Chapter 29 : On the House

Chapter 29: Chapter 29 : On the House

Out on the terrace, the wind had picked up. The lights along the pier were coming on one by one, and the waves slapped at the pilings below.

Graves pulled out a chair for him and waited until he’d sat before taking his own. Two glasses of sparkling water were already on the table.

"Looks like you already figured out I can’t drink," Ethan said.

"The waiter mentioned you’d ordered sparkling water for half your table." Graves smiled. "The details tell you the most about a person. Mr. Hale says so himself."

After that, he didn’t waste any time.

"Mr. Hale heard all about the other afternoon," he said. "Young Preston acted without thinking and caused you a good deal of trouble. Mr. Hale asked me to apologize on his behalf."

"Apology accepted."

"Also," Graves took a folded check from his inside pocket, set it on the table, and slid it half an inch toward him, "the tape from the service bay, along with any other footage of Preston. Mr. Hale would like all of it back. This is for your trouble."

Ethan didn’t touch the check. He didn’t even glance at it.

"The tapes aren’t for sale," he said.

Graves’s smile didn’t change. "The number’s negotiable."

"It’s not about the number." Ethan leaned back in his chair. "I’m not planning to put it out, either. Preston won’t be in my cut. Not one frame. You can take that back to Mr. Hale word for word, free of charge."

"Then what do you want with it?"

"I’m keeping it." Ethan smiled. "In case it ever comes in handy."

Graves picked up his sparkling water and took a sip. He didn’t answer.

"That said," Ethan went on, changing tack, "if Mr. Hale is serious about being friends, you don’t have to put that check away. Just change what it’s for." He tapped the table with a fingertip. "Title sponsor on my next video. Hale Group’s name up front, a shot of your new development in Torrance somewhere in the cut, and one of your empty lots to film on. Twenty-five thousand. Firm."

Graves shifted in his chair and laced his fingers over his knee. "Oh?" he said. "I could have sworn you just told me you weren’t selling anything."

"This isn’t a sale." Ethan’s face was perfectly earnest. "It’s an investment. You know better than I do which way my stock’s been trending. Get in early, and you get in cheap."

Graves didn’t answer right away. He looked the young man across from him over again, top to bottom, taking his measure.

"You’re welcome to think it over," he said at last, as courteous as ever. "Mr. Hale would be glad to call you a friend. But in thirty years of business, he has never once touched a high-risk asset." He paused. "Besides, potential takes time to prove itself. Who can say what the market will do? One of these days, a black swan could fly in out of nowhere."

Ethan smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"That’s all right," he said. "Sooner or later, the market always prices a good asset."

Graves smiled too and slipped the check back into his inside pocket.

He hadn’t come tonight with orders to close anything. He was only here to take this young man’s measure for his employer. Mr. Hale was a busy man with no time to spare on a college kid, and he wasn’t especially protective of his son, either. When it came down to it, all Preston had lost was a little face.

Graves himself, though, had gotten the whole story out of Preston a couple of days ago, start to finish. Interesting. Very interesting. This might be worth a few more words with Mr. Hale.

He stood and held out his hand. "I’ll pass your words along to Mr. Hale. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Cole."

Ethan took the hand, smiled, and nodded.

Graves excused himself first. Ethan sat alone on the terrace, looking out at the lights running down the length of the pier.

He’d picked this restaurant tonight for exactly this meeting. Even if he hadn’t come, the Hales would have come looking for him sooner or later. Better to turn up on their doorstep than wait for them to pick the time and place.

He’d told them to their face he wouldn’t release the Preston footage, to put their minds at ease. Over the past two days, the Hales had probably already gotten a read on him through Chuck; tonight just confirmed it in person. Keeping the tape was insurance. If it ever got out, nothing in it was illegal, but the Hale name would take a beating all the same.

As for the sponsorship, it would have been nice. If it didn’t happen, that was fine too. At least it meant Hale wasn’t taking him seriously yet.

The thing that mattered most tonight was already done. He finished his sparkling water, stood, and went back inside.

