about that. Wonder if he would do that now? “Should I let my hair grow? Dye it black again? Pull out the skinny jeans. Would you like that?”
“Kind of, yeah,” he admitted. “This is just too weird. You’re dressed like the guys we used to make fun of.”
“Yes. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I hate it.” There was no humor in his voice.
“You’re dressed the same way,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but I am that guy. You aren’t. You never were.”
“You’re not that guy either,” I insisted. He was so far from those boring middle-aged men we used to mock it barely warranted being said.
He rolled his eyes in self-deprecation. “Please, I’m an ex-semi-professional athlete. I’m as generic as they come. I was doomed. But I had higher hopes for you. I always imagined you doing something interesting, fascinating. Not”—he waved at me and in the general direction of Leo and Steele—“this.”
“It’s not as boring as you think.”
“I bet it’s very boring,” a voice said from behind me. Fucking Ryan Kantor.
I turned slowly, my face blank and uninterested.
“Jake Karlsson,” he said with a smirk. He said everything with a smirk or a frown. “You come crawling back?”
I drew my eyebrows together in a puzzled frown. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Eric turned away and I knew he was hiding a smile. I could read it in the set of his shoulders.
Nice, Breck said.
Ooh, there was the Ryan Kantor frown, with an extra bit of anger thrown in. “Very funny.” He wrapped his arm around Eric’s shoulders, pulling him close and staking his claim.
Why doesn’t he just pee in a circle around him, Steele asked.
Probably embarrassed by his small penis, Breck said.
Eric winced but didn’t shake him off. “Jake, you remember Ryan Kantor.”
I remember finding him with his tongue down your throat when I came home for Christmas that first time. I tilted my head, studying Ryan. “Oh, yes. From high school. I didn’t recognize you. You were a couple of years ahead of us, right?”
“No,” he said. “We were in the same class.”
“Oh, really?” I hoped my expression conveyed disbelief that we could possibly be the same age given how haggard he looked. Judging from Breck and Danny’s muffled laughter, it did.
“What are you doing in town?” Ryan said. “Looking for a job?”
“No. Introducing some clients to an investment opportunity. Short-term, high risk, high reward.” That got his attention. There was nothing Ryan liked more than a potential get-rich-quick scheme.
“Really?” He looked over at Leo and the gang. “You should introduce us. Maybe we could help each other.” Instead of waiting for an introduction, he walked over and introduced himself to Davis. Of course, he would zero in on Davis.
Eric and I looked at each other. There was so much to be said and I couldn’t find a place to start. “Can I talk to you alone?” I asked Eric.
Unfortunately, Ryan heard. “No can do, compadre,” he said with faux regret. “We’ve got an important dinner to get to.”
Wow, he is a dick, Leo said. Did he get beaten up a lot in high school?
Not often enough, I said.
“Call me,” Eric said as Ryan pulled him away. “Your mother has my number.” He gave me a grin.
“Nice. You think that will stop me?” I called after him.
“Yes,” he said over his shoulder.
I watched him walk to the parking lot.
What’s the plan now, Boss? Steele asked. Back to the hotel?
“Might as well,” I said. “I have to stop at the bathroom first.”
“Okay. Meet you in the car.”
We’re coming, too, Ridge said. Buy us dinner on Charlie’s dime.
8 Eric
Leave with Ryan, I told myself. Don’t be an idiot. Get in the car. Leave. Go to dinner with him and Dad where you’ll talk about money and Symanski’s proposal and our plans for the future. Maybe you can even talk about your 401k and where you should invest your modest savings and how many kids everyone from your graduating class has already.
Get in the car and go. That’s what I should have done.
It was not, however, what I ended up doing.
When we hit the parking lot, Ryan slid into the driver’s seat of my Mercedes, but I paused, with my hand on the door handle. In the reflection of the tinted window, I saw Jake headed to the bathroom on the side of the clubhouse.
Get in the car, Eric. Do it.
“Did you have a chance to read those BusinessWeek articles I sent you?” my father asked, leaning his arms on the roof of the car. “They had some