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

  "Oh, eat your eggs, Henry. We'll figure out what's next for the investments, and for you, together." Edward smiled again, offering friendship.

  "Ah-ha!" Tom shouted, appearing in Trip's office doorway at lunchtime. "I've found you. Where have you been hiding? Please tell me you've been hiding between Darla's sheets."

  Trip rolled his eyes. "I saw you on Monday."

  "Yeah! Today's Wednesday. Since when do you go an entire day without making a sad-sack appearance in my life?"

  Trip grunted to hide his laugh.

  "You look tired," Tom observed, closing the office door behind himself.

  "I am," Trip admitted.

  "Again, please tell me it's because you're spending too much time with Darla, and not that you've been digging through files for thirty-six hours straight."

  Trip grinned. "I have not been digging through files for thirty-six hours straight. I promise. I ended up getting my ass kicked at Monopoly by Darla and her roommate on Monday night. Then I waited for Darla's shift to end so I could walk her home last night. She now has three of my coats. I think it might be an unspoken challenge. She's testing how many she can collect before I ask for them back. I'm guessing her roommate will complain long before I give in."

  Tom's face fell. "You went for pizza without me last night?"

  "Are you really bothered by that?" Trip asked, surprised.

  "Pfft. No. Claire's home. I was busy having great 'welcome home' sex last night."

  Trip shook with embarrassed laughter. "Too much information, man."

  "No, it's not. It'd be too much information if I told you about this thing that Claire—"

  "STOP!" Trip yelled, still laughing.

  "Lunchtime?" Tom asked with a grin.

  "Meh. I had breakfast with Edward Canton this morning. I'm done with food for a while."

  Tom lifted his eyebrows, asking for details without words.

  "It was fine. He's pretty much done with the firm, which isn't surprising. But I think he might give me a job when the firm goes under, so there's that."

  "He offered you a job?" Tom asked, dumbstruck. "J.R. would lose his mind."

  "I know."

  "Working for Edward Canton would be far better than working for J.R."

  "I know that too," Trip replied, his lips turning up a bit. "We're going to decide what to do when I finish digging into the account issues."

  Tom's expression turned dark. "You mean after J.R. goes to jail?"

  "I'm not so sure, anymore," Trip murmured, handing over a pile of papers.

  Tom's eyebrows furrowed as he flipped between the pages. "How can these be the same accounts? There's an administrative error mixed in here somewhere. The customer statements don't match the official records."

  Trip nodded, still waiting.

  Tom gasped, finally noticing the initials on the final page. "Jerry. You think Jerry cooked the books? That makes more sense. He's a moron."

  "There's no pattern yet. Canton gave me his cousin's statements this morning. That's how it jumped out at me. I'm looking at some of Jerry's other accounts now, checking for similar errors."

  "Did you show this to J.R.?" Tom asked.

  "No. I'm not saying anything until I have a pattern."

  "J.R. signed off on the internal books. That makes him culpable," Tom muttered, still studying the files.

  "I know." Trip nodded. "Negligent, but maybe not a crook."

  "Was Vanessa at breakfast?" Tom asked suddenly, changing the subject as the grin returned, spreading across his face.

  "No. Edward 'forgot' to mention it. Just like I 'forgot' to mention breakfast to J.R., so shut up about that, too," Trip replied, smiling back.

  "Despite the stress, you seem to be happier," Tom noted. "Great sex helps everything."

  Trip rolled his eyes again. "I'm not talking about this."

  "Come on!" Tom complained. "I told you when Claire and I finally got serious."

  "Yeah, but I didn't particularly want to know that bit of information, Tom."

  "Well, I want to know!"

  "Too bad!" Trip replied. "It's not your business."

  Tom sighed. "No sexy time yet, then. You'd tell me if there was."

  Trip sputtered in indignation, trying to come up with something to say.

  "Don't even bother denying it. I can tell," Tom replied, laughing again. "You have a terrible poker face. Things are progressing, though? Canton didn't dangle a job and then tell you it came with the condition of marrying The Claws, did he?"

  "Yes, Darla and I are still seeing each other. I told you that. No, there were no strings attached and no details. I kinda spilled the beans about her having claws, though."

