Without even thinking about it, I grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of my room and smashed the window, jumping onto the roof and climbing down the trellis. As I ran out into the driveway, my heart pounding like a drum, I knew this was it.
If I went through with this, there was no going back.
Good, I thought, breaking into a run as I left home. I don’t need them, anyway.
By the time I got into Boston, it was dark and I was feeling confident and cocky. Just leaving home had been enough to lift my spirits, especially knowing that I’d never have to go back. And while my father would put on a show, he wouldn’t do anything to look for me, either. I, Jordan West, was officially a man of the streets…and I couldn’t have been happier about it. I’d walked away with ten thousand dollars, in cash, from my old man’s safe, and I knew I’d put it to good use. By the end of the week, I was sure that I’d be flush and happy, flaunting my money around the city and well on my way to getting anything I wanted.
I walked past the posh bars and restaurants – basically anything that looked like a place my father would have picked, I skipped it – and into the blue-collar parts of town filled with dive bars.
The parts of town where I’d always felt most at home.
I didn’t have to walk long.
“Hey, sweetie, you looking for a date?”
My head snapped up and I saw a brunette woman stepping onto the street. She was wearing a tight black skirt and a silk blouse that revealed cleavage.
“I’m not a john,” I said, snorting. “I just want a drink.”
The woman stepped closer and smiled. “Hey, sweetie, how old are you, anyway?”
I bristled at the insulting question. “Old enough to fuck you sideways,” I said, smirking. “Why?”
The woman laughed. “You’ve got a mouth on you. Tell me, how old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” I lied.
“Well, that’s perfect for me,” the woman purred. She stepped closer and held out her hand. “I’m Blair.”
I laughed. “I can get laid for free,” I said. “So, if you think I’m paying you, you’re mistaken.”
The woman glanced down over my clothes and suddenly I wished I’d worn something less ostentatious than the designer jeans and polo I’d been wearing when I left home.
“You don’t belong around here, sweetheart,” Blair said in a low, sexy voice. She ran her finger down my chest.
“But you could help me,” I said, cocking my head to the side and grinning at her. “You seem to know your way around.”
“I do,” Blair said. She licked her lips. Up close, I saw that she was older than I’d first thought – maybe thirty-five, or thirty-six. “But why would I help a little pipsqueak like you?”
“Because I’ve got money,” I said arrogantly, puffing out my chest and squaring my shoulders back.
“Oh, honey, don’t be so cold,” Blair said. “You think I’m only interested in money?”
When I didn’t reply, Blair tossed her hair over one shoulder and gave me a flirtatious look.
“You should let me show you what a real woman looks like,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me. “What do you think about that?”
I thought about it for a moment. In less than one day, I’ve left home for good and met a woman who wants to sleep with me, I thought as a grin spread across my face.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds good.”
Little did I know, following Blair into that bar would be the worst decision I’d ever made in my life.
***
Present Day
“Trading West, this is Megan, are you placing a buy or a sell?”
I glanced over at my secretary, Megan, as she clutched the black plastic phone to her ear. I grinned as I watched her scribble down the order on a white pad of paper.
“And is this market or limit?”
Megan pressed her lips together as she wrote down the client’s answer, then hung up the phone. Silence barely had time to fill the room before her phone rang again and I smirked before walking into my office and closing the door.
Twenty years ago, it would have been impossible to imagine where I’d wound up. But somehow, I’d done it – I’d made a successful life for myself, and unlike most other people in the world, I hadn’t taken any help from my family…or anyone else for that matter, either.
My office phone rang and I took the receiver and kicked my legs up on my desk.
“It’s almost market close time,” Pat said. As both my own personal broker and my best friend, Pat was responsible for a large part of my happiness. “We should go out and celebrate.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I said. “Although wait, no – shit, sorry, I can’t. At least, not today.”
“What’s going on? You got a date?” I could tell by the sound of his voice that Pat was smirking on the other end of the phone.
“No,” I said. “Just a meeting.”
“Cancel it,” Pat said. “We need to catch up. And besides, landing sixty percent of MangoSwirl shares was a real coup, don’t you think?”
I grinned. “Yeah,” I admitted. “We did well on that.”
“You did well on that,” Pat replied. “You’ve got one hell of a brain, West.”
“I can’t believe they finally went public after so many years,” I said, shaking my head. “I gotta say – part of me was worried that it would’ve been a bust.”
“But it wasn’t a bust, and now Trading West is going to be on the map as one of the biggest trading firms in the country, hell, maybe even the world,” Pat continued.
