Текст книги "His Kind of Trouble"

Автор книги: Terri L. Austin

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter 12

“Jules,” he called.

An aggressively pink suitcase lay open on the bed, its contents strewn over the room like confetti at Carnival. Surely she hadn’t been here longer than a few hours. How could she do this in such a short amount of time? Astounding, really.

The bathroom door burst open and Jules—Juliette Margaret Hughes—emerged. As soon as she saw him, she threw her arms wide open and ran at him. “Hello, big brother, you fucking nutter. Surprised to see me?” Testing his reflexes, she jumped into his arms.

Cal managed to catch her, but staggered backward. He kissed her cheek, then lowered her to the floor. Surprised wasn’t the word he’d use. Shocked more like, and as it began to wear off, Cal realized he saw much more of her than he wanted to. Jules’s black bra clearly showed through her transparent pink blouse—which clashed dreadfully with her tangerine skin. She applied her makeup with a generous hand. A little too generous. Her gold sequined skirt was so short, Cal longed to pull the duvet from the bed and swaddle her in it. Even by Vegas standards, her clothing choices were questionable.

“Jules, what are you doing here? For God’s sake, is that what you wore on the plane?” Cal was going to have to wallop every asshole who looked at her sideways. And they would look.

“No, I flew starkers—of course this is what I wore. What’s wrong with it?” She stared down and tugged at her skirt.

“Where to begin?”

“Very funny. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Natur—”

“Because I had to get out of there. Daddy is cross and shouting all the bloody time. He canceled my credit cards, Cal. I had to borrow money from my biffle to get a plane ticket.”

Cal marched around the room and began gathering clothes. But he drew the line at touching scanties. He thrust the bundle into her arms. “What the fuck is a biffle?”

“BFFL. Best Friends for Life. God, what a divvy you are.”

“You’re dressed like an Essex girl, you know.”

Her mouth fell open. “I’m not.”

“You are, and it’s not attractive.”

She dropped the bundle of clothes. “Everyone in L.A. dresses like this, you knob.”

Cal sighed. Pulling her into his arms, he hugged her tight. He’d have kissed her forehead, but he was afraid his lips would be streaked with makeup for the rest of the day. “Sorry, you just took me by surprise is all.”

Jules hugged him back before glancing up. “You missed me. Don’t deny it.”

“Of course I did. You’re my favorite sister. Does Father know you’re here?”

She stepped back. “No. I just left. Not like he cares, banishing me to the pool house and all that.”

“And what about your mum? She cares.”

“She’s a lemming. She thinks whatever Daddy tells her to think.”

“Have you given any thought to your court date or the drink-driving charge? Do you think you can just do a runner, and the judge won’t notice?”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I don’t go back to court for a month.”

That would explain the six unopened suitcases piled up in the corner. While he was glad to see her, she couldn’t stay here. Their father would go barmy and cut her off for good. But how to tell her that without hurting her feelings? “Are you planning on picking up these clothes, or just leaving them in a heap?”

“Listen to you. When did you become so stodgy?”

“I am not stodgy. When did you get in?”

“Last night. Where were you, by the way?”

“Absolutely none of your business.”

“It’s like that, is it?”

Cal didn’t want to talk about his night. Instead, he walked into the closet and retrieved a fresh set of clothes. “Why don’t you pick up your clutter in the lounge and order us lunch,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t be daft, Cal. I’ll just call housekeeping and let them pick it up.”

Babs had taught Cal better than that. He may not be as neat as a pin, but he could certainly pick up after himself. He strode back into the bedroom and removed the house phone from her hand. “You made the mess, you’ll clean it up.” Without responding to her gasp of outrage, Cal pulled his phone and wallet from his jeans and dropped them on the bedside table, then stalked into the bathroom and shut the door with his foot.

He took a deep breath and stared at his reflection, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheeks. He looked a bit shot. No wonder, having spent the night with Ryan, the snore piggy.

