Pretties in Pink

15. Ford

15

FORD

Ford had been on plenty of dates in his life, but he’d never felt as nervous as he did waiting for Hallie to show up at River Bend. And it wasn’t even a date, for f**k’s sake. Although that hadn’t stopped him from spending half of last night cleaning the Shore Thing—mainly because he couldn’t sleep—and he’d ordered food from the nearest Chinese restaurant to arrive at eight. He’d taken a shower. Brushed his teeth. Checked his watch ten times, and at five to seven, he climbed onto the dock to watch for Hallie’s arrival.

The River Bend Yacht Basin wasn’t as fancy as the marina he’d lived at in New Orleans, but it was tidy and well-maintained, and the folks who ran it were friendly. He missed the nightlife of the Southside Yacht Club—this time last year, he’d been able to step ashore into the clubhouse bar, take a swim in the pool, or work off steam in the gym—but his sister’s happiness was more important than having the additional amenities.

When Hallie hadn’t arrived ten minutes later, he began to fear that she’d gotten cold feet. Had it made her uncomfortable, driving to the middle of nowhere? He should have offered to meet her someplace else. Arranged a private dining room or something. But then her Honda rounded the trees into the small parking lot, and the tension that had knotted around his stomach released. She climbed out holding a laptop bag, a purse bigger than the one she’d used on Saturday, and a paper carrier bag.

“Hey.”

She smiled back at him. “Hey. I brought information and fortune cookies. Which boat is yours?”

“At the far end.”

Ford offered a hand, and she steadied herself as she stepped gingerly onto the dock, bracing as if she expected it to rock.

“It’s fixed. Solid. It won’t move.”

“Phew.”

He knew the moment she saw the Shore Thing because she looked up, and up, and up, then squeezed his hand tighter as her mouth dropped open. He understood. Even after eight years, he still occasionally felt the same way.

“That…no.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a boat, it’s a freaking ship.”

“She’s a sixty-six-foot blue-water cruising yacht. Really, she shouldn’t even be on this river, but needs must.”

“When you said you lived on a boat, I imagined something like this one,” Hallie said, pointing at a small cabin cruiser.

“I couldn’t even stand up in that. Want to come aboard?”

“Okay. But the Shore Thing? Who came up with the name?”

“I did. After one shot of bourbon too many.”

Hallie’s nails dug into Ford’s palm as she walked down the wide gangplank to the swim platform, but once they’d climbed up into the cockpit, she relaxed enough to look around, drinking in all the little details. The polished wood and chrome. The bench seats. The pair of cardboard boxes lined up on said seats.

“You’re using the boat as an archive room?”

“That’s a little light reading for after dinner.”

“Huh?”

“I pulled every case file on every unsolved child abduction in Virginia for the last twenty years. Technically, I shouldn’t have taken them out of the office, but…” Members of the department took case files home to work on from time to time. Yet another symptom of budget cuts—if cops stayed in the office to give every case the attention it deserved, nobody would ever leave. The brass turned a blind eye if a detective wanted to read through notes over dinner. “Don’t say I never bring you gifts, plum.”

“That’s the best present ever.” She lifted the lid off the first box and put a hand to her chest. “Be still my beating heart.” Most women loved diamonds, his preferred dead bodies. Go figure. “But hasn’t the Richmond PD ever heard of a scanner?”

“I’m an old-fashioned guy. My brain works better when I have paper in my hand.”

“You should talk to Black. He’s a fan of paper too. Nate shows up for meetings with a tablet and a laptop and a freaking hologram projector, and Black brings a notepad.”

“Who’s Nate?”

“One of Blackwood’s directors.” Hallie nodded toward the files. “Should we take them inside? It’s meant to rain later.”

“Yup, and then we can do the tour.” Ford waggled an eyebrow. “Wanna see my washing machine?”

“You sure do know how to impress a girl.”

He waved a hand at the saloon. “After you.”