“I still can’t cancel my meeting,” I said. “Tomorrow though, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pat muttered. “Tomorrow.” He hung up without saying goodbye and I chuckled before placing the phone down on its cradle. Outside, in the main office, it looked like Megan was still fielding orders, but it was almost time for the markets to close and I was exhausted. I’d been cooped up in my office since five-thirty in the morning, navigating deals with my clearing house in an attempt to get the majority of MangoSwirl shares. It didn’t seem very manly – after all, MangoSwirl was Boston’s most popular frozen-yogurt shop – but I knew they would sell for high prices, and thankfully I’d been right.
With a sigh, I got to my feet and walked over to the window. The sun was still shining high in the sky and the fresh summer air looked enticing. For a moment, I thought about canceling my meeting and going out for a drink or five with Pat, after all. It had been too long since we’d had a guys’ night, and I was feeling the itch. But I knew I couldn’t do that – meeting with Ken was much too important, and I couldn’t just blow off the man who had effectively put my life back on track.
At four-thirty on the dot, I waved goodbye to Megan and walked out of the office into bright sunshine. I walked two blocks away from the office building I’d bought for Trading West, and into the lobby of a posh downtown restaurant. Normally, when I went out for a beer or two, I went to a dive bar.
But whenever I met with Ken, things were a little different.
The bar was just starting to fill up for happy hour and I settled down on a stool, resting my elbows on the bar and rolling up my shirtsleeves. I hadn’t been outside in the sun for long, but just a couple of minutes had been enough to make me stop sweating.
“Isn’t fair, is it?”
I looked over to see Ken grinning as he sat down next to me.
“What?”
“We have the worst fucking winters on the face of the earth,” Ken said, shaking his head. “And the summers ain’t much better, either.”
“Just the price of living here,” I said. Ken pulled me into a half-hug, clapping me on the back with one of his strong hands. At only five-nine, I towered over him, but Ken’s squat, muscular frame spoke of hard work and tough situations.
“So,” Ken said. “Big day?”
I nodded. “We bought a majority stake in MangoSwirl,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It sounds so fucking girly, doesn’t it?”
Ken snickered. “That money, though,” he said. “That’s what counts.”
“Damn straight,” I replied.
A bartender appeared in front of us with two big mugs of beer – Ken and I were monthly regulars – and I gratefully took mine from her hands, drinking greedily. The cold beer was delicious as it slid down my throat and as I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, I realized half the mug was empty.
“Thirsty, eh?” Ken laughed. “Yeah. I am, too. I’m dealing with so many hellish cases right now, West. I swear to god, I’d be happier as a stockbroker.”
I shrugged. “You can always come work for me,” I said. “The more the merrier at Trading West.”
“Ah, you know I can’t handle that desk job shit,” Ken said. “Besides, I’m working a real whammy – you know, that double murder that happened in Jamaica Plain?”
I nodded.
“Well, turns out I don’t think the woman they fingered is the one who did it,” Ken said. He narrowed his eyes. “But I gotta prove it, she’s going to trial in a couple of weeks.”
“You’re only a parole officer,” I said with a frown. “How the hell are you planning on that?”
Ken sighed and shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said. “But I gotta figure something out.”
I fell silent. The talk of Ken’s job was bringing back memories that always left me feeling pensive and quiet.
“I’m proud of you,” Ken said. He squinted at me. “You’ve really come a long way since we first met.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, swigging the last of my beer from the frosted mug and putting it back down on the counter. “I know I have.”
At thirty-six, I knew I wasn’t old yet…but it didn’t stop me from reflecting on my past, especially when I looked around the bar at all of the successful people around me. People like Ken. People like me, or at least, people like I am now.
But that hadn’t always been the case.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Ken said. “That was a long time ago, Jordan. You’ve really moved past everything.”
“You know why we’re still friends, right?”
Ken frowned. After a long pause, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
Because you were my fucking parole officer, I thought as I stared into my empty mug of foam and suds. Suddenly, I wasn’t thirsty anymore. I wanted to go home and fall into bed and pull the covers over my face. I knew I was being stupid, but I couldn’t help it – every time I thought of my past, the same shitty feelings washed over me. And no matter what Ken said, or how much praise he gave me for changing my life around, I knew I wasn’t half the man he was.
“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” I said slowly, climbing off my stool and getting to my feet. Taking my wallet from the back pocket of my pants, I threw a few crumpled bills on the bar. “You have a few drinks on me, all right?”
