Becoming Hank: A Trellis Family Novella (Building the Circle) Read online

  "Absolutely adorable," Tom muttered as Darla walked away.

  "The big blue eyes with the walnut-colored hair? Ugh. Way out of my league." Trip groaned.

  "Accurate." Tom laughed. "Still. Be a man. Ask for her number."

  "It won't end well for me. Way too cute and bubbly and fun. My mother would suck out her life force," Trip said, not entirely joking.

  A pitcher of beer later, Trip was settling the tab.

  Darla's eyes went to slits. "Are you really going to pay this bill and leave without asking for my number?"

  Trip's mouth opened and closed twice before words came out. "I imagine men ask for your number all night long. I can't bring myself to be another asshole that chases after you."

  Darla's left eyebrow quirked a bit as she half-grinned. "You don't count as an asshole when I tease you into the chase, Hank."

  The smile went all the way to his eyes.

  "So, you're going to be noble, brooding, and different by not asking for my number?" Darla teased.

  "Darla, may I have your number?" Trip asked, grinning.

  "No."

  "What?" Trip's laughter exploded out of him.

  Darla smirked. "I feel like you're asking for it because I made you ask for it, and you won't actually call me. That's just pathetic for me. So, no, Hank. No number for you. Maybe next time."

  "Have dinner with me tomorrow?"

  Darla's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That escalated quickly."

  Trip's smile turned shy. "Seemed like the thing to do."

  "I have to work tomorrow night," Darla admitted, regret in her voice.

  Trip nodded as he stood up from the table. Tom was returning from the bathroom, ready to head out. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Pizza and beer again tomorrow? Is that what I'm hearing?" Tom asked, clapping his hands.

  "Yeesh. You're tall," Darla muttered as she walked away. "Definitely easier to tease you when you're sitting."

  2

  "-the Cantons will meet us at the restaurant at seven o'clock sharp, Trip."

  "Wait, what? Sorry, Mom. I missed that," Trip said, a note of panic in his voice as he gripped the phone tighter.

  It was Saturday morning. Trip had spent a large portion of the night thinking up witty things to say to Darla later that evening. No doubt, the banter would leave his brain at the opportune time.

  Maybe I can make notes, Trip had been thinking right before his mother's rambling broke through his daydreaming.

  "Dinner with the Cantons. Tonight. Seven o'clock. Come here first so you can ride with your father and me. We'll leave by six-thirty," Stacey Trellis repeated.

  "I won't be able to attend. I'm sorry. I have plans," Trip apologized.

  I am not having dinner with the Cantons. I am not having dinner with the Cantons, Trip chanted in his head, thoughts of bantering with his waitress fading.

  "Plans? No, dear. You will join us for dinner with the Cantons. Vanessa is looking forward to seeing you."

  "I cannot make it, Mother. I have a prior obligation," he said, trying to sound disappointed instead of terrified.

  I am not having dinner with Vanessa Canton. I am not having dinner with Vanessa Canton. Trip updated the mental chant.

  "Tell Thomas you will see him tomorrow. Wear a proper suit, with a tie, Trip. Best foot forward."

  "Mom, I can't—" Trip stopped talking when the phone clicked. She'd hung up.

  He tried to call her back. No answer.

  "I'm not going," Trip muttered to himself. "I'm not sitting through that dinner. No. I told her I have plans."

  "You told her no?" Tom asked.

  "I'm not going. I told her I had plans," Trip said.

  "Uh, Trip... I'm not sure flirting with the cute waitress counts as plans. Your mother is terrifying. Are you really going to blow her off?"

  "I told her I had plans."

  "What did she say?" Tom asked.

  "She said I could see you tomorrow instead." Trip smiled, knowing his best friend would enjoy his mother's assumption.

  Tom threw his head back, laughing. "You need a life, man."

  "I'm working on it! That's why I'm not going to dinner with them."

  "You're going to make your parents look bad in front of important clients," Tom pointed out.

  Trip narrowed his eyes. "I can't believe you're doing this. Why? You don't like Vanessa Canton any more than I do. Why play devil's advocate here?"

  "Because I think J.R. will make your life hell if you don't go," Tom replied, serious.

