Page 13 of Until Daddy

“Ah! There you are, I was just going to have Danielle call you.” His father looked up from his laptop and stood.

Jamison reached across the massive desk to shake hands with his father before heading to the bar.

“Traffic on Lakeshore was a nightmare,” he said, pouring brandy into a crystal glass. The room was stuffy, not only in temperature but with the arrogance that came with the amount of wealth his father possessed. Portraits of members of his long dead family hung on the walls, covering most of the room. Jamison couldn’t name the men if he tried, and he wondered if his father could.

“Sit, I have something to discuss, but bring me a brandy as well.” Barron pointed to the carafe on the bar.

Jamison threw back the rest of his own drink and poured two fresh glasses, handing his father his before taking his seat across from him.

“Okay, I’m here. What is this big deal that you can’t tell me over the telephone?” He sipped his drink, loving the burn as the dark amber liquid traveled down his throat.

“This.” His father turned his laptop around to point to a map of the city. He reached over the top to point at a tiny blip on the screen. “The perfect place to build our own resort.” Before Jamison could lean forward to look at the location, his father had turned it back around and started pulling up finance reports.

“We don’t build,” Jamison said. He hadn’t built anything, ever… aside from Dark Lace. Their remodel of the warehouse they’d bought for the club meant they had pretty much torn it down and put it back together, but that was an investment he hadn’t shared openly with his father.

“Not yet, but I think it’s time. We’ve done well buying and selling real estate, but I think we need something more permanent. Something we can stamp our name on!” Barron hadn’t looked so excited about anything since the IRS’s audit had been concluded without finding a single transgression.

“So, you want to build an apartment complex?”

The wrinkled cheeks of his father puffed out in a scoff. “Apartment? Like in rent to ordinary people? No! I’m talking about a high rise catering to the elite. Two-floor apartments, the best of everything. See here, this is the first year’s projected revenue.”

“You’ve gotten bids from the builders already?” Jamison pulled the computer closer to look at the numbers. His father didn’t obtain bids if he wasn’t already set on moving forward with a project. Why such a change in goals?

“No, no, not firm ones, just preliminary estimates.”

“It sounds interesting, but why do you need me for this one?”

“Need you? Because it’s going to have the Croft name on it. It’s going to be ours, and it will open the door to a whole new avenue. We can build Croft Towers in every city across the country, Europe even!”

Jamison sat back in his chair. His father’s perfectly styled graying hair seemed a little thinner than the last time he’d seen him, the circles under his eyes a bit darker. “You’re really excited about this,” he mused. If his graduating as the college Valedictorian had elicited as much excitement from Barron years ago, perhaps their relationship would be a tad stronger.

“You should be, too. It’s going to mean big things for us.”

“How much is the plot of land selling for?” Jamison crossed one foot over his knee and scooted down in his chair. Once his father started talking money, it was going to be a long night.

“Well, that’s the only hitch. The attorneys are looking into it, but I should have a better idea by the end of the month.”

“Hitch?” Jamison’s phone started to buzz in his back pocket and he dug it out while his father started talking around the question.

Just got home. Thanks for lunch, but you didn’t have to do that.

He didn’t have to, but he’d gotten one text from Carissa in the morning telling him how crazy the ER was because of a car accident on the Eisenhower. Sending a pizza to the hospital for her so she could grab something quick to eat was the least he could do. She needed to eat, and she’d already confessed to skipping her break because of the chaos of the emergency room on most shifts.

Barron continued talking while Jamison typed out his response.

Little girls need their nutrition.

“What was that?” Jamison looked up to find his father in the middle of a self-absorbed conversation. He was clicking away at his computer and rattling on about profit and return on investments. “I think it’s a fine idea. Let’s get some actual numbers and then we’ll see about going forward.” His father sat at the head of the realm of Croft Enterprises, he didn’t need Jamison’s approval. Nor would he desire it.

“Excellent!” Barron grinned. “I’d rather not take on this project without you, you know. You have a solid head for investments.” As a compliment, it was as strong as Barron Croft would give.

“Thanks.” Jamison stood from his chair. “Was there something else?” His phone buzzed again in his hand.

“You’re not leaving, are you? I had them make dinner.”

“Oh, I suppose I have time for a quick bite.” Jamison checked the clock on his father’s imposing desk. If she’d just got home, she’d need at least an hour or two to shower and rest a bit. He sent her a quick message asking if he could come over.

I have plans tonight, maybe tomorrow?

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