Ken nodded. “Look, Jordan—”
“Don’t start with that now,” I mumbled under my breath as I stormed out of the bar and into the bright sunshine. God knows, I can’t handle it.
“Hey, wait a second!”
I turned around to see Ken running out onto the pavement behind me. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Home,” I snapped. “I can’t do this anymore – I can’t be here right now.”
Ken sighed. “Look, Jord, I don’t know what happened, but—”
“That’s just it,” I said, cutting Ken off in the middle of his sentence. “You don’t know shit. You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t even care!”
Ken rolled his eyes and shook his head. “For a man so close to middle age, you’re fucking good at acting like a moody teen,” he said. “Jordan, I know there’s something going on – something below the surface. Just tell me, man. You’ll feel better.”
I resisted the urge to punch Ken in the face, to tackle him to the ground and tell him that he didn’t know me at all. But there was something in the lines of his forehead that suddenly made me realize he did care about me. Ken was as close to a father as I’d ever had, and a wave of shame washed over me.
“You’re right,” I said slowly. “I was acting like an asshole.”
Ken snickered. “You’re damn right,” he said. “Come on. This way.”
Ken and I walked in silence until we got to one of Boston’s biggest parks, near the wealthy downtown. I sighed as I sat down on a bench and stared down at the grass, kicking a clod of dirt away with a leather loafer.
“Look, Jordan, when I met you, you were coming out of federal prison,” Ken said. He made no effort to keep his voice low and I glared at him, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “You were really down on your luck. You were a hood rat, covered in ink, with no money, no education, and no friends.”
“You really think I need to be reminded of that?” I snapped, crackling my knuckles together and stretching. “I think about it every day, Ken.”
“I know,” Ken said. “But hear me out – I want you to see if you can go a few days without thinking about it at all. I want you to focus on Jordan West, the man you are today. The man behind Boston’s biggest trading firm – the self-made billionaire, the eligible bachelor.”
I stared at him. “And why do you want me to do that, huh?”
“Because at some point, Jordan, you have to stop living in the past,” Ken said firmly. “You’ve made a great life for yourself, and anyone would be proud to call you their friend.” He chuckled. “Except for when you decide to throw your hissy fits,” he added with a smirk.
“I just…” I trailed off, closing my eyes and sighing. “Nevermind.”
“No, tell me,” Ken said firmly. “You used to have to tell me everything, remember?”
“Yeah,” I said sourly. “But it’s gonna make me sound like a pussy. And that’s not something I want.”
“I don’t care if you sound like a pussy,” Ken said. “You and I know the truth – you’re one tough motherfucker who doesn’t take shit from anyone. Would a pussy have worked his way up through the ranks in only a few years?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Come on,” Ken said. “This is why we’re friends, remember?”
I licked my lips. “I…I regret the past,” I said. “I regret leaving my family, and sometimes I wonder if they ever think about me.”
Ken frowned. It wasn’t the reaction I’d been hoping for.
“And sometimes, I dunno – I think about trying to get in touch,” I continued. “That’s one of the reasons why I stayed in Boston, after all. I’ve been here for years – and I’m sure if they’re here, they’ve heard of Trading West.”
Ken stayed silent.
“What?” I asked. I felt irritation flaring in my brain and I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you being so quiet? You practically forced me to tell you,” I added. “And now what, you’re not going to say shit?”
“Jordan, sometimes I think the past is better left in the past,” Ken replied.
“What the fuck, why?” I got to my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets. “You’re the one who always tells me how far I’ve come, and how much work I’ve done,” I said angrily. “And now what, you’re going to stop me from talking to my family again?”
“No,” Ken said firmly. “That isn’t what I meant at all.”
“What, then?”
“Don’t be so idealistic,” Ken said. “There was a lot of hurt, and a lot of pain on both sides. And you’ve done so well for yourself. I’d hate to see you feeling like that wasn’t enough.”
As Ken’s words sank in, I felt myself slowly becoming numb. I didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, his words made a lot of sense. Of course, my family wouldn’t ever want to speak to me again, I thought as I shook my head. Why would I? I’m the West family black sheep – and I’ve been firmly ensconced in that role since before I was even legal.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“No,” Ken said. “Look – don’t get discouraged. I just want to see you focusing on the future and kicking ass, okay? I know you can do it, Jordan,” he added. “I trust you.”
“Thanks,” I repeated. “Means a lot.”
As I walked home in the summery twilight air, I knew I was going to have to face some major decisions soon, whether I liked it or not.