When he pushed open the door to the private room, a dozen pairs of eyes swung his way at once.

"Well?" Noah was the first one up. "What did they want? Are they suing us?"

"It’s nothing. It’s handled." Ethan sat back down and picked up his fork. "We just had a little chat out there. Keep eating, the fish is getting cold."

The table traded looks. One by one, forks started clinking again.

Chloe looked at him. Her lips moved, but in the end she said nothing. She looked down and cut the fish on her plate into smaller and smaller pieces.

Once dessert was cleared, Ethan waved the waiter over. "Check, please."

The waiter dipped his head. "Mr. Cole, Mr. Hale has already taken care of it. He asked me to tell you you’re welcome here anytime."

Noah’s spoon stopped in midair.

Ethan nodded, said nothing, stood, picked up his jacket, and headed out.

The whole table sat stunned for two seconds before scrambling after him. On the stairs, one of Sam’s students muttered, "That dinner had to be over a thousand bucks... and somebody just paid for it?"

"And Preston’s dad is the one who paid," the other whispered. "Do I need to spell it out? Whatever that was, it’s handled." He looked at Ethan’s back on the stairs ahead and swallowed. "...Who is this guy?"

The wind was even stronger in the parking lot. Everyone gathered by the van, sorting out who was riding with whom.

Noah’s eyes, though, went past Ethan’s shoulder. Chloe was standing by her car with her keys in her hand. She hadn’t gotten in, and she hadn’t left. She was just watching them.

Noah nudged Sam’s arm. The two of them exchanged a glance.

"Oh, man," Noah said loudly. "This van’s totally full. Right, Sam?"

"Totally full," Sam agreed with a perfectly straight face. "Overloading’s a ticketable offense."

There were two empty seats in the back of the van, plain as day.

Ethan looked at the two of them and sighed. His head was still on the video. Episode two needed one last color pass, and he had no idea whether Chuck’s piece had made the layout yet. He hadn’t planned on things moving this fast with...

"Fine." He pushed the to-go box in his hand at Noah. "Then take this to Maya for me."

Noah took the box and gave him a wink.

The van had already roared off. Noah leaned halfway out the window, waving at him like crazy.

Ethan turned around. Chloe was standing by her car, jingling her keys at him.

She drove a white Mini Cooper convertible, a high school graduation present from her dad. It wasn’t a big car. When Ethan folded himself into the passenger seat, his knees nearly hit the glove box.

Chloe put the top down. Instead of heading back to campus, she drove south along the coast and turned up the winding road onto the Palos Verdes peninsula.

She pulled into a lookout on the edge of the bluffs and cut the engine. Below them, the ocean was black. Far off, a lighthouse blinked on and off.

"I’m sorry," Chloe said first.

"For what?"

"Preston." She stared into the dark ahead. "He went after you because of me. And this Graves guy tonight, that’s because of Preston too. You were just making your videos, and now you’ve got the Hales on your back." Her voice dropped. "That family... you don’t want to cross them."

Ethan didn’t answer right away. The sea wind poured in through the open top and tangled the loose strands by her ears.

"Chloe, this has nothing to do with you," he said. "If it wasn’t Preston, it’d be somebody else."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Ethan looked out at the lighthouse.

"What I want to do is pretty big," he said. "Big enough that if I told you now, you’d think I was crazy."

"On a road like that, there are going to be a lot of people standing in the way. Some will be scared I’m coming for their slice. Some just won’t like my face."

"Preston was the first. Hale won’t be the last."

Ethan pushed the door open and got out. Chloe hesitated, then followed him.

He walked to the railing at the edge of the lookout, and the sea wind hit him full in the face. Not far from the foot of the lighthouse, a small fishing boat with one dim yellow lamp was circling slowly near the shore.

He turned back to her and pointed.

"See that boat?" he said. "All night long, it just follows the lighthouse. Never hits the rocks, never gets lost. Nice and safe. I used to think being a boat like that was plenty."

