Anders was reluctant to return to the penthouse condo he was renting in Old Town for no other reason than because his son was there. After spending the better part of a week trying to figure out how to be a dad to a kid who wouldn’t even look at him, let alone answer a simple question, he needed a break and time to regroup. He’d changed into his workout clothes in the office at Dixie’s after that unfortunate fan encounter and gone for a run in Old Town. He passed the Southernmost house, Hemingway’s place, and the Key West lighthouse before pausing at a street vendor who was selling ice-cold coconuts. He’d drilled the hole for the straw while Anders waited. Fresh coconut water was so much better than the store-bought stuff, and he needed the electrolytes on a hot-as-hellfire afternoon.
He kept walking while he polished off his beverage.
Maybe he should just send Obie back to Greer’s house in California. At least he’d be in a familiar environment. Guilt prickled the back of Anders’ neck. What kind of life had the boy been living? Boarding school during the school year, handed off to nannies and servants or grandma’s house during summer break and the holidays. Greer used to tell stories about how un-motherly Martha Mell was to her when she was growing up. It was one of the few things they’d had in common. Shitty parents. Before Obie was born, they’d both vowed they wouldn’t make the same mistakes their parents had made. And they hadn’t. They’d made new ones that were just as bad.
Anders stopped in front of a two-story Old-Key-West-style home. The yellow building was real pretty with its white trim and wrap-around porches on its upper and lower floors. It reminded him of the big house up the road from the trailer park where he grew up. His momma loved that house. She used to say it was a lot like the one she was raised in back in New Orleans. When Anders was about eleven, he made a vow to his momma that he would buy that house for her one day. She’d died a year later and the house was bulldozed two years after that. He could buy ten of those houses now. Funny how he didn’t own a single home of his own.
The house in Old Town was for sale, but he had no need for it. He preferred to rent whenever he was in one place long enough. Otherwise, he lived in hotels. Still, he found himself reaching into the mailbox for a brochure. Out of curiosity, he told himself. But it was his dumb luck the real estate broker came out the front door and spotted him.
Rebecca Stein was very good at her job. She insisted he had to see the place because it was the perfect house for him. Before he knew it, he was getting the grand tour. Turned out, she was right. He liked what he saw, but he just wasn’t in the market for real estate. He wasn’t planning on staying in Key West any longer than he needed to.
Anders dropped his room key on the foyer table as he entered the air-conditioned condo. The blast of cool air that greeted him was so welcomed, he was almost glad to be home. Off to his right, Selena Fry, his publicist, was making herself at home in the galley kitchen. Wearing an apron she’d gotten from God-knows-where over a sleek black pantsuit, she was hand washing the dishes he’d left in the sink.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You realize the dishwasher works just fine.”
She rinsed a glass under the running faucet and didn’t glance over at him. “Washing dishes relaxes me.”
Anders snorted, doubtful anything relaxed the woman.
She’d flown to Vegas as promised and had insisted on sticking close to him, especially when he announced his plans to fly to Key West for his brother’s wedding. She’d wanted him to go to Casey’s funeral and make himself as visible as possible, but she’d lost that battle. He’d had his son to consider and being in the limelight was the last thing the shy kid needed, so Anders had brought Obie here to live in a Parrot Head’s idea of paradise.
The condo was furnished with rattan furniture and gaudy hibiscus prints. The view of the Gulf of Mexico from the lanai was a knockout though. There was a fully stocked kitchen and two bedrooms situated on opposite sides of the living space.
Through the sliding glass door, Anders spotted Obie curled up on a lounge chair on the lanai reading a comic book. How many did the kid have? Or was he reading the same one over and over again? That got him in the gut. Was the kid afraid to ask for another book to read? Hell, Obie was scared of him, period. Anders didn’t know how to deal with that. Kids usually loved him. He never had to try too hard to coax a smile out of one of them. How ironic. His own son was the one kid who couldn’t stand to look at him. A hollowness inside his chest ached at the thought, but he had nobody to blame for it but himself.
