Текст книги "The Long Game"
Автор книги: J. Fynn
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I SHUT THE bedroom door as quietly as I could with my hands full of coffee and muffins. I’d gone back to the Carroll Center just after dawn, mostly to get breakfast but also to see what kind of damage we’d done the day before. I’d had no choice but to wear Spencer’s slippers, but luckily for me no one noticed. The fountain had been turned off and most of the bubbles had been cleared away, but the water’s surface had a frothy sheen.
Spencer was still asleep. I knew she had an early class, and as badly as I wanted to crawl back into bed with her, I wasn’t going to let her get into the habit of skiving off. I set the coffee and muffins down on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed. I watched her sleep for a few seconds more before I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and she gave me a sleepy smile.
“Morning, beautiful,” I said.
“Morning.” She yawned and stretched the sleep from her shoulders and back.
“I brought you some breakfast.” I reached for one of the paper cups and handed it to her. “You may want to avoid the Carroll Center for a few days until they get things cleaned up and that guy has a chance to forget what we look like.”
She snickered into the lid of her cup as she took a sip.
“So,” I said, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden. “I guess I should let you get ready for class.” I stood up but leaned back down to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Any plans for dinner?” she asked
“Not that I can think of. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking, since we kind of…made things official last night, maybe it’s time I introduce you to my dad. I’m supposed to have dinner with him this evening. I thought you could come.”
It took me a few seconds to process what she’d just offered. An invitation to Tommy’s house. Tonight. Something that would have thrilled me just a few days earlier had my stomach in knots today. “Sure.” I grinned at her, hoping it hid the conflicting emotions I felt. “As long as we don’t have to tell him how we ‘made it official.’”
“Heh. Yeah, no.” She grimaced. “It’s going to be hard enough for him to deal with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing without putting that image into his head.”
“Good deal. You want to go over together?”
“I’m going early to help cook, but I’ll text you the address. It’s right on the Main Line, really close to the train stop.”
“Time?” It occurred to me that I was way more interested in how soon I’d be seeing her again than how soon I’d be getting into Tommy’s house.
“Sevenish?”
“I’ll see you then. Have fun in class.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, yeah. Microeconomics is a party.”
I chuckled and bent down once more to kiss her on the forehead. “See you at seven.”
* * *
I climbed the wooden stairs to my efficiency, thinking about dinner that evening. I knew I should be happy that I’d finally gotten what I’d come for—or at least was closer to it—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of Spencer in my arms last night or the image of her asleep in bed next to me. I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d lose the chance to ever see her again. If I found the ledger tonight, I’d be on my way back to the Village by this time tomorrow.
But then, what were the chances Tommy would keep something like that just laying around? Odds were good I might not even find it tonight. Or ever, really. The thought of failure suddenly didn’t seem so bad, and I quickened my pace up the rickety steps.
The smell of cigarette smoke caught my attention before I heard the reedy voice. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”
I stopped short, astonished by the sight of Judd Sheedy leaning back against my door, dangling a burning cigarette between his knees.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I’d assumed the Mercedes I’d passed on my way up the driveway belonged to a guest of my landlord’s, but I shouldn’t have missed the Louisiana plates. My time with Spencer was making me soft.
“Pop was starting to worry that you might be fucking around up here on his dime.” He flicked the cigarette at my feet. “I came to make sure the job gets done.”
I swept the smoldering butt off the stairs with the side of my bare foot. “Thanks, but I’m doing fine on my own. You can tell Pop that when you get home.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “I’m staying until you get the book or I get it myself.”
The idea of Judd Sheedy getting anywhere near Spencer had me to the landing and yanking him to his feet by his shirt collar before I had time to think about it. I slammed him back against the door.
“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just stay out of my way.”
Judd flashed his rat-like sneer. “Easy, Buffer. This ain’t much of a welcome. You haven’t even invited me in for tea. What would Maggie say?”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to calm down. He hadn’t even mentioned Spencer, so there was no use getting into a fight in full view of my landlord’s house and getting us both kicked off the property. I let him go and nudged in between him and the door so I could unlock it.
“Come on.” I yanked the door and stepped aside. “Get in here before someone sees you and thinks I’ve started taking in vagrants.”
