The Billionaire Bum (18 page)

She was right. I was an ass, a monumental ass. I bought and sold companies like she sold sandwiches. I didn’t build my business with blood and sweat the way she did. I didn’t understand at all. I couldn’t replace the hours that she spent picking china patterns or painting the walls just the right color. I wasn’t there when she opened the doors to her business. I didn’t get to see how proud her father was that day. If I knew her at all, I would have known that I was sticking my foot in my mouth. I was making mistake after mistake despite the fact that I would do anything to make her happy.

“You’re absolutely right, Alissa,” I whispered. “I’m sorry that I keep screwing up. I can’t make it better, but I will do anything you ask of me. I will be here for you whatever you need, and if you want me to get the hell out of your way, I will do that, too.”

“I just want to get there,” she mumbled. She looked exhausted.

I decided to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the day. This was her life, and I was still largely an outsider in it. I would wait until she needed me to do something. I would listen to her instead of jumping to conclusions.

We pulled onto her street, and I parked at the curb across from her building. There was yellow police tape across her door, and her father was standing out front. I took a deep breath.

Here we go.

I left her to her father. He was glaring at me. I was clearly making a wonderful impression on him.

At least she hadn’t been in her apartment last night when they broken in.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. This was going to be a very long day.

Alissa

My dad tried to stop me at the door, but even I could tell that it was a halfhearted attempt.

He knew as well as I did that I was going to have to go in there eventually. I wanted to get it out of the way. Once I got past the initial shock, I would be able to focus on the next steps. I wanted to be on my way to a solution, and the first step to that was facing the damage.

I felt bad for snapping at Jackson. Honestly, I didn’t mean it, but he had frustrated me with his quick dismissal of my concerns. Sometimes I just wanted someone to tell me that life sucks. I didn’t want his money, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty about all of this. I just wanted him to wallow in misery with me for a little while. Was that so hard?

I leaned back against the doorframe and surveyed the damage. Most of the walls were covered with red spray paint. It was clear that the goal was to paint as much of my restaurant as possible with profanities. Their vocabulary left something to be desired: cock-sucker, whore, and slut weren’t very original.

They had overturned most of the tables and chairs and there was splintered wood all over the floor. A huge stack of plates was shattered in the middle of the mess, which meant that they had been in the kitchen too. There were very few things that were untouched. I sighed and wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand.

After a minute, my father came to my side. He looked like he was having an internal debate on hugging me. We never really had a huggy-type of relationship. I stepped back, letting him off the hook.

“Do they know who did it?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Someone with a key, they think. Who had keys?” I ran through the list in my head. “Um. Me, Tyler, Lexy, Matt. I don’t know. I don’t really think any of them would have done this.”

“We should call them all anyway, see if anyone is missing a set of keys.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll get their numbers.”

I walked awkwardly through the destruction to the kitchen. Fortunately, they had kept most of the damage in the dining room. According to my dad, a neighbor across the street had called the police when they heard the noise… probably the plates. It seemed like they only had time to smash one stack before the sirens had chased them off.

Truthfully, it could have been a lot worse. I could repaint the walls. I would need all new furniture - most of the tables and chairs were either broken or covered in paint - but that was really the worst of it. I could just order twenty-five new plates. I wouldn’t need all new china, and they hadn’t touched the glasses.

I pulled my employee records from the file that I kept in one of the kitchen drawers. I gave the appropriate numbers to my dad. He looked grateful that he had something productive to do.

I went back into the dining room and started picking up the overturned chairs, collecting the ruined table clothes, and surveying the damage in more detail. After a few minutes I noticed Jackson following my example, his arms full of red stained cloth.

“Just make a pile for them here,” I said, dropping my armful on the floor. We’ll burn them when the police are done with the pictures of everything. Jackson nodded and added his to my pile.

“’Lissa?” My dad called from the doorway. “We might have a lead.”

“Really?” I asked. I wondered if one of my employees knew something.

“Yeah. We called Tyler. He says he doesn’t have his keys.”

“Oh. Did he lose them?” I hoped not. That would mean that the damage could have been done by anyone.

“No. He says he lent them to Ryan.”

Jackson dropped a chair behind me, and it clattered to the floor.

“Who’s Ryan?” I asked.

My dad looked at Jackson. I looked at Jackson. Jackson looked like he was going to pass out.

After a minute he answered me quietly. “Ryan is the chef that I hired to help run your business until you were well enough to return. I am such an idiot. He would have known Kayla from some of our previous functions. I should have seen that. I didn’t know that they were friends, but it makes sense for it to be related. I am so sorry. This is all my fault.” He looked utterly defeated. “I just can’t do anything right when it comes to you. I swear to you I’m just trying to help, and I just keep bringing more danger and destruction into your life. I never meant for any of this to happen. I should leave. I’ll just go.” He looked over his shoulder at my dad. “Please, Mr. Allen, if I can do anything to help the police, you have my number. I will do anything I can, please just ask. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

I sat down in one of my ruined chairs and laid my head against the table. “Stay, Jackson,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“I think he has the right idea, Alissa.” my dad chimed in, “I can help you clean this up.

We don’t need him here.”

“Dad,” I said, “a little privacy please?” I didn’t look up, but I heard his boots on the floor as he walked out.

“Jackson, come here.”

He hesitated, but eventually crossed the room to me and pulled out the chair next to mine.

He sat down beside me, and I lifted my head from the table.

“Jackson, I am going to say something to you, and I want you to not interrupt me okay?” He nodded to show his consent.

“It is not your fault that you are successful. It is not your fault that people want to take advantage of your success.” He looked like he wanted to interrupt, but I held up my hand to remind him that he just promised not to do that.

“You have been a victim of some terrible circumstances in the last few days, just like me.

