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Asking for a Friend
img img Asking for a Friend img Chapter 5 Another Reminder
5 Chapters
Chapter 6 All That Money img
Chapter 7 Snowball Fight img
Chapter 8 Unexpected Phone Call img
Chapter 9 Monday Again img
Chapter 10 Meeting the Accountant img
Chapter 11 Something Familiar img
Chapter 12 Do I Have the Job img
Chapter 13 Straighten Up img
Chapter 14 At Least She's Smart img
Chapter 15 Not Like Us img
Chapter 16 Taking Care of Her img
Chapter 17 A New One img
Chapter 18 Enter at Your Own Risk img
Chapter 19 Everything In It's Place img
Chapter 20 Human Or Robot img
Chapter 21 Drawing Her img
Chapter 22 The Hunger img
Chapter 23 Heat img
Chapter 24 Just A Quickie img
Chapter 25 Something's Going On img
Chapter 26 The Right Answer img
Chapter 27 No Regrets img
Chapter 28 We Didn't Sleep img
Chapter 29 Is This a Date img
Chapter 30 Captivated img
Chapter 31 Not Too Much img
Chapter 32 Holding You to It img
Chapter 33 We're Going img
Chapter 34 A Good Idea img
Chapter 35 Find Your Passion img
Chapter 36 Worth The Risk img
Chapter 37 No Shenanigans img
Chapter 38 Challenge Me img
Chapter 39 Let's Skip img
Chapter 40 Open to the Possibility img
Chapter 41 Valentine's Day Party img
Chapter 42 Nightcap img
Chapter 43 I Need You img
Chapter 44 Dreaming About You img
Chapter 45 Call HR img
Chapter 46 Shocker img
Chapter 47 What's Wrong with My Daughter img
Chapter 48 At the Doctor img
Chapter 49 Not Her img
Chapter 50 Nothing More Than a Boss img
Chapter 51 Thanks for the Favor img
Chapter 52 You Look Like Hell img
Chapter 53 Not His Fault img
Chapter 54 Friendly Advice img
Chapter 55 Hounding From Beyond the Grave img
Chapter 56 Puzzle Pieces img
Chapter 57 A Surprise img
Chapter 58 Brilliant Aviation img
Chapter 59 Peace Offering img
Chapter 60 Just An Update img
Chapter 61 The Blueprints img
Chapter 62 Ransom img
Chapter 63 Scout's Honor img
Chapter 64 About Annie img
Chapter 65 In His Arms Again img
Chapter 66 Stay The Night img
Chapter 67 Hankering img
Chapter 68 Too Soon img
Chapter 69 Let Annie Decide img
Chapter 70 Nothing to Worry About img
Chapter 71 Meeting Her img
Chapter 72 Perspective img
Chapter 73 Catching Trevor img
Chapter 74 Boring Ice Cream img
Chapter 75 More Money img
Chapter 76 Who Is This Guy img
Chapter 77 Shopping Around img
Chapter 78 Shadows of the Past img
Chapter 79 Happy Monday img
Chapter 80 Always Amazing img
Chapter 81 Like A Family img
Chapter 82 Cryptic Clues img
Chapter 83 Showing Her img
Chapter 84 Addicted To Her img
Chapter 85 Give Me One More img
Chapter 86 Sexiest Man Alive img
Chapter 87 What's Missing img
Chapter 88 A Day Off img
Chapter 89 Father Figure img
Chapter 90 Always Yours img
Chapter 91 Touched img
Chapter 92 My Own Pocket img
Chapter 93 Baking img
Chapter 94 Being Nosy img
Chapter 95 Stubborn Mother img
Chapter 96 I Know Him img
Chapter 97 No Show img
Chapter 98 Deadbeat img
Chapter 99 Let the Games Begin img
Chapter 100 Blowing Him Off img
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Chapter 5 Another Reminder

Layton

Like most people, I wasn't particularly fond of lawyers. My father's lawyer, specifically, was a piece of work. There was a reason the two of them got along so well. They were both stubborn and stoic men who believed the world belonged at their feet.

Going to the office of Clayton Reeve was not an errand I was looking forward to, but it had to be done. Dad's estate had to be wound up and Clayton was the one entrusted with making it happen.

