Anchor Me
Page 47
“That’s wonderful, Karen. I had no doubts at all.”
As he speaks, I notice a picture of the girl on the opposing wall. In the photo, she’s younger than she is now but older than the other kids pictured—probably fourteen or fifteen. For the most part, she looks the same—certainly, there’s no overt sign of abuse—but her eyes in the photo seem dead. Not at all like the vibrant girl now quivering with energy and promise.
She gives Damien another hug and then bounces off. “I wrote her a letter of recommendation,” Damien explains.
I look at him innocently. “Your staff does everything?”
He smirks, then shuts me up with a kiss.
“Don’t you two look cozy?”
I look over Damien’s shoulder to see Sylvia grinning at us, Jackson at her side, with Cass and Siobhan a few steps behind, Siobhan’s red hair practically crackling under the lights.
“We are,” Damien assures her, then pulls me closer.
“You did good,” Jackson tells his half-brother. “This is a hell of an event.”
When I’d first met Damien, neither one of us knew that Jackson existed, though looking at the two of them now, the resemblance is remarkable. Not so much in specific features, but in the way they hold themselves. All power and control and defiant self-assurance.
Jackson had been secreted away by their shared father, a man whom I revile. Jackson had known about Damien, but had been ordered by their father to stay quiet.
Jeremiah Stark had not only kept Damien away from his brother but he’d also known about the horrible abuse that Damien had suffered as a child at the hand of his coach. He’d allowed it to continue because Damien’s athletic success fueled Jeremiah’s financial dreams. And now that Damien has made more of himself than anyone ever anticipated, Jeremiah is still constantly in our lives, popping up here and there as he looks for some new angle that will squeeze a dime out of his son. We haven’t heard from him in months, though, and I have to assume that the rumor that he’s gone to visit friends in Australia is true.
“We’re going to see what kind of trouble we can get into bidding in the silent auction. I’m hoping a cruise is up for grabs,” Sylvia muses. “I’ve never been on a cruise.”
“She’s looking to get into trouble,” Cass corrects from behind them. “I’m looking to see how many bidders I have so far.”
Cass is Syl’s best friend. She owns a tattoo parlor and donated a package to the cause. And, according to Syl, is about the most frugal person on the planet.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” her girlfriend Siobhan says with a wicked gleam. “I’ll bid if no one else does.”
Cass laughs. “Thanks. I was hoping to not be the silent auction wallflower, though.”
I can hardly imagine Cass being a wallflower anywhere. She’s tall and dark and exotic. Today, her long hair is dyed black with a single streak of blue that matches the tail feathers of the magnificent bird tattooed on her shoulder.
“Well, I’m bidding,” Syl says.
“Another tat?” Cass asks her.
Syl shakes her head mischievously. “I’m thinking it’ll be a gift for someone,” she says with a meaningful glance at Jackson as she taps the base of her neck.
“We’ll see,” he says in a tone that sounds more like, “No way in hell.”
I laugh. “Thank you both for donating,” I say to Cass and Jackson, because Jackson donated a residential design, which considering his standing in the architectural community, is pretty damn generous.
The girls head on to the auction set-up, but Damien pulls Jackson aside, mentioning something about building a rec center on some property in Ventura County that the foundation is looking to acquire.
I linger behind, and am glad I do when Dallas, Jane, and Noah step up to say hi. I’m congratulating Jane again on the movie—and on her incredible red dress—when Damien returns. He kisses Jane’s cheek and shakes hands with Dallas and Noah.
“I appreciate the ticket,” Noah says. Noah Carter is the tech genius that Damien has been heavily recruiting to join Stark Applied Technology.
“Anything to bring you over to the dark side,” Damien says.
Dallas shakes his head in what is clearly mock regret. “I thought he was my friend, but he’s leaving me for the lure of a more tech-centric job.”
“What exactly did you do for Dallas?” I ask Noah. Dallas Sykes is the CEO of a longstanding department store chain, and before he married Jane, he’d earned the nickname the King of Fuck because of his reputation as a playboy heir who romanced women, spent money, and basically wasted his life.
That’s not the Dallas I’ve gotten to know, and I’m curious about what exactly is hidden under that fine-looking exterior.
“There’s tech in retail,” Noah says noncommittally.
“And he’ll still do freelance work when I need him,” Dallas adds, with a clear edge to his voice.
“Always,” Noah says. “You know how invested I am.”
Dallas nods, and I try not to show how completely baffled I am.
“I know I shouldn’t talk work,” Damien says to Noah, “but can I borrow you for one second?”
“And I’ve lost him already,” Dallas says with a laugh as Noah steps aside with my husband.
“He didn’t bring a date?” I ask Jane. “I’m certain we sent him two tickets.”
“He gave the second one to the receptionist at his hotel. Apparently, she’s a huge Lyle Tarpin fan.”
“That was sweet. But why not—”
“His wife was just pronounced dead,” Dallas says softly. “About three months ago.”
“Oh. I had no idea.”
“She, well, she went missing seven years ago in Mexico. He’s been holding out hope, but it’s been rough.”
“I imagine,” I say, my heart aching for him. I can’t even fathom surviving if I lost Damien.
“It’s one of the reasons he’s been talking with your husband,” Dallas says. “I’ll be sorry to lose him, but I’m glad he’s coming down here.” As he speaks, he puts his arm around Jane’s waist and pulls her close. “He’s . . . well, he’s broken right now. And he’s a good friend. If this move is what it takes to help him heal, then I’m all for it.”
