What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(82)

“Well, Craig showed it to me last month, and I suppose I could consider it…if the price is right.”

Simcek’s relief was obvious. “I’ll get some figures to you this afternoon.”

Jase shrugged.

Play it cool, Redlander. It’s not in the bag yet.

“Just drop them off with Craig, and I’ll look at them when I have time.” Actually, he wanted to ice the deal as quickly as possible, before the news got out about the retirement community Ray wanted to build in the area.

He moved the conversation onto the Baylor Bears’ chances at winning the conference this year, his stock topic for Bosque Bend. Within a few minutes, Simcek announced he was late for an appointment and had to leave.

Jase watched him thread his way through the tables and gave Craig a one-sided smile. “Probably running off to get those numbers down on paper while he still has me willing to look at them.”

*



Jase stayed at the table for another round of drinks.

Three beers with lunch. He hadn’t done that in a long time, but he was courting Craig for a job with Redlander Properties. It would mean a fair amount of travel up and down I-35, but it would also mean a lot more money than First National was paying him.

Finally he stuck a tip under the ersatz oil lamp and rose to go. The restaurant was emptying out now, but the birthday boys were still celebrating under a giant chandelier made of deer antlers. Jase thought he recognized a couple of his old high school teammates as he and Craig passed by the table.

Kevin Short, wide receiver, was apparently the honoree, but where was Kev’s old partner in crime, Gordie Gilliam, quarterback extraordinaire? Gordie was a nasty piece of work. Probably skipped town years ago.

Jase spotted a door labeled GENTS on the near wall and realized the beer was getting to him.

“Wait a second, Craig. Gotta make a pit stop.”

*



The restroom was strictly utilitarian, a white-tiled relief from all the kitsch outside the door. At the sink, a slender, vaguely familiar-looking man was washing his hands, his lime-green party hat on the counter beside him.

Damn. Wouldn’t you know it—number one on Jase’s do-not-call list—Gordie Gilliam.

Ol’ Gordie had grown up in the west end, just like he had, but somehow he’d made himself everybody’s favorite, in part by his constant jibes at Growler Red’s oafish son.

Gordie glanced at Jase, wiped his hands on a paper towel, and walked unsteadily toward him.

He hadn’t aged well, Jase noted. Gordie’s bright blond hair had thinned, retreating several inches from his high forehead, and his skin seemed blotchy. He’d gained weight too, mainly in his belly. Golden Boy had been a heavy drinker back then, and apparently still was.

Gordie gave him a halfway smile. “Jase.” He slurred the s.

Great. Gordie was soused. Should he ignore him or walk out?

“Kev told me you were in t-town. Heard you’ve been doing Dave Carson’s ex-wife.” He balanced himself against the wall. “What’s she like? Always—always had a fancy for that p-piece of honey myself. All lah-di-dah on the—the outside—but I bet she’s a real tiger once you get her in the sack.” He winked at Jase. “With a father like hers was, you know she’s no better than sh-she needs to be.”

Jase gave Gordie a stare that should have turned him to stone.

“Miss Harlow is a friend,” he replied in a soft, controlled voice. “I have a great deal of respect for her. In fact, my daughter is staying with her at present.”

Turning his back on the most popular boy at Bosque Bend High School, he began to push the restroom door open. He could wait till he got back to the house to relieve his bladder.

Gordie snarled and came after him, clutching at his arm.

“Damn you, Redlander, don’t you s-snub me! You think you’re s-so high and mighty, with Rick Simcek and that new guy at the bank sucking up to you! But I remember you when you were in the free lunch line at Westside Elementary because your father drank up every cent he made! And I remember when they ran you out of town because you did the job on the best English t-teacher that Bosque Bend High School ever had!”

Jase paused at the open door and looked back. “Watch it, Gilliam. I could head drop you so hard your skull would crack open and what’s left of your brain would leak out.”

Bosque Bend’s favorite son retreated toward the far corner of the restroom, but not without getting in his final volley.

“You’re trash, Redlander! And as far as I’m c-concerned, you can have that Harlow bitch! You belong together! Two of a kind!”

Red flames erupted in Jase’s skull and he started walking toward Gordie, his arms hanging loose like Growler’s did when he was planning to take somebody down.

At the same time, the restroom door banged open and Craig Freiberg rushed in. “Let me handle this, Jase! He’s drunk!”

Jase watched in surprise as Craig grabbed Gordie’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and frog-marched him out the door. Then, breathing deeply for a minute, Jase willed himself to relax.

Who would have ever guessed Craig, the stereotypical ninety-seven-pound weakling, had it in him?

After using the urinal, he walked over to the sinks and looked in the mirror at his flushed face, realizing, not for the first time, that he looked like his father. He lifted his hands and looked at his palms. He, who’d played it so cool when swimming in Richard Simcek’s shark tank, had nearly gone ballistic when dealing with a prawn like Gordie Gilliam. God, he’d wanted to grind Gordie into the concrete floor, but even if Craig hadn’t appeared on the scene, he knew he wouldn’t have done it.