When Empires Fall (27 page)

Not only had he started refinishing the kitchen cabinets and put in a new tile countertop, he had also replaced a piece of water damaged drywall in the parlor, patched up holes in the walls upstairs, repainted one of the rooms downstairs, started hacking up the tile floor in one of the guest bathrooms, and he’d installed a giant flat screen TV and cable in what he was calling the living room just so he could catch the game while he was away.

All in all, it had been a successful break from the norm and part of him wished he didn’t have to leave. But he had an obligation to return home. He had a life to go back to.

Not to mention, Lynette was in New York.

He’d given in and had called her once or twice, just to share with her his accomplishments and bask in her praise. She’d said she missed him, which had done wonders for his ego, and made him all the more eager to get back to her.

But going back to her also meant going back to his family and his brother. But he’d had a lot of time to think things over and really consider where Grant was coming from. He could understand the desire to want to preserve the tradition of the hotels, but at the same time he couldn’t understand why a little bit of expansion would necessarily tarnish that tradition.

Maybe the timing was just bad, Linc considered, sipping more coffee and watching a crane swoop down and land gracefully in the pond, its white body catching the morning sunlight. Maybe he’d give the idea a rest for now and hit Grant up again with it in a year. And next time, he’d be sure not to take it so personally. He really hated fighting with his brother, who he loved despite their differences. Besides, it wasn’t in his nature to hold grudges for long.

He jolted when his cell phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned down at the Caller ID before answering it. “What’s up, Wally?”

“
I know you said not to bother you unless it was important, but, well, I think this is pretty important
.”

“Okay…” Linc chuckled, taking a seat on the front porch steps and taking another sip of coffee. “Hit me.”

“
Maybe it’s best if you see for yourself, I don’t even know where to begin,
” Walter decided, gulping audibly over the phone. “
Are you near a grocery store that sells tabloids? If you are, go pick up today’s copy of
Scandal Source
and read the cover.
”

Linc frowned, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “Since when do you read the tabloids, son?”

“
I saw it on the way in this morning. I’m serious Linc, you need to see this
.”

“And you can’t just
tell
me what it is that you read in this stupid tabloid? I have to go all the way down to the damn store and buy myself a copy?”

“
I don’t even want to say the words out loud, dude. Just do it.
” Walter hung up promptly after that, leaving Linc staring down at his phone irritably.

“Okay, kid, I’ll go get your stupid tabloid,” he grumbled to himself, grabbing his keys from his pocket and heading for his Camaro, thinking that after he had a good laugh about the magazine maybe he’d take her for a spin through the country with the top down. Ah, winter in the south, he mused. Odd to think that it was snowing back in New York.

When he reached the grocery store and strolled in, he headed straight for the newsstand by the cash register and perused the titles, looking for the tabloid Walter had mentioned. It was one he had been featured in before, so he was expecting there to be some mention of an ex of his or maybe a picture of him drunk at a bar. That was just a normal part of being in the public spotlight as an heir to an empire as prominent as the Vasser family.

But when he spotted the right magazine and lifted it off the rack, it wasn’t his face that stared up at him, but his father’s face, drunk and frightened looking.

The headline read:
MY GRANDFATHER WAS MURDERED, AND MY DADDY DID IT!

Linc threw a twenty dollar bill at the cashier, and, tabloid in hand, bolted from the store like a bat out of hell.

He left his
car at the airport in New Orleans and hopped on the first flight back to New York City. It was nearing six o’clock in the evening by the time he made it back to the hotel but he knew Grant would still be there. He ran as fast as he could through the lobby and up the stairs to the second floor, bursting out into the waiting room and startling Quinn as he raced past her and went immediately into Grant’s office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Grant looked up the moment Linc entered and his breath froze in his lungs at the look on his brother’s face.

“Did you see this?” Linc barked, stalking forward and tossing the tabloid down on Grant’s desk. Grant stared down at it, almost instantly looking up to meet eyes with his brother, outraged.

“How did this happen?” Grant managed, glaring down at the magazine again, his mind racing with possible solutions to the shit storm he knew was about to hit them all.

“I don’t know, but this is bullshit.” Linc’s hands flew up to grasp his hair as he began to pace, his mouth curled into a snarl. “How could dad do this to us? He must have talked with that detective and gotten these ideas and then sold them to this goddamn tabloid!”

“Detective Hughes has not yet spoken to him,” Grant informed his brother, flipping open the magazine so he could read the article, fighting to maintain control of the anger he felt bursting within him. “I just spoke with him this morning, and he was on his way to Los Angeles but had not yet made it there.”

“What?” Linc whirled around, eyes wide. “Then where the hell did this come from?”

“I’m not sure.” Grant sighed, propping his left elbow on the desk and rubbing his temple with his fingers tiredly, closing his eyes. “But I’m sure that once the detective sees this, he’ll be all over dad.”

“Do you really think he’ll believe him though? I read through what the article said and the transcript of dad’s words, and he sounds insane. He was drunk out of his mind and decided to make up this story just to fuck with us.”

