Imperfect intentions, p.5
Imperfect Intentions, page 5
I hate this family. I can’t wait to leave.
Gus digs into his food with gusto. Humiliating my mother always gives him an appetite. Elliot joins him, eating with enthusiasm. I push the food around on my plate while my mother downs her wine and pours herself a second glass.
Gus dabs his napkin to his mouth before addressing me. “How’s work?”
I tense. “It’s fine.” I wait, but when he doesn’t bring up the incident of the coffee I messed on Elliot’s keyboard, I say carefully, “I wanted to talk to you about that. I appreciate the money, but I’d like to look for something else.”
Gus puts down his fork. “Something else?”
My mother’s shoulders go rigid.
“Something in my field,” I say.
Gus scoffs. “In drawing pictures, you mean.”
“It’s called fine art. Now that I’ve finished my degree, I can find a job in that line of work.”
Gus scoops up sauce with his bread and pops a chunk in his mouth. “Doing what exactly?”
“I could start at a tattoo parlor and work my way up from there.”
Gus laughs. “A tattoo parlor? How much do they pay these days? A few grams of weed?”
Elliot snickers.
My mom looks away, pretending not to hear or see. That’s her favorite coping mechanism when Gus lays into me at the dinner table.
Anger heats my stomach, but I keep my voice even. “They pay well, actually, especially for good drawings.”
“You’re family.” Gus refills his glass with wine. “You’ll work in the business.”
My mother places a hand on Gus’s arm. “It’s hard for her to do manual labor. You know how she suffers with her leg.”
Sliding my gaze to my mom, I purse my lips. She of all people knows I hate pity.
“If you do a good job, you’ll be promoted to the admin department in six months,” Gus says.
I drag air through my nose in an effort to control my temper. “Where I’ll be stuck for the rest of my life, seeing that I’m not a programmer and I’ll have nowhere else to go in the company.”
Gus’s smile is patronizing. “You worry too much about things that are a long way in the future.”
“Exactly.” However much I fear Gus, I can’t not speak up about this. He pays me peanuts, and I need money. Lots of money. “It’s my future we’re talking about.”
Gus pins me with a frown. “As long as you live under my roof and carry my name, you’ll do as I say.”
My mother shifts to the edge of her seat. “Dessert, anyone?”
I clench my teeth so hard my gums hurt, but I don’t dare push the issue further.
“While we’re on the topic,” Elliot says. “People talk. They’re wondering when you’re going to make the big announcement.”
“What announcement?” Gus asks.
Elliot clears his throat. “Of making me a partner.”
Gus picks through beef mince and bacon on his plate and forks a few strips of cabbage. “The partnership isn’t a given, son. It will go to the man who gets the promotion.”
Elliot sits up straighter. “I’m your son.”
“I know,” Gus says in a dry tone. “I have the paternity test to prove it.”
Stabbing a finger on his chest, Elliot says, “That place is rightfully mine.”
Gus’s knife makes a loud clang as he drops it on his plate. “That place will go to the man who deserves it. Nothing was handed to me for free, and I sure as hell won’t give away a company I built from scratch to a man who can’t run it.” His voice rises in volume. “Easy come is easy go. Nothing will make me happier than having my son as a partner, but you’ve given me no reason to offer you that promotion. If you want it that badly, work like a man and fucking earn it.” He emphasizes the statement by slamming his fist on the table.
The glasses rattle. My mom jumps.
“The rumors are true then,” Elliot says, looking at his father with an injured expression. “You already have someone in mind.”
Gus spears his fork into his food. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Elliot’s nostrils flare. “Who?”
I almost feel sorry for Elliot. He’s never lived up to Gus’s expectations.
Gus takes a gulp of wine. After wiping his mouth with his napkin, he fixes Elliot with a level stare. “If you must know, the man I’m considering is Leon Hart.”
The news catches me by surprise. My stomach somersaults. Promoting Leon will make him Gus’s second-in-command. It will give Leon immense power, enough to make him untouchable. He’ll be much more dangerous than he already is. Yet the reason for the sick feeling that sinks in my gut isn’t only my fear of the consequences if Leon succeeds. It’s also understanding with sudden clarity why he asked me out. He wants to use the boss’s stepdaughter to further his own career.
Chapter 9
Leon
* * *
Opting for the bike instead of the car, I drive to Newtown. The downtown traffic isn’t heavy on a Sunday, but I like the freedom of the Harley. That’s what the brand claims to sell after all. If you’re a criminal like me, freedom is priceless.
After parking in the heavily secured underground lot of the Hart Diamonds building, I take the elevator to the top floor. It doesn’t surprise me that my brother works on the weekend. Ruling a diamond empire takes time.
Damian meets me at the elevator when I exit. Compared to his formal suit, crisp blue shirt, and tie, my casual attire of ripped jeans, a leather jacket over a faded T-shirt, and a worn pair of boots seems out of place.
“Leon,” he says, his jaw hard as he shakes my hand.
