Tank
Page 8
He leans forward, a wide smile on his face. “Excellent news! I’m glad my thoughts on the matter were helpful.”
I look around expectantly. Suddenly he laughs. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
We’re interrupted by the frantic scratching of nails on carpet. Buddy, his five year old bulldog, races across the room and crashes into my leg. He looks up at me in excitement, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Buddy! Where have you been?”
Mr. Marshall watches us with amusement. “My assistant was giving him a treat. I know the real reason you love coming here so much and it’s not to see this grumpy old man.”
I can’t hide my smile as I scoop up Buddy and settle his plump bottom on my lap. He wiggles against me unable to contain his pleasure at the cuddle. I scratch behind his ears. “Did you miss me, boy?”
He contents himself nuzzling in my hand for a while and then once he’s convinced that I don’t have food, he curls up in my lap with his head on his paws.
“He always seems to know when you’re coming. Animals do have a sixth sense, don’t they?” Mr. Marshall says.
“Yes, they do. Oh, I brought some documents from Mr. Stevens.” I hand over the sealed envelope I’ve carried in my oversized handbag. I can only hope that this one won’t dim the smile on his face. He’s in a jovial mood and I would hate to see it ruined.
“Aaah, I see my son has finally responded.” Mr. Marshall gazes at the papers he’s withdrawn from the envelope with satisfaction.
“Your son?”
He slides the papers back in the envelope and deposits it on the edge of the coffee table. “Yes, Tanner Marshall.”
“Tank is your son?”
He looks up at my shocked inquiry. “Yes, strange I know. I’m not sure how an ugly bastard like me managed to produce so many fine-looking young men but somehow I did.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Oh that’s not what I meant at all, sir.”
I was actually shocked because Mr. Marshall is so much older. I had assumed he was a grandparent or a distant cousin looking up his long-lost relatives. Patrick never discusses the particulars with me, which I understand completely. Dealing in estate law, part of his job is to be discreet.
“But he is a good-looking boy, isn’t he?”
I look up when I realize he’s talking to me. “Tank? Yes, he is.”
Honestly good-looking seems like a tepid comparison when trying to describe someone like Tank. It’s not that he’s handsome. His features are too stark and far too masculine to be considered conventionally attractive. He’s, well … larger-than-life, seems to be as good as I can do.
“My other sons have proven much easier to deal with so far. Tanner, he always was difficult.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“I don’t have much time left. Time has gotten away from me. Although I suppose everyone thinks that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes but this, this is something I can fix. I just need him to give me the chance.”
“Your son, he’s a very forceful man. I don’t think he’s used to taking orders from anyone. He doesn’t seem to take no well.”
He wheels himself next to where I sit on the couch. “You sound like you know him well.”
I realize that my words make it sound as if we’re friends, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s an arrogant guy who probably flirts with every girl he comes in contact with and he seems to have a preoccupation with whether or not I eat dinner. My knowledge of him goes no further than that.
“No sir. I didn’t mean to give that impression. He’s just friendly when he comes in the office. That’s all. If you don’t mind me saying, your son is a bit of a flirt.”
My words seem to delight him. “Oh yes. He’s definitely my son. I’ve been a sucker for a pretty face more than a few times in my life. It’s amazing what even a smart man will do for the right woman.” He regards me for a few moments and then wheels himself over to the window. Then he turns himself around so he’s facing me again.
“I’m going to make you an offer, Miss Shaw. You are in the unique position of being able to help me with something that I want more than just about anything else.”
“Well, I’ll try to help if I can. What do you need me to do?”
“Have you ever heard of lobbying?”
I nod. I’ve never been interested in politics but I paid attention in Civics class. “Yes, lobbyists are paid to promote certain interests. They speak on behalf of certain industries or causes to influence lawmakers.”
“Exactly. They’re spokespeople carrying a message. I need you to carry a message for me. A very important message. You’re a pretty girl, Miss Shaw. Most men are willing to listen when a message is carried by a lovely face.”
He steeples his hands in front of him. His eyes roam over me and for the first time in his presence, I’m uncomfortable.
“Convince my son to meet with me and I’ll pay you more than enough to cover all your schooling. One million dollars.”
I put my teacup down on the table gently. My hand is shaking. I’m waiting for the punch line but when I look up at him, his eyes are clear and his expression completely open.
He’s serious.
