“Promise you’ll be there from now on?
“Promise,” I say, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She leans against me, and we’re back on the road to being family again.
“Will you get me into your club?”
“When you’re twenty-one, you can be on the list every night.”
“You suck,” she groans, but her smile says she’s joking.
“Someone has to be responsible. Let’s get you home.”
It’s weird driving down West Paces Ferry. I try my best to avoid this section of Atlanta at all costs. I haven’t been back to this side of the wealth divide since I left. While Atlanta has grown and changed around me, this place stays eerily similar. Houses get bigger, gardens turn over new leaves, but this neighborhood is frozen in some sort of weird cryogenic sleep. Even the people who live here are plastic, and more concerned with their personas and public faces than what really matters.
“Turn here,” Tasha says, pointing to a small access road. I ruffle her hair. Of course I know where to turn. “Hey, not the hair.” I poke her side and she stifles a giggle. All these years and she’s still ticklish. Sometimes it’s not so bad when things stay the same.
Stopping the car under a pecan tree, I stare through the wrought iron gate toward the mansion that looms in the distance.
The access road was meant for servants and gardeners, so that they could come and go without ever being seen. What Emmett and Martha didn’t anticipate was that their children would use it to sneak in and out of the house. We were too perfect for that. For once, their stupidity was our gain.
It was how I stayed sane under their demand of perfection. During the summer when I was home from boarding school, I’d steal out the back, escape, and explore Atlanta. While the pocket money I had could get me in anywhere, I found myself searching out the unexpected. The bars and eateries off the beaten path. It’s how I realized the effect of my parents’ decisions, because unlike my parents, who lived isolated in the mansion surrounded by a moat of wealthy, self-involved clones, I knew people who depended on a weekly paycheck.
“When did you learn this route out of Palace Gardner?” I ask. Never in my life did I show this to anyone, not even Tasha. She’d been molded into a mini-Martha from an early age. Money, vacations, and decadence were Tasha’s bread and butter. It was always the best and then better with her, and never once did I think she’d want to break out of her ivory tower.
“Since you started using it. I was young, not blind. I noticed everything.”
“You good to get inside?”
“We’re going to have to talk about you going parental on me all the time.”
I throw up my hands. “I’m backing off. Go get some sleep.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Call me anytime. I’ll tell you about the way out, through—”
“The tennis courts,” she cuts me off, “but exiting through the old barn is better, there’s more coverage.”
I stare at her. “There’s an exit there?”
She smiles. “So much to learn big brother, so much to learn.” She holds out her hand and I fist bump her.
“You take care,” I tell her. “And call me, OK? Whenever you need, no questions asked. I’ll always be there.”
Tasha gives me the ghost of a smile. “Thanks.”
She gets out and I watch her find the removal post in the fence and sneak back inside.
CHAPTER NINE
Savannah
It’s a good thing the date ended early—at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself. Otherwise I might have screwed his brains out in the alley where anyone could have seen. I’m guessing that’s against not just the law, but the code of ethics for lawyers too. I would have risked disbarment, but hell, it would have been worth it.
If Cash can make me feel like that with one hand, imagine what he could do with both of them.
Or his cock.
I wish we’d been able to take it to the bedroom and keep the night going. On the other hand, the bar is his thing and would I want Cash getting upset if I had to run out to help a client? No way. Things work both ways. Though it doesn’t make going to bed alone any easier.
I take the cab home and change into my PJs, then I pour myself a glass of wine and take a long sip. Now that the lust is fading from my system, I’m realizing just how close I came to losing my head. Improvising and spontaneity had gotten me in trouble with Tanner. But then, I had stars in my eyes, thinking it was the real deal. At least with Cash, I know exactly where I stand.
How did he put it? Chemistry. Instinct. It’s a classy way of referring to a quick fuck, but now I think, Cash wouldn’t take it fast.
No, he’d make me moan all night long.