As he speaks, I notice a picture of the girl on the opposing wall. In the photo, she’s younger than she is now but older than the other kids pictured—probably fourteen or fifteen. For the most part, she looks the same—certainly, there’s no overt sign of abuse—but her eyes in the photo seem dead. Not at all like the vibrant girl now quivering with energy and promise.
She gives Damien another hug and then bounces off. “I wrote her a letter of recommendation,” Damien explains.
I look at him innocently. “Your staff does everything?”
He smirks, then shuts me up with a kiss.
“Don’t you two look cozy?”
I look over Damien’s shoulder to see Sylvia grinning at us, Jackson at her side, with Cass and Siobhan a few steps behind, Siobhan’s red hair practically crackling under the lights.
“We are,” Damien assures her, then pulls me closer.
“You did good,” Jackson tells his half-brother. “This is a hell of an event.”
When I’d first met Damien, neither one of us knew that Jackson existed, though looking at the two of them now, the resemblance is remarkable. Not so much in specific features, but in the way they hold themselves. All power and control and defiant self-assurance.
Jackson had been secreted away by their shared father, a man whom I revile. Jackson had known about Damien, but had been ordered by their father to stay quiet.
Jeremiah Stark had not only kept Damien away from his brother but he’d also known about the horrible abuse that Damien had suffered as a child at the hand of his coach. He’d allowed it to continue because Damien’s athletic success fueled Jeremiah’s financial dreams. And now that Damien has made more of himself than anyone ever anticipated, Jeremiah is still constantly in our lives, popping up here and there as he looks for some new angle that will squeeze a dime out of his son. We haven’t heard from him in months, though, and I have to assume that the rumor that he’s gone to visit friends in Australia is true.
“We’re going to see what kind of trouble we can get into bidding in the silent auction. I’m hoping a cruise is up for grabs,” Sylvia muses. “I’ve never been on a cruise.”
“She’s looking to get into trouble,” Cass corrects from behind them. “I’m looking to see how many bidders I have so far.”
Cass is Syl’s best friend. She owns a tattoo parlor and donated a package to the cause. And, according to Syl, is about the most frugal person on the planet.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” her girlfriend Siobhan says with a wicked gleam. “I’ll bid if no one else does.”
Cass laughs. “Thanks. I was hoping to not be the silent auction wallflower, though.”
I can hardly imagine Cass being a wallflower anywhere. She’s tall and dark and exotic. Today, her long hair is dyed black with a single streak of blue that matches the tail feathers of the magnificent bird tattooed on her shoulder.
“Well, I’m bidding,” Syl says.
“Another tat?” Cass asks her.
Syl shakes her head mischievously. “I’m thinking it’ll be a gift for someone,” she says with a meaningful glance at Jackson as she taps the base of her neck.
“We’ll see,” he says in a tone that sounds more like, “No way in hell.”
I laugh. “Thank you both for donating,” I say to Cass and Jackson, because Jackson donated a residential design, which considering his standing in the architectural community, is pretty damn generous.
The girls head on to the auction set-up, but Damien pulls Jackson aside, mentioning something about building a rec center on some property in Ventura County that the foundation is looking to acquire.
I linger behind, and am glad I do when Dallas, Jane, and Noah step up to say hi. I’m congratulating Jane again on the movie—and on her incredible red dress—when Damien returns. He kisses Jane’s cheek and shakes hands with Dallas and Noah.
“I appreciate the ticket,” Noah says. Noah Carter is the tech genius that Damien has been heavily recruiting to join Stark Applied Technology.
“Anything to bring you over to the dark side,” Damien says.
Dallas shakes his head in what is clearly mock regret. “I thought he was my friend, but he’s leaving me for the lure of a more tech-centric job.”
“What exactly did you do for Dallas?” I ask Noah. Dallas Sykes is the CEO of a longstanding department store chain, and before he married Jane, he’d earned the nickname the King of Fuck because of his reputation as a playboy heir who romanced women, spent money, and basically wasted his life.
That’s not the Dallas I’ve gotten to know, and I’m curious about what exactly is hidden under that fine-looking exterior.
“There’s tech in retail,” Noah says noncommittally.
“And he’ll still do freelance work when I need him,” Dallas adds, with a clear edge to his voice.
“Always,” Noah says. “You know how invested I am.”
Dallas nods, and I try not to show how completely baffled I am.
“I know I shouldn’t talk work,” Damien says to Noah, “but can I borrow you for one second?”
“And I’ve lost him already,” Dallas says with a laugh as Noah steps aside with my husband.
“He didn’t bring a date?” I ask Jane. “I’m certain we sent him two tickets.”
“He gave the second one to the receptionist at his hotel. Apparently, she’s a huge Lyle Tarpin fan.”
“That was sweet. But why not—”
“His wife was just pronounced dead,” Dallas says softly. “About three months ago.”
“Oh. I had no idea.”
“She, well, she went missing seven years ago in Mexico. He’s been holding out hope, but it’s been rough.”
“I imagine,” I say, my heart aching for him. I can’t even fathom surviving if I lost Damien.
“It’s one of the reasons he’s been talking with your husband,” Dallas says. “I’ll be sorry to lose him, but I’m glad he’s coming down here.” As he speaks, he puts his arm around Jane’s waist and pulls her close. “He’s . . . well, he’s broken right now. And he’s a good friend. If this move is what it takes to help him heal, then I’m all for it.”
