Accidental Billionaire (18 page)

“There’s the issue of settlement.”

“I don’t want a settlement.”

Logan stared straight ahead, with his unreachable expression that she didn’t like. “My father says it’s necessary.”

“I don’t care what your father says.” She followed him around two ferns to a plain door, and she went in first. The room was just a sitting area. One of the least decorated, most normal, gray carpet, white walled, potted plant areas she’d seen in Vegas. The low hum of a composition by a long-dead composer played quietly in the background. The strains were the opposite of Vegas’s usual ‘wake-up’ kind of music. It gave her the chills.

Her father sat in a chair. Her father. Not his. She didn’t like this. She stopped. Her heels felt shaky on the carpet. “Dad.”

“Baylee girl.” Dad rose from the chair and hugged her. “Don’t you look the picture.”

“Uh. Hi.” She returned his hug and glanced from him to Logan. Logan didn’t meet her gaze. Okay.

Logan paused long enough to shake her dad’s hand and then moved to another door. He arched his eyebrows. Dad shifted as if to go with them.

No. She did not want an audience. Baylee shook her head. “Logan and I have something to settle. I can meet you later.” Standing between the two and their expectations made the space oppressive.

Dad plopped back down, wearing a huge grin. He crossed his ankle over his knee and propped his smart phone on his leg. “No bother. You kids take your time.”

Baylee gestured to Logan’s stiff frame. “I just need a few minutes. Then I’ll come back and join you.” They had a gift certificate to discuss.

“Sure. Sure.”

That had been easy. She followed Logan into a room that held a desk and more papers, vaguely weirded out that Dad hadn’t pushed. It wasn’t like him. Salesmen were all about the push. The door shut behind them, killing the classical music. “Why is my dad here?”

“I called and told him to be here for you. We had a talk.”

That made no sense. Suspicions wound her stomach. Had he called Dad to support her or for leverage? Like was Logan going to tell on her? “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you wish for?” Logan asked.

Logan’s voice made her jump. She rubbed her arms and moved over to the conference table. She didn’t want to sit, but she didn’t want to stand either. Baylee’s mouth went dry and she licked her lips. She wanted a glass of water. She wanted out of this square room.

Logan had a hurt expression in his eyes as he answered for her. “Money?”

She hadn’t wished for money at first. She’d jotted the billion-dollar wish down at the last minute because she’d known there’d be a trick with the jars. And there was. And so what if she had wished for money? Logan was acting like she’d wanted to cheat him out of something… like his stepmom … like his ex … “I don’t want your money.” Baylee tried to catch Logan’s eyes. His held a faint belief in her. “Logan. You know me.”

“My father said you’re the one who emailed him I was in town. When you knew I didn’t want my family to know where I was.”

Okay. So they were doing this. They were going to talk it out. She could work with that. She had emailed his dad. But not for the reasons he thought. Baylee sank into the hard chair and shoved her hair behind her ears. They really needed to crank up the air conditioning in here. This was the first place she’d gone to in Vegas that wasn’t over-chilled. She pressed her palms to her heated cheeks in a delaying tactic, and then dropped them to the slick desk top. The cleaner must have to polish after every visitor. She moved her hands, noting the fogged imprints her hands left behind. Police should use tables like these – instant fingerprints. Instant guilt.

“Why aren’t you answering me?”

Uh, because I did it, and right now I can’t think for the life of me think why.

“Baylee?”

She slid her hands under her thighs, sitting on them so she’d stop screwing with the polish on the tabletop. She dropped her head down.

“Baylee?”

“Fine.” She got up and stalked over to the window. Just looking at the lights in the distance and the life going on outside made breathing easier. “It’s not the worst mistake anyone’s ever made.” She spared him a glance. Logan had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring at her like indeed it was the worst mistake anyone had ever made. The dude needed to get out more. “So what? I made a wish for money. I told your dad where you were. It wasn’t some nefarious plot.” She turned her back to the outside world and faced her problems in the room. “I don’t even know why I did it.”

Logan straightened his shoulders and tapped on some papers on the desktop. “All I know is my account has your name on it. You can make withdrawals. You have access to my money.”

