Only Mine

Page 3

“Maybe my attitude has something to do with your actions.”
“Or maybe it’s just you,” Stephen told him. “You’ve never trusted us. Never given us a chance to prove what we could do on our own.”
Finn wanted to put his fist through a wall. “Maybe because I knew you’d pull something like this. What were you thinking?”
“We need to make our own decisions,” Stephen said stubbornly.
“Not when they’re this bad.”
Finn could feel control of the conversation slipping from him. The sensation got worse when the twins exchanged a look. One that said they were communicating silently, in a way he’d never understood.
“You can’t make us go back,” Stephen said quietly. “We’re staying. We’re going to get on the show.”
“And then what?” Finn asked, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I’m going to Hollywood to be on television and in the movies,” Sasha told him.
Hardly news, Finn thought. Sasha had been starstruck for years.
“What about you?” Finn asked Stephen. “Want to become a spokesmodel?”
“No.”
“Then come home.”
“We’re not going back,” Stephen told him, sounding strangely determined and mature. “Let it go, Finn. You’ve done all you needed to. We’re ready to be on our own.”
They weren’t. That’s what killed Finn. They were too young, too determined to screw up. If he wasn’t nearby, how could he keep them safe? He would do anything to protect them. Briefly he wondered if he could physically wrestle them into submission. But then what? He couldn’t keep them tied up for the entire trip back. The thought of kidnapping wasn’t pleasant, and he had a vague notion that he would be flirting with felony charges the second he crossed state lines.
Besides, getting them back to Alaska wouldn’t accomplish anything if they weren’t willing to stay and finish school.
“Can’t you do this in June?” he asked. “After you graduate?”
The twins shook their heads.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Stephen told him. “We really do appreciate all you’ve done. It’s time to let go. We’re going to be fine.”
Like hell they were. They were kids playing at being adults. They thought they knew it all. They thought the world was fair and life was easy. All he wanted was to protect them from themselves. Why did that have to be so hard?
There had to be another way, he thought as he stalked out of the small motel room and slammed the door behind him. Someone he could reason with. Or, at the very least, threaten.
“GEOFF SPIELBERG, no relation,” the long-haired, scruffy-looking man said as Finn approached. “You’re from the city, right? About the extra power. Lights are like ex-wives. They’ll suck you dry if you let them. We need the power.”
Finn studied the skinny guy in front of him. Geoff “with a G” was barely thirty, wore a T-shirt that should have been tossed two years ago and jeans with enough rips to make a stripper nervous. Not exactly Finn’s mental image of a television executive.
They stood in the middle of the town square, surrounded by cords and cables. Lights had been set up on stands and strung up on trees. Small trailers lined the street. Two trucks carried enough Porta-Potties for a state fair, and tables and chairs were set up by a tent with a buffet line.
“You’re producing the show?” he asked.
“Yes. What does that have to do with my power? Can I get it today? I need it today.”
“I’m not from the city.”
Geoff groaned. “Then go away and stop bothering me.”
Even as he spoke, the producer was heading toward a trailer parked on the street, his attention on the smart-phone in his hand.
Finn kept pace with him. “I want to talk about my brothers. They’re trying to get on the show.”
“We’ve made our casting decisions. Everything will be announced tomorrow. I’m sure your brothers are great and if they don’t make it on this show, they’ll find another.” He sounded bored, as if he’d said those same words a thousand times.
“I don’t want them on the show,” Finn said.
Geoff looked up from his phone. “What? Everybody wants to be on TV.”
“Not me. And not them.”
“Then why did they audition?”
“They want to be on the show,” he clarified. “I don’t want them to be.”
Geoff’s expression shifted to disinterest again. “Are they over eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s not my problem. Sorry.” He reached for the handle of the trailer door.
Finn got there first and blocked his way.
“I don’t want them on the show,” he repeated.
Geoff sighed audibly. “What are their names?”
Finn told him.
Geoff flipped through files on his phone, then shook his head. “You’re kidding, right? The twins? They’re going to make it. The only way they’d be better for our ratings is if they were girls with big boobs. Viewers are gonna love them.”
Not a surprise, Finn thought. Disappointing, but not a surprise. “Tell me what I can do to change your mind. I’ll pay you.”
Geoff laughed. “Not enough. Look, I’m sorry you’re not happy, but you’ll get over it. Besides, they could be famous. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“They should be back in school.”
Geoff’s attention had been captured by his phone again. “Uh-huh,” he murmured as he scrolled through an email. “Right. You can make an appointment with my secretary.”
“Or I could convince you right here. You like walking, Geoff? Want to keep being able to do that?”
Geoff barely glanced at him. “I’m sure you could take me. But my lawyers are a whole lot tougher than your muscles. You won’t like jail.”
“You won’t like a hospital bed.”
Geoff looked at him then. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look serious? We’re talking about my brothers. I’m not going to let them screw up their lives now because of your show.”
Finn didn’t enjoy making threats, but nothing was more important than making sure Sasha and Stephen finished their degrees. He would do what he had to. If that meant physically crushing Geoff, then he would do it.
Geoff shoved his phone in his pocket. “Look, I appreciate your position, but you have to see mine. They’re already on the show. I have nearly forty people working for me here, and I have a contract with every one of them. I’m responsible to them and to my boss. This is a lot of money.”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“You wouldn’t, mountain man,” Geoff grumbled. “They’re adults. They can do what they want. You can’t stop them from doing this. Say I kick them off the show. Then what? They head to L.A.? At least while they’re here, you know where they are and what they’re doing, right?”