  "J.R. makes my life hell daily as it is. I hate that damn job and that damn business. What difference does it make?"

  Tom held out the phone handset to his buddy. "Call your dad. Tell him you won't be there."

  "You are coming to dinner!" J.R. barked.

  Trip paused before responding. "No, sir. I have other plans. I don't have a way to reschedule."

  "You know the Cantons are large investors and critical to our business. You will need to miss your prior engagement. Expectations have been set. You will attend." J.R.'s voice was tight and terse.

  "I will not, sir. I cannot." At that moment, Trip decided this was a battle worth fighting. Usually accommodating and easy-going, it was irritating that his parents would not respect one of the few times he declined an engagement.

  "Trip, keeping the Cantons happy is vital to our business. You will not stand them up. You are expected at dinner. You will attend."

  "Dad, I was not consulted when those plans were made. I have other plans I can't reschedule."

  "What plans? What is so fucking important that you're going to screw over your entire family?" J.R. thundered.

  "I have a date. Well, I have a sort of date."

  "Trip, you will not blow off this dinner for a 'sort of date.' Whoever the girl is will get over it. Send her flowers and sexy underwear. You are coming to dinner."

  "I won't be there."

  "THIS DINNER IS CRITICAL, HENRY."

  "Then I hope it goes well. I'll look forward to hearing about it on Monday."

  "Why are you doing this? Why now? Why on this? What is it that you want?" J.R. growled.

  That gave Trip another pause. He answered a question with a question. "Why is this dinner so important?"

  J.R. sighed. "They're unhappy with the firm right now. They're questioning the way an investment was handled years ago. It turns out the investor is a third cousin or some such distant relation to the Cantons. They're talking about breaking ties with the firm."

  Well, there's a bit of karma at work, Trip thought.

  "Cancel your plans. We need you at dinner," J.R. said, somehow defeated and demanding at the same time.

  Trip was silent for a moment, thinking. "Pay the widow."

  "What? What the fuck are you talking about, Trip?"

  "Pay the cop's widow. Do the right thing," Trip said, voice cold.

  "You're going to blackmail me on this? Really?" J.R. asked, incredulous.

  Trip sighed. "You're trying to force me into an undesirable marriage. It only seems fair."

  J.R. snorted. "Vanessa isn't that bad, son."

  "She has claws, sir."

  "She's worth a lot of money, Trip. Be here by six o'clock," J.R. said, hanging up.

  "I can't believe you blackmailed J.R. I'm so proud of you!" Tom yelled. "That was amazing! I didn't think you had it in you."

  Trip glared, unhappy. "I'm having dinner with Vanessa Canton. I'm not sure that's worth ten thousand dollars."

  "What about the waitress?" Tom asked.

  Trip blew out a sigh. "It was the right thing to do on many levels. We'll go back to the pizza place another time. Maybe run into her again."

  "I'm sorry," Tom said, meaning it.

  "Me too."

  "Henry, so polite, holding my chair," Vanessa purred, perching herself gracefully on the edge of the chair while running her hand down his arm.

  "Trip was raised right," J.R. boomed. His forced chuckle was loud and awkwa
rd across the tense table.

  Mary and Edward Canton were decidedly unhappy and doing everything they could to make their unhappiness known.

  Vanessa's lips pursed into half of a sneer. "'Trip.' I just can't bring myself to call you that, Henry. It's so coarse and abrupt. Ungraceful. No. I don't like it. You are none of those things. Do you like it? No, you must not."

  Sitting next to her, Trip opened his mouth to respond. But Vanessa didn't require a response. She continued, unaided by his input. "No. I prefer Henry. You'll be my Henry." She touched his arm possessively again.

  He stared at her nails.

  They're not claws. She's a lovely woman, Trip coached himself.

  Vanessa Canton was almost six feet tall in heels with perfectly twisted blond hair and hazel eyes. Slim and well-manicured, she was beautiful. Beautiful and indifferent to everything that didn't directly affect her.

  Edward Canton smiled at his princess of a daughter. "I like him better as Henry, too. He'll be Henry to us. Congratulations, Henry, on the negotiation for the teacher's union. That was well done."