The saloon housed a dining table that comfortably seated six, plus a navigation station that doubled as Ford’s desk when the boat was berthed. A galley to the side held the usual kitchen appliances, including the all-important coffee machine. Ford’s double stateroom and en-suite were housed in the stern, and the bow yielded two more bedrooms—one a double with an en-suite, one with bunks—plus the guest bathroom. The only thing he truly missed about living in an apartment was a big, comfortable couch. In the summer, he’d stretch out on a bench seat in the cockpit, but in the winter, it was just too cold.

Like every other woman he’d shown around the boat, Hallie was fascinated by the tiny cupboards and storage spaces, by the dressing table with its swing-out stool and the compact but fully functioning bathrooms. The yacht’s true strength lay out on the ocean waves—she was a dream to sail—but she didn’t make a bad place to call home either.

“What do you think?” he asked once Hallie had ventured into the engine bay and come straight back out again.

“She’s…beautiful. Definitely not what I’d imagined. But I have to ask—why the boat and not an apartment? I’ll bet one of these doesn’t come cheap.”

Ah, they’d reached the awkward part of the night. After this conversation, fifty percent of women flashed dollar signs in their eyes, another forty percent wanted to know if he could get tickets to a movie premiere, and the remaining ten percent appeared to take the news in their stride. Appeared to. Roughly half of those were hiding their true nature, and too late, he’d realised Eliette had fallen into that five percent.

“The Shore Thing was a graduation gift from my father. I couldn’t insult him by selling her, and in truth, I didn’t want to. I’ve always loved sailing.”

“That was real generous of him. My pop didn’t stick around long enough to see me graduate kindergarten. But can you sail on the river? You said she didn’t belong here, and don’t sailboats kind of…zigzag?”

“Every so often, I take her out on engine power, but it’s almost a hundred miles to the open ocean, and they need to raise two bridges for me to get there. I looked at renting a slip in Virginia Beach, but it’s too far for a daily commute, and once I paid out for slip fees, I’d only have enough money left over for a really crappy apartment.” Sylvie had offered to move both of the kids into one bedroom so he could stay with her, but his job meant he’d be coming and going in the middle of the night, and he wasn’t always in a great mood when he finished a shift. “This was the best compromise for the moment.”

No dollar signs. No questions about his father. Hallie fell into that rare ten percent. But would she turn out to be a closet gold digger? Ford had hope that she wouldn’t, and part of that hope stemmed from the fact that she spoke about Charles and Emerson Black with such fierce affection. She already had friends with money, far more money than Denton Prestia would ever possess.

“Sometimes, we have to play the hand life deals us.” She sidled up to him. “Did you say there’d be food?” Her stomach grumbled on cue, and she giggled. “My lunch was a chicken sandwich with low-fat mayo and a fruit salad. Emmy’s nutritionist was on the rampage again, and he took all the candy away.”

“The horror.”

“It’s not funny. Times like today, I need sugar to operate.”

“Bad day?”

“Not bad, just difficult. We found Donna Metgood’s mom, and those conversations are always the hardest.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yes, along with Dan. But what could we say that would make the situation any better? Three years have passed since Donna disappeared, and nobody’s ever been brought to justice.” Hallie slumped onto the seat that wrapped around the dining table. “She cried, and I cried too. Thank the stars we weren’t on a video call.”

“You want a drink? I figured alcohol was out, so I picked up a bunch of stuff in cans and bottles. They’re all sealed, so you can open them yourself.”

“You did? That’s…that’s…” She wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “Sorry, my emotions are still all over the place. I should learn to be tougher, like Dan.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Keeping your humanity is hard in this job, and the longer you can manage that, the better. I’ve got water, Pepsi, lemonade, iced tea, orange juice, or Dr. Pepper.”

“Is the Pepsi diet?”

“I bought both kinds. You want the diet?”

“Yes, please.”

Ford passed her a can, then popped the top on a bottle of beer. He figured he deserved one drink after the day he’d had. A four-year-old kid in Bon Air had found a loaded revolver in his parents’ bedroom and shot his six-year-old sister, just like he’d seen in his big brother’s video games. Couldn’t work out why she wouldn’t get up again.