But apparently he needed my signature on a couple of things before he could do his job. When his assistant called me to set up the appointment, she told me to get there at ten sharp.

Glancing down at my watch, a bulky silver thing that was a gift to myself when I finished my first project, I saw I still had some time before I was expected at Clayton's office. The financial district was the nerve center of business in downtown Boston, and naturally, it was where the lawyer's office was located.

Given that half the people who worked in the area suffered from caffeine addiction or felt it a necessity to jumpstart their workday, there were at least a half dozen coffee shops I could go to in order to satisfy my own cravings for the stuff. If I was going to be spending the morning going over my dad's final wishes with Clayton, I needed an extra strong, super big cup of the best coffee I could find.

Thankfully, I knew just the place. It was one of the smaller coffee houses with only about four tables inside and a counter with one barista named Paul. It was family owned, too. None of those commercial chains would do it for me this morning.

Finding parking near Turner's was always a nightmare, but since it was around the corner from Clayton's office, at least I would only have to attempt the feat once this morning. Somehow managing to snag a spot only about a block up from the Turners' coffee shop, I thanked the parking angel and hurried to the warmth of the shop.

Paul grinned when I walked in, obviously remembering me from when I was a regular while Craig and I had a project going nearby. "Mr. Bridges. It's good to see you. Can I get you a large filter just the way it is?"

This is why I preferred Turner's to the other places. It had been at least a month since the last time I was here, yet Paul remembered my usual order. Not half bad, given the amount of people he served every day.

There was also the possibility that most people who frequented Turner's took their coffee that way and as such, was a safe guess. But I preferred to think he remembered my order. Returning his grin, I nodded. "Please, Paul. Thanks."

A young man darted away from one of the tables just after I finished my order. He left his empty cup behind, along with a coffee stained napkin. Paul made a move to clear the table for me, but I shook my head. "I've got it, don't worry."

Glaring after the guy, I picked up his trash and chucked it away in the marked bins near the door. Paul nodded his thanks, then handed me my coffee. As I sat down, I noticed the man left his newspaper on the seat beside the one that now belonged to me.

The front page advertised an article on the sixth page with a familiar name right there in the title. "Jeff Bridges: We celebrate his life and times."

With my heart becoming suddenly heavy in my chest, I picked up the paper. Morbid curiosity took over and I turned to the article, even though I needed no more reminders that my father was no longer among the living.

I was feeling strangely numb about it. My father and I hadn't been the closest, but he was still my dad. It was terrible to have to keep staring that fact straight in the face without being able to blink for so much as a single damn minute.

First there was the hospital, then the worst happened and I turned to dealing with arrangements then organizing the funeral that served as a constant reminder. I'd started hearing from insurance companies and the likes right away and realized that was the tip of the iceberg and I'd have to end up canceling his subscriptions, his phone and cable before I was through. I hadn't been prepared for all the administrative details there would be to deal with and I really hoped the lawyer wouldn't take more than a couple of hours.

Work was already crazy, and with the amount of time I'd already had to be away from work with everything that happened, I was in danger of falling behind for the first time ever. There were sure to be a couple of late nights in my future.

When I reached the page of the newspaper article, I realized they had used one of the photos I'd used at the funeral. It was a good picture, one where he was wearing a gray pinstripe suit with an emerald green tie that brought out the color of his eyes.

Scanning through the article, I knew he would have approved of the contents. It showed him in the light of being one of the most intelligent, hardworking men of his generation. There were several quotes from friends and industry leaders, some of which had been said at the funeral and others I didn't recognize. The reporter must have called around to get quotes for her article.

They weren't wrong. He had been intelligent and hardworking, dedicated to his job and loyal to his friends. Articles similar to this one were a dime a dozen in his life. He was frequently contacted by reporters, mostly by those in his field, but this would be the last. It was a good one to go out with, at least.

For as many articles as there had been written about my father, I knew there would never be one published about me. Except perhaps to answer the last question posed in this one-what would happen to the billions my father left.

My phone vibrated on the table, a reminder that it was time for me to go find out what would happen to said billions. I had an uneasy feeling about my meeting with Clayton Reeve, not because I was afraid I wasn't in Dad's will-because I was afraid I was.

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