“Thought you’d be home sooner,” Selena said, drawing his gaze away from Obie. The woman always reminded him of a tenacious pug with her turned-up nose and round, bulgy brown eyes. She’d cut her hair recently. Her dark brown locks used to hang limply to her elbows whenever she let her hair out of its bun. Now it was brushed back off of her face in a short, sleek bob. The style suited her better. She didn’t smile or laugh very often, but that was just her way. She had a no-nonsense, businesslike demeanor that was as tidy and efficient as her whip slender figure and the conservative pantsuits she liked to wear. She worked hard though and was always there for him when he needed her.
“Sorry about that, I got sidetracked on my run. Thanks for watching him. I know it’s not in your job description.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Selena waved off his gratitude as she dried her hands with a hand towel and then reached into the drawer for a butter knife. “He’s been out there reading since he got up.”
Anders took his rental car keys and the house brochure out of his pockets and set them on the kitchen counter.
“What’s that?” Selena gestured to the brochure with the knife.
“Nothing. Just something I picked up.”
“Oh.”
Anders studied the boy again. “He say anything to you?”
“No.”
Obie hadn’t spoken a word to him or to anyone else since his grandmother had shown up out of the blue and left him on Anders’ doorstep four days ago. The kid ate like a bird, if he ate at all, and he’d rather be in his room than in the hotel pool or outside playing. Finding him on the lanai was an unexpected surprise—one Anders hoped was a step in the right direction.
It wasn’t enough though. A kid needed exercise. A friend to toss a ball around with once in a while. At least, that was all he ever wanted when he was a kid. And he’d had it with his brother, Jimmy. Only a year younger, he was Anders’ best friend and partner in crime. The only reason they’d survived their nightmare of a father was because they had each other. Obie needed someone like that. Someone who always had his back. A thought struck him. Maybe he did have someone back home in Sacramento. Maybe he was just missing his best friend.
“I gave him a bowl of cereal for breakfast but he didn’t eat it. I thought maybe he’d want peanut butter and jelly for lunch.” She cut the sandwich in half and then handed the plate to Anders.
He looked down at her pug face and smiled. “Thanks, Fry. That was very thoughtful of you.”
She didn’t smile nor did she release the plate when he tried to take it from her. “I still think coming here was a mistake. You should’ve gone to LA or even Nashville. Just because you’ve been cleared as a suspect in the murder doesn’t mean the press is going to let this go. You were the last person to see Casey Conway alive. People are going to think you disappeared because you’re hiding something.”
“About that.” He tugged a little harder and she released the plate.
“What? I don’t like that look. What’s happened?”
“The press. They found me. A paparazzo snapped a picture of me at Dixie’s.”
Selena sighed and went back into the kitchen to clean up. “Is that all? You had me worried for a moment.”
“I was caught in a compromising position.”
She dropped the knife she was about to wash off in the sink. Metal clattered against metal. “With who?”
“Nobody important. It was a misunderstanding. She tripped and I caught her. It was bad timing.”
“Who was she, Anders?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was an accident. She was very embarrassed by the whole thing.”
Selena started pacing the length of the galley kitchen, finger and thumb tugging her bottom lip as the wheels turned in her brain. “She’s probably out to sell her phony story about your secret romance to the highest bidder. We need to do some damage control. Was she ugly? If she was ugly, no one will believe you’re dating her.”
“She—” Anders stopped and took a moment to recall the woman he’d met at the bar. Molly MacBain. She’d looked like a drowned orange cat, but she’d cleaned up pretty well after her shower. She had an all-American, girl-next-door look to her. Freckled rosy skin, big blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face. He hadn’t seen her smile, but he’d caught a glimpse of dimples. That long red-gold curly mane was something else. He didn’t usually go for redheads, but he had to admit she had nice hair. The rest of her was nice too. His left hand suddenly tingled with the memory of the firm full breast planted against his palm. The nipple had peaked, responding to his touch despite all the craziness. She was way too short though. At 6’ 2” his cutoff was 5’4”. The redhead was five foot nothing in her bare feet. She was pretty but not in the same league as the company he usually kept. So, no, there was no chance anyone would believe he was dating her. “She’s a fan,” he finished his statement at last.
