Becoming Hank: A Trellis Family Novella (Building the Circle) Page 7

  Canton nodded and sat back in his seat, considering his words. "If you had tried to sweep it under the rug, I would have fired you on the spot and taken out ads in the newspapers about the investigation, offering representation to anyone that felt their accounts were mismanaged by your firm. I'd drag the firm through the mud and destroy what was left of your grandfather's legacy. He has to be rolling in his grave over this."

  Trip dropped his head, looking at his hands in his lap. The ghoulish concept of grave rolling never sat right with him.

  "Is the investigation public?" Canton asked.

  "I have no idea," Trip muttered. "I handed off the paperwork and left them to their jobs. It's out of my hands, sir."

  "And you, J.R.? What do you have to say about this? You've never once been this silent in my presence. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Edward asked.

  Trip watched as his father took a deep breath while flexing his hands in and out of fists. Holy cow, is he going to snap?

  But, when J.R.'s words came, they were quiet, even gentle. "I've spent most of my life trying to live up to the legacy of my father. I'm not dense enough to believe I've succeeded in any way other than the son I produced. I'm ashamed of this situation, and in awe of the person Trip has become."

  Trip gasped, eyes wide with shock. It was, undoubtedly, the kindest thing J.R. had ever said about him and wholly unexpected. Swallowing hard, Trip searched his mind for a response but came up blank.

  Edward Canton sat across the table, smirking at the expression on Trip's face. They shared a look. Canton tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment, maybe even encouragement.

  "Thank you, Dad," Trip said, finally. Still lost, he raked his hand through his hair, not thinking.

  "Don't do that," J.R. snapped. "That's a horrible habit and an emotional tell. I broke you of that years ago. Don't start tugging at your fucking hair again."

  "And there's the J.R. we all know," Canton muttered, trying not to laugh.

  Trip turned his head away from his father, hiding his smile.

  "What are we going to do about this, Edward? Where does this leave us?" J.R. asked, back to his usual blunt self.

  Canton sighed. "The server is coming with our meals."

  Trip glanced at his father's porterhouse steak and wondered if J.R. would be able to eat it. Glancing at his own club sandwich, he doubted his stomach was up for the exercise. Canton's chef salad looked like a better call.

  "How is your lady, Henry?" Edward asked as they unfolded napkins and sorted silverware.

  Trip's eyes shot up, meeting Edward's across the table.

  "What's this?" J.R. asked. "You're seeing someone?"

  Canton flinched, realizing he'd spilled the beans. There was an apology in the return look.

  "I am," Trip confirmed. "She's well, sir."

  Canton smiled. "Terrible circumstances aside, you seem well. Love is a wonderful thing."

  J.R.'s head tilted. "This is a serious girlfriend? Why haven't you mentioned this? Your mother is going to have a fit that you didn't tell her."

  Like a deer in the headlights, Trip was frozen. Somehow, his love life was defusing his work issues.

  "Trip?" J.R. barked.

  "Sorry, sir. No, not intentionally a secret. I just haven't had the opportunity to mention Darla."

  "Darla?" J.R.'s eyes darted between Canton and Trip. He was expecting a different name.

  Oh shit. He thought I was dating Vanessa Canton. He thought that's why Edward knew. I never told him about breakfast with Canton.

  Trip sighed, knowing there'd be a complicated conversation about this later. "Darla," Trip confirmed.

  Canton was trying not to smile again. "Really, J.R. I've found my children to be interesting adults when I tune in. My Vanessa has a love of music I was wholly unaware of. It's not the type of music I enjoy, but she enjoys it. It's broadened my perspective quite a bit."

  Trip's eyebrows shot up. "Vanessa is into music?"

  "Heavy metal, if you can believe it! I had no idea. Then I had to move her car one day, and the music was blaring." Canton shuddered. "It's terrible, but it's interesting all the same."

  "Huh." Trip huffed out a chuckle, not wanting to openly laugh at prim, proper Vanessa rocking out.

  "Back to business," J.R. said suddenly.

