Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(30)
Author: Jen Frederick

Tiny looks at me, and we both wonder if Hedder knows Malcolm’s business. I can see she’s reluctant to bring it up, and frankly it’s a topic I’d like to avoid for the night.

“Malcolm told you Sophie died?”

Hedder fidgets with his napkin a bit, which lies folded on the table. There’s no evidence that he has eaten anything, and there are no plates in front of him. Tiny’s had something, but she looks longingly at my steak. I cut off a few pieces and place them on her empty plate. The bottle of whisky is half gone. In the dark light, I can make out a faint redness around Hedder’s nose and cheeks, as well as spidering veins in the neck—all classic signs of a heavy, if not alcoholic, drinker.

After closer inspection, it becomes apparent that Hedder is wearing some kind of cover-up to diminish the signs of his facial discoloration, no doubt caused by years of alcohol abuse. I missed that the other day when he was in my office. Of course he’s not eating. He’s got a bottle of one of the finest whiskies in all the land in front of him. He has no desire to sully that with actual food, no matter how badly he needs it. I’m curious what a drunken Mitch Hedder acts like and whether his behavior will push Tiny far enough away.

I signal for DeWight, and he appears seconds later. “Another bottle of the Subu, please.”

Hedder’s eyes flicker with uncomfortable avidity at the mention of another bottle. Liquor is an obvious weakness. What others does he have?

“Certainly. The twelve-year?”

“Yes, and another steak please.”

“Of course. Right away.” DeWight backs away and corrals an underling to do his bidding.

“How come you get steak in here when I could only order little tiny things like the ceviche that came on a spoon? It was literally one bite,” Tiny complains. “Are there no restaurants here?”

“There’s the Food Hall, but no, the Plaza has no intimate dining space. They likely think you’ll eat elsewhere.”

The Champagne Bar served mostly tapas, finger foods. Steak is an accommodation being made for me, perhaps because DeWight wants something from Kaga, like another position at a better bar or restaurant or hotel. Kaga once told me he’d been accosted at one of his nightclubs, not because the person wanted to sleep with him—although that might be true—but because they were desperate for a reassignment to one of the resorts Kaga’s family owned.

“Thank you for the red meat. I was dying here.”

“We can’t have that. You need your energy tonight.”

The heat in her eyes has me nearly choking on my whiskey. If Hedder weren’t here, I’d pull the hand she has curled around the top of my thigh right on top of my dick. She licks her upper lip, drawing attention to its plumpness and leaving the flesh wet and shiny. At the base of her neck, I can see her bunny-heart beating rapidly.

“It was Malcom’s mother, Connie, who told me,” Hedder interrupts.

I send him a killing look. Not only do I find his presence near me offensive but that he’s interrupting my time with Tiny makes me even more irritated.

“Connie?” Tiny voices her surprise. “You still keep in contact with her?”

“Of course. I spoke to her on the phone a couple of weeks ago. She said she attended Sophie’s funeral. I asked about you, of course, worried that you’d be alone, but she mentioned you had a friend with you.” He nods toward me. “And another friend of mine saw a reference to Sophie’s funeral in the Post.”

“The Post?” Tiny looks at me inquiringly.

“I forgot you can’t read,” Hedder says with condescension in his voice. Tiny stiffens and the urge to impose some physical judgment on Hedder grips me again. “Yes, it mentioned that billionaire philanthropist Ian Kerr was attending the funeral of Sophie Corielli.”

“I must have missed that entry,” I say.

She shrugs, but a little hint of red shows at base of her neck. I could kill Hedder for making her feel embarrassed. “I only saw the one in the Observer.”

“I needed to come up and make sure that everything was going well for you, dear.” Hedder reaches forward to pat Tiny on the arm, but I stop him with a glare. I don’t want him touching her. DeWight interrupts our glaring contest with another steak and another bottle.

“I’m fine,” she says, and while I’d like that to be true, I don’t think she is. She will be, but it’s only been a few weeks since her mother’s death, and I’d never been around someone who loved her mother as much as Tiny did.

“I’ll be here for a few weeks,” Hedder declares. “We should spend time together.”

“Malcolm said that you had something of Mom’s. What is it?”

“I don’t have it with me. Besides, I’d like to visit the grave. We should do that together.”

She presses her lips together and slides me a disbelieving look. We’re not getting anything out of Hedder tonight.

I raise my glass in his direction. I don’t understand his game yet. Breaking us up wouldn’t be in his best interest, but he wants something. I won’t underestimate him. A snake in the garden is still a snake, and there’s no way that Hedder can afford to set up residence at the Plaza without having fleeced his share of lambs.

Even though she said she was hungry, the second steak isn’t appealing to Tiny. She merely picks at it. I’m tired and my body is very sore and I’m sick of wearing this pancake makeup. Standing up, I toss a few smaller bills on the table to serve as a tip. “I’m ready to call it a night. Is that all right with you, Tiny?” I don’t like that he uses her nickname. He shouldn’t be allowed even that small intimacy with the woman he abandoned.

“Yes, I’m ready.” She wipes her mouth and then sets her napkin on the table. “It was nice to see you again, Mitch, but I don’t foresee needing you to vet my friends. It’s been a long time since I needed that. And you aren’t my father.”

With that sharp admonition, Tiny turns to go, but Hedder grabs her arm. “Think about my request. I think Sophie would want it.”

She doesn’t shake off his hand immediately and gives him a small nod. “I’ll think about it.”

“You know where to find me.” He waves a hand toward the lobby.

At the manager’s stand, I hand my black AmEx to DeWight. “Take the rest of the Subu and enjoy it tonight. Compliments of Mr. Kaga and I.”