Page 72 of Sexy as Sin
“And how does that kid turn out?” Brett asked.
Another quick, sidelong glance. “Surprises you, usually. Does everything you ask. Turns back to help his mate who’s stuck on the obstacle course. He’ll be the one still standing at the end of the run, too, ready to give more, when half of them have dropped. When things turn to custard, he’s got his rifle out and is going about his business. Never looks the flashest, but he never gives up and never backs down. He doesn’t know how. And he’ll fall on a grenade to save his mates. It’s never the useless ones who’ll do that. It’s the ones you can’t afford to lose.”
“And you don’t want Willow to fall on a grenade.”
“She’s done it too many times. You’re splashing some serious lolly around, mate. Sending her shopping. Taking all of us out tonight, someplace posh, I’m sure, to make an impression. Flying her out to the States, and I reckon it’ll be first class. What happens when the plane’s on the ground again and the glamour bit’s over? Who’s helping her put the pieces back together then?”
“I’m guessing here,” Brett said, “that the Air Force is inferior to the Army, and that a captain’s useless without a good sergeant to explain how things actually work. A position I agree with, by the way. And that wealthy men are soft, disloyal, probably dishonorable, and generally flawed until proven otherwise.”
He got a faint snort of laughter, at least that was what he assumed that sound was. “Could be.”
Brett could take offense, except that he couldn’t. If he was asking for the right to stand by Willow, which he pretty clearly was, of course her uncle wanted to know if he could do it. So all he said was, “I may not be exactly what you think. Even those recruits can surprise you, I’ll bet. I’m a self-made man, and I don’t consider myself better than anybody. I’m from nothing and nowhere, but I’m in love with your niece, and if there’s a grenade to fall on, I’ll be the one doing it.”
If he’d thought that would be enough, he’d been wrong. “Easy words,” Blackstone said. “But I’m listening.”
“Right, then. My father worked in a pulp mill, and so did my uncle and two of my cousins. The cousins still do. My grandfather was a logger, and I did my time in the mill myself. Turns out I’m good at sales, though, and I’m better at making money. I’m not in the mill anymore, and I don’t apologize for that.”
Blackstone made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, then said, “You have houses, Rafe says, which doesn’t thrill me, whatever you imagine. But then, Rafe has houses himself, and he’s not too bad. What sort of house do your parents live in?”
Ah. Nice trick question. “My mother’s still in the house I grew up in, which I’ve fixed up exactly as much as she’s allowed me to. My father died when I was twelve.”
“Self-made is right, then.”
“Yes.” They’d made it to the next hole at last, but Blackstone waved the other two men on and kept walking. No rest for the wicked.
The next question wasn’t the one Brett was expecting. “Property developer. Not a career practiced by saints. How many corners do you cut doing it?”
This guy wasn’t stopping until Brett was turned inside-out. He’d go ahead and do it. It wasn’t actually scraping your soul over sandpaper, it just felt that way. “Not too many,” he said, “and I’ll tell you why. The day he died, I had to confess something to my dad. I’d cheated on a test at school, I’d been caught doing it, because I wasn’t nearly as sneaky as I thought, and I had a note from the teacher that had been burning a hole in my backpack all weekend. I’ve never wanted to do anything less than to hand over that note. We were out fishing in the river, and I’d stuffed it into my pocket before we left. It was Sunday. Last chance. I finally got those words out with a hand shoved into my dog’s fur, hanging onto the last time my dad would think I was the son he wanted. The last part of it was, ‘I made a mistake, Dad. I’m sorry. It was a mistake.’ And for the record, I’ve never told anybody that.”
“Hmm,” Blackstone said. “What did he say?”
“Said exactly what you would have, I’d guess. ‘That wasn’t a mistake. A mistake’s when you cast your line and it hooks in the trees. When you aim your cast at your sister, that isn’t a mistake. It’s a wrong choice. What you did was make the wrong choice.’ Man, I thought I couldn’t feel lower. And then he said, ‘Are you going to make that choice again?’ I said, ‘No, sir,’ and that was it. I made more wrong choices in my life, but I didn’t make that one. He said something else, too. ‘Never do anything you wouldn’t want to see printed in the papers.’ That’s been a pretty good life guide, I find. Also, ‘Keep your good name as clean as you got it, and you’ll be able to pass it on again the same way.’”
“My dad,” Blackstone said, in a surprising turn, “told me this one. ‘Never buy a car from a man who cheats on his wife. Cheaters cheat.’”
“Another excellent rule,” Brett agreed. “Here’s mine. Don’t do business with anyone who cheats at golf. Great test, golf. For example, the way you’re kicking my ass right now.”
If he’d expected Blackstone to laugh, he’d been wrong. “So you’re not a cheater, and you’re not a liar.”
“That’s it. Pretty low bar, if you ask me, but I pass that one. I’m a tough negotiator, though, and I usually get what I want. I’m willing to work harder for it, I’m a pretty smart guy who knows when to jump and when to walk away, and I know how to keep people from putting up their defenses. And I believe that character is destiny.”
“Hmm,” Blackstone said again. “You said your dad died that day. What happened?”
This was the worst round of golf Brett had ever not-played. If he’d wondered what he’d do for Willow, he was starting to get some idea. Where was the part where the guy asked about your prospects? His prospects were great. His past? Not so much. “He drowned,” he said. “The dog drowned, too. I didn’t make the right choices then, either.”
“You didn’t, huh,” Blackstone said. “What should you have done?”
“Got his waders off. Swum down underneath him and tried harder. It was a bad day, six or seven years later, when I figured that out. I’m a slow learner sometimes, but the idea takes hold eventually.”
“Could’ve killed you, too.”
“Could’ve been worth it. I can tell you that my dad never would’ve let go. You could say I learned my lesson.”
They walked on. Coming up to the sixth hole, and, Brett devoutly hoped, the end of this.
“So now you’re rich,” Blackstone said. “Good-looking bloke. Charming. Intelligent. And over forty, that’s for damn sure. How is it you’re not married already?”
“I was. It didn’t take.”