His eyes drifted to the marble counter overflowing with feminine shit. Curlers and straighteners and a hair dryer were thrown haphazardly, their wires commingling and dripping to the floor like tentacles. Powder and eye shadow and nail varnish. Bloody fucking hell. And why did she need purple false eyelashes?

Shaking his head, Cal stripped and hopped in the shower. He shouldn’t be so hard on Jules. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and he’d missed her terribly. They just needed some ground rules. She wouldn’t be staying long, at any rate.

After drying off, he dressed in clean clothes and hastily shaved before strolling to the lounge. Jules had taken care of her plates and towels, and neatly stacked the magazines on the coffee table. As he continued out to the pool, he found her sprawled in a lounger, her shirt off and her skirt hiked up farther than was legal. “God, Jules.” He covered his eyes with one hand and sidled to the towel stand. Jerking two from the stack, he tossed them in her direction. “Get decent, will you?”

She sighed, and he heard the lounger creak with her movements. “When did you become such a fucking prude?” After a minute, she spoke again. “You can look.” She’d wrapped a towel around her so only the bra straps were visible.

Cal thrust his fingers through his damp hair. “I apologize for overreacting before. I was a twat.”

Jules’s brows rose over the tops of her pricey sunglasses. “You think?”

“Did you order us something to eat? I’m half-starved.”

“Yes, should be here in another fifteen.”

Cal perched on the second lounger. He and Jules stared at each other, neither saying a word. The silence grew to an embarrassing length.

She tugged on a curl, let it spring back in place. “So, Australia.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about Babs. I know you were gutted. You could have come to L.A. after she died. You didn’t have to stay in Cairns this whole time.”

Cal didn’t want to talk about it. It was still too raw, even after all these months. “I just needed some time alone. I apologize for missing your birthday, though.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

They remained quiet until Cal’s mobile rang, letting him know the food had arrived. It took three men to roll three carts into the villa. Cal signed the check and tipped them. He turned to Jules. “I do hope there’s something edible under all these domes.” He lifted the silver cloche and discovered cheesecake.

Cal grabbed a fork and tucked in while Jules uncovered the rest. She’d ordered everything from pizza to burgers to onion rings. Not a vegetable in sight.

As Cal ate, he studied her. Jules had changed in the last year, besides the trashy clothes and artistic makeup. She’d always been slim, but now her face had lost some of its roundness, making her eyes seem larger. Her limbs were more lithe, less coltish. His baby sister had grown up.

Other than birthdays, he didn’t see much of her. They mostly chatted by video, or texted. Cal’s father preferred it that way—after all, Cal was physical proof of the old man’s disastrous first marriage. George Hughes didn’t like to be reminded of his failures.

Cal gorged on cheeseburgers and chicken strips while Jules picked at a couple of French fries. Once Cal’s hunger subsided, he leaned back. “You have to let Father know you’re here.”

She stood and gathered their plates, setting them back on the carts. “He won’t even miss me. After he stopped yelling, he quit speaking to me altogether. He’s been issuing orders through Mum for the last few days.”

“You can’t just run from your troubles.”

“You did. You never stay in one place for long, and it’s worked for you.”

“True, but I’ve never been arrested, either.” One of her blue-shadowed eyes twitched in irritation. Cal fully understood he wasn’t the best person to offer advice. Telling her to stay put sounded terribly hypocritical—nevertheless, she needed to hear it. “Look, I know the old man is awful, and you may need a break. But this isn’t the way to do it.”

Jules crossed to the French doors and stared out at the patio. “I have no money, no credit cards, my license was suspended. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Look for a job, like a normal person. Go to the animal shelter and sweep up cat hair. Do something productive.”

“You don’t have a job. Not a proper one. What were you doing this morning?” Jules spun on her heel and faced him. Her brows drew low over narrowed eyes, and her tone was full of icy disdain—so much like their father’s it was eerie. “Volunteering at the local homeless shelter, and not falling out of some slutty girl’s bed?”

