On that note, Kate led the kids outside and headed to the bus stop.
A few minutes later, Kate waved at the bus as it carried off her charges. She stood there for some time observing how the exhaust fumes drifted upward, polluting an already-polluted environment, reminding her of the smoke at Vice.
She roused herself into action and wandered down the street toward the strip mall at the end. Bypassing her favorite coffee shop, she made a beeline for the Citibank branch. She willed herself not to check her mother’s old bank account at the ATM, the one they’d never closed. She could just do her own banking like a normal person, instead of worrying what mischief her father was getting into.
Hating herself for even thinking about him, she fed the machine her bank card and punched in her PIN number. She checked out her balance and breathed a sigh of relief. For someone who didn’t have a job, she still had money to her name—for now. Mr. Calvert might have fired her, but her royalties hadn’t run out yet.
Thank God for her frugal nature. Sure, she coveted the Louboutins and Jimmy Choos like any red-blooded woman. She just didn’t allow herself to indulge. After witnessing her father’s descent over the years, she preferred to keep a tight lid on her funds.
She moved a few dollars around, transferring funds into her bill-paying account, printed the applicable receipts, and stared at them.
Old guilt tightened its stranglehold on her. She took out her mom’s old bank card, inserted it and checked the account her parents had shared. She printed the list of recent activity, all of which were debit transactions from the local casinos. Fifty dollars at Caesar’s. Fifty at the Bellagio. Fifty at the Flamingo. Oh, and to make things even better, one hundred dollars at Vegas’s newest attraction, Vice.
The list went on and on. The last deposit had been hers, two weeks back. She’d transferred over two thousand dollars, hoping he would use it for food or rent, and not poker chips.
Well, she’d always been a dreamer.
“Just take out the card and walk away,” she urged herself. “Don’t give him any more. He has to hit rock bottom.”
A memory from her teen years flashed before her eyes. Her dad, coming home from work, pale and shocked. She’d run to him to ask what was wrong.
“Oh, Katie-bug,” he’d cried. “Someone stole my wallet on the bus!”
“Oh, Dad, no. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. My credit cards, everything. I had it in my pocket. Someone must have reached in when I wasn’t looking.” He’d blanched. “Katie, my pay was in there. Five hundred cash, gone.”
Her dad, a mechanic, worked for an old-timer who still paid his employees with cash—a major temptation for someone who gambled.
“I can’t tell your mother. She’ll be so disappointed in me. I was supposed to pay the bills this month.” He’d looked at her, as if seized by a wonderful idea. “Katie, you have a bit of money saved up from your job, right?”
She did. She ran the local church choir and was given a small amount for her troubles. Not much, but it felt like untold riches to a kid.
“Loan me the money, sweetheart. I’ll pay it back, I swear. Then we don’t have to bother your mom with this business.”
He’d walked her right to the nearest bank and watched as his child withdrew her own money for him. Before handing it over, she’d asked, “Dad, are you going to gamble with this?”
He’d had the gall to look affronted. “I can’t believe my own daughter would ask me that. Didn’t I raise you better?”
She’d handed it over and waited for the thanks that never came. And despite his many assurances, she’d never seen the money again.
She’d been enabling him, in one way or another, ever since. After her mom died, she worried about her dad’s ability to take care of himself. For the past few years, she regularly put money in his account, convinced he was starving somewhere. Every time she checked the balance, the money was gone, used for bets.
And every week she spouted garbage to her New Horizons friends about cutting gamblers off, letting them hit rock bottom for their own good, and she hadn’t let her father do the same yet.
She felt sure the word coward or hypocrite was tattooed over her face. How could she allow this pattern to continue? He’d disappointed her so many times, yet a small part of her waited for him to prove her wrong, to show her he was worthy of her love and trust.
Would it ever come?
She played with her finances a bit more, shaving off a bit more from her piddly savings. A lump formed in her throat as she deposited one hundred dollars into her father’s account. It wasn’t much. Maybe this time he’d put it to good use. Maybe. Her eyes stung as she yanked the bank card out of the machine.
Clutching her purse, and blinking back tears, she fled the bank.
Liam passed Kate on the way to his car the next morning. Headed to a meeting at City Hall, he was already in a bad mood, expecting push back from the city building department about his permit and worrying about his meeting with Bridget after that. Having to see Kate Callender’s new sign, Don’t Let Liam Doyle Control Your Pocketbook! just put the icing on an unpalatable cake.
She made a big show of curtseying like a simpering courtier as he passed her on the walkway.
“How are you, Milord? Does the emperor need new clothes?”
“Funny. No, unlike you, I have places to go and people to see.”
“Oh, I’m seeing lots of people right here. And guess what? They seem to like talking to me. I think I’m making some progress.”
“How awesome you have a hobby.” He ambled closer. “Tell me, Ms. Callender. Do all your goals involve sabotaging those of others?”
“Only this one,” she said smiling, her hazel eyes practically twinkling with mirth. “And something tells me, at the end of the day, you’ll still be sitting pretty.”
He couldn’t resist grinning, just a little. “You think I’m cute, don’t you?”
The twinkle in her eyes turned hard as she pointed to where one of his assistants waited with the Escalade. “I think you’d be cuter all the way over there in your penis-mobile. Tell me, is everything in your life so damned big?”
She reddened as soon as she realized how her question could be misinterpreted. Liam tried not to laugh. He leaned in and whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She looked away. “Not in the least.”
He decided to let her off the hook. “As for the Escalade, it’s just the work car. Would you believe my other car is a ten-year-old pick up?”
“Believe me when I say I couldn’t care less.”
This time he did laugh. She had spunk, he’d give her that. If she didn’t irritate him so much, he might even like her. He waved as he left for his car. “Have a rewarding day, Ms. Callender.”
“Oh, I will. Maybe not as monetarily rewarding as yours, but I’ll be fine.”
Liam couldn’t resist one last jab. “Maybe?”
The look on her face made getting the last word in worth it. Stifling a grin, he got into the car and told the driver where to head. And then, because his dick demanded it, he stole another glance at her.
She wiggled her fingers at him in a way that set him even more on edge. As they drove off, he pictured taking those pretty hands and pinning them over her head as he found a home between her legs.
His hands grew clammy. He realized with startling clarity that the image would become reality. He knew it.
God help him. He wanted it.
Hours later, Liam watched from the fourth floor as Kate and her associates marched in front of the entrance to Vice. When he’d returned from City Hall, she’d accosted him again, promising him reinforcements were coming. Part of him had thought she meant the imaginary kind. Unicorns and fairies and centaurs. But true to her word, about fifteen people had shown up.
Her distinctly-human pals all had placards, and none appeared to be particularly loony. One man was even dressed in scrubs. Had she bribed a doctor to support her cause, or just rented a costume?