Selena stopped pacing. It was no secret he had a strict rule about dating fans and he didn’t allow his bandmates to mix with them either. The blank stare she gave him melted into laughter. “Fans.” She rolled her eyes. “Was she one of the batshit crazy ones hoping to be your best friend, or worse, your girlfriend? Do we need to file a restraining order?”
“Nah. Molly is harmless.”
“Molly?” Selena raised her eyebrows skeptically. “What’s her last name?” When Anders didn’t immediately respond, Selena said, “For the press, if they contact us for a statement. The overzealous fan excuse is a perfect explanation. We’ll say she threw herself at you for the benefit of the camera.”
“No. We won’t.” Anders headed for the lanai with the sandwich. “No need to embarrass Molly like that. She didn’t do it on purpose. She tripped. That’s all. It was bad timing.”
“Tripped.” The muttered scoff made Anders pause by the sliding glass door.
Selena’s thin eyebrows were raised with skepticism. She meant well, but sometimes she was a bit too intense.
“There’s really no need for you to stick around Key West, Fry. I’ve got a call out to a local nanny service, so I’ll have someone to look after Obie before the week is out. There’s really nothing else for you to do here.”
Selena stared at him unblinkingly. Her dark eyes hard and penetrating. He couldn’t read her expression, but the tension coming off of her made it clear she wasn’t happy with his suggestion.
The moment went on so long it turned awkward.
Anders shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m just saying, I appreciate all that you do, but I know I’m not your only client.”
“You’re my biggest client.”
“And you’re the best at what you do. I just don’t want to take you away from other folks who need your expertise.” He turned away, sliding the door open so he could step out onto the screened balcony.
Obie didn’t look up from his comic book. His little hand turned the page and then reached to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was so small. So innocent. And so alone.
Suddenly, another boy was sitting in the chair. It was thirty years earlier and Anders was leaving for college. Jonas was six. Scrawny and quiet, he kept to himself and often had a book in his hands. He did that day. He didn’t acknowledge Anders when he said goodbye and kissed him on the head. He’d hated bailing on the kid, but he had to get the hell out of there for his own sanity and a football scholarship had been his ticket out.
Jimmy used to say Jonas was born with an old soul, but truth was, he was forced to grow up real fast because he was on his own in the world pretty much from the day he was born. Jimmy and Anders had done what they could to make sure their brother was fed and changed and occasionally bathed, but they were kids themselves and didn’t know anything about babies. Anders wished he could say Jonas turned out all right, but he was just as messed up as a man could be, having been raised with no mother and a drunken bastard of a father. All grown up now, he was an ex-con with a shady past and no connection to his family. Jonas hated Anders probably for the same reasons Obie hated him.
Anders’ hand trembled as he sat the plate down on the small table beside the lounge chair. Blinking the moisture from his eyes, he said brightly, “Hey there.”
Obie didn’t look at him, but he glanced at the sandwich.
“PB&J. My favorite. Yum-my. If you don’t eat it, I will.”
The boy returned to his comic book, but after a moment, his gaze returned to the sandwich.
“Go on. Enjoy it. I would.”
Anders closed the sliding glass door and took a seat on the second lounger. The two chairs were tilted toward each other but facing out at the pretty view. In the distance, the afternoon sun glinted off the sails of a boat gliding parallel to the horizon on water smooth as glass. He soaked in the scenery for a few minutes, purposely not making any sudden moves. When Obie started to nibble on his sandwich, Anders felt the rush of minor triumph.
He truly wanted to connect with the boy. Unlike the selfish teenager who’d abandoned his baby brother to pursue his own dreams. Or the stubborn new father who felt he had nothing to offer his toddler son. Anders was starting to realize that maybe just being there for the kid would be enough. The rest he’d have to make up as he went along.
That part terrified him the most.
He waited until Obie was about halfway through his sandwich before he spoke again. This time he modulated his tone to better reflect his sincerity. “What would you say about taking a walk with me later this afternoon after it cools down a bit? I reckon we can find a place on Duval that sells comic books.”
The boy’s face lit with surprise as he looked directly at Anders.
Houston, we have contact. He tried to clamp down on the emotions that made his chest swell like a balloon, but his damn eyes started watering again. “Sound like a plan?”
The kid nodded.
Anders grinned past the panic that flickered in his chest and nodded back.