“Watch yourself, Jules,” he growled. “I was helping a friend.”

“Does this friend have a name, or do you even remember?”

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a man whore. And she’s a very nice woman. Works at a foundation, gives of her time to help others. You could learn something from that.”

“You sound like a right idiot. Some slag has you by the cock, and that’s why you don’t want me here. Admit it. You’d rather I trot back home so you can pull some stupid girl. ”

“Not true, and don’t call her that again. You and I both know how the old man gets. Do you want to be shut out for good? Because if you stay here with me, that’s what will happen.” When she remained mute, he continued, “He’ll do it just to spite me. You need to go home, Jules.”

Fat teardrops filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “You’re kicking me out too?”

Oh God. Seeing those tears nearly undid him. Pressing his lips together, Cal stepped around the coffee table and approached her. “I’m not leaving for a while. I promise I’ll come visit.” He attempted to give her a hug, but she twisted her shoulder and flung him off.

“How long is a while? Three days? A week? Before I know it, you’ll be off to Greenland or something, and send me a text six weeks later.”

He wasn’t a good role model—his father was correct on that score. Cal didn’t know what Jules needed right now, or how to provide it. Damn it, he wished people would stop relying on him. “I won’t leave without giving you proper notice, all right?”

“Don’t do me any favors. This is because of your Mother Teresa, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re not staying here for me, you’re staying for her. Typical. You’ve never cared about me, Cal, not really.”

“That’s not true. I think about you all of the time.” And he did, in his own way. Wherever he traveled, he searched for interesting and pretty gifts. He could have been around more, but his father made it nearly impossible. “I’ll try to do better.”

Jules shook her head, making the curls wobble. “You’re not capable of doing better.”

That barb found its mark. Part of him wanted to grab his passport and head to the nearest exit. Being needed by anyone was rather daunting, stifling almost. But right at this moment, the more stalwart side of his nature won by a hair. “Maybe that’s true. But I’d still like to try.”

“You won’t stick around, Cal. You’ll be bored silly with this girl of yours in ten minutes,” she said with a loud sniff.

No, he wouldn’t. Cal felt the truth of that in his gut. He would never be bored with Monica Campbell. How could he be? She sparred with him one minute and kissed him passionately the next. He never knew exactly what would come out of her mouth, and she made him laugh. Monica was a constant surprise.

“I know you don’t believe it right now,” he said, “but this is for your own good.” How many times had Babcock said the same thing to him? Too many to count. But now, as he stood before Juliette, he knew Babs had wanted the best for him, even if it meant he sometimes hated her for it. And Jules might very well hate him. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to book you on the next flight. It’s the sensible thing to do.”

Before he could say more, Jules ran out of the lounge. A moment later, she slammed the bedroom door so hard, it echoed down the hall.

Well, fuck. What was he meant to do? She needed to go home. His father would blame him for this, and take it out on Jules. Staying here wasn’t an option.

With a sigh, Cal went to retrieve his phone from his pocket, but remembered he’d left it in the bedroom. Jules needed time to calm down, so he used the house phone and dialed his father’s number. The housekeeper answered, and Cal waited a good fifteen minutes before the old man picked up.

“What is it, Calum?”

“Good to speak to you too, Father. I believe you’ve misplaced something.”

“I don’t have time for games today.” The man never had time for games. Even as a child, the only thing Cal remembered about his father were harsh, punishing silences in between heated rows with Pix.

“Jules turned up here last night.”

“And just where the hell is ‘here’?”

“Vegas. She’s fine, by the way.”

“Vegas,” he sneered. “A funfair for adults. How perfect for you. If you gamble away your grandfather’s money, don’t come crying to me.”

Cal pinched his earlobe. “I’m worried about Jules. She’s distraught right now, unsure about her future.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Contempt coated his father’s words like grease on a filthy engine. “Juliette will make a course correction. She’s not going to turn out like you, Calum—too much money and too little smarts. She’s a bright girl. Send her back home immediately, do you hear me?”