  Trip glanced over. His father's plate was completely clear. Involuntarily, Trip shook his head in wonder before looking at Canton again. They shared another look of understanding.

  "It seems to me this situation is being handled correctly. It's impossible to predict how people will act, though I will admit that Mary called this the day she met Jerry. I'll never hear the end of it." Edward shook his head. "It happened. It's being investigated and will be addressed. I don't think I could have asked for more out of my initial complaint."

  There was a collective exhale around the table, a sigh of relief.

  "But J.R., you and I have different priorities. I am in business to make money, yes. But I don't profit from other people's hardships. Can you say the same?"

  J.R. stared, not responding.

  "I'll ask that question again in a few months. If you can't agree with me on that single point, I'm not sure we have anything left to say to each other."

  "I understand," J.R. muttered.

  "I have no intention of recommending your firm or adding to my investments with you at this time. But I also won't work against you."

  The tense silence ate at Trip's calm on the cab ride back to the office. "That went better than expected."

  It was a lie. It went exactly as Trip expected. But probably better than J.R. expected.

  "Why does Canton know you have a girlfriend?" J.R. asked, staring out the window.

  "I picked up some documents a few weeks ago. We chatted a bit and had breakfast."

  J.R.'s eyes narrowed. "That made me look foolish, Trip."

  The car went back to tense silence. There was no use arguing the truth, though J.R. made himself look like a fool without any assistance from Trip.

  In the elevator, J.R. cleared his throat before speaking. "The girlfriend will come to dinner on Wednesday."

  "She can't," Trip said automatically.

  "Why?"

  "She works."

  "Works at what?"

  Trip hesitated. "She's a waitress."

  "You're fucking a waitress. Great."

  "Dad—"

  "What day can she join us for dinner?"

  "She's off on Sundays and Mondays."

  "Sunday night dinner with the family. It's a date," J.R. growled, knocking on the elevator frame as he stomped his way back to his office.

  11

  Darla laughed, watching Trip straighten his tie. Again. "You look like you're going to puke."

  His eyes flicked to her in the mirror, but he didn't say anything.

  "Hank, it'll be fine. Really. I'll behave."

  He shook his head. "My family won't react well to 'Hank.' Trip or Henry, okay?"

  "You're really worried about this?" Darla asked, her expression softening at his apparent unease.

  "I am. I'm worried they'll be terrible to you. We don't have family dinners. I don't know why we're having dinner now."

  "You don't want to bring me home to meet them, do you?" Darla asked, eyes going to slits.

  "That is absolutely correct. I'd rather you never meet these people. You'll never look at me in the same way again."

  "Oh."

  "Oh?" His eyebrows raised in the mirror.

  "I thought you were ashamed of me."

  "No." Trip huffed out a laugh. "No. You're amazing."

  She kissed his cheek, then wiped away the lipstick mark. "It'll be fine."

  "Darla, my mother—"

  "It'll be fine."

  "She's easily offended and will take great joy in trampling all over your life given a chance. I anticipate them being rude. But, with my mother, please—"

  Darla brushed her lips against his cheek again. "It's fine, Hank."
/>
  "What is this?" Stacey Trellis sneered as her son entered the living room with Darla.

  Trip froze, unsure what to do. He knew better than to think his parents would approve of Darla. Still, he didn't expect animosity upon entering the living room.

  Darla looked around, her gaze traveling back and forth between Stacey and J.R. "Sunday dinner? Right? This is Sunday dinner?"

  Eyes closed, Trip fought off the laughter that bubbled up inside. The love of his life was going to play it straight. She wasn't going to sit mute through mistreatment, but she was going to do her best to keep perspective. This was going to work out.

  He cleared his throat. It didn't help the dryness. "It is," he agreed brightly, overlooking his mother's rudeness. "Darla, this is my mom, Stacey, and my dad, J.R."

  "It's so nice to meet you," Darla beamed. She shook J.R.'s hand with confidence and waggled Stacey's limp digits. Neither of Trip's parents spoke. Lacking a better option, he gestured to an empty sofa across from his mother's preferred perch.