I grin. He’s still pissed off that I hijacked his elevator. That’s what I’m here for, not to chitchat and reconnect with my estranged brother, but to collect.
Adjusting his tie, he stands aside at the door of his office. “Through here.”
I leave the monstrosity of a reception hall that looks more like an ethnic art gallery and enter the double monstrosity of his office.
“Have a seat,” he says, closing the door.
I shove my hands into my pockets and walk to the windows. The vista is something else. From here, he has a bird’s eye view of the mine dumps in the south.
The clinking of glass sounds from the corner. I turn away from the view. He’s pouring amber liquor from a decanter into two glasses. I’m more of a rum or beer man, but I accept the drink he hands me.
Watching me from over the rim of his glass, he asks after taking a sip, “How’s life back in the city?”
“Well.”
Surprisingly, so. After years of laying low in the rural areas of Lesotho and Zim, I didn’t expect to find city life exciting, but I like the inexhaustible energy of Johannesburg.
“How’s the job?” he asks, taking a seat behind his desk.
“Good.”
“Any news from Ian?” he asks, not quite masking the bitterness in his tone. He never forgave us for abandoning him and Zoe.
I shrug. “Not much. He mentioned wanting to take Cas to Europe when the dust has settled.”
He raises a brow. “Europe?”
“Paris. I suppose they’ll visit Zoe and Maxime.”
He considers that for a moment.
“How’s Zoe?” I ask.
“Happy. Big, she says.” His lips quirk. “The baby is due any day.”
I sip my drink. It’s scotch. I don’t have to be a connoisseur to know it’s expensive shit. “Boy or girl?”
“They prefer not to know.”
I nod. “I’ll wait before buying a gift then.”
He hesitates, his fingers tightening marginally on his glass before saying, “Lina wants to invite you for lunch.”
I take it my brother isn’t one hundred percent happy about that. Not that I blame him. I’m not the kind of uncle you want around your children.
“That’s kind of her,” I say, not committing to yes or no.
Taking a small, blue box from his drawer, he pushes it over the desk. I down my drink and leave the glass on the corner before lifting the lid. The diamond stud earrings are small, like I requested. I’ve never seen Violet wear anything other than small, colored glass earrings. She doesn’t fancy bulky jewelry or flashy gemstones.
He watches me with cunning attention as he asks, “Who are they for?”
I rub a thumb over the sharp edges of the stones. “A woman.”
“No shit,” he says, his tone humorless.
I asked him for the diamonds even before Elliot’s idiotic move forced Violet to notice my existence. Way back then, I’d already made up my mind.
He picks up a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and pushes them onto his face. After scanning over the print of a document in front of him, he gives it to me. I take it wordlessly. It’s a contract.
“No thanks,” I say, dropping it on his desk.
“We can talk about the terms.”
“I’m not going to work for you.”
Interlacing his fingers, he leans back and crosses his hands over his stomach. “Why not?”
I consider how much to tell him. He may be my brother, but I don’t lay my desires at anyone’s feet. Desire doesn’t make you weak. It’s a powerful driving force and a good tool for ambition. In another man’s hands, however, the knowledge of one’s desires can quickly turn into a weapon.
Finally, I settle for, “Gus Starley is a good mentor.”
His mouth lifts in one corner. “Like the father we never had?”
Damian has always been quick and clever with his assumptions. “Something like that.”
“Gus Starley is a dangerous man.” He regards me levelly. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”
Taking the box, I slip it into my jacket pocket.
“What are your plans?” he asks as I’m about to turn. “For the long term.”
“A partnership. Then expansion. Improvements. I have some ideas.”
“In Gus Starley’s software company?”
I ignore his incredulous tone. “Yes.”
“Why will Starley give you a partnership?”
“Because I just finished the first phase of the most brilliant piece of software ever written.”
“Sounds interesting.” He takes back his drink, his ring clinking against the glass. “Congratulations. May I ask what it is?”
I was going to tell Ian the good news first, but Ian already knows what I’ve been working on. “It’s a dating app.”
His expression is amused. “I assume this app does more than connect single people.”
“It phishes personal information and banking details in the background.”
“That’s a major source of sensitive data. I gather the only reason you’re not a partner yet is because you haven’t announced your great creation.”
Widening my stance, I cross my arms. “I want to run a few tests before I introduce the app, but it’ll work like a charm.”
He removes his glasses. “If you ever decide to consider another buyer—”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
He raises his glass with a smile. The gesture is smooth. I bet that smile disarms many unsuspecting females who are unfamiliar with his darker side. Ian has always been the least complicated of the brothers. What you see is pretty much what you get. With Damian, you never know. That’s why I trust him with nothing, especially not with my dreams and desires.
“Thanks for the diamonds,” I say, heading for the door.
His dry chuckle follows me to the lobby. “Tell the lady it’s a pleasure.”
Chapter 10
Violet
* * *
The bell chimes over the door when I push it open. A smell of incense wraps around the small space in smoky ribbons. The scent is musky. If I were to draw it, I’d make it fudge pink and translucent mauve.