“I will do, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on. Since you don’t seem to have a clue.”

“How dare you? Why don’t you go back to wherever the hell you came from this time? Juliette doesn’t need you filling her head with nonsense.”

Determination stiffened Cal’s spine. “I’m not going anywhere. For the time being, I’m staying in the States. And I suggest you stop acting like a plonker. Jules says you haven’t spoken to her directly in days. That stops now, do you understand me, Father?”

The old man’s breathing was heavy, almost gasping. “If you believe for one minute that you can dictate to me, you’re in for a whopper of a surprise.”

Cal felt a ping of sadness. How had they gotten here, to this place where bitter words were more normal than courteous ones? “I’m sending her home. She cocked up, and now she needs to face it with you by her side. Do the right thing.” Cal ended the call.

Next, he phoned Mr. Lawson and had him book Jules a first-class ticket for later in the evening. At least they’d have a few hours together. If she deigned to speak to him.

With his hands thrust deep in his pockets, Cal strode down the hallway. At the bedroom door, he knocked three times, but she didn’t answer. “Jules, I know you’re angry with me, but let’s talk. Jules?”

When she didn’t shout obscenities or call him names, Cal started to become worried. He tried the handle, but the door was locked. A feeling of dread washed over him. “Jules, let me in. Jules.” He listened carefully for movement, but all was silent behind the door.

Cal ran back to the lounge and dialed Mr. Lawson, requesting a key. “I need it immediately. My sister has locked herself in the bedroom.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” Lawson said in a flat Midwestern tone. “According to the security guard, your sister requested a cab fifteen minutes ago. She’s gone.”

Bloody hell.

* * *

“Deena Adams is here to see you.”

Monica glanced up when Stella poked her head in the doorway. “Deena? She’s here now? Send her in.” Monica stood and smoothed nervous hands over her pant legs.

In her early forties, Deena Adams was a dynamo. As a successful entertainment attorney, she volunteered her legal advice, served as a board member, chaired committees, and worked tirelessly to fund-raise. Monica wished they had three more just like her.

Deena briskly walked in a moment later, a bob of dark blond hair swinging against her jawline. She wore no makeup, and her pantsuit was a higher-end version of Monica’s. “Sorry I didn’t call first. I was driving by and took a chance that you’d be working today.” She held out her hand for Monica to shake.

“Good to see you. Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink?”

Deena propped her briefcase on the chair, checked her phone, and then speared Monica with a sharp glance. “I only have ten minutes, so I’ll keep it brief. I don’t appreciate your going behind my back.”

Monica was speechless for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I had the media covered. I’ve talked to all the entertainment reporters, I’ve gotten us interview spots on three of the top radio stations, and we have a cover story in the style section of the paper, which comes out in two weeks. But you evidently didn’t trust my committee to handle the details. Imagine what an ass I felt like when I got phone calls asking me why the foundation coordinator is trying to undermine me.”

“That wasn’t my intention, Deena. I apologize.” Goddamn Allie. This was her fault. Monica trusted the PR committee to do their job, but no, Allie wanted to micromanage. As usual.

Deena checked her phone once again. “Either I’m the PR chair, or I’m not. Pick one.”

“Of course you are. We just wanted to be thorough. And I apologize for crossing the line.”

“We? As in Allie? Look, Monica, everyone knows the deal. Allie runs the show, and you’re just her mouthpiece. But if you blindside me again, I’ll quit the board. And frankly, you need me.” She picked up her briefcase and nodded. “Good to see you.” And then she strode out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

A drive-by bitch slap. That’s what it felt like.

Monica fell back into her chair in an angry daze. Allie’s mouthpiece. The truth hurt. Monica worked hard to show she was up to the challenge of running the foundation. But with Allie pulling her strings, it was a little hard for Monica to prove her competence.

As soon as Deena left, Stella hustled into the office. “What did she want?”

“I stepped on her toes when I contacted the media.”

Stella fingered the beads around her neck. “Are you all right?”