“Cheers.”

He held up the bottle, and Hallie clinked the can against it.

“Cheers. Is it bad form to eat the fortune cookies first?”

“I’ve got candy if you want it.”

“Really?” She brightened. “What kind?”

“Skittles, Haribo, M&Ms, Sour Patch Kids, suckers, and Swedish Fish.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How old are you?”

“Thirty. But don’t forget I’m cool Uncle Ford. I have to keep something on hand to slip the kids when my sister isn’t looking.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “And also my sworn enemy. Which do you want?”

“The M&Ms.”

Ford got up and rummaged through the cupboard beside the refrigerator. “Peanut or regular?”

“You have peanut ones? My hero.”

He tossed the package in her direction, then checked his watch. The food would arrive at any minute, and the driver always waited in the parking lot.

“Back in a moment. Make yourself at home.”

“Yes, sir.”

At least Hallie was back to her sassy self tonight. After Saturday’s heartfelt confession, he’d wondered whether the atmosphere on the boat might be uncomfortable, but she was smiling, which meant he had to do so as well. He’d never be able to forget about her past—how could he when the events had engraved themselves onto her psyche?—but he’d take his lead from her and tuck the issues to one side for now.

The food came right on time. He’d ordered twice as much as they could eat, but he hadn’t been sure what she liked, and reheated leftovers were gourmet chow after a long shift anyway. But when he got back to the saloon, she was laughing. Not just the occasional giggle, but full-blown stitches.

“What happened?”

“Ohmigosh! There’s a picture of your naked ass on the internet.”

“What?” His heart stuttered. The photos from that bachelor party were never meant to see the light of day. “Where?”

“Right here.”

She turned her laptop around, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That was his ten-month-old ass, not the twenty-two-year-old version.

“Oh, those pictures.”

“You mean there are more?”

“I, uh… Not for public consumption.” But wait a second… “You researched me?”

“Oh, come on… What did you expect? After you said your dad bought you the boat, I got curious. Nosiness is basically in my DNA. And your ass was so cute.”

At least she didn’t try to hide her snooping or casually slip hints about Hollywood into the conversation. In a way, the openness was refreshing.

“Was cute?”

Ah, now she turned beautifully pink. “Well, it still might be. It’s not as if I’ve spent much time looking.”

“Much time? So you have spent some time?”

“I wish I’d never started this conversation.”

Ford took a seat opposite her. “I’m kinda glad you did. The longer I leave it, the more awkward it gets. So, you found out who my dad is?”

“I think I saw one of his movies once.” Her expression turned sober. “Wikipedia said your parents got divorced. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It worked out better for everyone that way. Mom’s new husband—Alain—is a great guy. It was him who helped me with my homework, him who drove me to soccer practice, him who bawled me out when I f****d up. Dad… He just wasn’t cut out to be a family man.”

“He didn’t care?”

“He didn’t abandon us or anything like that. But his one big passion in life is making movies. Ask him a question about lighting or camera angles or special effects, and he’s basically an encyclopedia, but ask him when my birthday is, and he’ll have to check with his PA. We never wanted for material things, but love… Dad understands how it looks from the outside—hell, he directed last year’s hottest romance movie—but he just doesn’t know how to feel it.”

Ford hadn’t meant to say all that. The last thing he wanted was sympathy, but Hallie laid a hand on his arm.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? When you’re a kid, you think it’s your fault. You spend hours wondering what you did wrong, trying to work out how to fix it, and it’s only years later that you realise the failings weren’t yours at all.”

Now he had a lump in his throat because that was exactly how it had felt. Until his mom remarried and Alain took over the role of father, Ford had spent every damn night wondering how he could possibly please his dad. As a kid, he’d volunteered to be an extra in every damn scene just so he could spend time with the big man. Most of his childhood memories came from movie sets.

“You’ve thought about that a lot?” he asked.

“For more than a year, I had nothing to do but watch Netflix, spread my legs, and overanalyse everything and everyone. So yes, you could say I’ve thought about it a lot.”