His gaze moved past the little boat to the lighthouse. Its beam swept across the water and the rocks and out into the dark beyond where anyone could see.

"I don’t think that way anymore," he said. "I want to be the lighthouse."

He didn’t raise his voice, and the wind carried half of it away.

"A lighthouse stands there and takes everything the sea throws at it, and the waves only get bigger. But it has to stay lit. Somebody has to stand there so the boats behind know which way to go."

For a moment, Chloe didn’t know what to say.

She followed his hand. The lighthouse beam kept sweeping the black water, around and around, and the little boat kept circling near the shore. Just then, she felt as though she were seeing the very same view he was.

A cold gust swept in off the water. Chloe wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

Ethan took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Come on," he said. "Let’s head back."

Neither of them said a word on the drive back.

The Mini headed north on the 405. Los Angeles spread out beyond the windows, orange lights and white ones, all the way out to hills too dark to see. The freeway traffic trailed red taillights, line after line streaming toward the city. Far off, the lights on top of the downtown towers blinked on and off.

Chloe kept her hands on the wheel, and every so often she couldn’t help sneaking a glance to the side. Ethan was leaning against the window, staring out at the sea of lights, somewhere far away. His jacket was still around her shoulders, still holding a little of his warmth.

The Mini pulled up in front of his dorm.

"I’m heading up, then." Ethan unbuckled his seat belt. "Drive—"

"Aren’t you..." Chloe cut him off, her fingers tight on the wheel, stumbling over the words. "Aren’t you going to... say anything?"

Ethan knew what she was asking. He opened his mouth. "Chloe, I’m sorry. Right now I—"

Before he could finish, Chloe leaned across and kissed him on the cheek.

Light and quick.

She sat back, her face flooding red from her cheeks all the way to her ears, her eyes glued to the steering wheel. "You don’t have to say it. Just get out of the car."

Ethan was caught off guard, and found, of all things, that his own heart had picked up a few beats.

"...Drive safe, then." He pushed the door open. "Good night."

The Mini shot out of the lot. Its taillights flashed once at the corner and were gone, his jacket still around her shoulders.

When he pushed open the door to his room, music came pouring out.

Noah had his back to the door, headphones on, a towel wrapped around his head, a hairbrush clutched as a microphone, swinging his hips at the mirror. He was belting along with the Shakira in his ears. "Hips don’t liiie—!" The tune had wandered off into the next building.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe and watched for a full thirty seconds.

Noah spun around, met his eyes, and the hairbrush clattered to the floor.

"Wh—why are you back?" He yanked off his headphones, and the towel slid sideways. "I figured you weren’t coming back tonight..." His eyes narrowed. "Wait. Don’t tell me you..."

Ethan charged across the room, hooked an arm around his neck, and the two of them went down on the bed together.

"What goes on in that head of yours?" Ethan had his head locked under one arm. "She was worried about the Hale thing, you bastard. How come you never worry about me?"

"I worry! I worry!" Noah slapped the mattress in surrender. "I was scared you’d come back and tell me Hale Group’s getting renamed Cole Group tomorrow!"

Ethan let go, laughing and cussing him out. Noah sat up rubbing his neck, took one look at him, and slowly broke into a grin.

"What?"

"Look in the mirror." Noah smirked. "You’re grinning like an idiot, and you’re going to tell me nothing happened?"

Ethan tackled him again.

Somewhere in the scuffle, Ethan couldn’t have said what he was laughing about anymore. The man he used to be had never been short of women. Women at business dinners, women at cocktail parties, women who came wanting something and left once they had it. But a girl going red in the face, kissing him in a car, then shoving him out and peeling away? He couldn’t remember the last time anything like that had happened to him.

Eventually they wore themselves out and lay sprawled across the bed, catching their breath.

"Oh, right." Ethan stared at the ceiling. "The video should’ve finished uploading by now. You check the views?"

Noah smacked his forehead, sprang off the bed, and lunged for his computer. The page loaded one chunk at a time.

He stared at the screen and froze.

"...Wow."