Page 98 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

Jack ignored his father’s defensive tone. He knew his father, and it was just a matter of time before Jonathan got to the real point of his visit. There generally was an ulterior motive. Sometimes minor, sometimes not.

“Beej and I are on our way to the park. You can certainly join us.”

“No, no. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. Just hold on about the park for a bit, and we’ll be fine.”

Jack threw a glance at B.J., whose attention was on the dog. “Want a beer?” he asked his dad, deciding he might as well give Jonathan his ear now rather than put off the discussion to some other time.

Jonathan accepted the long-necked bottle. “I’ve been talking to investors in these oil-drilling sites in South and Central America. Getting the money men together with the operational teams. You know what I mean?”

“You’re looking for investors in wildcat drilling?” Jack’s father had tapped him for money more times than he could count, always with the promise of a fabulous return on his investment. Mostly Jack bobbed and weaved his way out of the deals, but Jonathan seemed to always come up with a new one.

“I’m brokering some deals. I was thinking maybe you might want to get in on the ground floor.”

“I’d have to talk it over with Cissy, and now’s not the best time for us. A lot of things need to be resolved, financially, with her family.”

A cloud crossed Jonathan’s face. “I’d hate you to miss out on this, Son.”

Jack’s smile was noncommittal. He let his father expound heartily for long minutes until B.J. grew tired of chasing Coco and came back their way, hanging on Jack’s leg and looking up at him.

Jack picked up his son as Jonathan was saying, “I thought your magazine could do a small profile on me. Get some publicity going. It would be great if you were a part of this.”

Jack had heard about a lot of get-rich-quick schemes from his father, some of them full of merit, most not. Unfortunately, even the ones that panned out never really worked, for Jonathan had yet to see any of them to their profitable end. Long before that happened, he was off chasing another idea, another dream. Sometimes his brother was in on the deal, at least peripherally. They both believed that “big killing” was just around the corner.

“It’s a really great opportunity,” Jonathan said for about the third time when B.J. started chanting.

“Park. Go park. Park. Park!”

“In a minute there,” Jonathan cut him off a bit tensely, then launched into more particulars.

B.J. responded with, “Now, now, now!”

“Bryan Jack,” Jonathan snapped.

Beneath Jonathan’s bonhomie Jack heard nervous tension. This latest deal must be really important to him; but then, they all were.

“WE GO!” B.J. regarded Jack urgently.

“I promised him the park,” Jack said to Jonathan. “We really have to go, if we’re going.”

“Put it off till tomorrow.”

“Kind of important to follow through on promises,” Jack pointed out.

Jonathan got his face close to B.J.’s. “Okay, little man. Why don’t you go find some toys to play with? Your dad’ll be ready to go in a minute.”

“No, Poppa.”

“Don’t tell me no.”

B.J. scowled.

“And remember, grumpy boys don’t get to go at all.”

“Dad,” Jack warned, as Beej wound up for a siren wail.

“You can’t just give in to him,” Jonathan said, annoyed, over the escalating scream. “He’ll never learn anything!”

“Except how to be disappointed over and over again?”

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