Oscar Page 2

  He stepped out of the elevator on the seventeenth floor and looked around. It was a clone of the eighteenth floor he’d just left. A dingy hallway, a board with a list of company names and room numbers. He went to look at the board. What kind of work did a girl like that do? There was an advertising agency. Maybe she was the creative type? He’d love to find out—in bed, or in the back of his limo. He scanned the names. A law firm. No. Even one small enough to have offices here didn’t hire women like her. He left the board and made his way down the hall, peering in windows as he went. There was no sign of her. He shook his head with a rueful smile. This was crazy. If he wanted to get laid, he could call any one of a dozen women who would happily oblige him at a moment’s notice. Rich women, influential women, married women; all of them beautiful and all of them eager to do whatever he wanted. So, why in hell’s name was he wandering around here looking for a chick who might not be open to anything he wanted—let alone everything—even if he could find her? He turned around and headed back to the elevator. This time he rode solo all the way back down to the lobby. He nodded at the doorman on his way out. For a second, Oscar contemplated asking him about the girl. No. He pushed his way back out into the sunlight on the sidewalk. He needed to shake things up a bit, but he didn’t need to go stalking office girls.

  “How did it go?” asked TJ when he got back in the car.

  “I couldn’t find her.” Shit! Why had he said that? TJ was asking about the meeting with Dressel.

  TJ turned all the way around in his seat and peered through the little window at him. “Couldn’t find who?”

  “Never mind.” Oscar grinned at him. “It really doesn’t matter. What I meant to say is that Dressel happily accepted my offer, and I should be able to go ahead and buy the lot without any headaches. Six is about to gain a sister club.”

  “And what are you going to call it, Six Two, just like you?”

  Oscar rolled his eyes. “No.”

  “How about Seven? This time you can get all the deadly sins in there?”

  “No. Maybe Five and this time we’ll leave out Envy as well as Sloth.”

  TJ laughed. “That sounds like a plan to me. From what I’ve heard Envy is the biggest cause of all the drama in there.”

  Oscar nodded. “It is. I need to do something about it.”

  “The only way you could do that would be to clone yourself. Then all the girls could have their own Oscar, and they wouldn’t need to scratch each other’s eyes out over you.”

  “Or maybe my brother could entertain at least a few of them for me, help me out?”

  TJ’s smile disappeared. His face hardened, and he turned back around. “Where to next?”

  Oscar got out and walked around to the passenger seat. Once he’d fastened his seat belt, he punched TJ’s shoulder playfully. “Sorry.”

  TJ shrugged. “You’re not supposed to sit up front, you know.”

  “When have I ever followed the rules or done what I’m supposed to?”

  TJ smiled grudgingly. “I guess. Let’s just forget you said anything, and get back to pretending that I’m your driver, can we?”

  Oscar nodded solemnly.

  “So, where to next?”

  “Back to the office.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Grace knocked on Harry’s door at eleven o’clock on the dot.

  “Come in.”

  She pushed the door open with her foot and smiled at him over the tray of coffee and sandwiches she was carrying.

  He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What’s that for?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The coffee’s for drinking and the sandwiches are for eating.”

  He gave her a sour look. “You want to watch that smart mouth. It’ll get you into trouble one day.”

  She sighed and put the tray down on the table. “And you want to watch that miserable streak of yours. It’ll lose you your best employee one day.” Usually, she could read Harry like a book, but she couldn’t figure out what his problem was. The way he was looking at her was a mix of sadness, defensiveness, and irritation. “What’s up, anyway? I’m trying to only think, say, do and be positive today. So, against my better judgment, I brought you an early lunch, and this is what I get in return.”

  He took off his glasses and set them down on the desk.

  Uh-oh. That was never a good sign.

  “Listen, Grace, take a seat.”

  She sat down and folded her arms across her chest, and her foot started to tap. This wasn’t going to be good. She could tell.

  “I have a feeling that today could well be the day I lose my best employee—and it won’t be because of my miserable streak.”

  She frowned but didn’t speak. If he was about to fire her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

  “I agreed to a deal this morning that you’re not going to like, but I want you to understand that it’s a good deal for me.”

  What the hell was he talking about? And why wouldn’t he just spit it out? “What deal?” she asked impatiently.

  He sighed. “I had an offer on the lot on Gascoigne Street … and I accepted it.”

  Grace’s breath froze somewhere in her throat. He couldn’t mean what she thought he did. “The lot? You mean, you’re going to sell the land from under the center?” She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. “I don’t understand. Will we have to pay ground rent now, or …?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I am. But you know that lot was always meant to be my nest egg. I bought it at the very first mention that the neighborhood might take off. Industrial chic wasn’t even a thing back then, but with all the urban regeneration projects, I’ve known for a while that the sale of that piece of land would set me up for life.” He gave her a grim smile. “And I was right.”

