Page 82 of Best Laid Plans

"I'll fuckin' hire you. I need legal counsel for Larue Homes. We've been using a law firm, but I want someone in-house. I'll pay you what you get paid now. You can work from Atlanta or Timbuktu as long as you have decent Wi-Fi and a laptop, and know Georgia state law."

"You'll hire me?" Tyler struggled to understand what I was trying to tell him. "Why?"

"Goddamn it, Tyler. You don't love Alma. You love this other girl. Marry her. Tell your father to screw his money."

Tyler nodded as if, finally, what I was saying got through to him.

"I'm not into corporate law," he said, "so I can't work for Larue Homes, but I get your point. I can find another job. I can leave Atlanta. I know people. But my trust fund is my family legacy, it's my inheritance, you know. I can't just leave it, can I?"

"Do you need it?"

"I guess. Money is nice, right?"

"Is marrying a woman you don't love for the rest of your life worth that nice?"

He leaned back on the sofa and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid of my father."

"What's the worst he can do?"

"Have me killed?" Tyler said, and I wasn't sure if he was kidding because the boy truly looked scared.

"He's not goin' to do that, since he wants to be governor."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's gonna save my life. Anson, why don't you want me to marry Alma? Do you think I'm not good enough—"

"It's 'cause you don't love her, dumbass," I said in exasperation. "This isn't about your suitability. I don't care if you get married and have a sad fucking marriage. That's on you and her. I'm not my sister's keeper. I'm tryin' to help you, Tyler. I lost the woman I loved ‘cause I was too busy being a Larue. I'm telling you, it ain't worth it."

Tyler nodded thoughtfully. After a couple of minutes, he stood up. He pulled out a jewelry box from his pocket and set it on the coffee table. "Nicole gave that to me. Said it had sentimental value 'cause it was your grandma's or something, and she thought it would be somethin' nice to add to the engagement announcement."

I picked up the familiar box, my heart hammering. I opened it and swallowed. This was Grandma Ethel's engagement ring—the one Nova was supposed to have stolen, along with all those other pieces worth thirty thousand dollars. I knew this was one of them because I filed an insurance claim for it.

"Anson?"

I looked at Tyler, feeling like I'd walked into a nightmare. The pieces were falling into places in my head, and the picture that came together wasn't a good one.

"Yeah, bud?"

"I'm going to tell Alma that I can't marry her. Can you…ah…come with me?"

"Sure," I smiled. "Don't worry; it won't be too unpleasant."

Tyler laughed. "Come on, Anson, it's going to be a clusterfuck."

"Yeah, it is," I agree, putting the ring box in the pockets of my pants.

Tyler was right. It was a clusterfuck.

Alma cried.

Mama yelled at Tyler, and then at me.

After twenty minutes of that, I ushered Tyler out of the mansion, and told him to go home and live his life the way he wanted. I assured him that I'd be happy to hire him if he couldn't find another job. He didn't seem worried about that. In fact, this was the first time I'd seen the boy look care-fucking-free and happy. He thanked me and wished me luck.

"Anson, you were supposed to convince him to propose," Mama wailed.

Carole peeked into the living room, and I shook my head. No, we were not ready for dinner. And this rate we'd all probably skip it for the night.

"He's not in love with Alma, and God knows she's not in love with him," I replied, sitting down on one of my mother's horribly ornate Louis the Something chairs. They were fucking uncomfortable, and made the living room look like something out of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Christ! I hated this house. I hated how it was decorated. I hated how pretentious it was.

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