  Trip nodded. "Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to work with the group. I feel we negotiated a fair deal for all parties involved."

  "What's this? What did you do?" Vanessa challenged, her smile inviting and playful.

  Trip shook his head. "It was a side project. The Teachers' Union was having trouble reaching an agreement on a new contract. Thomas Dermot's family was involved tangentially. He and I were able to help the union—"

  "Oh, you helped teachers. That's so... kind. Should we order some wine?" Vanessa asked, no longer paying attention.

  Edward's eyes stayed focused on Trip. "Wine sounds wonderful, Van. Please pick one for us? Henry, I respect your willingness to volunteer time for the benefit of others. You put a lot of hours into that deal."

  Trip nodded again in acknowledgment. "It was worth it in the end. The investment firm made the time for it." Best to direct praise back to the business. J.R. was glaring.

  Mary Canton made a slight sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.

  Edward's eyes turned hard. "You're a good man, Henry, trying to help your snake-oil salesman of a father out of trouble. I'd believe he was behind you on the project if he had not lamented your 'damn bleeding-heart liberalism' to me regularly. He'd be more likely to scam the teachers."

  Oh shit! Trip thought, trying to appear calm while at a complete loss for what to say. Edward Canton was still watching him.

  J.R. brayed another fake laugh. "Ah, Edward, that was a misunderstanding. We'll set it to rights! No harm intended."

  "Ugh, Daddy, they don't have the wine I wanted," Vanessa whined into the awkward silence.

  Trip's eyes darted to her. Is she trying to break up the awkward silence? he wondered.

  Any perception of her helpfulness was dashed when she threw the wine list at the waiter's head. Not helpful. Just spoiled.

  "Perhaps we should order?" Mary Canton suggested, ignoring J.R. and Vanessa.

  Heads nodded around the table as each person ducked behind a menu. Trip started counting the minutes until dinner could reasonably be over.

  "How is it you intend to set things right, J.R.?" Edward's voice was cool as he glared at J.R., his menu now closed. "Mary's cousin invested with your firm based on our recommendation. Now, three years later, we find out you've slowly been bleeding the investments dry with brokerage fees and unexplained losses. The quarterly account summaries don't even add up. I'm not sure how you'd set that to rights."

  "Well, of course we'll review the account and reach out to Mary's cousin about anything that might have been amiss. Now, really, if we had known this was a relative—"

  "What?" Edward Canton cut in. "If you would have known it was a relative, you wouldn't have cheated him out of several thousand dollars?"

  "Edward," Mary Canton muttered to her husband under her breath. "You're making a scene."

  "It is never our intention to cheat anyone, sir," Trip's voice was quiet and respectful, words spoken quickly before J.R. could respond. "I'll be happy to review the account myself and report back findings."

  Vanessa was sampling the wine, oblivious to the conversation. "Yes, we'll make do with this." Her face was lined by a frown and put-upon hardship. "Is everyone having wine?"

  After placing the wine glass back on the table, she dropped her hand onto Trip's thigh. He flinched before gently and discreetly picking her hand up and putting it on his forearm.

  Ninety minutes. Maybe ninety-five, he thought. Maybe I could get ill? I could probably pull that off.

  "I appreciate that offer, Henry. The monetary losses are troubling in their own right, but I personally recommended your father's firm. This makes me look like a fool and has caused my family harm. It is unacceptable. I need to know, from your father, how he intends to ensure this doesn't happen again. To anyone. I've recommended the firm to many family and friends over the years. It would be unacceptable for anyone to be swindled."

  Ninety-four minutes, Trip thought.

  3

  Shortly before eleven o'clock, Trip stood outside the restaurant where Darla worked, debating his options.

  Dinner was a nightmare that lasted for more than three hours. Vanessa got shriller and pushier as the wine was served. Mary Canton called Trip's mother a vapid socialite. Edward Canton continued to threaten and berate J.R.

  It was still unclear what Edward wanted, other than to use J.R. as a whipping post.

  Trip meant to go to his apartment. He wanted to take his suit off, put on comfortable clothes, and drown the night in a bottle of beer. But there he stood, outside the restaurant, unsure what to do.

