More than a decade had passed since then, but his dad was staring at Gray in exactly the same way. Like Gray was nothing more than the shit on the sole of his shoe and he was waiting for the opportunity to scrape him off.
But there was a problem with that. Gray wasn’t scared of the old man anymore. And he had Aunt Gina to think of. He wasn’t going to leave her and Becca here in this broken down house while they took care of his dad. She deserved better than that.
They all did.
“No.”
The reply was faint enough for Gray to have to lean forward, his strong body towering over his father. “What?”
“I said no. We don’t need your help. Never have.” His father coughed and his whole body shook. If it had been anybody else in the world, Gray would have asked if he was okay, but he knew better than to do that to his dad. Compassion equaled weakness in Grayson Hartson III’s eyes. Any emotion did.
“This house is falling apart. And from what I can tell, there isn’t any money left to repair it. You need my help.”
“I don’t need any help.” His dad’s eyes were flinty. “You think you’re a big man, flashing cash around? Think it makes you better than me? That money you got is tainted. I don’t want any part of it.”
Gray frowned. “Tainted? How?”
“It’s not properly earned.”
“I’ve earned every cent. Wrote songs, recorded them, traveled all over the world promoting them.” His father was pulling him in to this, Gray knew it, yet it was impossible to stop. The old man knew how to push every button, and each one of them hurt.
“You prostituted yourself. You think I haven’t seen the photographs? You parade yourself around until girls throw money at you.” His dad’s eyes narrowed. “And now you want me to take that money? No thank you. I don’t take the devil’s dollar.”
Gray wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shout. The devil’s dollar? It was a pretty good name for an album, but a really shitty way to describe your son.
“So you’d rather let Aunt Gina and Becca live in squalor?” Christ, his father was stubborn. But then again, he was, too. The streak ran through the veins of all the Hartsons, and it made for some spectacular clashes.
Maybe he should leave early. Get the hell out of here and on a plane to L.A. He could be sitting on his balcony, strumming his guitar, writing new music as he overlooked the ocean.
“I’ll be better soon enough,” his old man said, squaring his shoulders even though he was propped up in bed. “I’ll fix it up then. The way I always have.”
The way he said it, Gray almost believed him. He was pretty sure his dad believed it, too. But you only had to look at him in that bed, his body frail and wasted, his face lined with age to know it wasn’t the truth. There was no way he was climbing on the roof or replacing pipes.
Gray swallowed down the compassion that tried to rise up in him. Covered it up with a shrug. “I’ll do it,” he said.
“Do what?”
“I’ll replace the pipes. Mend the roof.”
His father coughed out a laugh. “You’ll do it? Seriously? You’ve never done a day of manual work in your life. You know how to cut through pipes? Weld them together?” Another cough. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I said I’ll do it and I will.” Gray took a deep breath, his jaw square, his chest pushed out.
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised at his determination – his father or himself. Either way, he had to swallow down the taste of frustration that always seemed to settle on him whenever he spoke to his father.
“Be my guest. I could do with some entertainment around here.”
Gray shrugged and walked out of his father’s study, the walls pushing in on him as he emerged into the hallway.
He needed to get out of here for a while. This house was making him feel stir crazy.
* * *
Maddie walked into the diner through the kitchen door, calling out to Murphy to let him know she was back. He looked up and beckoned her to the door that led to the diner. “Who d’ya think that is?” he asked, pointing at somebody sitting in the corner booth. “He was asking for Cora Jean.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t think he’s one of them
gold diggers, do you? After her for her money?”
Maddie tried not to laugh. Cora Jean had a small pension and the money she earned from working at the diner. She wasn’t exactly sugar momma material.