About Last Night.... Michele Dunaway
teeth. There was something about minty-fresh breath that made him feel at least a little better. Then, and only then, did he dare face himself.
Well, Shane old buddy, he said to his reflection in the mirror, welcome to your late twenties. You look like hell.
He did too. His blond hair was well tousled, as if he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night. Stubble covered his jaw, and the Jacobsen-blue-colored eyes that the grandchildren all shared were bloodshot. And was that a red spot on his neck? He rubbed it and shrugged when it didn’t disappear.
He could do with a tall glass of ice water.
The clear icy liquid, though, did little to clear his throbbing head or make his blank memory come back. He winced, suddenly unable to erase the feeling that something, although he didn’t know what, had happened to him besides drinking while taking medication. Like many people, he’d ignored the warning labels. After all, weren’t the labels really only there so people didn’t sue the drug companies? You know, sort of like expiration dates that were never quite right?
Maybe one really did feel older when one turned twenty-five. Shane blinked and stared at the red display of the clock in the built-in microwave. Three-twenty-nine. It was after three in the afternoon?
He ran a hand against the stubble that had started to itch. He never slept this late. Man, okay, he’d learned his lesson. He’d follow the labels from now on.
Still clutching the glass of water, he wandered into the living room. He frowned. Odd. Why were his shorts there? He glanced down at the boxers he’d pulled on when he’d gotten up. No surprise there. He always slept naked. But his shorts?
Maybe he’d gone swimming. Vaguely he remembered that others had, enjoying the pool that his parents always opened early and kept perfectly heated until the St. Louis weather warmed fully, usually by the end of May. But taking a swim didn’t sound right. So exactly what had he done? Had he been with someone? He remembered a redhead trying at one point to nibble on him, but no, he knew without a doubt he hadn’t gotten together with her in any way.
But something was missing and he wished he could remember what it was. He sat down on the couch and surveyed the room. Cleo was going to have a fit when she saw the mess. He pushed aside someone’s half-empty bottle of beer so that he could put his feet up.
“Quite a mess you have here.”
Shane inwardly groaned as his paternal grandfather stepped through the front entryway. Despite his grandfather’s appearance of a thinner version of Santa Claus, Shane knew this visit would be far from jolly. “Feel free to come on in.”
“Seeing that the door was open, I already did. Celebrated a quarter of a century with a bang, didn’t you?” Grandpa Joe said. Shane knew what his grandfather saw: beer bottles and empty daiquiri glasses everywhere. Plates of partially eaten food littered end tables. The living room was a mess.
Grandpa Joe rubbed his snow-white beard thoughtfully before he said, “I take it your father forgot to call. He always was terrible about dates, including his own birthday. Some secretary must have dropped the ball on this one.”
Shane avoided the truth. “Marci and Dan suggested the party. Why not? I turned twenty-five. My car insurance drops now.”
Grandpa Joe’s Jacobsen-blue eyes blinked once as he let Shane’s statements slide. “Of course you should celebrate. You’ve reached a milestone. Which is why I’m here. I have a business proposition for you.”
The dull ache between Shane’s eyebrows intensified. He rubbed the spot. Not again. He knew his grandfather meant well, but didn’t everyone realize that no meant no? “Grandpa Joe, don’t bother. You know the answer is no. I’m not coming to work for Jacobsen.”
Grandpa Joe took a few steps toward the couch; then, seeing an additional mess, decided against sitting down. “Shane, it’s past time for you to take your destiny. I have the perfect position for you.”
“I’ve told you before—I don’t want a position. I have no desire to work for Jacobsen Enterprises. Ever.”
Grandpa Joe made the rare gesture of tossing his hands. “You are so frustrating! You won’t even listen. What is it with you? You weren’t diagnosed as oppositional defiant as a child. Why is it that every time someone suggests something, you dig in like a stubborn old Missouri mule? Is it the only way you can get the attention your parents always forgot to give you as you grew up? Hell, you’d stay in a burning building if someone from the family tried to pull you out. We are not your enemy, Shane.”
Shane clasped his hands together to remain calm. His parents and his family were not the issue, and if they were, he didn’t want to think about it or how many times either his parents or his grandparents had told him they were disappointed in him for not following the path they’d laid out. “I try to keep business and family separate.”
“That’s impossible. We have a family business. You are family. You are needed in the business. You have a business degree and you are darn good. One of the finest I’ve seen. Doesn’t that matter?”
“Look, this isn’t a good time. I’ve got to clean up this mess and call Lindy and…” Shane’s voice drifted off as he realized Grandpa Joe was staring at him. “What?”
“Is that a hickey on your neck?”
Shane rubbed at the spot he’d seen in the mirror earlier. It was a hickey? He hadn’t had one of those since ninth grade. And if he had a hickey, who had he been with?
“Shane, look, I know your father made some mistakes with you. He and your mother either spoiled you rotten or put you out of their minds and let overindulgent nannies raise you while they went out and saved the world. Perhaps I was wrong to not have stepped in earlier and done something about it when you were younger. But you’re twenty-five now. You need to accept your responsibilities to this family instead of languishing like some pathetic playboy with no purpose. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of Lindy.”
Shane bristled. “Leave Lindy out of this.”
“No, I won’t. The girl has raw business talent. She’s wasted working for you. What do you do that requires a PA? Does she add legitimacy or something to your endeavors?”
“I do real work. My foundation.”
“Yes, your foundation. The one redeeming feature you have. Your foundation is quite generous and you run it well. But that and multiplying your trust fund are not real work.” Grandpa Joe paused. “And Lindy is wasted simply stuffing envelopes and getting rid of your exes. Maybe I should steal her away from you.”
“Don’t you dare go near Lindy. Besides, taking her won’t get what you want. I won’t come work for you.”
Grandpa Joe shook his head. “You know I love you, grandson, but it’s not all about you. You’ve become an empty man, Shane. You skate by because you won’t risk. You choose not to face your demons. I can only hope you wake up and realize that fact before it’s too late to see what’s in front of you. All good things are worth risk. That being said, I’ll see you at Easter dinner. Your grandmother would love it if you brought Lindy. I’ll see both of you tomorrow.” And with that Grandpa Joe stepped over some empty beer bottles and left.
Shane took a long drink of water. He hated being out of control, and Grandpa Joe’s visit had left him reeling. Shane wasn’t afraid of risk. He just had his reasons for not working at the family company, that was all. Besides, he’d carved out a good life for himself. His stubbornness had nothing to do with growing up with minister parents who were always promoting Christianity, saving lost souls and leaving their son in the capable hands of nannies. He’d turned out fine. He just didn’t fit the mold his family created for him.
Enough was enough, Lindy would always tell him. Good old Lindy. She was always there for him, and like always, Shane knew he’d get over this latest dramatic family setback and letdown.
Shane just wished he could remember what had happened. Throwing pity parties