  She stared at him. “Who’s buying it? What do I need to do? Did you discuss the center with them? Will we have to pay rent?”

  He sucked in a deep breath and blew it slowly. “No. The center will have to go. He has plans to build.”

  Grace dropped her head and buried her face in her hands. She’d known it couldn’t go on forever, but she hadn’t expected it to end this soon. The center was nothing more than a run-down building, in a run-down part of town. Except, now, new businesses were moving in; new money was cleaning up old buildings, tearing some down, opening coffee shops and boutique clothing stores. She shook her head. A ramshackle community center didn’t belong in the middle of that, but where would they go? The kids who came before school and after. The vets who gathered a couple of nights a week. The young moms who met in the afternoons. The older ladies who hung out to knit and do crafts together. She raised her head and met Harry’s gaze. She couldn’t be mad at him. It was the right move for him; she could admit that. And besides, there was no point wasting time being mad at him. It was more important to figure out what she was going to do.

  “How long have we got?”

  “He’d like to close the sale by the end of the month.”

  “Shit!”

  “I can drag it out a bit, if you need.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, Harry.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t have to pay me anything for this month.”

  “Thanks.” Harry had never charged any rent for the use of the building. They had to pay for maintenance and insurance, but he only covered his costs.

  “What are you going to do?”

  She shrugged. “I have no freaking idea. I think I need to let it sink in, then I’ll figure something out.”

  “Take the rest of the day off.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You don’t need me?”

  “You need the time to get to grips with the news, and with what you’re going to do, and ...” He picked up his glasses and turned them over and over.

  “And what?” Why did she have the feeling the other shoe was about to drop?

  “And after the s
ale closes, then no, I’m not going to need you. It’ll give me enough to finally retire.”

  All the air rushed out of her lungs. Wow! A minute ago, she’d thought her biggest problem was losing the center. Now she realized she was going to be losing her job, too. Awesome! She got to her feet.

  “I’m sorry, Grace,” said Harry as she reached the door.

  She turned around and nodded. “It’ll be okay. Don’t be sorry; this is what you’ve been working your whole life toward.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks. I don’t like to screw you over in the process, though.”

  She shrugged. “Any time someone wins, someone else has to lose. Tell me something?”

  “What?”

  “Who’s buying it and what do they want it for?”

  “It’s Oscar Davenport.”

  Grace stared at him, none the wiser.

  “You’ve never heard of him?”

  “Should I have?”

  “I guess not. He’s big money. He built and sold a couple of tech companies. Last year he opened a new nightclub downtown, Six. It’s a big success. He wants to build another one.”

  Grace let out a bitter little laugh. “So, some bigshot asshole who already has more money than he needs, is going to build a nightclub where he and his friends can play, while all those people who use the center as a lifeline are going to be shit out of luck?”

  Harry looked uncomfortable, but Grace was too angry to care.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She managed not to slam the door too loudly as she left. So much for being positive. She’d tried today, she really had, but look how the day was turning out, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. She took the elevator back down to the lobby and shook her head at the memory of Big Cat. He might have had her squirming in her panties, but he was probably one of the people who hung out at that stupid nightclub. Who called a club Six anyway? What kind of name was that? And what did it matter? When the elevator doors opened, she stalked out through the lobby. She needed to get back to the coffee shop. Spider would listen—she didn’t expect that he’d know what to do, but he’d listen, and he’d help her brainstorm.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked when she walked in and pulled up a seat at the counter.

  She rested her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands. “You’re not going to believe me.”

  “You lost your job?”

  “Not yet, but I’m only going to have it for another month.”

  “Shit. What happened? I can’t believe Harry fired you. He wouldn’t be able to run the place without you.”

  She shrugged. “Exactly. He doesn’t plan to run the place at all anymore. He’s going to retire.”

  “Damn. I thought that was just a dream. I mean he’s always talked about retiring, but I never thought he’d be able to afford to.”

  “Well, he had an ace up his sleeve the whole time, and he just played it.”

  Spider poured her a coffee and slid it toward her. “What ace?”

  “The land.”

  “The land where the center is?”

  “Yup. He just sold it.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Apparently, some rich guy is going to tear it down and build a nightclub.”

  “Damn.” Spider came around the counter and took a seat beside her. “It’s like a piece of our history—a piece of us—is going to be demolished.”

  “Yeah. I’m not so worried about the past. It’s dead and gone, and we survived. I’m more concerned about the present—and the future of all those kids who use it now.”

  Spider nodded. “And the vets.”

  “Yup. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Spider scowled at her. “What do you mean you? What are we going to do? Why do you always have to be so independent? You’re not the only one who cares about that place, you know. You’re not the only one who has a stake in what happens.”

