Sugar Rush
Page 51
JT’s home is beautiful, but I expected no less given his spending habits. It’s three levels done in a dark gray plank siding with brown trim. The driveway is paved in cobblestone and curves past a raised garden bed filled with bushes and small flowering trees that provide privacy. I can glimpse the bay between his house and the one next to it.
Sucking in a lungful of oxygen, I turn the car off and exhale slowly before exiting. I grab my purse, hitch it over my shoulder, and nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. My pulse is thundering, not at the prospect of seeing JT, but of him possibly recognizing me, and I suppose that will happen within the first few moments of him seeing me.
I step onto the front porch, but before I can even raise my hand to ring the bell, the massive carved wooden door opens and I’m standing face-to-face with JT. Although Beck described his appearance to me, I’m still shocked by his appearance. Deep purple with tinges of green covers most of his face, and his jaw is swollen and bruised. A cut is sutured on one cheek and his lower lip is scabbed. His left arm is in a cast, which he gingerly supports against his ribs.
I take all of this in even as I watch JT examining my new hair color. His eyebrows raise a tad in surprise, but otherwise he doesn’t seem to recognize the girl he once raped all those years ago. In fact, he doesn’t comment about my appearance and merely steps back while motioning me inside.
“Thanks for coming,” he says by way of greeting, but it sounds hollow and wooden.
I step into his house, which immediately opens up into a great room that overlooks the bay with peaked ceilings and large windows. The floors are covered in blond wood polished to a high sheen. His furniture is contemporary, done in silver, mauve, and black with chrome accents.
JT turns his back on me and veers off a short hall to the right. “Let’s go back in my den. The furniture’s more comfortable in there.”
Clutching my purse a bit tighter to me, I follow JT. He moves slowly and there’s no doubt he’s in pain from his beating. Even as nervous as I am to be here, seeing him like this brings me a small measure of joy.
He enters another large room that sits at the back of the house, also with large windows to take in the beauty of the bay and the San Francisco skyline, but here the furniture is a bit more transitional and definitely more comfortable looking. JT’s clearly been spending time on the sumptuous-looking couch because there’s a pillow and a blanket lying there.
As I take in my surroundings, JT walks over to a bar and pours himself a glass of what appears to be bourbon. He doesn’t look at me but asks, “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good,” I say, pleased that my voice sounds strong and calm, even as my heart is thumping hard over being in such close proximity to him. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
JT tilts the glass back, slugs down the liquor he just poured, and pours another two fingers. When he turns back to look at me, he merely leans back against the bar and says, “Did Beck tell you everything?”
There’s no sense in lying, but no need for details either. “Just that you lost a bet and needed money fast. Judging by the look of you, I’m guessing that’s true.”
JT grimaces and nods, cutting right to the chase. His voice is bitter when he says, “I can’t give up The Sugar Bowl, Sela. It’s all I have. I called Beck’s dad last night and asked him for the money, but he declined. I’m out of options and you’re sort of my last resort. I’m hoping you could talk to Beck on my behalf.”
This is interesting news…that JT went to Mr. North. Even more relieving that he kept his word and turned down JT.
JT looks at me with hopeful eyes and I find it utterly ironic that he’s coming to me for help. I try to keep my tone neutral when I say, “Beck’s mind seemed made up. I’m not sure what I could do.”
“Oh, cut the shit,” JT growls as he stands straighter. Waving the glass he holds in his good hand at me, causing some bourbon to slosh out, he says, “You hold a lot of power over Beck and don’t pretend otherwise. But you are right…I think his mind is made up, but I bet you could sway him if you wanted, and I have a counterproposal that will interest him.”
But I don’t want to sway him, asshole. I want you to suffer.
“What could that possibly be?” I ask, because this is the real reason I’m here. I need to know what JT may have up his sleeve, and it has to be something if he thinks it will change Beck’s mind.
JT downs the rest of the liquor and sets the glass on the bar behind him. When he turns back to me, his eyes are cold and calculating. “I’m prepared to renounce my inheritance rights to the North fortune. I’ve even had my attorney draft up a proposed agreement if Beck will loan me the money to get me out of my current jam and let me retain my rights in The Sugar Bowl.”
I can’t help the sudden gasp of surprise or the way my eyes open wide over JT’s statement. It’s a dead giveaway that Beck has indeed told me all there is to know.
JT gives a malicious laugh. “I can tell by the look on your face you know Beckett North, Sr., is my father too, but more important, you’re stunned I know this information.”
“But how?” I mutter. If Beck’s dad is to be believed, he never told JT.
“My mother,” JT says simply. “She told me years ago. Wanted me to know so I could claim what was rightfully mine one day.”
Holy shit. He knows. He knows Beck is his brother, and by the looks of it, he’s got his sights set on the North money.
“That won’t change his mind,” I whisper, because I know without a doubt it won’t. Beck doesn’t give a shit about his father’s money.
“Bullshit,” JT yells at me, his face turning red underneath the purple bruises. He takes a step toward me and snarls, “You could persuade him. You fucking hold his nuts in your greedy little hands.”
I take a wary step back, clutching my purse tighter. JT’s face is a mask of livid rage as he matches my movement. My pulse skitters away from me as I consider making a running break out of this house. “I think you need to discuss this with Beck. Maybe this will sway him, but I shouldn’t be involved with this.”
