Billionaire Takes All (8 page)

Chapter 13

Lucas

“What's up, guys? I'm from Gunmetal Tears. They call me Lucky Luke.” I said into the microphone at the Family Room.

The packed house lost their fucking minds.

I felt the vibration of their screaming worship deep in my chest. It made me smile. This was my first time back on stage in years. There was this ferocious energy you get while you perform, it was a drug all its own.

I knew a lot of guys that chased that high off stage and never lived to tell about it.

Music was always different for me. It wasn't about a god complex. It wasn't about the money or prestige, or even fucking whoever you wanted. It was about releasing all the anger, pain, hope and love that threatened to tear me apart now that Molly was gone.

It was the same reason I started playing professionally to begin with.

I ran my fingers through the frets of my Fender guitar and began to strum out the opening to our first number one hit. The guitar and mic were hooked into the same acoustic amplifier stack, otherwise they'd have been lost to the roar of the nearly two hundred people packed into this club.

Sadness, discord, longing, and rage; our dark, melancholy rock tapped into the pain that so many other people felt when they lost someone they loved. Was it really such a wonder that our songs resonated with so many people?

To fuck up and hurt people was all so
human.

The first song bled into the second, then the third, then the forth. My fingers ached from a lack of practice. It had been a long time since I played any of these songs even privately. I didn't need to play them often anymore to do them justice. The notes, the words, it was all just as much a part of me as the nose on my face. 

One of the two color changing spotlights on me popped loudly, then went dark. I'd never played the Family Room before. The place was a fucking joke. I was told that it used to be an Italian restaurant twenty years ago. In that time, all they'd done to the place was tear out the seating to open it up into a big hall.

The only modern thing about it was the sprinkler system that was no doubt forced onto the owner. That was one of the few things I always checked in person when I booked a gig. No pyrotechnics and a working sprinkler installed. As long as the venue was safe for my fans, I could give a shit about the color of the M&Ms backstage.

Honestly I didn't give a damn about the room's natural acoustics or even about the audio quality. My style always had a dirty sound to begin with. I'm glad they liked the music, but I didn't play for my fans.

I played for myself. This was my church. Molly was my God and this was how I prayed to her.

I hadn't talked to her since I dropped her off after the party. I spent that night outside, about a block away keeping vigil over her in case her asshole ex-husband came back.

He didn't.

The following week I kept my distance and watched over her silently in a rented car. The inheritance war was on in full. Dick and I fucked with each other as much as possible. I spread rumors that he had gonorrhea, he made sure that every time I stepped into a public place I was mobbed with people.

We were little boys throwing toys at each other and sneaking painful jabs in when the adults were out of the room, except we were all grown up and could do far worse than throw tantrums.

The thought of fucking anyone but Molly now that she was single felt like a betrayal, even if she didn't want me any more. For as ruthless and corporate as Dick was, I was still pretty sure he wasn't going to knock some random girl up to win a bet.

We were at a stalemate so we just made the other's life as miserable as possible.

“Fuck all this shit.” Halfway through my fifth song I stopped. I couldn't do it. I couldn't mindlessly play Gunmetal's hits. All I did this past week was watch over Molly and write music. I barely ate or slept.

“You guys want to hear something new, something bloody, something downright heartbreaking?” I walked the stage, pausing between certain words to thrust the mic toward the audience.

The crowd cheered after
new, bloody
and
heartbreaking
. Cell phone cameras switched from flash to record. There were a few songs and stories kicking around my mind and heart, but nothing was finished enough to be recorded yet.

In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. I had no idea what I was going to say or play. I opened my mouth and let out the words that I needed to get rid of.

“I wanna tell you a quick story of this prick I knew once. Lets call him... ” I set the mic on the one stool in the middle of the stage and took a long draft of the beer that was resting there. “
Unlucky
Luke.”

The crowd laughed.

“Luke once knew this girl. Dark haired, dark eyed, bright-souled. You always hear about the one that got away.” I plucked at my strings somberly. “But I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about the one he stupidly
pushed
away.

“Seasons turned to dust and memories, stars fell from the sky, and the fiery heart that led his way cooled and quieted.” I walked my fingers higher up on the guitar's neck like a hangman's noose as I played. “Y'see he waited too long.

“Waiting is a game for fools and Unlucky Luke was their
king
!”

I couldn't tell when it happened, but at some point my speaking voice had become my singing voice. I hadn't planned on playing Molly's song. It was like a cough that itched the bottom of my lungs, it needed to come out.

“Fate stole him, but fear
kept
him. He won every battle, but lost every war. Time and victory defeated him.”

I strummed hard, squeezing the head stock tightly just below the tuners and let the instrument hang by one hand. The thrum choked off into a flat, uncomfortable sound. I didn't wear a strap so the motion gave the effect that the gallows had gave way and the guitar hung by its neck until dead. 

