Page 39 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“Dear girl, I meant nothing bad, only that there’s often a lack of ambition associated with the Cajun culture.” The red heat of anger recedes, and the tension in my shoulders ease with Heather’s calm indignation. I reach for her hand. It’s an automatic gesture of solidarity, connection, of appreciation. And I let go of the flash of anger, let the defensive need for combat flow from me. Ignorance needs education, not anger. My momma’s words.

“So I’ve heard,” I say. “Obviously not a precise generalization.” Which is an oxymoron and I know he’s smart enough to get it. He laughs in appreciation.

“Watch out, Heather. This boy’s a charmer, a very quick and smart young man.”

The rest of the dinner, which thank god is roast beef dressed up as Wellington and there’s plenty of it, passes without further ignorance or reference to the mysterious business deal. Never let it be said that I let a little trepidation get in the way of a good meal. If I did, I’d be dead since I face trepidation weekly during the football season and have done it all my life—or at least since I was seven years old.

When we’re finished, I volunteer to help Heather remove the plates in spite of Uncle Oscar’s objection—he’s insisted I call him Uncle Oscar now as if he’s adopted me, causing the strange-vibe meter to ramp up into the danger zone. I need to talk to her in the kitchen before we start talking business. I put the dishes on the counter while she stacks them in the dishwasher.

“I know he’s your uncle, so I hope I’m not offending you when I say I think he has something up his sleeve that doesn’t feel right. Or at least not what I expected from a sponsorship deal.” She stops what she’s doing and smiles.

“No offense taken at all. He is a tricky man, but he’s harmless. If he promised to sponsor you, he will. I have no idea what he’s up to except that it’s something.” She steps closer and I’m against the counter so I can’t back away. I wish I didn’t want to, wish her proximity would send a thrill up my spine or poke some interest from my dick, but nothing about her affects me that way.

“I hope it has something to do with me.” She blushes and looks down. “I mean, why else would he have invited me?”

“I don’t know.” Because she’s uncomfortable, I need to comfort her and I wrap an arm around her shoulder, like a friend would, still feeling no sensual stir. “But it’s time to find out.” I lead us back outside.

“Are you sure you want me to stay?” she whispers and I squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. It’s the old man’s call, so I’ll let him make it.

Uncle Oscar stands when we rejoin him.

“Heather, come with us. Let’s go to my office to conduct our business.” He’s unreadable.

Heather gives me a hopeful look and reaches for my hand as if we’re a couple. I take it because it’s the only choice I have unless I want to be a mean fuck, and I don’t. We follow Uncle Oscar through a different set of French doors into a large, dark, wood-paneled office. I shake off the negative vibes and plant the nothing’s bad until it’s bad mantra in my head. It doesn’t quite reach my heart and soul.

In fact my heart pounds as we all sit, Uncle Oscar behind his desk and Heather and I in guest chairs out in front of him like he’s set it all up for the occasion—unless he regularly calls two people in at a time for business deals. Who knows? This is all couyon to me. But I school my face, managing to keep my expression cool even as my pulse jumps unpleasantly.

“I have some papers for you to sign, though you’re welcome to have an attorney look over the agreement first if you’d like.” He slides a light sheaf of papers across the massive shiny desk to me. I nod.

“Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind?” I suggest politely because I have no intention of sitting here reading the agreement with Heather and Uncle Oscar watching me. He surprises me and slides a similar sheaf of papers in Heather’s direction.

“I’ll be happy to give you a summary. It’s for you too, Heather. You will be a party to our agreement.” Her mouth opens and her face whitens and I take her hand again and squeeze it. He’s her uncle and she should know, but I’m pretty certain he doesn’t have anything sinister in mind. Call it a sixth sense because all the clues point to a plot right out of a gothic novel—not that I’ve read any since a high school girlfriend insisted I read The Mysteries of Udolpho and that was more than plenty—but Uncle Oscar is no Montoni and this isn’t a dark castle. In spite of Uncle Oscar’s promise to include Heather, he turns his attention to me.

“You see, my niece, as a freshman and somewhat of a sheltered young lady, needs someone to look out for her at St. Paul’s. Her parents, my dear sister and her husband, feel secure that I’m looking out for her since I’m close by, but I travel frequently for business. In fact I have business abroad next week and I’m afraid I’ll miss the rest of the football season until the bowl games and national championship. So I’m counting on you to extend the season for me.” He pauses, I presume for reassurance, but my uneasiness at his prologue barely leaves room in my head to do more than nod. There’s a lot of suppressed outrage knocking at my chest in the form of my thudding heart.

“Of course you will. But let’s get to the crux of the matter.” I want to say hallelujah and not because I’m rejoicing. He pauses because he knows he’s torturing us and I don’t know if I should respect the man or punch him. Maybe both. He’s a tough old fucker and I keep my composure, not smiling, not showing him a fucking thing.

“I want you to watch out for Heather, Dylan, in my absence. You’ll do a better job than I will You can show her around, introduce her to people, take her to parties—”

“Uncle—”

He puts his hands up at Heather’s protest. Her face pinks and her forehead scrunches in distress, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Before I can join the protest, he turns back to me and continues. Now I’m outraged on Heather’s behalf as well as my own, the damn fucker.

“I don’t expect you to date, necessarily, with the exception of the homecoming ball. I expect you to take her to that. The event is good public relations and I expect to include it in my company newsletter.” He lowers his voice and leans forward. “However, I don’t want you taking advantage of my niece.” He stops to let that sink in while I hear the roar of blood through my veins and struggle to stay sitting in my seat until he finishes before I tell him to fuck off.

“But if she’s interested, I’m fine with you dating and letting nature take its course.” I get to my feet, too jittery and disappointed to listen anymore.

“No thank you, sir.” I spit the words and grab Heather’s hand.

“Don’t be too hasty, son.” He sits back, unfazed by my rejection. “I’m offering you a twenty-five thousand dollar grant and all I’m asking for in return is for you to help me out by looking out for my niece. Don’t behave as if this is something that compromises your principles.”

“Uncle Oscar, you never asked me, never—”

“My dear, I know how shy you are. Don’t you think Dylan could help you meet people, help you fit in? It’s only for the semester.”

“Let’s go.” I say, but she looks hesitant now and I blow out a breath. She really is shy and she really does need looking out for if the last party was any indication. I turn to her uncle. “This isn’t at all what I had in mind. I was interested in a sponsorship, promoting your brand or products.” He nods.

“I see I’ve shocked you and I beg your forgiveness. Here I am, an old romantic thinking that I’m handing you a creampuff assignment, an easy way to earn money, your reward for all the hard work you’ve done.” I let his words sink in and hear my grandpa laughing all the way from hell, where he surely lies with the devil. Well, fuck. “Of course you’ll also have a sponsorship role. You’ll be required to shoot a PSA—public service ad—for my favorite cause, animal rescue. That is, if you think your conscience will allow it.” He smiles disingenuously and I know he’s getting his rocks off toying with me, so I simmer down.