“So? Your friends did that. Not mine.” Tension drummed into her, and she pushed the stack of papers off the desk. Watching them flutter to the ground made her feel better and worse all at once.

His mouth tightened. “I just thought…” He ran a hand through his hair and his expression made her hurt.

She loosened up on the anger. “Look. This is part of your friend’s little game, and I don’t want to play.” She put the papers back on the table. There appeared to be two sets. One was a settlement. The second was a divorce. She read through the divorce sheet, fighting to concentrate on the legalese, and signed it. She didn’t touch the settlement sheet; it was like distrust in solid form. “I’ve signed the divorce papers.” Words she’d sworn she’d never say, words that physically hurt to say.

“Thank you for that.” Logan took out his phone and typed into it. He was growing more stiff and distant with every moment that passed.

It was rude. This affected her, too, and he didn’t care how she felt. “I’m not touching the settlement pages.” Baylee backed away from the desk.

“You’re entitled.”

The door cracked open, and Dad stuck his head in. “I’m going to take off.”

“Okay.” She tried not to sound impatient.

“Look at that expression. Don’t blame me for swinging by.” Dad whistled and jerked his thumb backwards. “Have you been in yet? Quite the gathering. You don’t see those names in one location unless you’re reading the
Financial Times
.”

“Dad.”

“Settle down. Settle down. I’m not interrupting your fancy do. I just wanted to thank your young man in person before I took off.” He looked at Logan. “I got the transfer. Thanks for the loan.”

Loan. Baylee’s heart stopped and rebounded double-time. Heat left her face, and her skin grew clammy. She put her hand to her neck as if she was wearing a collar, but her dress was strapless. Here it was. Here was the reason Dad was here. Logan had used him as leverage. Her supportive friend Logan was gone. This guy was someone else. She turned to Logan. “What did you do?”

“Look. You signed the divorce papers. You didn’t ask for a settlement.” He tilted his phone up. “Your father was going on about an investment when I called him to come here. I’m happy to do this for him.”

Her knees weakened.
How. No. He. No
. She shook her head. “Dad, don’t…”

Dad frowned. “What settlement?”

“It’s nothing. What is Logan saying about a loan?” She bit off the last word. “What investment?”

“Baylee girl. Calm your horses. Throwing a bone my way ain’t hurting your boy none. Why he probably pays more than that for that fancy apartment.”

“Give the money back.” She held up her hands as if she could stop something that had already happened. “Whatever you took, give it back.”

Dad shifted, going from happy and nosy to impatient. “I was just dropping by; you don’t need to mind your head about this.”

She was going to kill him.

He went in for a goodbye hug and she jerked away. “How much?”

“He offered 88k, nothing he would sneeze at.”

88k. 88k?
The top of her head was going to explode. Logan did this on purpose. He’d seen her bank account. It had been leverage whether he’d admit it or not. “If you do this, Dad, don’t contact me again. Ever.” The words hurt. Her throat hurt. Her insides hurt.

Logan sucked in a breath. “Baylee.”

“So dramatic. You get that from your momma.” Dad left, shaking his head.

This felt like it had when she was little, and Mom had walked out on him. She hadn’t understood what was going on, but it had felt scary, it had felt permanent. It had felt like this. Chest tight. Mind scared. She was done.

She was done with both of them. She pulled up Logan’s email address, opened her bank app and transferred the money back to him. In four clicks, eighteen years of savings was drained. “Lend him anything else, and you’re on your own.”

Baylee wanted to blow straight out of town, and she would have, but she had a promise to keep first. She called Ella to make the arrangements.

“Musicians make odd hours. I didn’t mind leaving the party.” Ella led her down a gray hallway to a room loaded with equipment and chilled to the temperature of an Alaskan winter. A glass divider separated the room. Half held a booth with technicians inside, the other half held a lone, tall, empty stool with microphones on long swing-arms extending from the ceiling and the walls, waiting to pen her in, very different from the group recording session she’d done before

Ella introduced her to the technicians, all guys, all in T-shirts and jeans, all sporting big headphones around their necks. Nerves didn’t let their names register.

“Okay, here we go.” Ella led her to the stool. “Water? Tea?”