“When he finally came home to his castle someone else had already fallen out of his throne. All she wanted was love.”

I snapped up the guitar and started playing again. The sound was rough and loud, discordant at first, then it settled into a fast melodic rhythm.

“The king of fools should've moved heaven itself—” My hands moved automatically, continuing the same melody, but my words broke off when I saw Dick enter with the dark haired girl I saw him with at the party.

Were they a thing? Thoughts of losing to Dick twisted my stomach into a knot.

Right behind the smug looking couple, another man walked in. He had a dark formal uniform and badge, but no gun. The man didn't look happy. When he pulled a pad out of his breast pocket I realized he wasn't a cop.

He was a
fire marshal
.

The only thing fully up to code on this place was the sprinkler system and that was probably done only to avoid suspicion. How the Family Room snuck under the radar with everything else for so long was a testament to the power of bribes.

This place was about to go down.
Hard.

There was a burst of movement behind me. I snapped a glance over and saw the club's owner run out the back entrance where the bands load in their gear. He realized he was fucked and decided to escape and cut his losses. By the speed he was running there must've been more going down than selling beer to minors.

He must've been selling drugs too. 

On the way out, that unbelievable prick pulled the fire alarm.

Well that was one way to ensure people don’t chase after you.

That new sprinkler system sputtered for half a second then rocketed into action, water seemed to rain down in buckets. I immediately stopped playing as a look of abject terror washed over the crowd.

For the second time in one night the crowd lost their minds, but this time for a darker reason. There wasn't any fire, but there was a real threat that people could be hurt by trampling.

“Everyone, calm down!” I shouted through my microphone. The water hadn't knocked out the power to my speakers yet. Even with the added amplification my words were still only barely audible over the frenzy of fear. “There is no fire!”

Both Richard and the fire marshal were doing their best to herd the horde of people through the open double doors. The utter mistake of Richard's timing was written all over his face.

He thought he'd close the place down as I was on stage and make me look like an asshole for not completing the show. It actually wasn't a bad plan. Unfortunately he had no idea it would turn into a goddamn riot.

I wanted to jump down and help the people who fell, but I'd just be adding another body to the chaos. I stayed on the stage and tried to calm everyone as best I could. I told them a fire marshal was already here. I told them where the exits were and to pick up the damn people they pushed over.

For nearly five minutes it was madness in that little club. It took so much longer for people to get out of there than it should've. I shivered to think what the place would've been like had it really been on fire.

The thought made me nauseous.

Soon enough the last of the stragglers walked or were helped out the door. Fortunately it didn't look like anyone was hurt too badly. No one had to be carried out,
thank Christ!

The sprinklers never stopped. I was soaked to the bone as I did a final sweep to make sure no one was trapped anywhere or needed help.

And for a short time I was the only person left inside the sad, waterlogged building.

I stepped back up on the stage and attempted to finish my song to Molly.

The mechanical rainfall had long since shorted out my amp and ruined all my equipment. The guitar wasn't electric, so I ripped out the chord and continued to play. The hollow laminated spruce and mahogany body filled with water, making the guitar heavy and giving the music a tinny sound. The course strings made my water-wrinkled fingers bleed.

I still couldn't find it in myself to stop.

“The king of fools should've moved heaven itself
to get her back,
” I sang to no one.

In a movie, Molly would've walked in, heard my song and seen me soaked and pitiful. We'd have met halfway in a sweeping hug, then I would've kissed her under the fake rain.

Half a dozen separate sirens rapidly closed in from every direction.

Looking out over the deserted hall I truly felt empty inside, had there actually been a fire I didn't know that I'd even have tried to leave.

I played until blood ran down my arms and one of my strings snapped, then I played some more. My tears mingled invisibly with the falling water.

Finally a thick, gloved hand of a fireman landed gently on my shoulder. “C'mon, son. It's all over. It's time to go.”

Chapter 14

Richard

“Leave the bottle,” I said, checking my watch.

The waiter nodded. He finished topping my glass off, then set the expensive bottle of something French down on the table.

My date for the evening, Madison Grace, was the Governor’s daughter. I sipped my glass more quickly than was probably wise. The night—and this date—was far from over. I felt a sense of exhaustion at the thought of finishing it.

Madison had been in the bathroom for what felt like an hour.

The appetizers came, got cold and were taken away. Any moment the entrees would be here. I asked the waiter if they had anything Asian inspired, but he respectfully gave me his regrets and said there wasn’t.

What I wouldn’t give for some average Chinese food on my couch with Gloria right now. I sighed, feeling a pang of regret.

The wine helped with that
, I thought, draining the rest of the glass.

The time for distractions was over.

The Family Room fiasco showed me a lot of things. Above all it showed me what kind of fool I was.