Lucky looks up from the counter. He straightens and then sags.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” I say, closing the door and sidestepping crates of instant noodles and candy in white wrappers.
He leans his palms on the counter and drops his head between his shoulders. “I can’t sell your drawings any longer.”
“What?” I navigate around boxes of LP’s and second-hand books stacked in pyramid racks. Slapping the folder in my hand on the counter, I say, “I brought more.”
He shakes his head. “Not taking them.”
I pet Darth Vader, who sleeps next to the cash register. “What are you talking about? They’re selling well.”
Darth meows, stretches, and goes back to sleep.
“That’s the problem,” Lucky says. “They’re selling too well. People are asking for them now.” He waves a hand at the display reserved for special books. “They’re collecting them like first-edition comic books.”
I give him a bright smile. “That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
“Your work is becoming too popular. It’s only a matter of time before someone figures out who you are.”
“They won’t, not as long as you don’t say anything.”
“No.” He pushes the folder back to me. “If your father finds out I’m helping you to sell this kind of stuff, he’ll burn down my shop and kill me.”
The sad thing is he’s not exaggerating, but I need the money. “He’s my stepfather, not my father.”
“Whatever. The answer remains no.”
Flipping open the cover of the folder, I say, “Just have a look. They’re really good.”
He slams the folder shut. “No, Vi. I’m sorry.”
“Lucky, please. It’s not as if you’re selling them here.”
The cash register dings when he opens it. Darth doesn’t stir a whisker.
Taking a stash of bills from the money tray, he slides it over the counter. “Here’s the takings from Saturday’s flea market. Good luck, kid. Now beat it.”
“If I could sell them myself, I would, but you know I can’t.”
He purses his lips. “Not my problem.”
“Please, Lucky.”
“Nope,” he says, popping the word like gum.
“How am I supposed to sell them now?”
He only stares at me with an expression that says to get out of his hair.
“I’ll give you a bigger cut,” I say. “Twenty percent.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Thirty?” I ask hopefully.
Nothing.
Shit. He’s serious. He’s really scared.
Sighing, I take the money and put it in my bag. “Is there any way of twisting your arm?”
“Nope,” he says, shoving the folder at me.
“If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
I clutch the folder against my chest. “Thanks then, I guess.”
“You’ve got talent, kid. A bit of a wild mind too, but wild is good when it comes to art.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, offering him a weak smile as I walk to the door.
Outside, I stop on the busy pavement. For a moment, I’m lost in the sea of Sunday shoppers and early diners who frequent the somewhat-bohemian-somewhat-dilapidated suburb of Melville. The income from the drawings is triple what Gus pays me. I still need ninety thousand rand. That’s the price of two false passports on the black market. It’s the price of freedom. I’ll have to find another way of making money.
Double shit.
Dejection weighs heavily on my shoulders, but I can’t say I didn’t expect it. My stepfather is feared in the city. If I could, I’d set up an account under a false name and sell my drawings online, but except for being feared, my stepfather is also the most computer savvy person in the country. He’s built a business on his talent. He runs the biggest and best underground company of hackers and programmers. If anyone can find a cyber trail, it’s him. He combs through my mom’s internet activities, dissecting every transaction and message. There’s no doubt he’s doing the same with mine. Seeing who he is, he has to protect himself, and that means monitoring what information leaves his house.
When someone bumps into me with a crude insult, I go back to my car. I drove here with the excuse of exchanging comic books. Lucky charges me less if I return the ones I’ve read. Gus hates that I read them. He considers them trashy literature, but on my mom’s insistence, he lets it slide. Gus doesn’t understand my fascination with superpowers. How can he? Only people who battle to run dream about flying.
It’s close to dinner time when I get home. My mom sits on the veranda with a fashion magazine in her hands and a frown on her face.
“Hey,” I say, stopping next to her.
“Hi, honey,” she says, staring with glassy eyes into the distance.
“I’m going to freshen up before dinner.”
She doesn’t reply. I hover another second, wanting to say something that will make her feel better, but the walls have ears. The staff tells Gus everything they see and hear.
Helplessness engulfs me as I make my way inside the house.
I know what’s eating her. It’s eating me too. I considered going back to the house in Triomf and questioning the neighbors, but that will only attract more unwanted attention. We don’t have a choice but to chew our nails while we wait for the guy with the bike to tell us what he wants.
If Gus finds out, I don’t even want to imagine how he’ll kill her. Probably not without torture. In his own way, Gus loves her, but she’ll never return his love. Ironically, that’s both her curse and her salvation. Gus obsesses over her because he doesn’t own her. The day he owns her heart like he owns her body, his fixation with her will come to an end. When that day arrives, he’ll chuck her out like garbage, just like he’d done with his first wife. Her only hope of survival is being caught in a loveless circle of unhappiness. It only makes me feel guiltier.
When I get to my room, I cast a glance at Elliot’s door. It’s closed.
I open mine and freeze in the doorframe. My stepbrother sits in my chair at my desk, dressed in designer slacks and a blue shirt.
