Chapter 2 HOMECOMING

I noticed everyone focused on the TV in the lounge area of the gym as I filled out some paperwork at the front desk. I craned my neck to see what had gotten the attention of my staff and customers. It was some woman getting off a private jet and rushing to a waiting car.

The throng of people greeting her obviously didn't like her. I couldn't even read most of the signs being held up due to the words being blurred out by the network. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the words were. The ticker along the bottom read something about the Billionaire Diva returning home to hide.

"Tuck tail and run, bitch," my front desk clerk, Lisa, muttered under her breath.

"What?" I asked.

She jabbed her finger at the TV. "Her. That woman who is too good for everyone, including the hottest man on the planet."

"Who would that be?"

"Brock Keys," she said as if she wondered what rock I'd been living under.

"The singer?" I questioned.

"Yes. Rabro. The it couple for the last several months. Turns out being beautiful and rich doesn't make you a good person."

"Rabro?"

"Ra-bro," she said slowly. "It was their name. Now, the world knows Rachel Lore was nothing more than-well, she isn't a gold-digger, but she was a fame seeker. She's a rich bitch."

I snorted and went back to my paperwork. "As if that's anything new."

"She portrayed herself as this good girl, like the girl-next-door type," Lisa said with a sneer. "She was just looking for fame. She broke Brock's heart. He had to cancel one of his concerts because he's so brokenhearted."

"Is the guy fourteen?" I snorted.

"He loved her!" Lisa gasped. "She dumped him. Rumor has it he caught her sleeping with one of the roadies."

"I wouldn't put a lot of stock in rumors," I said. "Can you hand me that inventory sheet I

printed?"

She reached for the printer without taking her eyes off the TV. "Look at her! She is so smug! She won't even look at them!"

I glanced up at the TV and saw the woman getting into a car without giving the cameras any attention. "I'm guessing being called a whore and a bitch makes her uninterested in talking to the angry people screaming at her."

"Disgusting," she muttered.

I took the sheet from her. "When my brother shows up, send him into the storeroom."

"Which brother, hot or hotter?" she said with a grin.

"I'm not sure who's hot or hotter, but one is very engaged," I reminded her.

She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose he hooked up with a rich bitch too?"

I raised my brows. "Um, no, and I would suggest you never say that to Thomas's face. I

cannot be responsible for his response."

She was new. She'd learn my older brother did not hold back. If someone pissed him off or offended him, he let them know. When it came to protecting his soon-to-be wife, Kristi, and her son, Wesley, he was not to be messed with. Ever.

Like never, ever.

I checked the time and shook my head. Jenson was supposed to be meeting me here. I

was trying to help the guy out and gave him a job. He was acting as my manager of sorts for

some of the rental properties I owned. It wasn't exactly a difficult job, but I didn't trust him

to handle a lot. Not yet. The guy was still trying to get his shit together. He was the youngest

of the three of us and by far struggling the hardest at the adult thing.

It wasn't a big surprise he was late. No one could do a complete one-eighty overnight.

Not even in three months. But he was getting there. He got his own place. He hadn't been to

jail in three months. That was a huge bonus. I hoped like hell we were finally turning a

corner with him.

"Hey," Jenson said as he walked into the stockroom.

"Thanks for only being twenty minutes late," I answered.

"Traffic." He grinned.

"Do you have the reports with you?" He was my employee, and I was going to hold him

responsible. It was the only way to teach him responsibility.

"Uh, no."

"Did you email them?" I asked.

"I need another day or two."

I stopped counting the jugs of protein powder and turned to look at him. "Jenson, you have one job. That's it. I pay you very well. Far more than the job actually would normally pay. What have you been doing?"

My little brother flashed a grin. "I'm working on a deal that's going to get me out on my

own. I won't need any more handouts from you or Thomas anymore. I won't be the loser in

the family."

That gave me pause. Jenson was always looking for the next big thing. He liked easy

money, and that almost always landed him in trouble. The last moneymaking scheme put

him in a very dangerous position. It almost killed him.

"That's great and all, but is it going to get you killed?" I asked. "Are there going to be

guys breaking your kneecaps?"

"No," he laughed. "That's all in the past."

"Jenson, we saved your ass last time, but it can't be a habit," I warned him. "Make money

the old-fashioned way. Go to work every day. Work hard. You climb the ladder, and you get

ahead. It isn't instant. You have to work for it."

