“So do I,” Jackson says dryly. “Trust me when I say that tennis skill doesn’t run in the family.”
“You’ll do fine.” Damien takes a step back toward the court. “Come on.”
“One second, okay?”
Damien eyes him, then nods. “What’s on your mind?”
Jackson nods toward me. “Sylvia and I had dinner yesterday with Reggie Gale.” He draws a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”
“Do you?”
“I blamed you for Atlanta. Turns out I should be thanking you.”
“I made a business decision,” Damien says, still in pure business-mode. “Nothing more.”
Jackson studies him for a moment. “All right.” He starts to move toward the court. “Ready?”
“Wait.”
Jackson stops. I stand perfectly still, feeling a lot like an intruder, but I’m afraid if I leave, I’ll disturb whatever is happening between these two men.
“I want to show you something.” Damien pulls out his phone, finds something on it, then passes the device to Jackson.
Jackson reads, then frowns. “The press is lambasting you about cave crickets?”
“An internal email was leaked this morning,” Damien says, which is something I hadn’t yet heard. “In it, I said that we weren’t going to shut Cortez down because of a species of crickets that the EPA says is protected.”
“And somehow the press got your email.”
“And they’re taking it out of context. The discussion was with my staff and the goal was to research whether or not the species really is endangered. It isn’t.”
Jackson passes the phone back to Damien. “Why are you showing me this?” It’s the same question I have—especially since the EPA has already told me that we’re now in the clear and that Cortez is on track.
“The cave cricket issue has been resolved. But the release of this email doesn’t look good for the resort. And the timing of this new round of sabotage so soon after your return to the project is very telling.”
I watch Jackson’s posture go rigid. And my stomach does a few flips of its own.
“What exactly are you saying, Stark?”
“I’m saying that someone is fucking with us. With both of us.”
For a moment, Jackson doesn’t react at all. His face is as unreadable as Damien’s during a board meeting. Then finally, cautiously, he says, “You don’t think it’s me.”
“I did,” Damien admits. “I don’t anymore. But I do think the timing is key.”
“So who’s doing it? Jeremiah?”
“He’s definitely at the top of my list.”
Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Then don’t believe it. But you need to know something. Whether or not Jeremiah Stark is behind the sabotage, he’s not a good guy. He’s not a victim. He’s a manipulative narcissist. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“What is it you think?” Jackson asks. “That I’m wearing rose-colored glasses? I know damn well that Jeremiah’s not an innocent man.”
“I’m glad your eyes are open.”
“Wider than they used to be,” Jackson admits. As if to illustrate the point, he looks around at this camp and the fund-raising activities to benefit abused children. “I read the press after your trial.”
“Did you?” Damien’s voice is cool. Though Damien is intensely private, he’d gone public recently with some of the horrific shit that had tainted his childhood. It was a seriously brave thing to do; I’m not certain I would have had the courage.
“Did he know?” Jackson asks. “What Richter did to you? Did our father know?”
For a moment, I don’t think that Damien will answer, and to be honest, I very much want to leave. But I don’t think that either man realizes I am there anymore.
Time seems to slow, and Damien says nothing. Then he looks Jackson in the eye. “He knew.”
Jackson closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his expression is harsh, and I can practically feel his desire to hit someone. “He hurt us both, Damien. He wrapped us in a web of lies and deceit.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
Jackson drags his fingers through his hair, looking at me as he does. “That’s not the kind of thing a father should do. You expect a parent to do the best for a child. To take on the burden, no matter how hard it might be. And definitely not use the kid as a pawn.”
