Page 53 of A Little Moore Action
“Now, if you’ll justlisten.” Thomas glares at his brother.
That quickly, the smile drops from Chase’s face.
“I’ve been trying to inform you that Moore’s—”
“Shut. Up.”
My mouth drops at the murderous glare on Chase’s face and the venom in his words.
Chase leans forward toward his brother. “You lost your right toinformme of anything having to do with Moore’s when you dropped the failing family legacy on the dining room table and washed your hands of it weeks ago. You don’t get to call me, expecting me to listen to whatever the fuck you think is important. You lostthatright years ago when you couldn’t be bothered with your second-rate younger brother and you shoved your head so far up Stan’s ass you basically became his butt puppet.”
This time I’m choking on a laugh. But really,butt puppet?
“Chase, dear,” Em tries, reaching one of her hands out across the table for his.
Chase immediately sits back, hand out of reach. “No.”
Em stills. The sadness in her eyes pulls at me, but Chase must be blind to it. Or immune.
“You don’t get to dear me,Em. Besides not openly objecting to me taking over Moore’s, which isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, by the way,you’ve never stood up for me over the years. So don’t pretend that this serendipitous little meeting is anything other than a way to try to blindside me into falling into line with whatever the Golden Boy wants.”
Golden Boy bristles again. I avoid eye contact with everyone and suck down the rest of my Bloody Mary. Unfortunately, I suck too hard. The loud, slurping noise of my straw on the bottom of the empty glass draws Thomas’s angry attention to me.
“Stan did have one thing right, brother. You took over Moore’s and got distracted by the first pretty woman in the place.”
I still, the alcohol and spice unable to stop the cold feeling Thomas’s words evoke.
He continues, “How is the marketing campaign going,Bell? King Marketing getting everything they need to pump life into Moore’s? I do hope you’re getting paid well for your endeavors. Above the counter, as well asunderit.”
Em gasps, looking wide-eyed at her older son. “Thomas…”
For a second, Thomas looks stricken. But I can’t be sure because I’m trying to remember how to breathe. Black dots form around my vision. This.Thisis what I was afraid of.
Just as I manage to inhale, Chase yanks me out of the booth, almost colliding into poor Stacey.
“Congratulations, Thomas,” Chase says, reaching for his wallet. “You’ve finally become our father.”
This time I do catch the look on Thomas’s face. He looks downright ill.
“Here.” Chase thrusts two hundred-dollar bills at our waitress. “I’m sorry for taking up your table. This should cover our drinks and your time.”
Death grip back in place, he leads me out of the restaurant.
SEVENTEEN
Chase
As soon asI exit the peaceful tranquility of upscale dining, the cacophony of city noise hits me. Bell’s hand in mine is the one thing keeping the feelings roiling inside me from imploding.
I’m halfway down the block before I realize Bell is tugging on my hand for me to stop.
“What the heckwasthat back there?” she pants after I make a sudden stop.
A fast-walking New Yorker bumps into her, and I turn to shield her, drawing her closer to the building and out of the way of pedestrian traffic.
I try to steady my own breath, which is also heaving. From exertion, anger, hurt. Who knows? “That,” I say, jerking my head behind us, “was an ambush, apparently.”
“An ambush?” Bell’s small smile falters, then fades when she realizes I’m serious. “You really think Thomas and Em planned that?” When I don’t answer, she scoffs. “How would they even know where you were, Chase? That’s crazy.”
