“There was no point. When I left the company, it was for good. I don’t want to become a part of it again.”
“Of us, you mean.”
Reede shrugged. Junior thoughtfully gazed at his friend. “Because of Celina?”
“Celina?” Reede whispered with a soft, sad laugh. “Celina’s dead and buried.”
“Is she?”
The friends stared at each other frankly, with all pretense stripped away. After a moment, Reede answered, “Yes.”
“It hasn’t been the same between us since she died, has it?”
“It couldn’t be.”
“I guess not,” Junior said morosely. “I regret that.”
“So do I.”
“What about Alex?”
“What about her?”
“Is she the reason you won’t come back in with us?”
“Hell, no. You know the reason, Junior—or at least, you should. You’ve heard me talk about it often enough.”
“That crap about independence? That’s no reason. You work your way around Angus a lot better than I do.”
Junior sucked in a quick breath, suddenly realizing that he’d hit pay dirt. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re steering clear of ME for my sake.”
“You’re wrong.” Reede’s denial came a little too fast.
“The hell I am,” Junior growled. “You see yourself as a threat to me, the heir apparent. Well, thanks a lot, but don’t do me any favors!”
As suddenly as Junior’s anger had erupted, it evaporated. “Who the fuck am I kidding?” He gave a scoffing laugh. “Sure as hell not myself.” He raised his head and looked at Reede imploringly. “I’d love to have you back. We need you, especially after that racetrack is built.”
“Now who’s talking crap?”
“You know I’m right. Dad makes things happen, but he operates like a robber baron. Business doesn’t work like that nowadays. I’ve got charm, but charm is as wasted on a breeding ranch as snow skis in Jamaica. Unless you’re a gigolo—a career I’ve often thought of pursuing—you can’t bank charm.”
“It comes in handy.”
“Dad’s smart enough to see that you could hold us together, Reede. You could be the buffer between us.” He looked down at his hands. “He’d rather have you than me around.”
“Junior—”
“No, let’s be honest about this for once, Reede. We’re getting too old to lie to ourselves or to each other. Dad would swear on a stack of Bibles that he’s proud that I’m his son, but I know better. Oh, I know he loves me, but I’m one screwup after another. He’d rather me be like you.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Uh-uh,” Reede said, sternly shaking his head. “Angus knows that in a pinch, when all the cards are down, you come through. There have been times—”
“What times?”
“Many times,” Reede stressed, “when you did what you knew you had to do. Sometimes it has to get to that last-gasp stage before you accept your responsibility,” Reede said, “but when you know it’s up to you or else, you do it.” He laid his hand on Junior’s shoulder. “It’s just that sometimes somebody has to put a boot to your butt to get you going.”