“But you shouldn’t be the one owing it to me!” she burst out. “We’ve had this conversation, Jackson, more than once. My fucking loser father is the one who should make stuff up to me, not you. You and I are not related. You are not responsible for me. So why the hell do you feel this overwhelming need to constantly make shit up to me?”
“It’s like I told you a couple of weeks ago,” he replied patiently. “Someone needs to look out for you, to take care of you. And I’m more than willing to do that.”
She closed her eyes, furiously blinking back tears at the emotions his words stirred up. “Damn you, Jackson,” she whispered. “I should hate your guts right now, should tell you to take this fucking apartment and shove it up your arrogant, bossy ass.”
He laughed. “I sort of figured that part was coming next.”
Scarlett exhaled sharply. “But even though I’m good and pissed off right now - because I really, really don’t need a keeper or a big brother or whatever the hell you think you are to me - I also know you meant well. That you’re not doing this just to control me or boss me around. That you arranged for all of this because you’re just a nice guy - unlike the rest of your family - and you wanted to do something nice for me.”
“Look,” he told her calmly. “Do me one favor, hmm? Just take a few minutes and look around the place. Really look, not just give it a quick lookover and decide you hate it. I know it’s bigger than what you wanted, but if it helps I happen to know the construction was all LEED certified - solar panels, reclaimed materials, energy efficient appliances, you name it. Most of the furniture I picked out is environmentally friendly, too - the fabrics and wood, some of it built from recycled goods. I can send you links to the companies if you like.”
“Maybe,” she agreed warily. “Fine. I’ll look the place over and let your buddy Michael know my decision. But,” she added bitingly, “do not think you’re going to keep buying me shit, Gilmore. If - and that’s a big if at this point - I agree to this set-up, it stops with this, all right? Anything else I want or need I buy myself, got it?”
“Loud and clear,” he replied cheerfully. “Oh, and by the way, just to clarify. I definitely don’t think of myself as your keeper, Scarlett. And definitely not as your brother.”
He ended the call before she could respond, leaving her to shake her head in exasperation but also to wonder a little at exactly what if anything she should read into that last statement of his.
She glared at her phone for a moment or two before sighing in resignation and doing as Jackson had requested.
The apartment was sparkling clean and brand new, with beautiful floors of pale gray wood. The walls were painted bright white, and the open concept kitchen/dining area/living room made the whole space look even bigger. The kitchen was on the small side, but here, too, everything looked fresh and modern - cabinets of a light gray, stainless steel appliances, countertops that looked like granite but that she guessed were actually some other type of re-purposed material.
She scowled anew when she opened one of the kitchen cabinets and realized they contained an entire set of brand new dishes. Pulling open additional cabinets and drawers revealed the presence of silverware, glasses, pots and pans, mixing bowls, utensils, kitchen linens, and just about anything she would need to fully supply the space.
“Controlling bastard,” she muttered loudly, as she walked into the rest of the room.
There was a square wooden table surrounded by four matching chairs in what would be the dining area. The living space contained a modest sized sectional sofa in a darker shade of gray, along with a few occasional tables, a built-in desk, and a flat paneled TV mounted on one of the walls. The furnishings were of obvious quality, but also understated and comfortable. Scarlett rather grudgingly acknowledged that Jackson would have known she’d automatically reject anything too over the top or flashy and had intentionally selected pieces that she would likely approve of.
There was a balcony just outside the sliding door in the living area, not very large but big enough to hold a couple of chairs, a small round table, and a couple of potted plants. The balcony overlooked the central courtyard of the apartment complex, which included a sports court, gas grills, outdoor furniture, a community garden, and paved walking paths. Michael had also mentioned an indoor pool and small gym that were available for all residents to use.
Unwillingly, Scarlett pictured herself sitting on the balcony on a lazy Sunday morning - Jesus, when was the last time she’d enjoyed one of those? - sipping a giant mug of coffee and stuffing her face with some sticky, sugar laden breakfast pastry.
‘No!’ she told herself firmly. ‘Don’t start getting taken in by this place. You cannot form an attachment, Scarlett. Don’t let that wily bastard Jackson win this game.’
But her already weak will was tempted even further when she spied the bedroom - furnished with a queen sized bed, dresser, night stands, and lamps - and the bathroom that was compact in size but featured gray ceramic tile floors, what looked like more storage than she could ever use, and the piece de resistance - a gorgeous walk-in shower of gray granite.
“Ooh, he isn’t playing fair!” she exclaimed as she couldn’t resist opening the door and peering inside.
There were even built-in shelves to hold soap, shampoo, and conditioner, she realized with a sinking heart. And as she ran her hand over one of the plush lavender bath towels that had been artfully draped over a rack, she sighed in pleasure at how soft and fluffy it felt to the touch.
“Aw, crap,” she declared, throwing her hands up in surrender. “How in the world am I supposed to say no to a walk-in shower? Damn you, Jackson Gilmore!”
***
Isaiah whistled in approval as he gave the interior of the apartment a careful inspection. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why you were fighting the idea of living in this place, Red,” he commented, referring to Scarlett by the nickname he’d bestowed on her soon after they had first met. “Pretty fancy digs, kiddo. A hell of an improvement over that shoebox you’ve called home the last two years.”
Scarlett grimaced. “That’s because an actual cardboard box would probably be an improvement over the attic. And I wasn’t fighting the idea of living here because of its size or appearance. It’s because that guy I told you about - the bossy one - arrogantly signed a lease in my name, paid the rent for a year, and just assumed I’d be okay with that. All without asking my opinion first.”
Isaiah gave a little shake of his shiny bald head. “Yeah, I got all that the first three or four times you carried on about it, Red. Still don’t see what’s so wrong about it. Your family owes you plenty for all the bad things you went through as a kid. And if they’re as rich as you say they are, I’m guessing the rent on this place for a year is a drop in the bucket to them.”
“It is,” she agreed wearily. “But Jackson isn’t my family. He’s my deadbeat father’s brother-in-law, but not related to me in any way. Nor is he responsible for me. For some stupid reason, he feels guilty about the way my father acted towards me and thinks it’s up to him to make it all up to me.”