  Tom grinned again. "What did he say?"

  "He told his wife they looked like claws weeks ago and got himself in trouble." Trip laughed.

  "I love it!" Tom slapped the desk, his laughter filled with joy. "But seriously. No lunch?"

  "Na. Had eggs benedict for breakfast." Trip's words held just a bit of taunting. Tom loved eggs benedict.

  "Asshole," Tom cursed, narrowing his eyes at his best friend.

  "They were perfect, too. Clean plated it and considered seconds."

  "Asshole," Tom said again as Trip took his turn grinning at his friend's expense. "I'm going to get a sandwich."

  "Have fun," Trip replied, straightening his papers.

  "Going for pizza tonight?" Tom's words were hopeful.

  "No. Darla said we've seen each other five nights in a row. I'm not allowed to see her again until Friday."

  "What?" Tom was baffled.

  Trip shrugged. "It's her rule. She says she needs time apart to make sure she actually likes me and not that she just likes having someone to do things with."

  Tom's face went blank as he fought off his grin. "She could be judging how she likes you as a person and companion at this very second. As we speak, she could be deciding that she doesn't want to see you anymore. How nervous are you?"

  "Extremely. I'm boring. Don't make the nerves worse. I'm thinking positive thoughts. I think I won it with the flowers."

  "The 'now we have to get married' flowers? You think she's going to date you because you brought her flowers?"

  "Don't ruin it for me. Let me have my hope!"

  Tom was still laughing as he left the office, closing the door behind himself.

  7

  "How do I look?" Trip asked, nudging his tie straight as Tom watched, smirking.

  "Like an idiot."

  Trip frowned.

  "Get over it, man. Let's go. It's pizza and beer. If she spits in your beer, you'll know it's over. Why didn't you just call her earlier?"

  The frown deepened. "I don't have her phone number."

  "You're kidding, right?" Tom asked, already laughing.

  "It started out as a joke. Now, she just refuses to give it to me."

  "What if it didn't start out as a joke? You have a terrible sense of humor. What if it wasn't a joke and she just went on a few dates with you out of pity? What if she doesn't want you calling her?"

  Trip's eyes narrowed. "I hate you."

  "I know," Tom's grin could be seen from space.

  "Do you really think—?"

  "Holy crap! Let's go!" Tom yelled.

  Without another word, Trip grabbed his coat to head out of the office.

  "Not to add to your crazy or anything, but what's going on with the files?" Tom asked.

  "I went from thinking J.R. was a crook to knowing Jerry is a crook and suspecting J.R. is dumb," Trip muttered as they walked out of the skyscraper.

  "Wow. There's enough to say that with confidence?"

  "If there was, we'd be talking to the FBI. But there's definitely a pattern. At some point, I'm going to have to ask J.R. about it. He knows something's up. He keeps watching me pull old files."

  "He's not stopping you, though?" Tom clarified.

  "No, which makes me think he doesn't know."

  Tom nodded into the wind as they pi
cked up the pace.

  "How's Claire?" Trip asked, trying to change the subject.

  "Good." Tom shrugged. "I'm just waiting for approval."

  "Huh?" Trip paused, shooting his friend a look. "Approval for what? I thought your parents hated her."

  Tom snorted, still walking. "Oh, they do. They'll never approve. No, I'm waiting for Claire to tell me it's okay to ask her to marry me."

  "You're waiting for her permission to propose?" Trip asked, trying not to laugh.

  "Hell yes. I don't want to ask at the wrong time. I don't want her to say no. That'd be terrible."

  "That's weird, man."

  It was Tom's turn to stop and glare at Trip. "Your girlfriend put a waiting period on your relationship to make sure she really likes you, and you think I'm weird for waiting for permission to propose?"

  "Touché."

  "That's what I thought," Tom muttered, opening the door to the restaurant and bar. "Grab our booth!"

  "We have a booth?" Trip asked, eyebrows raised. "Do you want to carve our initials into the table in a little heart?"