“Nice,” Judd said. “Mr. Big Shot pretends to be in college and suddenly thinks he’s better than me. Just remember, you haven’t found that book yet and odds are you never will. You think you were dog shit in the clan before? Just wait until you have to go back empty-handed.”
I slammed the door behind me and flicked a light switch to illuminate the dim apartment. “Fuck off.”
Judd crossed to the refrigerator. “So, Buffer…” He helped himself to a long swig of milk straight from the carton and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What’s your plan? Assuming you even have one.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m having dinner at Tommy’s tonight.” I knew I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin—the less Judd knew the better—but I couldn’t help taking the bait when he started in on me that way.
“And it only took you, what, a month?” He tossed the open carton back inside the refrigerator, and I saw a stream of milk spill out before he slammed the door shut.
I grabbed a rag from the counter. “You’re a damn slob, you know it?” I shoved him aside and opened the door again. The carton had nearly emptied itself, and milk pooled on the bottom shelf. I sopped it up and threw the wet rag into the sink.
“What do I care about cleaning up? That’s what women are for. And pussies like you, I guess.” He laughed at his own joke and made himself comfortable at the kitchen table, sitting in one chair and putting his feet up on the other. “So tell me about this dinner.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m going to Tommy’s around seven, and I’ll look for the ledger while I’m there.”
“That’s your big plan?”
“Do you have a better one?”
“What if I do? This ain’t my show. You’re the one who wants to be the big hero.”
“I thought you came to make sure the job was done right, Prince.”
“I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck it up, Buffer. I know how you are when you get a good whiff of some pretty slash. You start thinking with your johnson, and there ain’t much there to think with.”
I kicked the chair out from under his feet, and they crashed to the floor, pulling him to the edge of his seat. He sprang out of the chair and slammed his hands into my chest, shoving me backward.
I hit the refrigerator and sent magnets scattering. I was back in his face in a heartbeat, though, my hands clenched into fists. “You just remember who Pop sent here in the first place, asshole. If he thought you were even close to smart enough, don’t you think he would have sent you instead?”
“He knows I’m good for more than finding some little book. I was out on the road while you wasted all your time in school. Playing fetch is all you’re good for.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Prince. Maybe one of these days you’ll actually believe it.”
“If you didn’t have to look presentable for your little dinner tonight, I’d wail the tar out of you, you little shit. Jimmy Boy isn’t around to protect you this time, so don’t push your damn luck.”
We were in each other’s faces now, so close I could feel flecks of his spit on my cheek when he threatened me. My muscles jumped with the desire to pummel him. “I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass without you landing a punch if you’re that worried about keeping my face pretty.”
“In your dreams, Buffer. Maybe I should fuck you up so I can take your place at dinner. I saw a picture of Costello’s daughter, and I gotta say, I can see why you’ve been taking your time with that hot little piece of ass.”
I shoved him so hard it knocked him from his feet, and he flew backward, landing on the table, which immediately collapsed under him. He scrambled back to his feet, sending pieces of broken wood sliding across the kitchen floor. He slammed his body into me and drove me back into the fridge, which groaned as it inched backward, gouging out strips of linoleum. I lowered my head into his shoulder and aimed my fists into his sides, one after the other. I shoved him again, all my weight behind the effort, and he stumbled back. His foot caught a broken table leg, and he crashed to the ground a second time. I threw myself on top of him, intent on unleashing every bit of frustration, anger, and uncertainty I’d been keeping at bay since I’d realized how I really felt about Spencer. I let my arms fly, not all that concerned with where they landed. Judd defended himself with one hand and strained to reach something underneath him with the other. I assumed he was groping for a broken table leg, and I wasn’t really concerned about his ability to land a blow with it. But when something cold and hard pressed into the skin under my chin, I froze.
“That’s what I thought.” Judd panted. He kept the barrel of the gun tight under my jaw and forced me back so he could push himself up to sitting. “Now you want to rethink that whole kicking-my-ass thing?”
“Christ, Judd.” I held my hands up in surrender. “What the hell? You crazy fuck.”
“That’s right, keep insulting the guy with the gun. Real smart, Buffer.”
