Good Girl(63)

"Lydia," Vince replies like I'm especially slow. "It was all Lydia's idea. From what she told me, you two had a thing in a bar but she thought you had a paying-for-it fetish because you couldn't seal the deal with her."

Vince could not be any less impressed with me right now. He just held up two fingers and bent them in the universal air quote gesture while he said 'paying-for-it fetish.'

"I don't—"

"I don't want to know," he interrupts with a shake of his head. "I called Canon to find out if anything she was saying was real or if he needed me to call the police to report that you had a nutcase following you around. Canon confirmed that the two of you did have a thing." He air-quotes again here when he says 'a thing' as if it's ridiculous to him. "And he was quite taken with Lydia's grand plan to seduce you into admitting you were interested in her by staging an auction. I was feeling especially charitable that day, as it were, so we collaborated on how best to get you here."

I make a mental note to cut Canon's staff. He really does have too much time on his hands.

"So what was the money for? Why the hell did you goad me into half a million if all of this is fake?" I ask, but my mind is racing with how epically I’ve blown this with Lydia.

"I'm not a stranger to charitable donations, Rhys. Getting you to fund a charitable cause was the least you could do to reimburse me for my time."

"You're a real dick, you know that?"

Vince shrugs. "It was for a good cause."

"The cause being?" I question. "Gold-leaf nipple pasties for everyone?"

"Lydia didn't want the money," Vince replies, ignoring my dig as he drags a finger across the mousepad on his laptop. "I was gouging you for my own entertainment. And the cause, of course," he adds, flashing a sardonic grin at me.

"Right. The cause. Which is?"

"New campground," Vince retorts, flipping his laptop around to face me. "For the Girl Troopers of Greater Las Vegas. Found a great property out at Red Rock, but the property is lacking a suitable cabin. There's one there but it was abandoned a decade ago and the agent said it's uninhabitable. Plus you know how hot it gets here,” he says, brow rising in meaning. "A pool would be a nice addition. For the campers."

"That's what you need a million for?"

"Yeah. Assuming Lydia likes the property. I'll get the land into escrow, then hire a general contractor to level the existing cabin and build something up to code. Add in a pool, maybe a tennis court. Then we'll donate it to the Girl Troopers."

"She'll want to renovate." I sigh. "She'll want to save whatever dilapidated structure is still standing with some romantic vision of its historic charm. Even if it's a pile of shit from the 1980's. We'll need to hire someone who can renovate or use whatever's left of it to build a porch swing or some shit like that. It'll make her happy."

"Fine with me." He shrugs. He pulls a Post-It from his desk drawer and scribbles down the campsite address before passing it over to me. "Are we done here? I'll send you a receipt for your charitable donation. Don't let the door hit you on the way out and you might still catch her there."

"Thank you, Vince."

"She's too good for you."

"I know. I want her anyway." If it’s not too late. It can’t be too late because I can’t go back to a life without Lydia in it.





Thirty-Three





RHYS



Red Rock is just outside of Vegas and per the GPS on my car I should be at this campsite Vince is sending me to in just over half an hour. Which means I've got half an hour to sit in my car and think about what an asshole I am. It's ten straight miles down Charleston until the road curves and I start winding my way towards the campground.

It takes another ten minutes and a nearly missed turn to reach my destination and I'm relieved to see two cars parked outside an old cabin that should surely be condemned. I park beside Lydia's car and scan the area, unsure if they're inside or walking the property. There's no door on the cabin, or much of a roof really. I don't see anyone so I head for the door. Or the doorway, as it were.

I hear her voice as soon as I cross the threshold. She's standing with the real-estate agent facing a window in the side of the cabin, the glass long gone. There's a view of Red Rock Canyon in the background but it doesn't hold a candle to a glimpse of Lydia.

"I picked a bad swan," she's telling the woman. "I picked a bad swan and I mated with him and now I'm stuck with him because I'm ninety-three percent in love with him even though he's an idiot." She shakes her head and then stops abruptly, leaning towards the real-estate agent. "Not the pregnant kind of mating, just the fun kind. Can I say that? I was a Trooper for thirteen years, you know. I earned all the health badges so I know how reproductive mating works and I've covered my bases. I'm probably going to earn a 'didn't get knocked up by accident' badge."

"Um…" The agent stalls, tilting her head to the side, clearly not sure how to respond to anything that just came out of Lydia's mouth. Then she spots me and relief covers her face. "Well, look at that. Looks like your swan came for you."