  "Ha. Ha. Ha," Tom deadpanned. "Did you actually make a joke?" Then Tom laughed for real as Trip almost fell into the booth. "What are you doing?"

  "Do you see her?" Trip asked, voice tight with nerves.

  "You're kidding me, right?"

  "I don't see her. What if she called in sick to avoid me?"

  "She's like five feet tall. Easy to miss. Calm down. What do you want on the pizza?"

  "She's five-two and sensitive about those two inches. I don't care about the pizza. Do you see her?" Trip spat, still craning his neck to look around.

  "I should tell you something," Tom said, grinning.

  "Oh, man. Do I have something stuck in my teeth? You're the worst wingman in history, just so you know." Trip picked up a spoon, trying to discreetly check out his teeth.

  "There's nothing in your teeth. Stop it, moron. No—"

  "What?! What is wrong that you couldn't tell me before this minute?" Trip all but yelled.

  "Hi guys," Darla said, wandering up. She bent to give Trip a quick kiss before glaring at Tom. "You didn't tell him?"

  "I was just about to tell him."

  Darla smacked Tom upside the head. "We discussed this. He doesn't need any help keying up his stress levels, Thomas."

  "What? What's going on?" Trip asked, a mix of confusion, relief, and anxiety on his face. There was a hello kiss, but clearly something had happened that he didn't know about. He glared at Tom. "What?"

  Tom shrugged, nonchalant. "Claire and I had dinner out last night. She had a taste for pizza."

  "I admit, I was surprised she was with you," Darla added. "She's...chirpy."

  "Chirpy?" Tom asked, not sure if he should be offended. "Like a bird chirp?"

  "Yeah, I don't know. Cheery but flighty? Chirpy. Like that," Darla explained.

  "I'm pretty sure you just made that up," Tom said, trying to call bullshit.

  "I don't think so, but whatever. I'm a wordsmith. Clearly, Hank needs a beer. Beer, Tom, or are you going sober again tonight?"

  "Beer, please," Tom said brightly. "I was driving last night. This isn't walking distance from my place. I'll get a cab tonight."

  Darla walked away without another word as Trip stared daggers at his friend.

  "Oh, come on! You had to know I'd run interference," Tom objected to the look.

  "What if she's back to not being sure now?" Trip ground out.

  Tom scrunched up his face, shaking his head. "Nope. My butt wasn't even all the way into a chair last night before she was peppering me with questions about how you were doing and if you were still mega stressed out. She was worried about you. It's fine. To be clear, though, I don't think flowers factored in at all. She can't be bought. Some dude offered her a hundred-dollar tip last night in exchange for her number. She had the manager throw him out."

  "Why couldn't you tell me this before now?" Trip asked, already knowing the answer.

  "Because it'd ruin the fun of watching you panic. Duh."

  Trip made a mental note to call Claire later. Claire was good for getting even. She'd toy with her proposal approval for as long as Trip asked.

  "Beers!" Darla cheered, arriving back at the table. "You okay, Hank?"

  "My best friend is a—" Trip started.

  "Guy," she cut in. "Guys screw with each other."

  She smiled again, meeting his eyes. Her eyes brightened as he smiled back at her.

  "I'm good, Darla. Better."

  "Let's not do the forced separation thing again," she suggested as if the time apart wasn't her idea. "Some guys, it's fun. Like, an absence makes the heart grow fonder kind of thing. With you, I just missed you. I hate walking home alone. There's no one there to give me an extra coat. Stay to walk me home tonight?"

  He was nodding before she could ask the question. "I missed you too," Trip admitted quietly, somehow embarrassed.

  "Aw, isn't this just the cutest thing!" Tom exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "I'm out of here after pizza so you two can make goo-goo eyes at each other without me. Darla, please take—"

  "Shut it!" Trip interrupted, afraid that Tom was going to say something about sex. His face flushed red.

  Tom started laughing and couldn't stop. "I'll have you know I'm a gentleman!" He yelled at Trip. "I was going to ask her to take our pizza order!"

  Tom and Darla shared a look before turning back to a bright red Trip.

  "Ah, he thought there was going to be a sex joke in there," Darla realized.