“That’s utterly ridiculous. Why would you pay so much … for what? For me to carry a message?”
I look around expectantly. Suddenly he laughs. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
We’re interrupted by the frantic scratching of nails on carpet. Buddy, his five year old bulldog, races across the room and crashes into my leg. He looks up at me in excitement, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Buddy! Where have you been?”
Mr. Marshall watches us with amusement. “My assistant was giving him a treat. I know the real reason you love coming here so much and it’s not to see this grumpy old man.”
I can’t hide my smile as I scoop up Buddy and settle his plump bottom on my lap. He wiggles against me unable to contain his pleasure at the cuddle. I scratch behind his ears. “Did you miss me, boy?”
He contents himself nuzzling in my hand for a while and then once he’s convinced that I don’t have food, he curls up in my lap with his head on his paws.
“He always seems to know when you’re coming. Animals do have a sixth sense, don’t they?” Mr. Marshall says.
“Yes, they do. Oh, I brought some documents from Mr. Stevens.” I hand over the sealed envelope I’ve carried in my oversized handbag. I can only hope that this one won’t dim the smile on his face. He’s in a jovial mood and I would hate to see it ruined.
“Aaah, I see my son has finally responded.” Mr. Marshall gazes at the papers he’s withdrawn from the envelope with satisfaction.
“Your son?”
He slides the papers back in the envelope and deposits it on the edge of the coffee table. “Yes, Tanner Marshall.”
“Tank is your son?”
He looks up at my shocked inquiry. “Yes, strange I know. I’m not sure how an ugly bastard like me managed to produce so many fine-looking young men but somehow I did.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Oh that’s not what I meant at all, sir.”
I was actually shocked because Mr. Marshall is so much older. I had assumed he was a grandparent or a distant cousin looking up his long-lost relatives. Patrick never discusses the particulars with me, which I understand completely. Dealing in estate law, part of his job is to be discreet.
“But he is a good-looking boy, isn’t he?”
I look up when I realize he’s talking to me. “Tank? Yes, he is.”
Honestly good-looking seems like a tepid comparison when trying to describe someone like Tank. It’s not that he’s handsome. His features are too stark and far too masculine to be considered conventionally attractive. He’s, well … larger-than-life, seems to be as good as I can do.
“My other sons have proven much easier to deal with so far. Tanner, he always was difficult.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“I don’t have much time left. Time has gotten away from me. Although I suppose everyone thinks that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes but this, this is something I can fix. I just need him to give me the chance.”
“Your son, he’s a very forceful man. I don’t think he’s used to taking orders from anyone. He doesn’t seem to take no well.”
He wheels himself next to where I sit on the couch. “You sound like you know him well.”
I realize that my words make it sound as if we’re friends, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s an arrogant guy who probably flirts with every girl he comes in contact with and he seems to have a preoccupation with whether or not I eat dinner. My knowledge of him goes no further than that.
“No sir. I didn’t mean to give that impression. He’s just friendly when he comes in the office. That’s all. If you don’t mind me saying, your son is a bit of a flirt.”
My words seem to delight him. “Oh yes. He’s definitely my son. I’ve been a sucker for a pretty face more than a few times in my life. It’s amazing what even a smart man will do for the right woman.” He regards me for a few moments and then wheels himself over to the window. Then he turns himself around so he’s facing me again.
“I’m going to make you an offer, Miss Shaw. You are in the unique position of being able to help me with something that I want more than just about anything else.”
“Well, I’ll try to help if I can. What do you need me to do?”
“Have you ever heard of lobbying?”
I nod. I’ve never been interested in politics but I paid attention in Civics class. “Yes, lobbyists are paid to promote certain interests. They speak on behalf of certain industries or causes to influence lawmakers.”
“Exactly. They’re spokespeople carrying a message. I need you to carry a message for me. A very important message. You’re a pretty girl, Miss Shaw. Most men are willing to listen when a message is carried by a lovely face.”
He steeples his hands in front of him. His eyes roam over me and for the first time in his presence, I’m uncomfortable.
“Convince my son to meet with me and I’ll pay you more than enough to cover all your schooling. One million dollars.”
I put my teacup down on the table gently. My hand is shaking. I’m waiting for the punch line but when I look up at him, his eyes are clear and his expression completely open.
He’s serious.
“That’s utterly ridiculous. Why would you pay so much … for what? For me to carry a message?”