  "Is Sara joining us?" Trip asked into the dead silence, wondering if his snobby sister would add to the terrible company.

  "No," Stacey replied, the word somehow a scolding. Trip looked at his mother, confused. "She's indisposed."

  Ah, she's still pouting about Jerry being a thief, Trip thought. "I'm surprised she's so out of sorts. I didn't think she had feelings for Jerry anymore."

  "We will not discuss that nonsense in present company," Stacey barked.

  Darla snorted. "I already know."

  Stacey's eyebrows shot up as Trip winced. "You'll discuss our family matters with random riffraff you meet while on the prowl, but you didn't tell your father?"

  "Mother—" Trip started, hackles raised.

  His words were drowned out by Darla's cackle. "Ha! 'Prowl.' Hank, your mother thinks you have way more game than you actually do."

  J.R.'s mouth dropped open. "Hank?"

  Darla's eyes cut to him, all humor gone, back straight and proud. "Hank."

  "I've had enough of this farce. Trip, this is absurd," Stacey started. "I won't humor this nonsense through a whole meal. That dress had to come from Kmart. Everything about her screams low class. Get her out of your head and out of my house."

  Trip blinked.

  "She's a gold-digger, Trip. No. Take her home and end it," Stacey directed.

  Darla smiled. "All I'd find digging around here is corruption."

  Taken aback, Stacey’s expression turned feral. "You are uneducated, ill-mannered, and lacking in just about everything. You have no business here. Leave my son alone. He's slumming with you. I thought he'd had enough of that nonsense. It's time to grow up, Trip."

  "Let's go, Darla," Trip muttered.

  "Don't bring her back, Trip. I'll make you both sorry. I thought I made this clear with Amy," Stacey murmured as they made their way out of the room.

  Darla was laughing again as they got into Trip's car. "That was like ten minutes. That has to be some kind of record."

  Driving around to exit the estate, Trip didn't respond.

  "Gosh, they were just how I imagined them. You nailed the descriptions!"

  A minute later, Trip still hadn't spoken.

  "Hank?"

  He shook his head.

  "I'm sorry it didn't go well," she said, the words sincere, but her smile still in place. "You knew it would be terrible. At least we didn't have to sit with them longer. Let them be miserable together."

  Trip pulled over before they reached the expressway entrance. The drizzle had started. It would storm overnight. "I didn't think she would do that—my mom. I didn't expect her to react like that. I thought she'd balk at you not coming from money. I didn't think you'd be best friends by any means. But I thought she'd grow to enjoy your sass."

  "Oh well." Darla shrugged.

  "Darla, my mom can make things bad. Not just uncomfortable. Bad. She comes from old money and has money of her own that my father can't touch."

  Darla rolled her eyes. "Of course, she does. Spoiled socialite, through and through."

  "She'll make you miserable."

  Darla shrugged again. "She'll try. I don't care."

  "You don't understand," Trip said, eyes closed, head resting back in his seat. "She will play games with your life—show up at the restaurant and cause problems, maybe buy your apartment building and evict you. She's vicious when she chooses to be. A class-A bitch of epic proportions."

  "Oh, please. That's way too much effort for her to go through just because she doesn't like your girlfriend."

  "She's done it before. I dated a woman right after college. Anyway, there's a reason my sister's ex-husband ran away, and I don't think it had much to do with embezzlement. Though, I imagine she's making Jerry squeal right about now."

  "Your mother goes around ruining the lives of people she doesn't like?"

  "Just the ones that interfere with her in some way," Trip muttered, rubbing his eyes.

  "That's psychotic," Darla noted, a laugh still tingeing her voice. "What do you want to eat tonight? I don't think you ate much today."

  "I love you." The words came from Trip's mouth, from his heart, firm and clear.

  "I love you, too," Darla said easily. "Food?"

  "I can't see you anymore."

  A crease formed between her eyebrows. "You can't be serious."

  "She'll destroy your happiness and dance in the ashes. I can't, Darla. I can't live with that. I can't let that happen."