  He looked down at his clothes. His shoes were shiny. Shiny shoes are stupid. They just get scuffed. What's the purpose of the shine? he wondered.

  His suit was rumpled. He was tired. It had been a long day of dread followed by a longer night of tense nerves and fear. Going home made the most sense.

  "You just going to stand out here all night?" Darla asked from the doorway.

  Trip smiled at his shoes. "Thinking about it."

  "The people sitting at the window table think you're a weirdo, Hank. You should probably stop staring at your stupid shiny shoes and walk me home."

  "Done working?" Trip asked his shoes.

  "Crowd's gone. My boss was eager to get rid of the weirdo standing in the window. I offered to take care of it. Why are you so tall? Holy hell! I can't even jump that high." Darla stood on her tiptoes and tried to bounce up to Trip's height.

  He smiled at his shoes again, head hanging low.

  Darla tipped her head so that she could see his face. Smiling up at him, she laughed. "Was the rich lady with claws really that bad? You didn't glance up to appreciate the boob bounce!"

  Trip grinned at her. "Tom was here?"

  "Waiting for me when my shift started,” she confirmed. “He's losing five bucks right now."

  Trip raised his eyebrows, the question unspoken.

  "Bet him you'd show up before the night was over. I win!" Darla chirped a little cheer.

  "He bet against me?" Trip asked, affronted.

  "I baited him into it," she admitted. "Easy mark. Besides, you told him you'd come back some other night."

  "I did. What else did he tell you?"

  "He totally spilled the beans about you. C'mon, Hank. I'm tired. Been working all night. Walk me home, I'll tell you all about it."

  "No one calls me 'Hank.'”

  "I do," Darla disagreed, unrepentant. "Trip sounds dumb, and Henry's too serious. You need more laughter in life."

  "I really do."

  "I know." She smiled again. "You're the most morose person I've ever seen. It's either Hank or Cranky Asshole. I prefer Hank."

  "Morose?" he asked, laughing. "I guess I prefer Hank, too."

  "See? You'll get used to it. That way," Darla pointed.

  "I'll tuck you safely in a cab and save you the walk if you want."

 
"Nope, that's not what I want. C'mon, Hank. Walk me home. You have long legs. It won't take long. I'll take three steps to every one of yours."

  "You're not that short."

  "I'm pretty short. You're like a foot taller than me."

  "That could mean I'm tall, not that you're short." His little smile was teasing.

  "This is what we're talking about? Ech. How's the weather up there?" Darla laughed. "Tell me about the claws."

  "Ugh. Fuchsia pink. At least two inches long. Terrifying. They come with a sneer, too," Trip said, pulling a face.

  "Tom wanted to wager you'd marry this girl. I wouldn't take the bet without seeing her. I don't believe the claws!" Darla grinned as they started walking.

  "I am not marrying Vanessa Canton. I cannot imagine a circumstance in which that would happen. No. We'd end up having miserable, morose babies." He grinned back as Darla gave a little snort. "Why are we talking about this?"

  "You wouldn't marry her to help a widow with a bunch of kids?" she asked.

  "Huh. Tom really did spill the beans on me, didn't he? I'd be more likely to marry the widow."

  Darla nodded. "It was for the best that Tom gave up the goods on you. I probably wouldn't have flirted with you again if you showed up days later. No number for you, Hank."

  "Ouch! It was for a good cause. It was a horribly long, painful evening." He tugged his hand through his hair.

  "That bad?"

  "Well, this part's pretty good." His shy smile returned. "How was your night?"

  "Eh. Made good tips, got pawed by drunken men. About usual, honestly," Darla said, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Trip pulled his suit coat off and handed it to her.

  "Really? You're offering your coat? Don't people only do that in movies?" she asked.

  He waggled the coat at her. "It's October in Chicago. Chilly."

  "It goes down to my knees! You know you're never getting this back, right?" She laughed, wrapping it around herself. "Why does one side of it smell like peonies?"

  "The lady with claws wears heavy perfume," Trip muttered.

  "Ha! I should have guessed that. I'd find the perfume more offensive than the claws. But I smell like pizza, so who am I to judge?"