Finn didn’t like the logic, but he appreciated it. “Maybe.”
Geoff nodded several times. “You see what I’m saying. Better they’re here, where you can keep an eye on them.”
“I don’t live here.”
“Where do you live?”
“Alaska.”
Geoff’s nose wrinkled, as if he’d just smelled dog excrement. “You fish or something?”
“I fly planes.”
The scruffy producer brightened immediately. “Planes that hold people? Real planes?”
“As opposed to those that are remote controlled? Yes.”
“Sweet. I need a pilot. We’re already planning a trip to Vegas and we’re flying commercial to keep costs down. But there are other places, maybe Tahoe and Frisco. If I rented a plane, you could fly it, right?”
“Maybe.”
“It would give you a reason to stick around and watch your kids.”
“Brothers.”
“Whatever. You’ll be part of the production staff.” Geoff placed his hand on his chest. “I have family. I know what it’s like to care about someone.”
Finn doubted Geoff cared about anything or any one but Geoff. “I would be there while you were filming?”
“As long as you didn’t get in the way or cause trouble. Sure. We’ve got some chick from the city hanging around already.” He shrugged. “Denny, Darlene. Something.”
“Dakota,” Finn said dryly.
“Right. Her. Stick with her. She’s gotta make sure we don’t hurt her precious town.” Geoff rolled his eyes. “I swear, my next gig is going to be filming in the wilderness. Bears don’t have demands, you know? That’s a whole lot easier than this. So what do you say?”
What Finn wanted to say was no. He didn’t want to hang around while they filmed their reality show. He wanted his brothers back in college, and he wanted to return to South Salmon and get on with his life.
Standing between him and that was the fact that his brothers weren’t going to go home until this was over. His choices were to agree or walk away. If he walked away, how could he make sure Geoff and everyone else didn’t screw them?
“I’ll stay,” he said. “Fly you where you need to go.”
“Good. Talk to that Dakota chick. She’ll take care of you.”
Finn wondered how she would feel about him hanging around.
“Maybe the twins will be voted off early,” Geoff said, opening the trailer door and stepping inside.
“My luck’s not that good.”
DAKOTA WALKED to her mother’s house. The morning was still cool, with a bright blue sky and the mountains to the east. Spring had come right on time, so all the trees were thick with leaves, and daffodils, crocuses and tulips lined nearly every walkway. Although it was before ten, there were plenty of people out on the sidewalks, residents as well as tourists. Fool’s Gold was the kind of place where it was easier to walk to where you were going. The sidewalks were wide, and pedestrians always had the right of way.
She turned onto the street where she’d grown up. Her parents had bought the place shortly after they’d married. All six of their children had grown up here. Dakota had shared a room with her two sisters, the three of them preferring to live in the one bedroom through high school, even after their older brothers had moved out.
The windows had been replaced a couple of years ago, the roof a few years before that. The paint color was cream instead of green, the trees taller, but little else had changed. Even with all six kids out on their own, Denise still kept the house.
She walked around to the backyard. Her mother had said she would be spending much of the week working on the garden.
Sure enough, when she opened the gate, she found Denise Hendrix kneeling on a thick, yellow pad, digging vigorously. There were tattered remains of unworthy plants scattered on the grass by the flower beds. Her mother wore jeans, a Tinkerbell hoodie over a pink T-shirt and a big straw hat.
“Hi, Mom.”
Denise looked up and smiled. “Hi, honey. Was I expecting you?”
“No. I just stopped by.”
“Good.” Her mom stood and stretched. “I don’t get it. I cleaned up the garden last fall. Why do I have to clean it again in the spring? What exactly are my plants doing all winter? How can everything get so messy, so quickly?”
Dakota crossed to her mother and hugged her, then kissed her cheek. “You’re talking to the wrong person. I don’t do the garden thing.”
“None of you do. I obviously failed as a parent.” She sighed theatrically.
Denise had been a young bride to Ralph Hendrix. Theirs had been a case of love at first sight, followed by a very quick wedding. She’d had three boys in five years, followed by triplet girls. Dakota remembered a crowded house with plenty of laughter. They’d always been close, drawn more so by the death of their father nearly eleven years before.
Ralph’s unexpected passing had crushed Denise but not destroyed her. She’d pulled herself together—most likely for the sake of her children—and gone on with her life. She was pretty, vibrant and could pass for a woman in her early forties.
Now she led the way through the backdoor, into the kitchen. It had been remodeled a few years ago, but no matter how it looked, the bright open space was always the center of the home. Denise was nothing if not traditional.
“Maybe you should get a gardener,” Dakota said as she collected two glasses from the cupboard.
While her mother pulled out a pitcher of iced tea, Dakota filled the glasses with ice cubes, then checked the cookie jar. The smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies drifted to her. She tucked the ceramic ladybug container under one arm and made her way to the kitchen table.
“I would never trust a gardener,” Denise said, sitting across from her daughter. “I should plow the whole thing under and pour cement. That would be easy.”
“You’ve never been into easy. You love your flowers.”
“Most days.” She poured iced tea. “How’s the show going?”
“They announce the contestants tomorrow.”
Humor brightened her mother’s dark eyes. “Will we see you on the list?”
“Hardly. I wouldn’t have anything to do with them if Mayor Marsha hadn’t guilted me into agreeing.”
“We all have a civic responsibility.”
“I know. That’s why I’m doing the right thing. Couldn’t you have raised us not to care about others? That would have been better for me.”