“You gonna shoot me for calling you crazy? That would kind of prove my point, wouldn’t it?” Part of me worried he might honestly be that crazy, but I tried not to let the panic I was feeling show in my face. There was nothing I could do about the thrumming heartbeat in my ears though.
“Try me and see.” Judd’s eyes glinted wildly. “I could have the book and a quick taste of that little slice of cherry pie and be on the road again before anyone found you.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter, but the gun at my neck kept me from doing anything more. “Okay, you’re right,” I forced myself to say. “I think we both just need to cool off. I admit I got a little distracted, but the game is back on track now. I’ll have what I came for by tonight. Just put that thing away.”
“You better.” Judd dropped the pistol from my chin but made sure it stayed where I could see it. “Or I’ll be more than happy to do it for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I GLANCED AT the text from Spencer on my phone’s display, then frowned up at the imposing Main Line house. Set back from the road behind a long row of tall, thin hedges, the house was a huge gray stone construction spread out over what could’ve easily been an entire city block.
I double-checked the address on the unadorned black mailbox at the end of the driveway. I’d congratulated myself on finding the house so quickly after leaving the SEPTA station, but now that I saw the meandering driveway, I was pretty sure I’d made a mistake. When Spencer told me her father lived in the affluent neighborhood a couple miles from Balanova’s campus, I’d imagined a less gaudy version of Pop Sheedy’s house back home, but the word “large” hardly seemed to capture this monster. The area was home to some of Philadelphia’s wealthiest families, but this place put most of its neighbors to shame. I confirmed the address a final time, then started up the drive.
Once the house was in full view, I couldn’t stop from blowing out a low whistle. Tommy Costello had money—and way more than the five hundred large he’d stolen from my clan. The reality of just how successful he’d been since he’d taken off was just now starting to settle in. Spencer had told me Tommy was a venture capitalist, whatever that was, and it’s why he was so keen on her studying business instead of literature like she wanted. I had to admit, if this is what a business degree could get you, I’d be willing to take a few classes myself. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I glanced around for a place to sit.
As the driveway approached the house, it circled around a low, stone wall that enclosed a perfectly landscaped section of the lawn. I walked over to it and sat behind a wide shrub that had been planted among the flowers and saplings. I leaned forward on my knees and breathed in through templed fingers.
There was no reason for nervousness, I told myself. Maggie was fond of telling me I was favored by the fairies, and maybe she was right. I didn’t believe her folktales any more now than I had when I was little, but I had to admit everything about this con had come pretty easily.
Well, almost everything.
I thought of Judd, sitting on the couch where I’d left him back at my apartment, and the gun he’d so casually laid on the coffee table. If I came back empty-handed tonight, there’d be no telling what he would do. Or who he would hurt to get what he wanted.
I shifted on the cold stone, my thoughts turning to Spencer. I’d made an enormous mistake in falling for her, but if I didn’t get what I’d come for, she’d be in danger of things a lot worse than a broken heart. Still, she was the first girl I’d ever let myself have feelings for, the only girl I could ever imagine feeling this way about, and now I was supposed to walk into her father’s house and steal from him.
I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts tumbling around inside it. It wasn’t my heart or Spencer’s I needed to be concerned with. The closer I’d gotten to Spencer, the less I’d thought about Rosie Sheedy. Marrying her had zero appeal, even up against the idea of one night with Spencer. But I needed to think about Maggie and Jimmy Boy. The way Judd talked about my family, it was pretty clear that if I didn’t get the book soon, I wasn’t the only one who would suffer for it.
It was what it was. I came to Balanova for one reason, and I couldn’t change things now. I balled my hands into fists and rubbed my knuckles hard against the top of my thighs. Falling for a mark was a stupid mistake—an unforgivable one—but only if I let it get in the way of the job.
Besides, it wasn’t Spencer I was there to con. Not really. It was Tommy, and he deserved it. It was his selfishness that had robbed Spencer of the chance to grow up around family and friends in the Village. And, of course, it was Tommy who’d betrayed my clan and my father. I needed to remember that.
I stood up and followed the stone wall around to its other side. The dark mahogany door greeted me, and I glanced down at myself before going up the steps to knock. I’d chosen a pair of gray slacks and a simple black button-down. Originally I’d worn a tie, too, but Judd’s mocking laughter had quickly convinced me to abandon it before leaving the carriage house. I brushed some lint from my shirt, then ran a palm down the front of my slacks to smooth out any wrinkles.
