James

It’s another brisk, sunny day in Washington D.C.. It’s actually nice enough to roll back the roof on my Porsche, if I was willing to smell exhaust for the rest of the day. I tap my fingers on the wheel. Even after all this time in Washington D.C., I still haven’t learned that it’s faster to take the subway. It’s a damn waste of my time, and these days, that’s very expensive. I have a few sites to visit today, all commercial properties that have the potential to make me millions. I started out flipping houses, but moved over when I realized that there’s so much more to be made. I bought myself the 911 after my first million dollar deal, a gift to myself for having finally made it.

My phone pings with a text from my assistant, confirming the addresses of the three properties that I’ll be looking at tomorrow. That’s the life of an entrepreneur. I work 7 days a week, whenever I can. Some days it’s for two hours, some days it’s twelve. Whatever I need to do to keep things running. I answer back, and turn up the radio. I find it’s good to listen in and keep tabs on the city. Knowing what’s going on is a good way to help gauge which areas will be trending up, which neighborhoods I shouldn’t bother with. I tune in just in time to catch the end of a piece on a traveling Picasso exhibit making its way to Washington D.C. Ava likes Picasso, the thought flickers into my head. I grit my teeth. Ava. I’m normally great at shutting her out of my thoughts, keeping that part of me locked up.

The traffic stalls to a complete standstill. My hand goes for my phone, hops onto Facebook before I can convince myself not to. I don’t use the damn thing. I don’t see a point in it, but I keep it. For her. She’s got a new cover image up, one from Klimt’s golden phase. Ava loves her art, even if she’s stranded in the middle of nowhere. I click on her profile picture, a close-up on the beach. Her eyes, green ringed with gold, are mesmerizing, and her bee stung lips are slightly open. She’s got on this white and blue striped bikini that shows off her creamy skin, her lush curves. She looks beautiful. I don’t think anyone could blame me for looking, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was my best friend’s daughter.

I hover on the message button, then click on it. The window shows I haven’t talked to her in almost four and a half months. My self-imposed rule was three months, at a minimum. That’s the acceptable amount for someone who she sees almost as an uncle. Any more and I’d be too tempted to do more, to pursue more, and that’s a dangerous path I couldn’t go down. Not when I know how I feel has no place in our relationship. It’s why I moved to Washington D.C. after all. To physically remove myself from temptation.

My message to Ava is short, just a link. I refrain from inviting her down to see, even though I want to. She’s twenty now, old enough to decide what to do. But what twenty year old is ever interested in a guy almost double her age? The traffic starts to move and I slip my phone back into my pocket. Probably for the best. I rarely indulge myself because it’s too easy to let go, too easy to slip up. The only way to avoid it is to be in control at all times, never let it go too far.

There are times when I think I’m over Ava, when I manage not to think about her at all. But then something like this will come up, and I’ll see her picture, and the feeling runs me over like a freight train. I can’t find anyone else who can even come close to what she does to my dick. It’s a blessing and a fucking curse, that’s for sure.

I’m almost back at my house when I get a call. It’s Bill, Ava’s father. I’ve done nothing wrong, but I take a few deep breaths before I answer anyways.

“Hey Bill, how’s it going?”

“James. Things... are okay.” Bill says slowly. There’s a weariness in his voice that’s new. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”

“It’s pretty far out of the way,” I reply as I turn onto my street. “You shouldn’t have moved.”

Bill and Sandra moved from Boston to the little town of Montrose so that Sandra could afford to stay at home and take care of Ava. I didn’t understand the decision at the time, but it seemed to make them happy. Who was I to judge that? It was a two hour drive for me, so I’d often stay on the weekends. That was until Ava grew up overnight, and I found myself wanting to drive up to see her rather than her father. I decided to make the move to Washington D.C. then too.

“That didn’t use to stop you.”

“Yeah, well, Washington D.C. is a lot further than Boston. Is that why you called me? To nag me to visit?”

“Hey, if you’re not interested in seeing an old friend...” Bill tries to keep it light, but years of friendship tell me something is definitely bothering him.

I open up my garage as I wait to hear what he has to say. I live in a large, Mediterranean style house that could comfortably house at least ten people. Currently there’s one. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, but my hours would make it impossible for me to take care of one properly. That wouldn’t be fair to the animal. Maybe one day though. I grew up with a dog. If I ever found a woman to settle down with... I steer my thoughts quickly away from that train of thought.

“Look. We could use your help. It’s the B and B.”

“Ah.”

Selkirk House is a rundown old B and B that Bill and Sandra bought a year ago when they got lucky on a scratch ticket. Ava was old enough that she didn’t need her mom at home anymore, according to Sandra, and she’s always wanted to run a hotel. I cautioned Bill against it at the time. A hotel business is tough to run profitably even for someone who’s been in the industry. It would be immeasurably more difficult for someone like Sandra, who’s never done it in her life. Not to mention the cost of repairs. Bill thanked me for the advice and bought the place anyways.

“Why don’t you get the ‘I told you so’ done with before we go on,” Bill says.

“Sounds like you already know it,” I say.

I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder before getting out of the car and closing the garage. The air conditioning blasts me as I go through the garage door. It’s going to be a hell of a summer and I’m not looking forward to it.

“Then I’ll get to the point. We need your help. Badly. The B and B isn’t doing terribly, but we just heard that they’ve approved a new beach resort about an hour down the 101. It’s going to be fancy. We’re going to have to update and overhaul things if we’re to keep things afloat. I’d feel more comfortable if you were here to oversee things. Make sure it’s going well. I can’t even begin to figure out how I’m going to do a top to bottom renovation. You know that working with my hands isn’t my strong point. And while you’re here, if you’ve got any ideas on how we can raise our bookings-”

“I know nothing about hotels,” I say as I gather up the mail on the front mat. Junk. Junk. Junk. Is there ever anything else?

“No, but you worked in one during college. And you know about growing a business. And that’s what we need to do. We’ve gotten comfortable, but changes are coming. I’m hoping with your expertise we’ll be able to weather those changes.”

I frown as I consider my options. I really shouldn’t go back. Staying under the same roof as Ava is dangerous. My head knows that, even if my dick is urging me to accept. My hand clenches into a fist, imagining what it’d be like to run over Ava’s porcelain skin. Thank God that Bill can’t see what’s in my mind.

“Let me make some calls,” I say. “I know a guy who can-”

“No,” Bill cuts in. “I don’t trust anyone else to pull off a renovation this huge except for you. We put everything into the B and B. We can’t afford for some contractor to take the money and run, or do a sloppy job that’ll cost us triple down the road.”

I drop my head. I should refuse. But I owe Bill a debt. I left home when I was sixteen. For two years, Bill and his family let me stay in their basement so I could graduate school. He’s been my best friend since we met in kindergarten. If he needed me to help him now, I’m going to help. At least, I hope that’s why I’m agreeing.

“I’ll pack my bags,” I say at last.