“Have I mentioned my unwillingness to work any more political events?” I ask, joking but also not really joking.
Ford makes a face. If anyone in this room understands political events it’s him. His family’s roots in public service go way back and end with his oldest brother as the governor of Georgia.
“You handled it like a pro,” Ford says, resting his hands together in front of him. “I really wish you’d just come work with us full time.”
“Yeah,” Dominic says, teasing me. “Come work with us. What could be better than working with me all day?”
“Oral surgery,” I say without thinking. “Swimming in chummed waters with sharks. Petting a cobra. Hiking through the Outback with no water.”
Troy laughs. Dominic rolls his eyes.
“I mean it,” Ford says. “If you ever get to the point where The Gold Room is operating on its own, or you can hire someone to manage it, I’d hire you full time. No questions asked.”
“I’d hope you wouldn’t ask any questions since I’m already on the payroll.”
Ford grins. “We’re working out contract details for a job in Atlanta. Will be a whole weekend the first weekend next month. You interested?”
I lean back in my chair and exhale.
Usually, I grab some of these jobs here and there. The money is nice—very nice. I sack it all away for a rainy day because those kinds of days happen more regularly than I care to admit. Especially with a kid with loads of energy. So when I can get my day manager to close at night and can talk my neighbor, Mrs. Kim, into watching Ryder for the weekend, I’ll sign on to help Ford out.
But now I have something else to contend with—Paige.
“I’m sorry, Ford,” I say, sitting back up. “I have a … situation that precludes me from leaving town for a while.”
“How long?” he asks.
I shrug.
Dominic looks at me, confused. “What situation?”
Shit. If anyone can see through me, it’s my brother. “Just a situation. Relax.”
“I want to know.”
“Do I poke around in your life?” I ask, irritated. “Come on, man.”
“What do you want to know? Hit me with your questions.” Dominic sits up, screwing with me for the sake of screwing with me. “You wanna know how hard Camilla fuc—”
“That’s my sister.” Ford’s voice booms through the conference room, effectively silencing my brother. “For your sake, don’t go there.”
Troy sits back and cackles.
Dominic looks at Ford. “Sorry. That got a little out of hand.”
“You think?” Ford shakes his head. “Just be glad Lincoln didn’t hear you say that.”
Dominic snorts. “You know I’m not scared of Lincoln.”
“Did someone say my name?” Lincoln asks, eyeing each of us.
We all turn toward the door as none other than Lincoln Landry walks in. He removes his sunglasses—why was he wearing them in the building in the first place?—and plops down in the chair beside Troy.
Out of all the Landrys, I like Lincoln the least. He’s not a bad person. Actually, he’s pretty funny and one hell of an athlete. But he knows it. His cheekiness might work on the women in his life, but it doesn’t work on me.
I look at my brother. Or Dominic.
Troy smirks. “Nah, I don’t think so. Dominic was just talking about getting a new car. Right, Dom?”
Dominic rolls his eyes.
“Oh, what kind?” Lincoln asks. “I love cars.”
“A Lincoln,” I say, elbowing my brother.
Ford takes a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Linc?”
Lincoln cracks a piece of gum. “You want the truth or bullshit?”
“What kind of question is that?” Ford asks.
“I’m here for the bullshit answer.” I look at Ford and shrug. “Hey, the last time he swung by and I was here, he said he was helping Graham with paperwork.” I look at Lincoln and grin. “We all know you were full of shit that day. There’s no way in hell G would let you help with paperwork.”
Lincoln rolls his eyes. “It’s all fun and games and ‘Graham is so responsible and works so hard’ until he has a heart attack.”
“Good point,” Dominic mumbles.
“Anyway,” Lincoln says, “I was here to see if anyone wanted to go golfing with me.”
Four various forms of no ring out through the room. Even if we had the day to blow off, doing anything remotely athletic with Lincoln is not fun. The guy is a phenom. Although I would absolutely knock him out in a fight. Probably in the thirty seconds.
Lincoln gets up, his lips twisted in displeasure. “You guys are no fun.”
“We have work to do,” Ford tells him.
“Heart attacks. All of you,” Lincoln says, pointing at each of us as he walks to the door.
“We’ll take our chances,” Dominic says.
Lincoln puts his hand on the door and starts to push it open. “You still owe me a bottle of tequila, Nate.”
“It’s been three years. Let it go,” Ford says just as Lincoln disappears into the hallway.