Chapter Ten
Jake
It was technically after hours, but with the amount of money I paid George every month, he could make the time for me. I had called twice, getting more pissed by the minute each time his secretary told me he was still in court and would return my call the minute he was out.
I had been pacing my hotel room, ready to climb the walls. I hated not working. Today had been a bitch of a day, and I needed to blow off some steam. I couldn’t do that until after I had talked to George.
When my phone rang with a California number, I snatched it up, practically shouting hello.
“Jake. George here. Sorry about the delay. Had a doozy of a court case. What’s going on?” he asked.
I growled in frustration. I quickly gave him the rundown, explaining that my only living family member had been tragically killed, leaving behind a child I wanted to raise. I could tell by the various sounds he was making as I talked that it wasn’t going to go as I had hoped.
“Well?” I asked. “How are you going to make this happen?”
George let out a long sigh. “It isn’t quite so easy. Family law is no joke. I’m going to need to call in a colleague to help me with this one.”
“Who?” I asked, not pleased to have someone else wading around in my private business.
“He’s a good guy and knows Arizona. That’s what you want on your side, trust me. Anyway, from what I know of the family court system, they’re sticklers for rules. There is no bending anything.”
“What does that mean? I’m out of luck? George, you know damn well that is not an answer I’m willing to accept.”
He cleared his throat. “Not saying that at all. I’m saying you are going to have to play by their rules.”
“Bullshit. Who could be a better guardian? I have the money. I can buy a home. I can give her everything she wants and needs. I don’t understand why I even have to jump through hoops to get this done,” I said with exasperation.
“It isn’t about who has the most money, though that certainly is a factor. They want to know the child is going to be safe and loved. They don’t want to know a team of nannies will be bringing up the child. Hell, that’s basically what the foster care system or an orphanage is. They want a real daddy and preferably a real mommy in the picture. They have this idea of what a happy home looks like, and that’s what they want to see,” he explained.
“Bullshit!” I repeated. “How can they be so backassward? This is the twenty-first century. Are any kids raised in a two-parent household anymore?”
“I know, I know. You’re angry and frustrated. Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you with my colleague’s information. We’ll get this taken care of. In the meantime, keep your nose clean and don’t do anything that will make them hesitate about giving you the child.”
“Fine.”
“Jake?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry about your sister. I lost a brother to the war. It’s a tough business,” George said softly.
“Thank you,” I said and hung up.
I needed a drink. Preferably several drinks. I’d had no idea how much trouble I had been in for when I decided I was going to raise Iris. I had assumed I would waltz into Phoenix, pick up the baby, and go home. Court and lawyers and all the other bullshit had not been on my agenda. Nothing should have been this hard as far as I was concerned.
I grabbed my credit card and key card and headed down to the hotel bar. It wasn’t quite as upscale as I was used to, but liquor was liquor, and I needed to take the edge off. I walked into the bar and instantly felt eyes on me. They weren’t the looks I was used to.
I looked down and grinned. I wasn’t getting the looks I was used to because I didn’t look like I usually did. I was in shorts and a T-shirt and my tats were visible. I kept them covered in business meetings because I dealt with a lot of stuffy old guys who couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses and see my success. All they saw were the tats.
Here in this bar, I got to be the old Jake. No one knew who I was. It gave me a new kind of freedom, and I was going to enjoy it for a while.
I sat at the bar and waited for the young bartender to make his way over to me. “Whiskey, straight up.”
The guy quickly poured me a drink. I slammed it down, loving the way it burned as it slid down my throat and hit me in the gut. “Another, please.”
The second glass I took a little slower. I stared into the amber liquid, knowing there were never any answers at the bottom of the glass but enjoying the mission regardless.
“Let me guess, football?” came a woman’s voice from my left.
I looked up to see her smiling at me.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not sure I had heard her correctly.
“You. You’re in the NFL. You’re too stocky to be in the NBA or the MLB.”
“What makes you think I play football?” I asked, interested to hear her opinion of me.
She turned her stool to face me, her crossed knees exposed in the short skirt she had on. “I know my men.” She winked. “You’re sitting in the bar in the best hotel in the city while dressed in casual attire. If you weren’t staying in the hotel, they wouldn’t have let you in here dressed like that.”
I glanced around and noticed I did stick out like a sore thumb in a room full of suits and ties. “You’re observant.”