“He’s not smart enough to do that, especially not while drunk,” Grant said then, letting his hand fall away from his face as he met eyes with Linc. “I think he truly believes what he said to that reporter.”

“How could he though? He was a little kid when Winston died and he’s never led us to believe he thought it was anything but a suicide.”

Grant considered this for a moment, trying to remember if his father had ever said anything or done anything to indicate he believed something so terrible.

“What are we going to do, Grant?” Linc asked, taking a seat now in one of the chairs facing his brother, worry creasing his brow as his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

Grant stared at him, realizing then that they were going to look to him to fix this. If only he knew what could be done. “All we can do right now is wait and do damage control if we have to.”

Linc nodded, understanding. “I’ll call Mads, get her in on this. You call mom.”

“Linc…” Grant began, letting out a heavy sigh and trying to find the words he really wanted to say.

“It’s okay, Grant.” Linc attempted a smile, reaching across the desk to pat his brother’s shoulder. “This is more important.”

Grant tried to smile, grateful not to have to discuss the issue any further.

“Thank you for coming back.”

“Thank you for letting me.” Linc rose to his feet, cell phone pressed to his ear as he spoke quickly with Madison.

Quinn’s voice cued in suddenly on the intercom. “
Your mother is on line one, Mr. Vasser
.”

Reaching for the phone and pressing the button for line one, he lifted the receiver to his ear and prepared to tell her the bad news.

“Mother,” he said evenly, noticing then the distinguishable sounds of an airport in the background on her end.

“
Grant, I’m in Los Angeles
,” Charlene informed him, her voice clipped and furious. “
I have your father. I had to bail him out of jail this morning. He’s spoken with the press. I can only imagine what the hell they’ve done with it, but I’m certain it won’t be good.
”

“It’s not good.” Grant heard her curse under her breath on the other end, and he waited patiently until she spoke again.

“
I will be back in the city tonight with your father. You can put him up in the hotel for now while he’s on bail
.”

“Why are you bringing him here? What happened to his house?”

“
Clearly we need to be keeping a better eye on him. This cannot happen again
.”

“Agreed,” Grant mumbled, leaning back slowly in his office chair. “Have a safe flight.”

“Mads and Marshall are on their way up,” Linc said then, hanging up his cell phone and eyeing Grant strangely. “What’s wrong?”

Grant hung up the phone as well before looking up at his brother. “Our mother is in Los Angeles. She’s bringing dad back with her.”

Linc gaped at him, instantly furious. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke,” Grant said dryly, smirking slightly at the thought. “He was arrested again and she had to post his bail. She doesn’t feel he should be left on his own right now.”

“So she’s bringing him here?” Linc growled heatedly as Grant nodded. “Well, he better hope you get to him before I do or else I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“That won’t solve anything,” Grant said evenly. “But don’t think I’ll stop you if you try.”

“I may just do it if Kennedy isn’t around,” Linc ventured, eyes sparking with thrill at the thought as he sat back down.

“She’s the only one who still holds out any hope for him.”

“She’ll learn eventually that he can’t be trusted.” Linc relaxed in the chair he sat in, arms draped over the back of it as he stared out of the wide windows and into the night. “We all had to learn that lesson, didn’t we?”

“We did.” Grant noticed then that the box holding the harmonica Linc had given him weeks before was still sitting on his desk, shoved a bit behind his computer monitor. He reached for it and lifted off the lid, pulling out the harmonica gently. “Did this really make you feel better on those nights?”

Linc watched his brother, his face swimming with emotion. “It was the only thing that helped.”

Grant nodded thoughtfully, his eyes taking in the smooth metal of the instrument and the crisp engraving of the family name. Curious, he pressed his lips to the cool metal and blew, his eyes closing peacefully at the sound it made.

“I’d forgotten…” he murmured, emotions stirring as he started again and this time strung together the notes to form the intro to one of his favorite childhood songs.

When he finished, Linc grinned wistfully. “I loved ‘Piano Man.’”

Grant set the harmonica back into its box, eyeing it fondly before turning back to Linc. “So did I.”

“Apparently we’re not so different, after all.” Linc chuckled, feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting there with his brother, content despite all of the turmoil about to come crashing down on them. It was like old times, when they had been each other’s only friends.

“I know I’ve never been very good with words, Linc,” Grant said, his dark eyes hardening with the guilt he felt. “But I am sorry that I’ve hurt you.”

“Forget it.” Linc brushed off the thought, smiling. “We’re family, we fight, it happens. No big deal.”

“When things calm down, perhaps you can tell me about this plantation house you bought.” Grant decided. “It sounds…interesting.”

Linc laughed, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “I took some pictures to show Lynette, but I can show you too.”

“Who’s Lynette?” Grant asked as he leaned forward to look at the phone when Linc held it out to him.

“A friend,” Linc mused, smiling. “For now.”

Grant glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “You have a girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“First off, she’s not my girlfriend, just a girl I’ve taken an interest in,” Linc explained, flipping through to the next picture so Grant would focus on that instead. “Secondly, would you have honestly cared if I came to you and said, ‘Hey man, I like this girl. Isn’t that cool?’ I haven’t bothered you with girl stuff since prep school.”