On the Move (11 page)

“This is
none
of your business.”

“Five million? Ten?”

“You’re way off base.”

“He was handling your career,” she said. “Managing your money. Paying your bills. Opening up bank accounts—accounts you never even knew existed.”

She watched his jaw flex. Watched his cheek spasm. “You should leave,” he said.

“Everyone screws you over. Your dad. Your agents. The car owners who let you go. That’s why you’re so committed to helping young boys. You want to be there for them in a way that nobody was ever there for you.”

He turned away, reached into a drawer and grabbed some jeans. The way he jerked them out, she could tell he was furious. He stood there in his underwear, every square inch of him chiseled from hours of working out. Damn it. How could she be so desperate to get through to him and yet still…
still
have a part of her think he’s hot.

“Brandon,” she said, daring to place her hand on his shoulder. The muscles there were hard cords of hot tension. “I stood you up before the race.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grated, turning to face her at the same time as he pulled on his jeans.

“That’s what you tell yourself all the time, isn’t it, Brandon? That it doesn’t matter? Nobody matters.”

“Nobody does,” he said, staring her straight in the eye, hands on his jean-clad hips now. “Including you.”

Okay, that had hurt, but she’d seen it coming. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you before the race. I hit traffic. Left too late. A stupid move that’ll never happen again, but I want you to know that every minute I sat in traffic, with every second that passed, all I thought about was you. Not whether you’d win or lose.” She waved him silent because she just knew he’d been about to say some cutting remark. “
But you.
Whether you were nervous. Or worried. Or wondering where I was.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you so mad at me? Why do you kiss me senseless and then leave me hanging.”

“Is that why you won’t leave? You want me to soothe your sexual needs?”

“No,” she cried. “I want to help you. I want to be there for you. I want you to know you can trust me.”

“Bull,” he said. “You want something else. Everyone always does.”

She shook her head, more frustrated than she could ever remember feeling. Why did he keep pushing her away like this?

“Do yourself a favor, Vicky. Concentrate on being my agent. Lord knows, you’d be a waste of time in bed…at least judging by the way you kiss.”

She reeled back.
Careful, Vicky. He’s just trying to hurt you.

But he’d succeeded. In spades. She’d been dumped enough times to wonder if there was something wrong with her lovemaking skills. Brandon had homed in on the weakness with the precision of a legal prosecutor.

“I can see this conversation is going nowhere,” Vicky said.

“No one invited you to stick around.”

“Yeah. I know. Stupid me for thinking you might need someone to talk to.”

He didn’t say anything.

She began to back away. Her eyes stung for some stupid, ridiculous reason. When she turned on her heel outside his bedroom door, it was all she could do to hold on to her tears.

“See you around, Vicky VanCleef,” he called sarcastically.

Not if she could help it.

“Be sure and tell the press I’m not interested in releasing a statement.”

“I’ll forward that on to Mrs. Parsons,” she mumbled through a throat clogged with tears.

She couldn’t reach the door fast enough. The moment the thing hissed open, she darted outside, gasping in a breath of air only when it’d shut.

“Damn him,” she muttered. She wiped at her eyes, her hands shaking with the effort it took to fight back more tears.

As she walked away, she failed to notice the curtain that moved, and the face the peered out at her, one filled, ironically enough, with desperation and longing.

It was almost as if he heard her because just then the phone rang.

“Vicky,” Scott drawled when she answered. “Tell me things are as bad as Mr. Knight says they are.”

Mr. Knight?

“He claims our star driver has created a royal mess for him to deal with.”

“You spoke to Mr. Knight?” she asked.

“Just now. The man paged me about ten times. What happened?”

It figured that Scott hadn’t watched the race this weekend. “Brandon wrecked someone. He blamed it on the other driver.”

“Is that all?”

Well, it was a little more than that, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. She was done with it all. “Scott, look. Brandon and I aren’t exactly getting along. Yesterday, he insulted me when I followed him to his motor home. He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m only after his money. I don’t know whether to be insulted or outraged.”

There was silence, then a low chuckle from the other end of the phone. “Welcome to the world of being an agent, Vicky.”

“Scott, I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m saying.”