  "I am morbidly curious to know what name you'd call him during sex. He's not really a 'Hank,' you know?" Tom asked.

  "He's absolutely Hank. You just don't realize it yet," Darla said smugly, walking away again.

  "I'd be happy for you, Trip, except she's going to yell out someone else's name during sex. That's going to get confusing." Tom grinned again, enjoying the awkwardness.

  Trip laughed with him. "You know, I like that I'm 'Hank' with her. All the sad-sack, somber parts of being 'Trip' just sort of melt away. I don't have that subconscious cue to think of my family history every time someone says my name." Trip shrugged. "I'm not developing some sort of split personality. I just generally feel better around her. I get to check the nonsense of work and family at the door and just enjoy my life with her."

  Tom stared in silence for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, he yelled, "Fuck you! You're getting married before I am. I just know it!"

  Trip's face went blank as he looked around to make sure Darla didn't overhear. Turning back to Tom's outraged face, a smug smile played at the corners of Trip's lips. He snorted for good measure, not bothering to deny his feelings. "Waiting for permission. Are you kidding me?"

  8

  Sunday morning, Trip knocked on Darla's apartment door at nine sharp—the second hand on his watch had just ticked over the minute.

  Darla opened the door immediately, laughing.

  "I'm on time," Trip noted, holding up the wrist with his watch.

  "I know. I've been watching you through the peephole for the last three minutes."

  His face fell. "Oh. Why didn't you open the door?"

  "I wanted to see what you would do. The non-verbal countdown was adorable." Darla stretched on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

  Trip tried not to look embarrassed.

  "What's wrong?" Darla asked, frowning.

  "I thought you wanted me to be on time. Not early. Not late. On-time."

  Fighting to keep a straight face, Darla took a deep breath. "I love everything about this. You might be my ideal man. You're so easy to train. I just have to tell you what I want!"

  Trip smirked.

  "What?"

  "All men just want to be told what a woman wants. It's so much easier when we don't have to guess. Directly telling me you want something is the most surefire way to get it. I will gladly do just about anything to make you happy. You should know that by now. Proof: I'm taking you to the zoo on a Sunday
morning."

  Darla grinned. "It's the zoo! How could you not want to go to the zoo! It's late October. Little kids running around in costumes. Come on. It's going to be fun." She held up a flask. "I'll spike your hot chocolate."

  Trip's eyes narrowed. "A boozy zoo morning? It’s nine o’clock."

  "Killjoy," Darla muttered, grabbing her coat. "We’re having peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate."

  Trip smiled. "I wasn't objecting. I was surprised."

  "Nice try," she scoffed. "Let's go."

  "The wind is cold."

  "I have my coat."

  "Scarf? Gloves?" he asked.

  "You're a full-on mother hen this morning." She rolled her eyes at him. "Let's go."

  "Okay, you were right. I was wrong," Darla admitted, teeth chattering as she held her hot chocolate in front of her lips. "It's colder than I expected this morning. The sun's not out."

  Trip smiled to himself, pulling an extra pair of gloves out of his pocket.

  Holding them out to her, he realized this was the first time he'd seen her truly surprised. When she didn't take them, he cleared his throat. "They're for you. Do you want them?"

  "You brought me gloves?" she asked, eyes filling with tears.

  Trip frowned. Like the flowers, he was afraid he'd done something wrong. "Yes?" he asked.

  "Why?"

  He blinked. "Darla, in the week and a half I've known you, you've claimed five coats and a scarf. You never dress for chilly Chicago weather."

  She stared at him, no expression on her face.

  "Can I have a few of the coats back, by the way? I wasn't going to ask, but I'm down to the coats that don't fit right anymore. I'm going to have to go shopping soon."

  She still stared, mind obviously elsewhere.

  "Darla? Are you okay? You don't have to take these gloves. You can have my gloves if you want. If taking my clothes makes you happy, so be it."

  She blinked hard again, a tear racing down her cheek. "Sorry," she muttered. "Sorry about taking your coats. Of course, you can have them back. Sue was complaining about them last night."

  "Okay." Trip nodded, wondering what was going on in her head. "I'm not upset," he added.