Satisfied with my appearance, I bounded up the stone stairway that led to the front door. I reached the porch and blew out a long breath before lifting the thick, iron doorknocker.
I held my breath as I waited for the door to open. Would Tommy answer? Would he somehow recognize me as a Traveler—or, worse yet, as Wiley Jim’s son—and slam the door in my face? Suddenly this dinner seemed like a terrible idea. I needed more time or at least a better plan. I needed a way into the house that wouldn’t involve meeting Tommy at all. I needed—
“Spencer.” I took a step back as the door swung open and grabbed the iron railing to steady myself.
“You found it.” She beamed at me and stepped down onto the porch to take my free hand in both of hers. “I was a little worried you might get lost.” She pulled me through the door and into the cool air inside the house.
The joy in her face made all my earlier nervousness vanish in an instant. Somehow, just being near her made me certain everything would work out the way it needed to. “It’s a little…bigger than I was expecting, but yeah, I found it okay.” I smiled down at her as I shut the door behind me.
She grinned sheepishly at the floor. “I may have understated the size a little bit. I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging or anything.”
I chuckled and slid my fingers along her jawline, tilting her face so she looked up at me. “Spence, you’re the most unassuming person I’ve ever met. You could tell me your father was the Pope, and it wouldn’t sound like you were bragging.” I leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.
Spencer’s smile grew, and she stood on tiptoes to throw her arms around my neck. I winced as she pressed into my bruised ribs but wrapped my own arms around her waist and found her lips with mine. I would’ve been content standing there kissing her in the hall all evening, but a voice at the back of my head—one that sounded a lot like Judd Sheedy—reminded me of why I’d accepted the invitation to dinner in the first place.
“Something smells amazing,” I said, using it as a convenient excuse to put a little distance between her mouth and mine.
“Dinner should be ready soon. I hope you like lasagna.”
She looked toward the kitchen. I took the opportunity to glance down at her while her attention was elsewhere. She wore a cream-colored skirt made of a gauzy material, and the neckline of her black sweater framed her delicate collarbone in a way that made me want to run my tongue over it and down to the hollow at the base of her throat.
“You look beautiful,” I managed.
Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.” She held her hand out to me, and I laced my fingers in hers.
We walked toward the back of the house, passing a wide staircase that sat to the right of the hall and disappeared into darkness several feet over our heads. On the left, the French doors that served as the entrance to a sunken, formal living room stood open, giving the wall a sort of slack-jawed appearance. The room was dimly lit, and I only caught a glimpse of its contents before passing. The shadowy figures of several large pieces of furniture crouched around the room, but it didn’t look like the kind of place Tommy would hide a stolen ledger.
“This place is a little like a museum.” I barely spoke above a whisper. The house was beautiful and tastefully decorated as far as I could tell, but the air seemed too close—almost oppressive—and I wished for the cool evening breeze that had kicked up outside.
“I know,” she said. “We don’t use the front of the house very often. To be honest, we don’t use much of the house at all. No one ever goes upstairs. It’s not even furnished. It’s kind of a shame. I’m not really sure why my dad bought such a big place when he’d be fine in a condo, but I guess it looks good when he has clients over.”
“Does he have people over often?”
“Once in a while.” She shrugged. “He’s having some cocktail party in a few days, actually. I’m supposed to be here to play hostess.” She turned to flash a weary expression over her shoulder.
“Sounds awesome.”
“Yeah, almost as much fun as microeconomics.” She laughed but stopped abruptly to turn back to me. “It would be way more fun if you’d be there.”
Her expression was so hopeful I couldn’t say no, even though there was every chance I’d be on a bus to Louisiana by then. “I’d love to,” I said. “Assuming your dad is cool with it.”
Her mouth split into a wide grin, and she threw her arms around my neck a second time. “You’re the best,” she said. “And don’t worry about my dad. He’ll probably be too distracted to even notice, but I’ll ask him just to be sure. Come on.”
She started toward the brightly lit kitchen at the end of the hall, and although I could only see a section of cabinets through the doorway, I heard running water somewhere inside the room. I slowed a little, tugging her arm. She paused for half a second, then gave my hand an encouraging squeeze and kept moving.