“Does everyone on the staff think I sit in here all day and twiddle my thumbs?” Allie’s interference was starting to wear Monica down. But what could she do about it? She only had this job because of her sister.

“Oh, honey, anyone who’s seen you working day and night knows you’re great at your job. When this gala brings in more money than last year, the board will know it too. I was going to head out, but I can stay, if you like?”

“No, I’m good. See you Monday.”

It was almost noon, but Monica wasn’t hungry. Her stomach tangled into knots of frustration. And if worrying about her professional reputation wasn’t enough, she had a date with Cal.

All morning he’d been there, in the back of her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. And not just the sex, although that had been amazing. Just hanging out with him, listening to him talk and tell her stories about all the places he’d been to—it was probably the best date she’d ever had.

In control. Eyes wide open. Right. Monica should focus on work, not Cal.

This gala needed to go off without a hitch. Monica wanted the entire board to see what she could do, how much money she’d raised. And then she’d tell each and every one of them to suck it.

Well, probably not. But she’d sure as hell be thinking it.

* * *

Cal questioned a security guard, who couldn’t recall the name of the cab company or the number plate. Why the bloody hell was the man in this business, if he couldn’t remember important details? Cal requested a look at the surveillance footage, which apparently required an act of God.

While he waited for approval, he called Jules’s phone for the tenth time. Straight to voice mail. She was ignoring him.

His father would never forgive him if something happened to her. Cal would never forgive himself.

Jules may be too young to gamble or drink, but that probably wouldn’t stop her if she hooked up with the wrong people. Monica knew this town, and she used to be a wild child herself, once upon a time. Perhaps she’d know where to look. That would be a start.

Without wasting another second, he dialed her. “My sister’s run off, and I need to find her.”

Monica didn’t miss a beat. “Here in Vegas?”

“Yes, she arrived last night, we rowed this morning, and she took off in a cab. I have no idea where she is, and she won’t answer her phone.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Monica. Thank you.” It had been fifteen years since he’d relied on anyone other than himself. It felt foreign to him. Strange.

As he waited, Mr. Lawson discovered the name of the cab company and had already spoken to the dispatcher. The cabbie had dropped Jules at Planet Hollywood. Cal wasn’t sure why, but Monica might know. Good man, that Mr. Lawson. He deserved every cent of the hefty tip Cal planned on giving him.

When Monica arrived twenty minutes later, Cal was waiting for her by the gated entrance. He threw one last look of irritation at the security guard, hopped into the passenger seat, and explained the situation.

Monica nodded. “I’m betting she’s at the Miracle Mile Shops. I know it well. It’s basically a mall, so I’m guessing she’ll feel right at home.”

“She can’t afford the mall. My father cut up all of her credit cards.”

Monica turned her head to look at him. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses, but she pursed her lips slightly. “I’d check your wallet, if I were you.”

“Fuck.” Cal dug it out of his jeans. It had been stuffed with twenties and fifties this morning. “She left me three dollars and took two of my cards.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Cal. I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

As Monica drove, he gave her a brief history, leaving out the gory details about his father’s scathing disapproval. “They moved to California eight years ago. Now she has a DUI, and she’ll be twenty-one in three months.”

“Oh boy, are you in for a bumpy road.” She pulled into an enormous parking garage and eventually found a spot on the eighth level. “Cal,” she said, twisting the key out of the ignition, “Jules sounds a little lost. And I know something about that. It’s none of my business, but if she takes a lot of shit from your dad, you might want to go easy on her.”

He didn’t want to go easy on Jules. Cal wanted to haul her to the airport and toss her onto the plane. “I’ll do my best.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pinning her glasses on the top of her head. “She came to you. When she needed a place to land, you were her choice. So she trusts you.”

That took the self-righteous wind from his sail. Cal tugged his earlobe. He could have handled Jules with more tact and patience. “She can’t stay here, and I can’t very well force her into going back to L.A. I don’t know how to rein her in.”

