The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,55
they’d met.
Chapter 10
The next few days passed in relative quiet for Joaquin. Essie had Lulu and RJ come over again for few nights, and the teenagers horsed around on the beach and in the house, entertaining him with their antics. He did a lot of running, too, getting up early and meeting Ethan Archer on the beach for a daily sweat at dawn.
The day after the cornhole tournament, Sara had wrapped herself in her tight butler mantle. She performed all her tasks with her usual competence. Unfortunately, the reserve he’d managed to chip from her at times was back, harder, cooler than before.
On the day the two extra teens returned to their homes, he tried engaging her anyway. “How about that ice cream cone I owe you?”
But she brushed him off by saying she needed to supervise a service call from the furnace people. The excuse sounded like baloney to him, and when he’d glanced at Essie he could see that she agreed.
He also thought his sister had something bothering her. Earlier, he’d tried a few open-ended questions, but she’d not shown the slightest inclination to share what was on her mind. Maybe a change of scene would open her up.
“Okay, kid,” he said. “Get your shoes on. We’re going out.”
Once in the car, he tried the top-down trick again, remembering Sara had loosened up with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. Glancing over at Essie slumped in the passenger seat, he noted she’d donned a pair of dark glasses, obscuring her expression. She could be crying behind them. Sleeping. Rolling her eyes at the boredom of being with the brother she barely knew.
The brother she barely knew.
That gave him an idea.
Leaving the Pacific Coast Highway, he headed inland.
“Where are we going?” Essie asked, sliding out of her slouch.
“My old stomping grounds. Where Felipe and I grew up.” Two freeways later, and he was motoring through the streets of West Hollywood. “I haven’t been here in years.”
“Here?” Essie repeated, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head. Her gaze darted about as he took yet another turn.
Horton Avenue looked different than he recalled. Narrower. What had seemed a Mississippi to cross while chasing a ball was now a mere stream of asphalt. The trees had grown, though. He couldn’t name their kind—he supposed Sara would know—but they were leafy and provided shade for the cracked and uneven sidewalk.
That hadn’t changed. Always been a bitch to ride on a skateboard.
The structures on the short blocks were mostly apartment buildings with a few simple, single-family dwellings here and there. He craned his neck to take in one new high-rise. Huh. Condos. What had been on that corner before…ah. A drycleaners and a convenience store. They’d bought slushy drinks and packaged cupcakes there. It had smelled of burnt coffee and motor oil.
On the next block he found the destination he sought. It had never been much to look at, a rectangular two-story building with eight units of apartments. Some parking spaces were tucked beneath the second level and the windows were still the kind with louvered glass that could be cranked open.
“This is where we lived,” he told Essie.
Her eyes widened. “Here?”
“Not quite like your Bel-Air digs.”
“Our mother lived here?”
Joaquin grinned at her shocked tone. “Hard to imagine Renata’s wardrobe fitting into one of the units, let alone a single closet. But yes, she was here for a while before the divorce.”
Essie shook her head. “It’s not that it looks rat-infested or anything…”
“But maybe you can see why our mother moved on to better things.”
His sister darted him a quick look. “She’s not proud of leaving you and Felipe, you know.”
“Don’t worry, hon,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Renata’s conscience may prick, but the truth is Dad would never have let go of his meal ticket and his meal ticket’s little sidekick.”
Her brows rose. “You were the sidekick.”
“Definitely. Dad had hopes that I’d get infected with the acting bug like Felipe, but it was never for me.”
“He really liked it then? Felipe? It wasn’t just your dad pushing him into it?”
“Nah.” Joaquin rubbed his jaw with his hand. “It’s true that our big brother was being spooned baby cereal for commercials before he could speak a line or go without a nap, but later…it was all him.”
“Our big brother,” Essie repeated, as if trying out the phrase.
“Point a camera at him, and he lit up. I don’t know if he practiced the way he could turn just