Page 45 of Played
I leave.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
KING
Ispent the better part of yesterday and today visiting the remaining tattoo shops in New York. It’s taken weeks to get through them all, and it’s been a time-consuming pain in the ass, but there are some parts of this job that need to be done in person. Unfortunately, it’s also been fruitless. Not a single one of them recognized Cassidy Jones or remembered giving anyone a “King’s Princess” tattoo over a year ago. Most of them asked for a photograph of the ink, saying they’d recognize their own work, but unfortunately, the only evidence of the actual tattoo is Curtis’s description of it.
Thanks to that lead going nowhere, I’m already in a bad mood when I arrive at Graham Reese’s office building. I agreed to meet my parents here to discuss Grampa’s will, but I already sense this was a mistake. Their lawyer’s office isn’t exactly neutral ground.
They’re huddled up with Graham on the other side of the glass conference room, looking conspiratorial. If I’m honest, I really don’t give a fuck if I’m not entitled to Grampa’s money, but I do give a fuck about those two sycophants getting a cent of it. I’d rather donate it all to charity.
His secretary announces my arrival, and my parents take a seat while Graham comes out to greet me, all fake smiles when he tells me it’s good to see me.
“King?”
I turn toward the familiar voice and see Nathan James headed my way. I’ve met Mason’s other older brother a few times at Jamestech since I started working there. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Here to discuss my grandfather’s will. You?”
“Had a meeting.” His eyes narrow on Graham, and the two men don’t share any kind of greeting, although I get the sense they know each other. “Is the will being contested?”
“Seems so,” I tell him.
He doesn’t ask who’s doing the contesting or what the issue is. Instead, he says, “You need any representation?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Graham blusters.
“I think we’ll let Mr. Blackthorn decide that, don’t you, Reese?” His tone drips with ice. I’ve heard of Nathan’s ruthless reputation but have only ever found him to be pleasant in our interactions. This must be the side of him his adversaries see—the one that earned him a reputation as a shark in the courtroom. He looks to me. “I have an hour free, and it’s all yours if you want it.”
“Actually, you know, I could use some representation after all.”
Graham scowls at us both, but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.
There aremoments in life that stay with us forever, and the looks on my parents’ and their sleazy lawyer’s faces while Nathan James systematically destroys their argument in a few sentences is one such memory I intend to revisit often.
My father is foaming at the mouth while my mother stares at us with her usual air of coldness and Graham blunders his way through objection after objection.
Nathan rests his forearms on the table. “You have nothing, and you know it. There is not a single legal reason this decree does not stand as it is currently written, word for word. You wouldn’t even get it in front of a judge. And if you waste any more of my client’s time with this nonsense, I will sue you for harassment. Do you understand me?” Without waiting for an answer, he stands, fastens up his jacket, and indicates we’re leaving.
My father shouts obscenities while Graham tries to appease him, and my mother simply glares at us like she’s wishing for our imminent death.
I’m glad to get out of the room and into the elevator. “Thank you for that,” I tell Nathan.
He nods, his brow furrowed in a frown. It’s a minute before he speaks. “They have absolutely no grounds to contest that will, and Reese must be aware of that.”
“They think they do though. My parents believe they’re entitled to my grandfather’s money,” I explain.
“As often happens with families, but that will is airtight. And while I don’t particularly like Graham Reese, he’s a good lawyer. So it strikes me as odd that he didn’t advise his clients of that fact.”
“Maybe they assumed I’d roll over.” It’s not like they don’t have grounds to reach that conclusion, although I don’t say that to Nathan.
His frown deepens. “Maybe. Or maybe the stakes are higher than you think.”
Now it’s me frowning. “How so?”
“Your parents strike me as pretty desperate to get their hands on that money, King. Have you not picked up on that?”