We crossed through the doorway and emerged in the biggest kitchen I’d ever seen. The wall in front of me was lined with white cabinets. Granite countertops stretched around the room, broken into sections by the sink on the back wall and a huge stove on another. An island dominated the middle of the room and sported the same granite as the surface of the counter. A rack of gleaming copper cookware hung above it, mirroring the copper hood suspended over the stove. A small table was tucked into the breakfast nook on the far left of the room. Its worn and battered appearance made it look out of place in a kitchen that otherwise seemed to have fallen from the pages of a magazine, but something told me it was a favorite piece of furniture for Spencer and her father, probably something they’d taken with them from place to place while they moved around the country the last two decades.
A man stood at the kitchen sink washing a soapy bowl, his back turned to us. The water was running, but rather than rinsing the dish, he stared out of the window in front of him. Spencer cleared her throat, and I watched the man’s shoulders go rigid and then quickly relax again. He rinsed the bowl, set it in the wire dish rack, then turned off the water and grabbed a dishtowel. He dried his hands as he turned to face us. From across the kitchen, Tommy Costello appeared several inches taller than me and seemed to grow even larger as he approached. He had red hair like Spencer, though his was a lighter shade of copper than hers. Tommy grinned at us and slung the dishtowel over one shoulder. Deep grooves forged from years of good-natured smiles framed his mouth, and my apprehension eased just a little.
“Well, I guess he found the place after all, Spence,” he said, then turned his gaze to me. “She’s been pacing around in the hall for the last half-hour, worried you’d gotten lost.”
I laughed. “She mentioned that.”
“Dad,” Spencer said, clearly anxious to change the subject before her father said anything else to embarrass her, “this is Shane Casey. Shane, my dad, Tommy Costello.”
I told myself I was being paranoid, but the flash of recognition I caught in his eyes made my hand shake a little when I extended it to Tommy. He remained motionless for a second and then took my hand, squeezing it a bit harder than necessary.
“Pleasure to meet you, Shane,” he said. “Spencer’s told me almost nothing about you.” He released my hand and crossed his arms over his chest, causing the blue fabric of his sweater to strain over the muscles of his arms.
“There’s not much to tell, I guess.” I smiled at Spencer, then returned my attention to Tommy. The older man studied me through narrowed eyes. I hoped the expression was nothing more than the appraising look of a father meeting his daughter’s boyfriend for the first time, but something warned me to be cautious. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and shoved my hands into the pockets of my slacks.
“Hmm,” Tommy grunted. “I guess we’ll see.”
Spencer looked nervously from her father to me and back again. Tommy’s icy demeanor was obviously what she’d been worried about, and she seemed unsure how to proceed. “Well, I guess we should probably eat,” she said finally.
Tommy looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. “Sure. Of course, hon. Why don’t you grab the salad and show Shane into the dining room?”
Spencer nodded and grabbed a large glass bowl from the island. She crossed the kitchen to a doorway on the right side of the room, and I trailed after her. A long, highly polished table with thick legs gleamed in the light of a low-hanging chandelier. Though it offered seating for at least a dozen people, only three places had been set at its far end. Spencer carried the salad around to the opposite side and walked down the length of the table. She set the bowl near the plates.
“You can sit there.” She pointed to the place across from her.
I made my way to it but didn’t take my seat. Instead, I gripped the back of the chair and drummed my fingers against it. “I’m not so sure your dad likes me.” I glanced at the doorway to ensure Tommy wasn’t on his way through it.
“It’s not that,” she said. “He’s still dealing with this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing. Like I said, I’ve never told him about the guys I’ve dated before, and I’ve definitely never invited anyone for dinner.” She pulled out her chair and slid into it, then smoothed the wispy fabric of her skirt over her legs. “You’re the first guy I ever wanted to invite.”
A wave of guilt nudged at me when she aimed a shy smile in my direction, but I pushed it away and smiled back. “Well, I’m honored to have that distinction.”
Tommy emerged from the kitchen wearing bright green oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish. He eased the dish onto a trivet that had been set out on the sideboard behind Spencer and pulled the mitts off.
