Chapter Fifteen

Connor

It's been a few of days since our lunch date, and I've been dying to see her again. It's like every time I see her, it only makes me want to spend more time with her. And it's not even all about the sex – although, I'm not going to lie, that is a huge bonus.

Mostly though, it's just about being around her. She's unlike anyone I've ever met. Something about Zoe goddamn Nichols helps fill the void in me. It’s unexpected and downright terrifying, but I want to be with her. Desperately. And not just for sex. I want to be with her.

Every time I've tried to call her at the office, she's refused to speak to me. The one time I did manage to get through, I invited her out for lunch and she said no. Flat out. And then hung up on me.

After not being able to focus enough to work on recording a few new solo tracks, I move into my art studio and sit on the stool, staring at the blank canvas in front of me. My eyes can’t help but drift to the painting of Zoe, filling my mind with thoughts of her once more.

My phone rings and I glance at the display screen. When I see the call is coming from Nichols and Associates, I feel my heart leap into my throat.

I quickly stab the button and press the phone to my ear, anticipating the silky-smooth sound of Zoe's voice – and find myself sorely disappointed.

“Mr. Grigson?” a woman – not Zoe – asks.

“Yes, this is Connor Grigson,” I say.

“Good morning. My name is Jenna Kapinski, and I'm an associate of Ms. Nichols,” she says. “I'm calling to schedule an appointment with you.”

An appointment? Not exactly a lunch date, but it would seem to mean a chance to see Zoe again. Why did she have her assistant call to schedule the appointment though?

“Sure,” I say. “I'd love to.”

“Does tomorrow at eleven-thirty work for you, Mr. Grigson?”

“Sounds lovely,” I say. “I'll look forward to it.”

“Very good, sir,” she says, her tone clipped and professional. “We'll see you then.”

She ends the call, leaving me to stare at my phone with an excited swelling feeling in my heart. I get to see Zoe tomorrow. Finally. This pleases me greatly – and apparently has the added benefit of helping me refocus my mind. I'm able to start working on a new piece that's going to be sold at a benefit auction in a few weeks.

After about an hour of working, I can see the canvas is beginning to take shape. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I think it's coming along well so far. I'm satisfied with the progress at this point. I wipe my hands on a rag and am about to leave and get some coffee when my phone rings again – this time the call is coming from a blocked number. Hopefully, it's not Zoe's office calling to cancel.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Grigson,” a man's voice says.

I know this voice from somewhere. I recognize it but can't quite put my finger on it.

“Yes?” I reply.

“I'm going to give you some prudent advice,” the man says. “It would be in your best interest to stay away from Zoe Nichols.”

That's when I figure out who it is – Bryant Brooks. Stupid twat.

“And why would I want to do that?” I ask.

“Because, she's mine,” he replies.

A wry chuckle escapes me. “I know I'm not some fancy lawyer in a thousand-dollar suit,” I say. “But, the last time I checked, it’s illegal to own another person. Which would seem to make your claim that she's yours, ring a little hollow, don't you think, mate?”

“I'm not fucking with you, Grigson,” he says, his voice tight with anger. “Leave her alone. She is mine.”

The insecurity and fear I hear in his voice – which he's trying to disguise as toughness and machismo – only serves to amuse me.

“It must be hard to be such a small man,” I say.

“Fuck you.”

“It's got to be even harder knowing that Zoe, beautiful woman that she is, would rather go skydiving without a parachute than being alone in the same room with you,” I say. “That's got to feel real killer, mate. I want to feel bad for you, but I just – well – don't.”

“You’ll never be able to give her what she needs, you junkie piece of shit,” he says. “She deserves better.”

“That’s probably true on all counts,” I admit. “But, junkie or not, I'm still twice the man you are. And Zoe knows that.”

I step out onto the back deck with the phone pressed to my ear. I take a couple of deep breaths, enjoying the crisp, sweet morning air. The scent of the vineyards is thick on the breeze and helps settle my nerves. I'm calm and collected on the outside, but inside, I'm boiling. My blood is hot, and I want nothing more than to punch this prick in the face.

“You're a low-class piece of shit,” he says. “A fancy house and a lot of money will never change that, Grigson.”

“That’s also true,” I say. “Unlike you though, I've learned from my mistakes. And I strive to be a decent person and make our world a better place. I do have a question for you though – does old man Nichols know you're making this call? Or are you freelancing here? Because, I have to tell you, this is a really piss-poor negotiating tactic if you're trying to get me to settle your little case with Jay Hill.”

“Please. You and I both know you've never been serious about this settlement,” he spits. “The old man wants to give you one more chance before we take you to trial though. I told him you're just wasting our time, and that –”

“Want to hear something interesting?” I interrupt him.

“Nothing you can say would remotely interest me.”