  “Sorry.” She made a face. She wasn’t really sorry. It was easier for her to operate on the assumption that she was the only person she could count on—and Spider not only knew it, but he of all people understood why. They were both products of the foster care system. They’d both survived some pretty horrific situations. The adults who were supposed to have been there for them had failed them at every turn. They’d both aged out of the system and, like half the other kids in their situation, had found themselves homeless within six months. The center had been a lifeline for both of them—in different ways at different points in their lives. It had been a place to go after school. A place to eat when they were on the streets. It’d never had all the proper licenses and registrations, so officially it wasn’t a shelter, but they’d both spent colder nights sleeping there. Just like some kids and vets still did now.

  “Do you think there’s any way we could stop it from happening?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I considered it on the bus ride back here. There’s probably some way we could put the guy off, convince him that it isn’t the right place for a nightclub, but there’s no point. If he doesn’t buy it, someone else will. And I couldn’t do it to Harry anyway. To him, this is like winning the lottery. Except he can take a bit more credit for the outcome. He spotted a long-term investment, and he went for it.”

  Spider nodded. “Yeah. He’s been as generous as he could afford to be. Anyone else would have charged rent all these years.”

  “Yup. We have to face the fact that we need to find a new place.”

  “How? Where? Come on Gracie, be real. The whole point of the place is that it’s in the neighborhood—and there’s no way we could afford anything in the neighborhood anymore.”

  “Well, if the neighborhood’s changing that much, where’s everyone going? The center needs to be where the people who need it can get to it.”

  Spider shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “Neither do I, but it seems to me that everyone’s still hanging in, in the apartments around there. The kids are still at the same school we went to.”

  “But there’s no way we could raise the money to rent anything around there.”

  “So, we get creative. Maybe everyone takes it in turns to have everyone over?”

  “Come on, most of them don’t have a place and the ones who do couldn’t fit more than a couple people inside.”

  “I know. I’m just trying to get some ideas rolling. What have you got?”

  “I dunno, doll. I ain’t got shit.”

  She patted his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. And you can’t say you ain’t got shit—”

  “Would you give up trying to fix the way I talk?”

  Grace laughed. “Slow down. I wasn’t trying to correct you. I meant you do got shit! Look at this place.”

  “It’s no palace.”

  She grinned at him. “Don’t be so modest. It’s your own business. Your own place. You done good, Spider Webster. You’ve risen up against the odds, and you’ve built something. I’m proud of you.”

  Spider was a big guy, muscular, good-looking in a tattoos-and-beard, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. Most people would never believe he had a big soft heart, but Grace knew he did. She could see it shining in his eyes as he made aww-shucks noises and pushed her arm before getting down from his seat and going back behind the counter.

  “You’re the one who should be proud of yourself, doll. I’ve done okay for myself, but you’ve done so much good for so many people.”

  Her smile faded. She knew he was saying he was proud of her, too, but if the center was about to disappear, there wouldn’t be anything left to be proud of. She’d feel like she’d let everyone down. And Spider was only half right; he had done more than okay for himself. But her? She’d been too focused on keeping the center going to worry about herself. She had nothing to show for the years of hard work she’d put in. The few things she owned were in the room she rented from Louise because it was cheap,
and in another month, she wouldn’t even be able to afford that since she’d be out of a job.

  Chapter Three

  “So, what’s the plan for this new club of yours?” asked TJ.

  Oscar poured them each a glass of bourbon and came back around the bar to join him on the sofas in the VIP area. They’d fallen into the habit of having a drink here in the club at the end of the workday and before the worknight began. Oscar took a slug of his drink and shrugged. “More of the same. More drinking, more debauchery, more good times to be had. Another place to see and be seen for the rich and the beautiful. A place where those who’ve earned it can gather and enjoy it.”

  TJ made a face.

  “And there goes the disapproval again.”

  “I didn’t say a word,” protested TJ.

  “I can hear your thoughts. I can smell the disdain in the air. Not everyone has your high ideals, you know. Some people just want to kick back and have fun.”

  “I know. I don’t expect anyone to live by my standards. I know better than that. But I just don’t get it. It doesn’t suit you. I mean, I know you love to play, you’re all about the good times and having fun, but you only play so hard because you work so damned hard. From what I’ve seen so far, the people who come in here aren’t the ones who work hard, they’re the hangers on and the wannabes. They’re more about looking rich than being rich.”

  “You judge too harshly. They just want to have fun.”

  TJ held his gaze. “Tell me this, then. When was the last time you had a conversation in this club that engaged you, that caught your imagination, let alone your intellect?”

  Oscar shrugged. “Not for a while. Probably only with you or with Hope and Chance when they were here.” He smiled. “And Clay McAdam when he played here.”