“Mr. Knight wants a meeting this morning, kiddo. You’re to collect Brandon at his house and bring him to the meeting by 9:00 a.m.”

“Have you asked Brandon if he’ll drive himself?”

Please, god, let him drive himself.

“According to Mr. Knight, he’s not answering his phone.”

Vicky glanced at the clock blinking on her nightstand. Nine o’clock that was a little over an hour from now.

“No,” she heard herself say.
I can’t face him again.
“I quit. I’m heading back to New York. You can fire me if you want, but I quit.”

“Vicky…baby—”

Baby?

“I know Brandon’s a first-class jerk, but that’s just the nature of the biz. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. No need to get your panty hose in a twist.”

“It’s not just that, Scott. Brandon has…issues.” Should she tell him about Brandon’s illiteracy? Would Scott even care? Despite her words to the contrary, she doubted her boss would. As long as Brandon could drive, that was all that mattered—that and the paychecks.

“So what?” Scott was saying. “Who cares? Just
deal
with it.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re disappointing me, Vicky. I thought you were a real go-getter. Obviously, I was wrong.”

She
was
a go-getter, just not where Brandon was concerned.

“But I’ll tell you what. I’ll make it worth your while to stay,” her boss said.

“Scott.”

“Mr. Knight expects a meeting this morning, and I know better than to upset him. You take the meeting. Just sit there for me. After that, you can come home, but I’ve got to warn you. I’ve already filled your old position. If you come home, you’ll be left without a job.”

What was it with men? They begged and cajoled you with one breath, then informed you that you weren’t wanted with the next.

“Forget it, Scott. It’s not worth it to me to have to deal with Brandon anymore.”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” he said. “I’ll make it worthwhile. Go get Brandon, bring him to the meeting and I’ll give you two weeks’ severance pay.”

Two weeks.
That might be enough to get her through the next month, and time to find a new job.

“If you get him to do whatever it is Mr. Knight wants him to do, then I’ll double that.”

A month’s salary? Scott must really be desperate,
Vicky thought.

“What, exactly, does Mr. Knight want him to do?”

“Don’t know. Something with the media. Maybe it’s a press conference or something. I didn’t ask questions. He was pretty hot under the collar. Made it clear that unless Brandon shapes up, he’d be out on his ear.”

She’d suspected that was coming.

“Just one more day, Vicky. Then you can come home. Who knows? Maybe I can find you something else to do around here.”

Nice carrot, she almost told him, but in the end she held her tongue. Frankly, if she lost this job, it’d be back to Mom and Dad, and the last thing she needed was their “I told you so.”

“Fine,” she heard herself say. It was just a couple of hours. How hard could that be?

He ignored her. He crossed to his stereo and turned it on. The music drowned out Vicky’s sudden pounding. He’d study his reading workbook, he thought.

But the prospect of trying to decipher the jumbled letters only filled him with disgust.

And shame.

I want to be your friend.

Yeah, well, he’d heard that one before.

He closed his eyes, trying to tune out the sound of her fists beating on the door. But every time the music paused for a beat, he heard it…and her voice.

“Brandon.”

He closed his eyes harder, as if that might somehow help his ears. Still…
still,
there it was. In the background, faint, but still audible. Bang. Bang. Bang. And then, “Brandon!”

She wasn’t going to go away. Damn it.

“Open up, or I’m coming through a window.”

He turned toward the window to the left of his recliner. She wouldn’t actually attempt to break in, would she? A female face peered through the glass, hands cupped so she could see inside. “Open up,” she ordered, pointing toward the door just in case he missed her meaning.

“What?” he yelled, refusing to budge.

“I need to talk to you.”

He knew what about, too. He’d received no less than five calls this morning. One from Mrs. Parsons. One from Mr. Knight. A couple from reporters. And one from Scott. All of them wanted something from him. Well, too bad. Today he wasn’t open for business. He’d even taken the phone off the hook.

“Open. The. Door,” Vicky said slowly and succinctly.

“No,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of him. With any luck she’d go away soon. Then he could go back to enjoying his morning.

Suddenly it was quiet. Or, as quiet as it could be with the music blaring in the background. He strained his ears, hoping to catch the sound of an engine starting up.

Abruptly, the stereo shut off.

His eyes snapped open. Vicky stood over him.