I take another step back but JT’s words freeze me in place just by the sheer hatred in his tone as he rasps, “You fucking bitch. This is all because of you. Beck changed the minute you walked into his life, and I frankly can’t understand what in the hell he sees in a whore like you.”
Sucking in a lungful of oxygen, I turn the car off and exhale slowly before exiting. I grab my purse, hitch it over my shoulder, and nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. My pulse is thundering, not at the prospect of seeing JT, but of him possibly recognizing me, and I suppose that will happen within the first few moments of him seeing me.
I step onto the front porch, but before I can even raise my hand to ring the bell, the massive carved wooden door opens and I’m standing face-to-face with JT. Although Beck described his appearance to me, I’m still shocked by his appearance. Deep purple with tinges of green covers most of his face, and his jaw is swollen and bruised. A cut is sutured on one cheek and his lower lip is scabbed. His left arm is in a cast, which he gingerly supports against his ribs.
I take all of this in even as I watch JT examining my new hair color. His eyebrows raise a tad in surprise, but otherwise he doesn’t seem to recognize the girl he once raped all those years ago. In fact, he doesn’t comment about my appearance and merely steps back while motioning me inside.
“Thanks for coming,” he says by way of greeting, but it sounds hollow and wooden.
I step into his house, which immediately opens up into a great room that overlooks the bay with peaked ceilings and large windows. The floors are covered in blond wood polished to a high sheen. His furniture is contemporary, done in silver, mauve, and black with chrome accents.
JT turns his back on me and veers off a short hall to the right. “Let’s go back in my den. The furniture’s more comfortable in there.”
Clutching my purse a bit tighter to me, I follow JT. He moves slowly and there’s no doubt he’s in pain from his beating. Even as nervous as I am to be here, seeing him like this brings me a small measure of joy.
He enters another large room that sits at the back of the house, also with large windows to take in the beauty of the bay and the San Francisco skyline, but here the furniture is a bit more transitional and definitely more comfortable looking. JT’s clearly been spending time on the sumptuous-looking couch because there’s a pillow and a blanket lying there.
As I take in my surroundings, JT walks over to a bar and pours himself a glass of what appears to be bourbon. He doesn’t look at me but asks, “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good,” I say, pleased that my voice sounds strong and calm, even as my heart is thumping hard over being in such close proximity to him. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
JT tilts the glass back, slugs down the liquor he just poured, and pours another two fingers. When he turns back to look at me, he merely leans back against the bar and says, “Did Beck tell you everything?”
There’s no sense in lying, but no need for details either. “Just that you lost a bet and needed money fast. Judging by the look of you, I’m guessing that’s true.”
JT grimaces and nods, cutting right to the chase. His voice is bitter when he says, “I can’t give up The Sugar Bowl, Sela. It’s all I have. I called Beck’s dad last night and asked him for the money, but he declined. I’m out of options and you’re sort of my last resort. I’m hoping you could talk to Beck on my behalf.”
This is interesting news…that JT went to Mr. North. Even more relieving that he kept his word and turned down JT.
JT looks at me with hopeful eyes and I find it utterly ironic that he’s coming to me for help. I try to keep my tone neutral when I say, “Beck’s mind seemed made up. I’m not sure what I could do.”
“Oh, cut the shit,” JT growls as he stands straighter. Waving the glass he holds in his good hand at me, causing some bourbon to slosh out, he says, “You hold a lot of power over Beck and don’t pretend otherwise. But you are right…I think his mind is made up, but I bet you could sway him if you wanted, and I have a counterproposal that will interest him.”
But I don’t want to sway him, asshole. I want you to suffer.
“What could that possibly be?” I ask, because this is the real reason I’m here. I need to know what JT may have up his sleeve, and it has to be something if he thinks it will change Beck’s mind.
JT downs the rest of the liquor and sets the glass on the bar behind him. When he turns back to me, his eyes are cold and calculating. “I’m prepared to renounce my inheritance rights to the North fortune. I’ve even had my attorney draft up a proposed agreement if Beck will loan me the money to get me out of my current jam and let me retain my rights in The Sugar Bowl.”
I can’t help the sudden gasp of surprise or the way my eyes open wide over JT’s statement. It’s a dead giveaway that Beck has indeed told me all there is to know.
JT gives a malicious laugh. “I can tell by the look on your face you know Beckett North, Sr., is my father too, but more important, you’re stunned I know this information.”
“But how?” I mutter. If Beck’s dad is to be believed, he never told JT.
“My mother,” JT says simply. “She told me years ago. Wanted me to know so I could claim what was rightfully mine one day.”
Holy shit. He knows. He knows Beck is his brother, and by the looks of it, he’s got his sights set on the North money.
“That won’t change his mind,” I whisper, because I know without a doubt it won’t. Beck doesn’t give a shit about his father’s money.
“Bullshit,” JT yells at me, his face turning red underneath the purple bruises. He takes a step toward me and snarls, “You could persuade him. You fucking hold his nuts in your greedy little hands.”
I take a wary step back, clutching my purse tighter. JT’s face is a mask of livid rage as he matches my movement. My pulse skitters away from me as I consider making a running break out of this house. “I think you need to discuss this with Beck. Maybe this will sway him, but I shouldn’t be involved with this.”
I take another step back but JT’s words freeze me in place just by the sheer hatred in his tone as he rasps, “You fucking bitch. This is all because of you. Beck changed the minute you walked into his life, and I frankly can’t understand what in the hell he sees in a whore like you.”
