Page 12 of Most Likely to Score
“And I need to know everything,” Trevor says to Ford. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m involved this time around. It’s my job to look out for my brother and make sure he doesn’t run into the same shady shit as before. I’m going to vet everything. Be his eyes and ears.”
Ford spreads his hands to show there’s nothing up his short sleeves, but his pale arms. “Whatever you need. I want this to be an open book. No back-room deals, no shenanigans, no secrets.” Ford looks to me. “You need me to go through Trevor, we’ll do that.”
I glance at my brother. He gives me a meaningful look that saysI’ve got your back.
“Let me deliver this hole-in-two, and then you can tell me about these deals.” I tap the ball andbam—it rolls beautifully into the hole.
Lucky me.
After we finish up the round, we amble off the course, heading for our cars. Ford tugs off his golf glove at the edge of the parking lot. “Listen, I have a new company I’m talking to. A quick-serve food chain that makes all organic food. Tofu and kale and all that good-for-you green shit you probably love.”
I grin. “Of course I eat organic. How the hell do you think I’m as durable as I am? No corn chips or fried crap for me.” I flex a bicep.
“But beer counts?” Ford says with a wink.
I laugh. “Beer always counts. It’s like a tax exemption. Same for chocolate chip cookies.”
“Excellent. Glad to see you have your priorities straight. I’m all for making the most of those, too.” Ford tosses the glove into his bag. “In any case, this deal could be good for you. I’m going to keep talking and see what they’re looking for, but listen, it’ll help your cause if we don’t see any more shots of you and half-dressed women hanging out the sunroofs of limos.”
“I think half-dressed is an understatement.” I heave a sigh. “Also, that was a long time ago.”
Ford points at me. “And elephants have long memories. If you can keep that party-boy image of yours in the rearview mirror, we can get some sweet deals. Make you a golden boy. America’s sweetheart. Earn backsome of the money that was stolen. Be patient, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he says, clapping my back then shaking Trevor’s hand. “Now, I need to go and do my job, and I will keep you both apprised.”
Ford takes off, and as I slide into my sleek black Mercedes, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I grab it, and a very pretty face appears on the screen. Long, black hair, milk-chocolate eyes, pretty lips like a bow. I snapped the picture of Jillian at an event last year when she was standing at a table in the corner, nursing a club soda and looking pensive.
“Jones, did you just take a picture of me?” she’d said, when she noticed me holding up my phone.
“Yes, it’s a free country.”
“Let me see it.” She made grabby hands.
“See. You look all serious,” I’d said as I showed her.
“I look mad.” She parked a hand on her hip. “Take another where I look happy.”
I shook my head. “Nope. This angry face will make me answer the phone when you call because I’ll think you’re pissed at me.”
“And that entices you to pick up?”
“Hell, yeah. There’s nothing as motivating. Just ask my mom.Jones Edward Andrew Beckett, get inside.”
“Should I use your full name, then, any time you’re in trouble?”
“Please do,” I’d said, then I winked and walked away.
But I’d answer Jillian’s call no matter what picture I had for her contact. Trevor gets into the passenger seat as I bring the phone to my ear. “Good afternoon, Jillian,and yes, if you continue to insist over and over, I will take you out to dinner tonight at the fanciest restaurant in San Francisco. I already have the new Gabriel’s restaurant reserved.”
“Please make sure it’s a private table in the back.” Her voice turns more serious. “Actually, I do have an offer I want to run past you. Can you meet me tonight at eight?” She gives me a location. Gabriel’s. Great minds. That place is sweet. “And I have a private table reserved. I don’t want diners taking pictures of you.”
I’m tempted to make a joke, to tell her she can snap any kind of photo of me she wants, but given my track record and her serious tone, I decide to leave that one untouched.
“I’ll be there.”
I hang up and meet my brother’s gaze. His brow is scrunched, and his lips are curved up in a grin, that our mom always said showed off his freckles. We’ve got Irish ancestry and the blue-eyed trait to match, but Trevor’s the only one who has freckles.
“What?”
He drums his hands on the dashboard. “On a scale of one to ten, how obvious do you think it is that you’re hot for her?”