Baylee swallowed. “Water please.”

Ella got it for her, and Baylee sipped at the room temperature water while Ella gave her a rundown. “You’ll simply play your piece a few times. The guys on the other side of the glass will record it, mix it, and polish it, and you’ll be free to go. Are you good with sitting?”

Baylee nodded. She’d imagined this day. Baylee lifted her flute from the stand. The flute seemed heavier than before, unfamiliar. Ella moved around her, adjusting the position of various mics and filters, sealing her in place. Cold air brought chill bumps to her exposed skin. Ella took the water away. Baylee’s throat instantly went dry. Calm down.

The technician’s voice sounded through the speaker, “Now remember. It’s more about the emotion than technical skill. Light. Airy. Delicate. Can you roll that out?”

Baylee nodded. She’d been doing that in practice. Imagining each note coming from the end of her flute like a fairy hopping from flower petal to flower petal.

Ella motioned to the sound booth and backed away. “I’ll be just on the other side of that wall. You can speak at a normal level and I’ll hear you through the mics.” The next time Baylee heard Ella, it was through the speaker. “Don’t worry about pauses or breaths. Just keep playing and they’ll take care of those in editing. Whenever you’re ready.”

Baylee closed her eyes. Fairies hopping from note to note. Petal to petal. Rolling up and down. Like they were on a roller coaster. Like the one at the New York, New York. The one she didn’t get to ride. She took a deep breath and went for it. She played her ten-second piece.

“Okay, Baylee. Let’s take a break.” Ella’s soft voice made her jump.

Baylee drew the flute down to her lap, taking in more oxygen. It took a lot of air to play the flute.

Ella came through the door. She was winding one of her curls around her index finger. “Well. Well.” Her voice pitched higher. “We can see how that works with the recording.”

Heat pricked Baylee’s cheeks, and she closed her eyes.

“Tell me the secret, Ella,” a guy said, bringing the smell of cigarettes into the room. He wore headphones around his neck and he held his fist out for her to bump it. “I don’t know what they put in the water down there, but Sax sure found a heap of kids who can play. Angry flute, who’d have thunk it?”

Baylee’s posture eased, and she rolled her flute over the top of her thighs. “It worked then?”

“Oh yeah.” He sounded sincere. “Rad delivery.”

“We’ll see,” Ella said. “Maybe.”

The man shook his head. “Nope. We got it.”

Baylee got off the stool. “Great.”

Ella opened the door into the hall. “Thank you. I thought maybe, well, with everything going on, that you might leave before finishing this, and I wasn’t sure what to do to get this song finalized on schedule.”

“I promised I would, and I keep my promises.”

Baylee hadn’t heard from Logan, and she’d been home for two weeks. Two very big weeks. She’d told a lie to Tyler about why she was going home early, told a partial truth to her cousin that she needed to get back to work and save money for college, and worse told the total truth to her mom about their savings. Worst conversation of her life.

Mom hadn’t even been too upset with her, which made it better and worse. She even took some of the blame. She said that she wished she had set up the account differently. She wished she had placed the money in a state tuition plan that Baylee couldn’t touch. But that she understood why Baylee felt the need to pay off her dad’s debt. Even if it meant sacrificing the opportunity to go to a four-year university.

It was while talking to her mom that she realized what she wanted to do with her life. Because Mom was right. It had been her money, and her wishes should have been considered. It made her think of Tate, his mother and her manipulations with money. She planned to talk to the guidance counselor at the community college. She wanted a career that would protect minors, protect their earnings and savings, make trusts more solid. She didn’t know what that career was called, but she wanted it.

Now she had a new plan. She’d switch to community college for two years, and then go to Tech. Dad wasn’t taking that from her forever. In the last two weeks, she’d taken as many shifts as she could to start repairing her savings, but two weeks couldn’t make up for eighteen years.

Work was exhausting, but familiar, but also different – she saw it all with new eyes, and tonight’s double had been especially exhausting. She dragged herself home, muscles aching, dying for dinner and bed, maybe not in that order. Mom stood in the kitchen. Dad lay back on the couch. Dad.

Tension hit her. “Mom? Really?”