She smiled, clearly encouraged to continue. “The arms say it all. Only football players can pull off that rugged look.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
The woman reminded me of a cat purring between my legs, begging for affection. I had a feeling she was either a groupie or a prostitute. She was dressed for sex. She was skilled in the art of the pickup, which had me leaning toward hooker.
I drank down the rest of my whiskey and caught the eye of the bartender, holding up my glass. The woman purring beside me was waiting for me to buy her a drink as well.
“I’m not a football player,” I told her. “I’m visiting a friend. I could never afford to stay in a hotel like this. In fact, I just got out of prison. He’s helping me out while I look for a job. Know anywhere that’s hiring?”
The look on her face was awesome. It was as if I had poured ice-cold water over her head.
“No, I don’t,” she said before spinning around on the stool and heading to the other end of the bar.
The bartender was grinning when he brought me my drink. “I was wondering how that was going to play out. Miss Violet is a regular in here if you know what I mean. We’ve asked her to leave so many times, but she keeps turning up. I can ask her to leave if you want,” he suggested.
I laughed. “She isn’t going to bother me anymore. She’s fine. A girl’s gotta work,” I said with a wink.
“If she figures out who you really are, she’ll be coming back,” the bartender warned.
I looked at him carefully. “You know who I am?”
He nodded. “This is my night job. I’m in school to become a computer programmer. I know who you are.”
I smiled. “Stay in school—unless you develop something; then drop out and get it out there,” I said with a grin.
He laughed. “I wish. Everything I have been trying to develop is either buggy or has already been done.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “If it were easy, I wouldn’t be as rich as I am.”
He nodded his head. “I know, I know. I have to find the one thing people don’t know they’re missing.”
“Exactly. I would suggest getting out on the street and talking to people. Ask them what it is they want. Then you have to figure out how to beat me to it,” I said, chuckling again.
He rolled his eyes. “One of these days, I’m going to be sitting across from you in what I imagine is a very big conference room. You’re going to be begging me to work for you, or you’re going to want to buy the software I’ve developed.”
I smirked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that did happen. Happens every day in my world.”
The young, eager man walked away to pour another drink, leaving me with my own thoughts. They weren’t happy thoughts. My release earlier today had helped somewhat, but I still felt miserable. The one thing I knew to do to prove I meant what I had said about making up for lost time was being kept out of my grasp. I had to get Iris. I had to do right by her to make up for the shitty things I had done to my family.
I had thought I could count on Avery to help me, but she hated me as well. That wasn’t hard to believe. I should have expected as much. I had been a dick to her. I smirked, thinking about the look on her face when I had proposed marriage to her. If it had been in any other situation, it would have been funny. Unfortunately, the reality was that she was my last hope for getting Iris.
Avery wanted nothing more than for me to go away. If she had a magic wand, she would wave it, and poof, I would be gone. I wasn’t that easy to get rid of.
“Another?” the bartender asked.
I nodded. “Sure. Why not? It isn’t like I have to work tomorrow.”
“Are you on vacation?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Definitely not a vacation.”
“Business?”
I wasn’t interested in a bar therapy session. “Yes,” I said, hoping he would quit prying. “I’m in town for business but have nothing on the schedule for tomorrow.”
“Oh, good. I bet you work a lot. I hope you get the chance to kick back and maybe do a little sight-seeing.”
I smirked. “I grew up here. I’ve seen enough of the sights.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that. Well, cool. Enjoy your visit home.”
“Thanks,” I said. It was going to be a real hoot.
By the bottom of the fourth glass, I was feeling the sweet bliss of drunken numbness. If I drank one more, I could pass out and not have to think about anything at all. Each time Tracy’s face appeared in my mind, I quickly blocked it out and pushed it to the back. I was not going to lose my shit in the bar.
“Last one,” I called out, holding up my empty glass.
The young guy hesitated before moving to pour me another whiskey.
“Thanks,” I said, hoping I wasn’t slurring my words.
I only managed to get half of it down before I decided I better find my room before I had to be carried. I did my best to appear sober as I walked through the main lobby to the elevators but had a feeling I was failing miserably. I didn’t care.
By some miracle, I got the key card in the door and stumbled inside. I kicked off my shoes as I walked to the bedroom and faceplanted on the firm king-sized mattress. The room was spinning. I moaned before rolling to my side, hoping that would make it stop. I remembered an old trick from my younger years and rolled onto my back, dangling one leg off the side of the bed until my foot hit the floor. It helped some. I closed my eyes and let the sweet oblivion of drunkenness pull me under.
I didn’t want to think about anything. There would be plenty of time for that later.