I was so wrapped up in petty revenge I let my pride get the best of me. I could’ve brought the fire marshal there well before the show, but I wanted to humiliate Lucas instead.

Because of that, people got hurt.

Gloria got hurt…

She was standing near the doors when the crowd burst through. She’d already been kicked and stepped on several times before I was able to pull her out of the flood of people. She shouldn’t have been there.

I never should’ve let any of that happen.

The harsh spike of her scream rattled through my head more often than not. All I could think about was what would’ve happened had I not reached her in time.

It scared the hell out of me.

I set my empty glass roughly down on the table and snapped off its stem. My hand was shaking when I let the now-useless wine glass fall to the floor.

The tables were fairly private—as they should’ve been considering the cost of this place—but that didn’t stop some heads from craning over to see the source of the sound and my cursing.

Within seconds someone came over with a replacement, apologizing profusely for the defective glass. There was nothing wrong with the wine glass. Both of my knuckles had turned white from my balled up fists.

I was lucky it didn’t shatter in my hands.

I rubbed a hand over my face, reminding myself that Gloria was fine. I had rushed her to the nearest hospital. She only had two sprained ribs and a concussion thankfully.

Sitting in the waiting room, I realized I was going about everything backwards. I shouldn’t be trying to
hurt
my brother; I should be trying to
beat
him.

There was only one way to do that.

I left Gloria a letter the following day, ending whatever it was that we had. If what we had was anything at all. Maybe in a different time
or life
things could’ve worked out between us. There was no changing the facts.

She didn’t want kids right now, and right now was when I needed one.

It was a bitterly hard pill to swallow, but it was necessary. I was going to win this challenge, not because I needed the inheritance, but because Lucas didn’t deserve it. He lost that privilege when he burned the opportunity I gave him.

The King legacy was too important and needed to be preserved.

Lucas was too selfish to understand that.

That’s why I refused to play this game with him any longer. There needed to be a winner and a loser as quickly as possible, because next time we fought someone like Gloria could get hurt.

I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.

I spent every evening since with a new woman. So far none had been an appropriate fit. The dates always ended shortly after dinner. Gloria was still too fresh in my mind to take any of them home with me.

I looked into the glass of dark red wine. It was the same color as Gloria’s lipstick…

I smiled thinking back to the night she gave me the private tour of both her coffee shop and her milky, smooth body.

And she said she was a terrible tour guide…

I had seen Gloria half a dozen more times after she’d picked me up from the police station. Each date was exhilarating and wonderfully different. We shouldn’t have been able to mesh together as well as we did. She was quirky, rude, impulsive and opinionated; she was my opposite in many ways.

Gloria was beautiful in a way I’d never seen before. In eastern philosophies, she’d have been the yin to my yang. Here, however, she was only an unforgettable memory that I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

In my darker moments I would hate that she couldn’t be both.

“I am so sorry, darling.” Madison materialized. Her immaculate, long golden hair was done into an exquisite up-do. She wore a floor-length maroon ball gown and wore enough diamond jewelry to fund a small nation. I stood up and got her chair for her. “Time simply slipped away from me. Where were we?”

“You were telling me about your father, I believe.”

“Oh yes! We were discussing his reelection fundraiser campaign.” Madison’s face lit up.

Joy.

The waiter arrived just in time with our entrees to divert the conversation once more. I couldn’t wait for the dinner to be over. Madison hadn’t been particularly awful or anything, just
ordinary
.

Madison, like every other girl I’d seen this week, had been more of the same. They all came from money; they ran various video or traditional blogs about fashion or modeling and tended to discuss the important or successful work their parents did.

Had Gloria ruined these women for me by virtue of being different and exciting?

Madison had been the most tolerable thus far though. She’d at least been through college, a psychology major at that. And although she didn’t outright say it, it appeared she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and go into a career in politics.

Politics was generally a little too slimy for me, but it was a nice divergence to the hollow, empty conversations I’d had with other women this week.

I didn’t think it was going to work out with Madison either, but we’d probably take the scenic route, instead of the highway, when I dropped her off after dinner.

“I would, if you don’t mind of course, like to dispense with the pleasantries and discuss the parameters necessary for my impregnation.” Madison cut a small piece of her duck.

“Beg your pardon?” I coughed, nearly spitting out my bite of filet mignon.

She casually chewed and swallowed, then touched the cloth napkin to the corner of her mouth and cleaned a mess that wasn’t there.

“My menstrual cycle is exactly twenty eight days, with my day of ovulation arriving in the middle of each month.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, Madison.” I forced down my bite of steak and chased it with a long gulp of wine. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Your father’s will, silly.” She smiled like a talk show host, cocking her head slightly. Not one strand of her perfect hair so much as flitted out place. “I assume because we’re meeting at all, my genetic make-up is acceptable.”