“Looks delicious as usual, Spence.” He reached over her shoulder to retrieve her plate. He scooped a section of the lasagna onto it, then handed it back. He extended his hand to me, and I obediently offered my plate. Tommy filled it with a generous portion and passed it back. “This is Spencer’s specialty. It’s her own recipe—one she won’t even share with me, which is fine because that means she has to visit once in a while to make it for me.” Tommy nudged Spencer with his elbow as he piled lasagna onto his own plate.
“Okay, Dad,” she said. “I can make lasagna. We get it.”
Tommy chuckled and took his seat at the head of the table. “All right, I’m done complimenting you.” Spencer pursed her lips and raised a skeptical eyebrow, which only made her father laugh harder. “For now, at least,” he said.
Spencer rolled her eyes, and her gaze met mine across the table. We smiled at each other before Tommy cleared his throat and we both snapped our attention back to him. He gave me a tight-lipped smile before bowing his head, plainly expecting me to follow suit. I did, but looked at Spencer through lowered lashes and gave her a conspiratorial wink when she did the same.
“Shane,” Tommy said. I lowered my eyes again, feeling like a child who’d been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. “Would you care to say the blessing?”
I swallowed. “Of course, sir,” I said after a moment, then recited the well-engrained Catholic prayer. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
All three of us raised our heads and crossed ourselves perfunctorily. Tommy helped himself to salad, then retrieved his fork and held it suspended over his plate. “So, Shane, Spencer tells me you’re a transfer to Balanova.”
I nodded and hurried to finish the large bite of lasagna I’d taken. “Yes, sir. This is my first semester.”
“And where were you before this?” Tommy took a bite of his own dinner but kept his eyes locked on me.
“Shane went to Loyola,” Spencer said, clearly trying to save me from Tommy’s grilling.
“I see,” Tommy said. His expression was unreadable.
I dropped my eyes to my plate and took another large bite in the hope it would delay any more questions for at least the time it took to chew. I chewed very slowly.
“He’s from New Orleans,” she added.
The bit of lasagna I’d just swallowed caught in my throat, and I coughed. I lifted my head and rapidly shifted my gaze from Spencer to her father. Tommy’s expression darkened and I saw the muscle of his jaw twitch, but his face was impassive again within a second. I looked back at Spencer and was relieved to see she hadn’t seemed to notice her father’s reaction because she hadn’t taken her eyes off me. She frowned, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement.
“You okay?”
I nodded and took a few gulps of water. “Fine, yeah.” I grinned at her. “Sorry. I guess I should take smaller bites.”
She giggled. “Respiratory distress tends to take the fun out of the meal. Chewing is recommended.”
I snickered, relieved the moment had passed without incident. “Thanks for the advice.” I winked at her.
She beamed and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. I returned my attention to the plate in front of me but glanced at Tommy from the corner of my eye. He continued to eat in silence but occasionally looked at his daughter with a sort of worried expression. Spencer smiled at her plate and pushed her food around its surface with her fork. I wondered if she wished as badly as I did that we were back in her sorority room instead of sitting at her father’s dinner table in uncomfortable silence.
After several minutes, Tommy laid his fork across his empty plate and leaned back in his chair. “That was wonderful, hon.”
Spencer set down her fork and smiled wearily at him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“It was amazing, Spence,” I said, propping my elbows on either side of my empty plate.
“Thanks.” She smiled at me, too, though she seemed much happier for the compliment now. “Oh, so, Dad…” She turned back to Tommy. “You know the thing on Friday?”
“The very important dinner I’m having for clients that you promised to help with?” Tommy raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m aware of it.”
“Yeah, that.” Spencer rolled her eyes. “I’m definitely going to be there, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Shane tagged along? We could always use the extra hands, and if he’s there, I wouldn’t have to spend the whole night talking to a room full of boring old guys in suits.”
“Those ‘boring old guys in suits’ pay your tuition, you know.” Tommy tried to look stern, but it was obvious he very rarely said no to his daughter.
“Please?” She folded her hands like a little girl begging for a pony.
“Sure,” he relented. “Fine.”
Happy to get her way, she stood and began collecting the dirty dishes and utensils. As I watched her, I was aware of Tommy watching me.
