Page 36 of Bad Boy
I chuckle and take off down the hill, probably going faster than I should. “Just one more day of school to get through, and it’s you, me, a cabin, and a bunch of fucking leaves. You excited or what, Preppy?”
“I really am. My parents didn’t even make a fuss about it. I guess because I’m goin’ with you.”
“They like my grandfather so much that I get some kind of automatic pass? Just for being the neighbor boy?” I’m not one hundred percent sure why Lincoln’s parents changed their attitudes so quickly once they found out who I was.
“Um. Well.” I see him fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck in my peripheral. “There’s a little more to it. Less honorable intentions on their part.”
“Okay. . .” I trail off, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter until the leather creaks. I really don’t need any more trouble.
“My family’s company is Anderson Holdings. Father owns half the businesses in town and a handful in Asheville, with percentages in dozens of other businesses throughout the southeast. Your grandfather has his own companies—long-standing, profitable enterprises across the country that my parents have been dyin’ to get their greedy, manipulative hands on.”
Well, that definitely answers some things.
He doesn’t like his parents. They’re obviously controlling assholes. Richard owns a shitload of businesses which is why I’m living on a fucking estate. And Linc’s asshole parents want a piece of the pie.My family’s pie.
I pull up to the first red light in five miles, turning to stare at Linc. “So, they want to use me to get to my family’s businesses. And what? Buy them out? How do they expect me to influence something like that? I just got here.”
“It’s the long game with them, Remi. Always the long game. They’re thinkin’ of the near future when Richard is too old and passes the reins to his grandson. To you.”
“To me?” I parrot.
Oh shit.
No fucking way.
“You don’t know anything about your family’s businesses? They’re everywhere, Remi. New York. Boston. Miami.” He squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe me.
“Nope. I thought I was poor last week. I had no clue any of this existed. My mom fucking lied to me my entire life.”
“Remi—”
“It’s fine, Preppy. I don’t want to get into my feelings this morning,” I interrupt.
“Do you at least know what theyare?”
“What what are?” I ask unnecessarily, still waiting for this red light to turn green. I glance in the rearview mirror. A car finally pulls up behind us.
“Your family businesses.”
“Uh. . .” I hesitate, sort of embarrassed that I haven’t askedwhyorhowGramps is so rich.
“Jewelry—Keller and Sons. Watches are their specialty, high-demand item. Then there’s the uber-successful clocksmith business, which explains the main décor of your home, in case you were wonderin’ what all that was about,” he giggles. “Mr. Keller, his father, and his father’s father have always been horologists—collectin’ and makin’ clocks. And then there are also hardware stores, restaurants, and all the investments.”
I stare at Lincoln, eyes wide. “Gramps runs all that?” I ask in disbelief, imagining the gentle and slow-moving old man sitting in a boardroom all day in his soft cardigans and suspenders. I know for a fact he was home all week, doing what I thought was, well, nothing.
Also, I am once again pissed that no one in my family tells me shit. I mean, this is a big fucking deal.
A car horn blares behind us, really laying on it. My head automatically whips forward, and I see that the red light has turned green. I press my foot to the gas, tires squealing as we speed away.
Lincoln's melodic laugh filters into my senses, causing my abs to tighten.
Fuck, I like hearing that.
He grabs onto the door handle as we speed down the winding road and answers my earlier question.
“Your grandfather doesn’t run it per se. He oversees major decisions, yes, but he has a lot of people working for him. These teams—all with various managers and levels—run different areas of the country and the businesses within that region. It’s honestly a complicated web, from what Mr. Keller has tried to explain to me. And I’m not so sure he quite gets it himself, really. Especially after his wife, Ms. Margaret, passed away. That’s when he and I got close. I think he was lonely, and he just kinda gave up. He left all the day-to-day stuff to his teams and advisors.”
I clear my throat, wanting to change the subject. I’m not ready to discuss the dead-grandmother-that-my-mom-hates thing. I know whatever actually happened is an extremely sensitive and fucked up situation. And I know I need to have that discussion with Mom and Gramps.Eventually.