"I'm thirty-six," he complained. "I'm not an eighteen-year-old kid just starting out. I don't

have time to work hard and climb the ladder. You're a year older than I am and you're

already there."

"Because I busted my ass, Jenson," I reminded him. "I scrimped and saved and spent long

hours making this happen. I had setbacks that I had to push through. It didn't get handed to

me."

"You have your way, and I have mine," he said with a shrug. "Neither way is wrong."

"Whatever, but you're supposed to be working for me," I reminded him. "I'm counting on

you. I can't have you flaking out. If you're not going to do the job, tell me now."

"Relax, it'll get done," he said. As usual, he was laughing it off. "I'll call you tomorrow. I've

got to run."

Just like that, he was gone. I shook my head with frustration, but I couldn't really be all that mad. It was the way he was. We kept trying, but we couldn't seem to make Jenson step into the world of adulting. We were destined to keep carrying him around. I guess it was lucky for him, Thomas, and I had crawled out of the gutter and made ourselves wealthy.

Enough to support him and our mother.

I quickly finished inventory before dropping it on my desk and grabbing my things. I was looking forward to driving my new car. I was taking a page out of my brother's book and splurging a little. I was finally confident with my financial status to spend some of my money on frivolous things, like my new Porsche. Thomas tried to convince me to get one of the GT3s, but I wasn't interested in killing myself by driving too fast. I pushed the button to disarm the alarm and found myself smiling at my gorgeous black Cabriolet. I remembered being a boy and dreaming about driving in a convertible. Now, I had one. I had yet to go

anywhere with the top down.

I revved the engine and headed out of the parking garage. Thomas was dying to get his

hands on my car. It wasn't going to happen. The asshole had never met a speed limit he

didn't want to break. I had to drive out to Long Island and then around Manhattan. It was

drizzling, which meant the top was staying up.

"Hello, Mr. Grier," said the manager that worked on site of the building I recently

purchased.

"Please, call me Oliver," I said. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she answered with a nervous smile. "I thought your brother was coming by."

"He got distracted. How are things in the building?"

She cleared her throat. "We've had a few contractors come by. They said they would get you their estimates for the repairs."

"I'd like your opinion on who you liked best," I said and took the reports she had already

Prepared.

"My opinion?"

"You met them all, right?" I asked.

"Yes, but I'm just the building manager," she answered.

"Cleo, from what I understand, you've managed this building for ten years. I think you have a good idea about what really needs fixed and what's extra. You also know the neighborhood, and I'm sure you've got a good idea about who's reputable and who's fly-bynight."

She smiled and relaxed a little. "I really appreciate you letting me keep my job," she

gushed. "I was certain you were going to come in here and raze the whole building."

"That would displace the tenants," I replied with a friendly smile.

"We appreciate it. And the improvements you're planning to do."

The building wasn't fancy. It was a small office building with the tenants ranging from CPAs to a psychiatrist. It wasn't the kind of building that made anyone rich, but I'd bought the building on the brink of foreclosure and knew it was a good investment. This was what I wanted Jenson to learn. It was a small investment that would pad my bottom line with very little effort on my part.

"I'll look over the bids when they come in," I told her. "Then we'll discuss the best move

forward."

"Yes, Mr. Grier."

I smiled and walked out. The next few hours were spent doing much the same. I checked in with the small strip mall I owned and got the lowdown from the manager of that building.

He was not nearly as pleasant or appreciative as Cleo.

As I was heading back into the city, I happened to see a building with a "For Sale" sign posted out front. I didn't hesitate and whipped my little car into the limited parking lot. The building hosted a coffee shop and a bookstore. Not exactly moneymakers, but it was in a part of the city that was on the way up. I could buy it, sit on it, and sell it in a year and make a nice profit.

I got out of my car and walked around the building. Experience had taught me a lot. I had learned what warning signs to look for when it came to structure and foundation issues. The building looked like it was a money pit. I wasn't interested-it wasn't like I needed another building. I got back on the road and headed back to the city. Instead of going to one of my offices, I was going to review the reports at home in my home office.

That was next on the list of splurges. Thomas offered to sell me his fancy penthouse since he'd moved in with Kristi, but I wasn't interested in living in a high-rise for the rest of my days. My eyes were set on the house with a yard and the picket fence dream.