  "What are we having for dinner?" Darla demanded.

  "I'm serious."

  "No, you're not. You can't possibly be serious. I'm not afraid of your mother, Hank. There's not much in my life I care about losing. She can go ahead and take what she wants and rot in hell while she's at it. So, forget about it. I'm thinking of good burgers for dinner. Thoughts?"

  "Darla, we're not doing this. I'm not going to watch her destroy you. It's over."

  "Knock it off!" Darla yelled, tears filling her eyes. "The only thing she can take away to destroy my happiness is you, so stop it! I will go back and apologize to the bitch and steer clear of her. It'll blow over, Hank!"

  "They're my family, Darla. There is no steering clear of them. They're not going to blow over. It is what it is." Trip's voice was flat, nothing but resignation left in him. He knew this moment was coming from the way J.R. demanded they make an appearance for dinner. He just didn't want to believe it. Now, it was reality.

  "This is bullshit, Hank! Utter bullshit! Stop it! They make you miserable every damn day. Screw them!"

  "You don't get to choose your family—" he started

  "YES, YOU DO!" she roared. "We choose who we spend our lives with. We choose what we spend our time on. There is a price for everything—a cost. There's an investment of energy into everything we do, and you choose to do this. You invest your time and energy in them. Don't pretend otherwise!"

  "They're my family."

  "No, they're not. They don't care about you or your happiness. You're a possession to them. I could tell it by the way she said, 'my son.' Tom is family. Those two idiots are your owners. You can choose something better than this, Hank. Don't do this. Don't settle for this."

  "I love you," he whispered. "I'll take you home."

  She stared out the window, blinking fast. After a moment, she sighed. "Don't bother." The car door slammed before she disappeared into the damp, cold night.

  Belatedly, Trip realized he didn't even have a phone number to make sure she got home safe.

  12

  Two weeks later, Trip followed the Canton butler into the family dining room. He'd been invited for breakfast again, rather than having a formal monthly status meeting.

  "Good morning, sir," Trip murmured, entering the room.

  "Henry! Good..." The pleasant expression fell from Edward's face as he got a look at Trip. "Good morning. I didn't realize you've been sick, Henry. Are you on the mend at least?"

  Trip shook his head, pulling papers out of hi
s briefcase to avoid Edward's eyes. "I'm not sick, sir. How have you been?"

  Edward took his seat across from Trip, eyes boring holes into Trip's face.

  "You're well, sir?" Trip asked again, looking at the table setting in front of him.

  "What happened?" Edward murmured.

  The genuine concern in Canton's voice almost broke Trip. Two weeks without Darla meant two weeks of poor sleep, little food, and even less laughter. After telling Tom what happened, they'd reached an unspoken agreement to never mention her again. Thomas knew Trip's mother and knew ending things was for the best. Still, they avoided the topic at all costs.

  Canton waited patiently for an answer.

  Trip shook his head. "I'm well. Overall, the monthly—"

  "Henry, what happened? Your eyes and cheeks are sunken. Your skin is grey. There is no spark of intelligence or joy in your face. I don't care about the numbers. What happened?"

  "Sir, I mean this with the utmost respect. My personal life is none of your business."

  Edward sat back in his chair, unmoved. "Of course, you are correct. As your client, I have no interest in your personal wellbeing. However, I thought we were on our way to becoming friends, that there was some semblance of understanding between us. As your client, I'm concerned that your workload or stress impacts your ability to manage my money. As your friend, I'm concerned for your happiness."

  Trip sighed, staring at his empty plate. "Neither my workload nor stress are impacting my abilities, sir. I am well."

  "So, your lady love has flown the coop, so to speak?"

  Trip didn't respond, didn't even move.

  "I'm sorry to hear it," Canton said, meaning it. "You seemed happy, on your way to love, a few weeks ago. What happened?"

  Trip cleared his throat with a little shake of his head. "After our last lunch, J.R. demanded a Sunday family dinner."

  Edward exhaled hard. "Your mother?"

  At last, Trip met Canton's eyes, leaving the details unspoken.