“G is his childhood friend,” I offer what I know because I don’t understand the Bach reference either.
Beacon looks at us and sighs.
He pulls out his phone, taps it several times, and classical music begins to play through the speakers. Well, it’s modern music played with a cello.
“That’s Grace Bradley,” I say once I recognize the piece. “Sophia and I have been to Carnegie Hall a few times to listen to her. She’s a huge fan. Invite her to visit us. Sophia would love it.”
They all turn to look at me.
“What? I like her music.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Hayes says and then looks at Beacon. “Kid, I love you, but I don’t trust your judgment. I’m pretty sure that if Pierce doesn’t get your permission, you’re going to bail on us.”
He’s right, and I don’t say it out loud, but I’m pretty sure our father gave him this curfew and special permission to tour just to fuck with us. He knew Beacon doesn’t follow rules well, and he hates limitations. Put the kid on a curfew, and he’s going to break it.
Fuck you, William!
“Cancel the tour. I’ll pay for any monetary loss,” I order, offering compensation. “We’ll vote on it to make it fair.”
“The girls aren’t here, and they get to vote too,” Beacon says, grasping for straws.
Blaire, who is inheriting part of my father’s assets, has a vote when it comes to the companies. Now he’s including Leyla and Sophia too. We’re lucky he doesn’t ask for Arden’s vote.
Hayes pulls out his phone. “Babe, we need you to vote.”
“All of them,” Beacon presses. “Tell them what Henry is making me do.”
I gawk at him. He’s making me look like the asshole? I’m trying to save us here. Hayes shakes his head and explains everything that just transpired. Then he puts us on speaker and says, “All in favor of Beacon officially canceling the tour raise your hand or say ‘me.’”
All of us raise our hands. Arden joins us raising both arms and laughing. Maybe I should’ve let him vote. The women say “me” unanimously.
“Seriously, none of you trust me?” he asks appalled.
“Given the choice, Beac, you’ll choose your band and G over us,” Mills speaks. “You didn’t make me move to this forsaken place with these azzoles just so you could bail.”
“Azzoles?” I ask amused. “That’s a new one. You know your kid might start calling us that soon. Wouldn’t that be funny.”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say another word.
“I believe in Pierce,” Beacon says firmly.
“It’s impossible,” Pierce declares. “I don’t think I can get this changed. I understand why you’d put them before us, but I need you to remember that this isn’t about us.”
Beacon looks at me. “What if G chooses not to reschedule?”
“She knows your situation. Why don’t you invite her over to spend a week with us so she can understand what it is that we’re doing?”
“What are we doing, Henry?” he questions. His eyebrows pull close and down as he crosses his arms.
“Saving a town from a demented man who believed he owned every inhabitant and us. We’re changing the landscape and creating something different. I hope that with our help in two years this place is going to be better. Big enough that they don’t have to drive to Portland to run errands, but still small and inviting for the tourists.”
“Was that Henry?” Blaire asks. “Maybe miracles can happen.”
I glare at Hayes who chuckles at his fiancée’s comment.
“Fine,” Beacon exhales loudly. “But expect the bill because I’m going to send a signed T-shirt to every person who bought a ticket.”
“Kid, don’t be an asshat,” Hayes says. “Stream a concert from the bar or…find something that focuses more on your music and less on fucking your brother.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up because it’s our Aldridge free night,” Blaire states.
“Just a reminder, you have to spend the night at home,” Pierce says.
“We’ll be there soonish. Keep away from the family room because we’re using it tonight,” Leyla warns us. “We’re bringing ice cream, but can you go to the bakery and see if they have any of Sophia’s favorite cookies?”
“I’ll go and get them after dinner,” I offer. “Drive safely.”
It’s around two in the morning when I wake up. I slept for about two hours, right after I heard Hayes had been kicked out of his bedroom and Sophia was staying for the night. The friends are having a slumber party. They had Vance go to Sophia’s hotel room to pick up one of her bags. My poor brother got to sleep on the couch but swore that the next time Pierce will be the one giving up his room.
I don’t lay on the bed for long though. Instead, I pull out my laptop from its case and head outside so I don’t wake up anyone. It’s already ten in the morning in London. I can get a lot done between now and the time I can go out for a run. It’s past four when I hear the entry door opening.
“Do they know?” I hear Sophia’s voice before I see her coming out of the house.
“Know what?”
“That you don’t sleep,” she states.
“I sleep more than I used to, but I still don’t have dreams,” I confess and ask, “What are your dreams?”
“Lately, I’m searching for a knife to stab you,” she answers, taking a seat next to me. “I never understood why you dragged managers from one hotel to the other, disrupting their lives and complicating everything. Now, I think you just do it because you’re bored and demented.”
“I know you doubt my methods, but I do what’s best for everyone.”
“For your bottom line,” she states. “I’ve applied for four positions within the company, and you awarded them to people less knowledgeable. I could have managed your company without any issues. Yet, here I am.”
Hayes told me that if I explained to her my reasons, she’d be more understanding. I’m not sure if that’d be the case. I don’t trust that she’ll get it, not yet. Perhaps I don’t trust that I know how to let my walls down and let her see all of me.
“What do you think is more important, Ms. Aragon?”
“Between?”
“Merkel Hotels & Spas or this town?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No. Give me an honest answer. If you have to save one, which one would you choose?”
She remains quiet, and I wish there were more light so I could see her better, read her. Knowing her, she might be compiling a list of assets that would make it possible to save both.
“If you were in my place, which one would you concentrate your best assets on for the next eighteen months?”
I modify the scenario, knowing it’ll be easier to answer instead of her trying to reorganize my company in her head so she can convince me that it’d be best if she goes back to New York.
She looks at the horizon, then closes her eyes for a second before answering, “The town.”