You are not at fault. I appreciate your trying to help with my business while I couldn’t be here. It was very thoughtful of you to consider the things that are important to me. I appreciate your letting me stay with you. If not for you, I might have been here when they broke in, and I could have gotten hurt.”

I reached out and pulled his hand into my lap, lacing my fingers with his. “Thank you for everything that you have done, Jackson. I am sorry that I snapped at you earlier. I hope you can understand the fear that I was feeling. I wasn’t really angry with you, and I am not angry now.

We don’t even know what happened yet. The police will look into it, but it could be that Ryan had nothing to do with this. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s Kayla’s fault or whoever made this mess, not yours. You have been nothing but kind to me, and I don’t want you to leave. I need you to stay with me.”

He looked at me with tears in his beautiful blue eyes. “I really don’t deserve you, Alissa.”

“How about I get to be the judge of that?”

He gave me a weak smile. “What can I do to help?”

“Make a Home Depot run?” I asked. “I’ll make you a list.” I got my grocery list paper from the kitchen and started making a plan. We would need new paint for the walls, a cleaner to get the paint off of the floor, probably new floor wax after that, lots of garbage bags, and a spare industrial broom would be good. It was a lot to think about. I settled on painting and cleaning first. I would think about the furniture later.

I was a little surprised that Jackson didn’t argue with me when I told him that I was going to do the work myself. I was sure that he would have hired a team of professionals if I had left it up to him. Maybe my words in the car had affected him or maybe he was just tired of making mistakes. Either way, I was glad that we didn’t have to argue over it. A little manual labor would feel good right about now.

The police finished processing the scene, and my dad convinced them to let me continue cleaning. I wanted to be back in business as soon as possible. Bad publicity like this could be really damaging for me. I wanted to be back up in two or three days if I could manage it.

I was pulling the police tape away from the door when Lexy showed up. She had an arm full of restaurant supply catalogs. She could be a pain in the ass, but I was so very lucky to have her.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Jennings, the owner of my insurance company arrived to appraise the damage. He made a slow circle around the place and then stopped to study the door. “Where did they break in?” he asked.

“The police think they had a key,” I answered.

“Oh,” he said. He finished his walk, and then sat down at the table beside me and filled out a form.

Jackson joined us a few minutes later carrying paint cans, rollers, brushes, and a whole pile of other supplies. My dad went out to help him bring it all in.

“Miss Allen?” Mr. Jennings said looking up from his form. “I regret to inform you that your damages will not be covered by your policy. Please sign here.” He pushed the form to me.

“What? I pay that policy every quarter right on time. I have insurance for this business.

Why wouldn’t it be covered?”

Jackson sat down beside me and looked at the form.

“There was no forced entry, Miss Allen. The policy only covers you in the event of vandalism to the outside of your business or for breaking and entering. We are not responsible if you do not lock your doors or use poor judgment with regards to keys.”

“What?” I asked again. “How am I supposed to replace everything if it isn’t covered?” I was shocked. My insurance policy was not cheap; how could they do this? I didn’t remember anything like that from when I had purchased it. I should be covered for this.

“That’s not my concern, Miss Allen,” he said, clearly dismissing me.

“May I?” Jackson asked, as he took the form from me. I nodded weakly.

Without that money, I couldn’t replace the tables and chairs. Decent chairs ran about $250 each. I needed at least sixty of them. I didn’t have $15,000. If I went to IKEA I could get some for less, but that would still cost about $3,500, and it would only be a temporary solution.

Restaurant furniture had to be really sturdy to accommodate the volume and variety of customers.

I still needed tables and tablecloths. I wasn’t going to be able to afford this. I was making money with my business, but I’d only been open a year. I had poured all of my savings into it just to open the first time. I didn’t have any start-up capital this time.

Insurance was supposed to take care of stuff like this. I was covered for flood, fire, theft over $1,500, and vandalism. I knew I was.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Jackson said, looking up at the insurance man.

“Jay Jennings. Now if you would just allow Miss Allen to sign the form...”

“Nowhere in this document, Mr. Jennings, does it state that forced entry is required for an act of vandalism to be covered.” The two men considered each other across the table.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mr. Jennings asked rudely.

“Alissa is my girlfriend,” he answered. Girlfriend? I kind of liked the sound of that, and I couldn’t keep the smile from crossing my face despite the awful mess I was in. “My name is Jackson Hayes.”

Mr. Jennings paled and began sweating. “Mr. Hayes, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
Oh God. Here we go.

“Please answer the question, Mr. Jennings. Where does it state that forced entry is required?”

“I’m sure we can work something out. I mean, Miss Allen is correct. She does pay her bill right on time every quarter. We can surely make an exception this one time.” I had never seen a man sweat quite so badly. Seriously? Jackson could do that with just his name? I wondered if he was a customer at the same insurance company.

“I don’t see the need for an exception. This policy states that these damages should be covered.”

“Of course, Mr. Hayes. We’ll have a check processed today.” Jackson looked at me and then looked back at Mr. Jennings. Jackson looked extremely pissed off. I didn’t know what to do. I needed that insurance money, but I didn’t want it to be because Jackson was involved. I just wanted what was rightfully mine according to my policy. I wasn’t trying to commit fraud, but this is why I had insurance in the first place.

“Jackson, I just...”

“Were you just going to take advantage of her?” Jackson sneered. He was leaning over the table now.

“Of course not, Mr. Hayes.”

“Then what exactly were you going to do? Why would you tell her that this wasn’t covered when it clearly is?”

“It was just a misunderstanding. I’m sure...”

Jackson turned back to me.

“How much money do you think you need? If you were to replace everything that was damaged, all the tables and chairs, new linens, new door locks, new curtains and blinds for the windows, and whatever else I might be missing? A realistic estimate please, not a conservative one.”