“Hold on.” I leaned forward in a harsh whisper. I only told Gloria about this and I doubted she was the gossiping type. “How did you know about my father’s will?”

“I keep my ears open for whispers. News travels fast.” Madison seemed to alternate between data analyst and valley girl with astonishing ease. She shrugged. “Some news travels faster than others.”

“I don’t know what you might’ve heard—” I started, feeling a little on the defensive. The arrangement between my father, Lucas and I wasn’t something I wanted getting around.

“Oh posh.” Madison waved a hand dismissively. She winked at me and gave me a knowing smile. “I’m the daughter of a politician. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Madison was perfect; uncomfortably so.

She had this
curated
feel to her, like everything she wore, did, said, and even the way she moved was all decided on by a committee. Madison was perfect
by design
. She was a child’s plastic doll that had just been removed from its packaging. 

Was this what it was like to be a politician?

She was the exact opposite of Gloria’s rough-around-the-edges, brutally honest, take-no-prisoners attitude.

“May we get started?” She asked.

“By all means,” I said, curious as to what
get started
meant. I leaned back in my chair and watched in awe as she pulled out a thick folder from her purse. The folder and the paper inside of it was half the traditional size, so that it could fit in her purse.

That definitely wasn’t in there before
, I thought. Did she have that packet stashed somewhere here?

Was that why she was gone for so long?

“Here we are,” she said with the tone and focus of a woman who enjoyed doing her own taxes. She slid the document across the table for me to review. I riffled through it as she talked. “I have it all laid out here. Blue-tabbed pages in the front are social events so we can gradually introduce ourselves to the public as a couple. The wedding preparation and ceremony are pages seventeen through thirty—”

“What’s this in the back? The red section.” I’d read novels shorter than this manuscript. It was also written mostly in legal-ese, which was both off-putting and impressive. My attorneys would be reviewing this to make sure I kept both my kidneys.

“That is how we met.” She smiled again as if remembering the day fondly. “It was warm summer evening in Vienna. You were on a break between collage semesters and I’d flown in to visit my father. We met through a mutual friend at an intimate cocktail party.”

“We met at the country club party a few weeks ago.” I said flatly, my eyes narrowing at her blatant lie.

“That timeline—” Madison said the word as if the truth was just one of many reasonable options to choose from. “—wouldn’t be socially acceptable if you plan on beating your brother to that which is rightly yours.”

“Rightly mine?” My lips pressed together forming a thin line across my face. How much did she know about my family?

“Well, of course.” Her face brightened. “You’ve followed in your father’s footsteps and expanded his already impressive empire. Lucas on the other hand—” Her eyebrows raised and her lips fell disapprovingly. “Lucas played guitar in a band that is no longer relevant.”

Madison’s change in expression was so subtle that unless you were looking for it, you’d miss it. So she did have emotions under there somewhere…

I was just glad she didn’t know about my mother’s affair or about Lucas actually being my
half
brother. I didn’t like my brother, but there was something in the way she talked about him that bothered me.

It was a weird juvenile emotion. It was alright if I beat Lucas up and humiliated him, but I didn’t like it when others did it in my presence.

“What’s in this for you, Madison? It’s obviously not the money you’re after.”

“
Status
, darling.” She said softly, her lips snapping back into their inoffensive smile. “I plan on running for Senate eventually. I’ve done my research on you, Richard. Unlike your vagabond brother, you kept your public image clean and professional and your promiscuous nature very discrete. I can appreciate that.”

Madison waived the waiter over, ordered a glass of dark juice, then continued. “You’re widely regarded as a leader and man to be respected. You’ll make for a perfect political spouse.”

“You’re making quite the assumption, Madison.” I took a sip of wine. She had a lot of sound points, but everything was so mechanical.

It was odd that I suddenly disliked stark pragmatism.

That’s because it’s boring,
said a small voice in my head that sounded a lot like Gloria.

“Why exactly should I pick you?” I asked, reeling my drifting mind back in and focusing on Madison. I had an entire town to choose from.

Why should I pick her?

“I’m your only real choice.” Madison looked genuinely confused I didn’t see what was so obvious to her. She leaned in closer to spell it out for me.

Madison began rattling off the women I’d seen so far this week. “Paige and Veronica are secretly addicted to various drugs; Kelsey is infertile due to a car accident; Brittany…plays on the other team, but was put up to your date by her father, and that leaves only Hailey. She’s your best bet, but her family’s poor reputation is sure to affect the King brand negatively.”

I said nothing. I knew some of that was true just from the interactions I had with them.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Lord no!” Madison’s chuckle bordered on genuine. “Who has the time for that sort of thing? I just have a lot of vigilant friends. Those same friends learned something about your brother as well. Would you like to know?”