“What the hell?”

“Get up.”

“How the hell did you get in?”

“Doggie door.”

“What?”

“I used to crawl through them all the time when I was a kid. Glad to find I could still fit. Get up,” she said again, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m in no mood for your shenanigans, Brandon Burke, so you’d best do as I ask.”

“You leave,” he said, sitting up.

“I’m
not
leaving. At least not without you. We have a meeting to go to.”

He purposely leaned back in his chair again, sliding his arms behind his neck in a show of bravado. “Not going,” he said. “Feel free to attend without me.”

She looked ready to grab his ears in the same way Mrs. Parsons had. Instead she leaned toward him. “I’ve had it with you,” she said in a low voice. “This morning I was all set to go back to New York. Yes,” she said, obviously seeing the way his eyes widened in surprise before he could stop them. “I quit SSI, Brandon. Because of you. I’d be on a plane right now except Scott begged me to do one last thing—drag you to a meeting at KEM. I didn’t want to do it. Almost turned around half a dozen times on my way here. But you know what, Brandon? Damned if you’ll make me slink off like some terrified young pup. I’m a full-grown woman, and I’ve worked hard to get to where I am. Finally I had to ask myself just why the hell I was letting you push me around.”

She leaned even closer to him.

“And you know what, Brandon?” she asked.

What,
Brandon resisted the urge to ask. That wasn’t the only thing he resisted doing. He clutched the arms of his chair. The closer she got, the more her scent filled his nostrils. Sweet. Flowery. Womanly. She looked furious, more angry than he could ever recall seeing—and for some twisted reason it turned him on.

What the hell was
wrong
with him?

“You know what,” she said again, even more softly this time. “I realized that I didn’t have to let you push me around. I have the power to control you.”

“No one controls me.”

“Oh, I do, Brandon,” she said, her hair loose and floating around her shoulder, the morning light turning the brown strands the color of caramel. “I do.”

She leaned back suddenly. Brandon felt his hands loosen.

“It occurred to me on the way over here that since you refuse to believe I want to be your friend, that I should just go ahead and be the mean, manipulative woman you expect me to be. Actually, that’s what I think you
want
me to be. Therefore, Brandon, I no longer want to be your friend. In fact, I feel the distinct urge to treat you like an enemy. You will go to that meeting with me at KEM or I will shout from the rooftops that you’re the first illiterate driver in NASCAR.”

It took a second for her words to penetrate. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his heart pounding.

“Oh, trust me, Brandon. After what you’ve put me through, I would.”

“If you do that, you’ll only end up hurting my career.”

“Hah,” she scoffed. “As if you haven’t done that already on your own. As if you won’t continue to do it,” she added. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of watching you self-destruct. Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re sabotaging your own career. It’s almost as if you don’t want to succeed, but that’s not possible—”

She stopped suddenly. Brandon’s heart pounded in his ears.

“Or is it?” she asked quietly. “Oh, my lord, that is what you want, isn’t it?”

“What?” he asked, suddenly darting up from his chair. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t really want to succeed.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “Or haven’t you looked around you? I’m broke, Vicky, but I don’t intend to stay that way forever.”

“That’s what you tell yourself, Brandon, but I don’t think it’s really true. I think deep down inside you’re still mad at your father. So angry, in fact, that you want to show him what a screw-up you can really be.”

His lip curled. “What is this? Pop Psychology 101?”

“It’s true,” she said. “I read about it in college. There are a ton of books on the subject. Well, most of them deal more with underachievement in academics, but the principle is the same, at least as it applies to you. The issue at hand is self-worth and low self-esteem, something that occurs when a child is raised by a controlling and dominant parent.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

“I’m
not
going to the meeting.”

“Wow,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Who would have thought those psychology classes would come in handy?” She placed her hands on her hips again. “Not that it makes any difference. I’m tired of your attitude so either you come to the meeting with me today, or I spill the beans about everything.”

“I don’t like being threatened, Vicky.”

“And I don’t like threatening you,” she said softly. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m a decent person. But you need a wake-up call, Brandon, and I’ve decided I’m just the one to dial your number. You’ll listen to me, if only for a day. Someday you’ll look back and realize I had your best interest at heart.”