“Well, I've been doing a little research of my own,” I say. “Extortion and racketeering, in particular. And did you know, in New York some years back, a prestigious law firm got busted for trying to force people into settlements even though they knew their case was fraudulent? People went to jail, lost their licenses to practice – it was quite the big deal. Interesting, huh, mate?”

He's silent for so long, I become worried that he’s hung up. What would be the fun in that? But, then Bryant clears his throat. I must have hit pretty close to home. I can almost hear his guts churning in his belly from here.

“It's quite interesting,” he says. “And it would be a shame if Zoe had to go to prison because of you.”

“Actually,” I say. “I think it would be because of you. Well, you and her old man. I'm sure you both cooked up this little scheme together. Unfortunately for Zoe, she’s collateral damage. But, that would be on your ass, as well as that piece of shit she calls a father. I can't see her willingly throwing in with a couple of tossers like you. She's better than you. Better than all three of us, actually.”

“You are awfully judgmental for a man who used to drop fifty grand a month on heroin,” he snarls.

“Is that really all you have against me, Bryant? That I'm an addict?” I ask. “That's years in the past, mate. I've moved on from it and so should you. There are far better reasons for you to hate me, aren't there?”

“I'm sure there are.”

“Like, for instance, the fact that I've gotten a taste of something you never will,” I say. “And I'm sure it really burns your ass to know that, doesn't it?”

Petty? Yeah. Childish? Sure. Worth it? Definitely.

Rubbing the fact that I've slept with Zoe in his face probably isn't my best idea, but I don't care at this point. I know there's nothing he can do about it. If he confronts her with it, he would be admitting to calling me in the first place – not a good idea for a man in his position.

“You are a disgusting piece of shit, Grigson.”

I shrug. “I've been called far worse by far better,” I reply. “You are right about one thing though.”

“What's that?”

“That Zoe deserves better than me,” I say. “But, by the same token, she deserves a hell of a lot better than you, mate.”

“You better watch your back, Grigson,” he hisses. “I warned you. Zoe is mine, so you best stay away from her.”

I kick at a small stone on the deck, sending it sailing off into the grass beyond.

“Why are you hiding behind vague threats, Bryant?” I ask. “Why not meet me somewhere so we can settle this like men? Oh, wait – my bad. You obviously wouldn't be able to fulfill that last requirement, would you? That could be one reason Zoe doesn't want to be with you, mate. Just sayin'.”

Rub it in his face that I'm banging the woman he wants to be with? Check. Insult his manhood? Check. If I were to write a book about how to pick a fight with someone

, this would be the easiest way to do it. I would rather have it all out in the open than put up with all this backroom, cloak and dagger bullshit. If you want a piece of me, come at me.

But then again, I don't expect a cowardly piece of shit like Bryant Brooks to ever have the balls to come at me head on.

“I'm going to ruin you, Grigson,” he says. “If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to destroy you.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “You will, of course, excuse me if I don't start quaking in fear.”

“You fucked with the wrong person this time,” he warns.

I chuckle. “Actually, I think it's you who picked the wrong person to fuck with,” I say. “I'm not afraid of you. Not in any sense of the word.”

“Then you're a fool.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” I say. “But, it's going to be a cold day in hell before you get one over on me. So, if you're going to take a shot at me, you'd best not miss.”

“Last warning,” he says, his voice low and tight with rage. “Stay away from Zoe. She's mine. The deal has been made, and I own her, you prick.”

“Deal? What, with her father?” I ask. “What the hell kind of a deal did you make?”

“That doesn't concern you,” he says. “Just stay the fuck away from her, or you'll regret it.”

“Yeah, I've never been good with ultimatums,” I say. “So, you'll forgive me if I choose to ignore you.”

“Your funeral, fucker.”

He hangs up before I can respond. I have to fight the urge to smash my phone – or anything I can get my hands on, really. I refuse to give in. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I'm not going to lie though. Having my past thrown back in my face really fucks with me. It bothers me a lot. I like to think that since I got clean and got my life together, I've had a more positive impact. I try to live for others and regularly donate money and artwork to good causes.

Now I’m focused on putting good things out into the world now and minimizing the bad.

Despite all that, some people will never let me forget my past. They'll never stop seeing me as anything but a junkie, no matter how much I try to change. For them, that's how I’ll forever be defined. For some – like Bryant – it's easier to label me a junkie and move on. I know it shouldn't bother me. But it does.

And what in the hell was he talking about? Bryant said a deal had been made. What in the fuck did he mean by that? That Ryan sold Zoe to him? Jesus Christ. You can't sell another human being. Was that what he was going on about?

As I try to figure out what he meant, I decide I need a drink. It’s probably not wise given my current headspace, but I turn, walk back into the house, and head for the kitchen.

And then I need to make a couple of phone calls.