Monica patted his thigh. “You can’t. She’s going to make her own choices. And I’m not saying she should stay here, I’m just saying use your indoor voice when you talk to her. Allie used to yell at me when I messed up, and I would shut down completely.”

She trained her blue eyes on him, looking so bloody sympathetic, Cal gave in to temptation. Snaking a hand around her nape, he kissed her. It was hard and brief, left him hungry for more than a taste. But for now, it had to be enough. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. Now let’s go find your sis.”

When they entered the building, Cal stopped and gazed around. For some reason, all the stores had Moorish architectural features and looked as though they belonged inside a Moroccan town. He raised his eyes to the barreled ceiling painted to look like the sky. Cal tried Jules’s number once more. “She’s not answering.”

“She’ll turn up. Probably once she’s run through your money, but she will turn up.”

They wound their way around tourists and past kiosks, when suddenly, the artificial sky darkened. Thunder boomed.

Monica leaned over. “The rain show. Not that exciting. Come on, security is up ahead.”

“Well acquainted with the security here, are you?”

She donned a stony expression. He’d hit a nerve. She’d probably done something minor when she was young, and Allie had no doubt thrown a wobbler.

As they walked, Cal kept a lookout for Jules. Every flash of pink caught his eye. Every dark-haired girl captured his attention. But she could be anywhere.

At the security station, Cal described Jules. The man used his two-way radio to communicate the information to someone, somewhere. They paged Jules’s name over the PA system and alerted the various shops that he was looking for her. All pretty fucking useless.

“Why don’t we split up?” Monica asked. “You take one side of the shops, and I’ll take the other.”

Cal nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you have a picture of her? It’ll give me something to go by.”

Cal scrolled through his phone, glancing at hundreds of photos. Mostly shots of cars he’d worked on, in various states of repair. A few of Babcock, when she was still healthy enough to sit on the terrace and look out at the beach. He finally found a pic of Jules on her nineteenth birthday. She hadn’t worn nearly as much makeup then as she did now, and her hair was shorter. She wore a birthday tiara and showed off the sapphire earrings he’d given her as a present.

His stomach dropped. He had picture after picture of the cars he’d worked on, but only one of his sister.

“Here she is.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual, thick with emotion. He showed Monica the photo and glanced away. Cal really was a crap brother. That seriously needed to change.

“She’s pretty. You guys have the same eyes.” Monica glanced up at him, scanned his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been a selfish bastard.”

“I would never describe you as a selfish person, Cal.” She reached out and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll take this side and meet you in front of the theater.”

Cal nodded and moved off. Monica was being very kind to him. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

* * *

Cal was a lot of things—handsome, funny, a fantastic lover…but selfish? Not even close. Monica had seen him give money to strangers, and he was kind to everyone. She didn’t know the whole story with his sister, but from the way it sounded, they didn’t see each other very often. So Cal probably didn’t understand that sisters were a pain. Monica had two to prove it.

Over the next three hours, she and Cal tried to divide and conquer, looking in every store, bar, and restaurant. They asked sales people and wait staff if they’d seen Jules. Monica wasn’t sure the girl had ever been here. Cal had described his sister’s revealing outfit, and Jules’s short, gold skirt sounded second-glance worthy. Surely someone would have noticed. But they struck out over and over.

Finally admitting defeat, she and Cal walked back to the car. Monica gazed up at him. His eyes were serious. She was used to seeing him wear a smile, but now, Cal’s mouth leveled into a straight line, and his wide shoulders climbed upward, tense and strained. She wished she could reassure him somehow, but she didn’t know what to say.

This must have been how Allie used to feel when Monica pulled shit like this.

When Cal’s phone rang, he practically ripped it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “I don’t have time now, Mum.” Then he froze. “What? She’s with you? For how long?” That worried look on his face morphed to anger, hardening his features, turning his eyes into green glaciers. “I’m on my way.” He punched the End button. “She’s been with my mother most of the afternoon. That fucking little brat.”