Call It What You Want(51)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rob

Well, damn.

Before everything happened with my father, I never had a bad relationship with Connor’s dad. I could fill a diary with the stories Connor has told me about him, but the guy has never been anything but polite to me. Sometimes I’d complain to Dad about him, especially after the sleeping-outside-in-freezing-rain incident, and Dad would sigh and say, “Bill’s a good man, Rob. I didn’t always see eye to eye with your grandfather, but now I can respect the choices he had to make. Connor might be upset, but a man’s relationship with his son can get very complicated.”

No kidding.

I have no idea where Bill came from, but he’s by the wet bar, looking like the perfect corporate dad in khakis and a polo shirt, dark-framed glasses perched on his nose. For a brain-splitting moment, I wonder if he’s been there all along and I somehow missed him. I’m still standing beside the hot tub, but Maegan has slid off the ledge. Now she’s clinging to my back, hiding behind me.

Her breath is a hot rush against my shoulder. “Oh my god, do you know that guy?”

“Yes.” I have to clear my throat. My body was not prepared for the abrupt 180 of emotion. I’m flushed and hard and angry and humiliated. Maegan’s breasts pressing into my back are not helping. Then again, neither is the knowing look on Bill’s face.

I can’t read his expression, but there’s no disguising what was going on here. Maybe he’ll call the cops and sell out a second member of the Lachlan family.

I have to clear my throat again. “This is Connor’s dad.”

The man looks over his glasses at us. “It’s been a while, Rob. Shall I give you and your … friend … a moment to arrange yourselves?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and walks through the door to his dimly lit office.

Was he in there all this time?

His voice floats out to us. “Come in and talk to me for a minute when you’re done, Rob.”

That doesn’t sound promising.

Maegan is scrambling to grab her shirt off the floor. “Is this going to be okay?” she whispers quickly. “Are we going to be in trouble?”

“Taking your shirt off isn’t a crime.” My voice is edged, but none of my anger is at her, so I run a finger along her jaw to soften the words. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

I have no idea whether that’s true.

She pulls her shirt over her head in a rush. “Why does he want to talk to us?”

“Not us. Me.” I’m fumbling to get the buttons undone on my shirt; they don’t go back on anywhere near as easily as they come off. “You don’t have to go in there.”

“But he said—”

“I don’t care what he said. I’m not dragging you into this.”

“Are you still getting dressed?” Bill calls.

I pull my shirt on, then give Maegan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Find Samantha. Just wait for me in the living room.”

My shirt is only half-buttoned when I get to the doorway of Bill’s office. The room is shadowed and dim, thanks to a tiny desk lamp sitting by his computer. The furniture in here is all rich red leather and sleek polished wood. Diplomas and awards hang framed on the wall behind him, along with a painting of a moonlit harbor that’s a real Chagall.

I never gave these things much thought a year ago. Now, they’re hard to reconcile when I think about Owen asking if I ever had a ten-dollar bill in my pocket when I saw him with a cheese sandwich. Connor’s mom can be careless with a pair of expensive earrings, while Owen’s mom was stressed about walking through a hundred-dollar pair of work shoes.

I have to shake these thoughts free.

Despite prompting me twice to come talk to him, Bill doesn’t look up when I stop in the doorway. A few documents sit on the desk in a near-perfect line across the blotter. A pencil is in his hand, and he’s looking at one of the documents. It’s a passive-aggressive move. You’re not important until I decide you are.

I have zero tolerance for this bullshit. I rap my knuckles on the door frame. “You wanted to see me?”

“Rob! Come in. It’s been ages.” He shuffles the papers together into a pile and turns them facedown. When he looks up at me, he removes his glasses, and his eyes are troubled. “I’ve been worried about you. We haven’t seen you around, and I know things have been difficult.”

Things.

I don’t move from the doorway. “Mom and I are doing all right.”

“Marjorie called her the other day. She said your mom’s been encouraging you to get some help.”

I bristle. I don’t like the thought of Mom talking about me with anyone in this family. I know my father is responsible for what he did, but Bill Tunstall is the one who brought it crashing down. Maybe Mom can separate that in her head, but I sure can’t.

“I should go check on Maegan,” I say.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your little … ah, rendezvous, but I’m glad you’re here.” He rocks back in his chair. “Connor said you’ve been avoiding him. It’s good to see you boys are spending some time together again.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” I hesitate. “Have you been back here this whole time?”