More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Read online

  “Are you here for the winner’s cruise?” a man asked, startling me.

  “Yes.”

  He lifted a clipboard. “Your name, sir?”

  Formalities flowed whenever a significant amount of money is involved. The salesclerk in Neiman Marcus yesterday afternoon couldn’t be bothered to toss a cursory hello in my direction as I flipped through a rack of designer suits. But when I pulled out an Armani and asked if they had one in my size, he couldn’t whip out a tape measure fast enough. He piled on the compliments while checking my inseam. Even offered me still or sparkling water.

  A lot of people had called me Sir or Mr. McMillan the past two weeks. The realtor who had handled the sale of my condo was older than my father and reluctantly used my first name after I corrected him multiple times. Same went for the guy at the Audi dealership, as well as the lady from the loan company when I paid off my student loans. The woman from my parents’ mortgage company had flat-out refused to drop the formalities until after I signed the paperwork and handed the deed to my father.

  Word spread about my big win faster than wildfire. My phone blew up with Facebook friend requests, texts, and voicemail messages. Everyone wanted to say hello, see how I was doing, grab a beer, or invite me to a party. If the onslaught didn’t let up soon, I foresaw a deactivated account and a new number in my near future. None of these people could be bothered with me before, and I recognized their poorly masked attempts at friendship as pure bullshit.

  My coworkers looked at me with curiosity and frequently invited me out to lunch. I went once and vowed to never go again when they failed to hide their disappointment after I merely ponied up my share of the bill instead of picking up the entire tab. “I thought he was rich,” one peeved freeloader had muttered as he dug through his wallet. It still pissed me off that someone I barely knew had expected me to pay for him.

  Was I better off now? Absolutely.

  But, quite frankly, a million dollars really isn’t a ton of money. The tax on large amounts of prize money is substantial, nearly cutting it in half. After my initial flurry of spending and paying off debts, roughly a hundred grand remained. While I had a nice cushion, it wasn’t enough to quit my job and spend the rest of my life traveling around the world.

  I’d read stories about people who came into huge windfalls and blew it all in a short period of time, ending up worse off than they were in the first place. I refused to join their club and continued working, socking away my paychecks while keeping opportunistic coworkers at arm’s length.

  The only person who didn’t treat me differently was Diana.

  After a lot of thought, I’d decided to split the jackpot with her. It seemed like the right thing to do, especially since she could use the extra money. She’d refused my offer, insisting the ticket was a gift and that she was happy for me.

  The payout had hit my bank account eight weeks after I reported the win. While Diana had been at a client site last week, I’d stolen the picture of a designer handbag she’d torn out of a fashion magazine and pinned to one of her cube’s walls. I bought the real McCoy and filled it with packs of nicotine gum and arm patches, topping the pile with an envelope containing a cashier’s check for twenty grand. I went to work earlier than usual the next day and planted it on her chair. She’d squealed over the purse, laughed at the anti-smoking stuff, and gasped when she saw the check. The hug she’d given me had rivaled an anaconda’s death squeeze.

  “Sir? I still need your name,” the man prompted me again, snapping me back to the present.

  “Ryan McMillan.”

  “Ah yes, here you are. This way, please.” He motioned for me to proceed up the gangway.

  “Oh my Laaawd,” a nasally, high-pitched voice drawled from behind. “We have got to get us one of these, Eddie. I can totally picture you behind the captain’s wheel wearing one of those fancy hats with an anchor on it while I sunbathe on the deck. I bet Precious would love to go sailing.”

  I turned to find a young bleach-blonde perched on the lap of an old man sitting in a wheelchair steered by an attendant. It looked like he was pushing eighty, while she looked close to my age. She clutched a mesh-sided dog carrier to her enormous breasts, the hem of her skintight sparkly minidress riding up her orange-tinted thighs. “Hi, y’all, we’re Tammy Jo and Edgar Clinton. No relation to Bill and Hillary.” She dissolved into a fit of giggles. The old man made a noise probably meant to be a laugh, but it sounded more like a moan.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton,” the man next to me said, stepping aside as the wheelchair rolled toward the base of the ramp.

  He and I exchanged an amused look after they passed by us. “Go on up, Mr. McMillan. We’ll set sail in a couple of minutes. Enjoy your evening.”

  I thanked him and made my way to the top, barely setting foot on the boat before a server swooped in with a tray of champagne flutes. “No, thank you. I’m good for now,” I told the young woman as loud laughter erupted from a group near the bow. She nodded and turned to make the same offer to a nearby couple. Curious about what was so funny, I walked over to the rear of the crowd.

  “I’d always wanted one of those little guys you see at the zoo. One day I got home from shopping, and Eddie told me there was a surprise out in the sunroom. I ran out there faster than a kid on Christmas morning and found a potted palm tree with the most adorable face peeking out from between the branches. The critter jumped right into my arms, and we’ve been joined at the hip ever since. Now I can’t imagine life without my sweet baby girl. That’s why I take her everywhere.” Tammy Jo reached into the pet carrier and hoisted a diaper-clad monkey up for everyone to see.

  I had assumed a Chihuahua or some other breed of toy dog had been inside the carrier, not a freaking monkey.

  Everyone oohed and ahhed, asking to pet and hold it. “What’s her name?” someone asked.

  “Precious,” the blonde replied. The Southern Illinois twang in her voice made it sound more like Pray-shuss. Precious did not seem to appreciate all the attention, baring her teeth and screeching loudly whenever a hand came close to her. She wiggled out of Tammy Jo’s grasp and jumped, landing on Edgar’s shoulder. “Oh, she just loves her daddy to pieces. Doesn’t she, sugar cake?”

  Edgar moaned several times in response as the beast climbed up and perched atop his bald head like a gargoyle. Tammy Jo rambled on, preening as she told everyone her dress was a handmade Versace she had commissioned specifically for tonight’s event. One sentence later, she complained about how much of a pain it was to fly to New York for fittings, casually telling Edgar they needed to buy a jet because going through regular airport security was a “big old pain in the booty” and stressed her out so much that she broke out “worse than a kid in puberty.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, slowly backing away. I retreated to the railing and prayed for the band setting up in the corner to start playing music soon to drown out show-and-tell while watching crew members unfasten tethers to prepare for departure. Shit. Coming to this shindig had been a huge mistake. I eyed the ramp still attached to the side of the boat and debated whether or not I should haul ass and get off before it was too late.

  “Wait!” someone yelled as the men began to detach the walkway. “Hold the boat, please!” A woman frantically waved an arm over her head, running in high heels with a laptop bag and a purse thumping against her hips. The workers stopped and waited for her to reach them. “Thanks,” she panted out, pushing strands of long, dark hair out of her face. “Sorry I’m late, but traffic was horrible. I guess rush hour isn’t over yet.”

  “You made it just in the nick of time,” the check-in attendant said. “Could I please get your name?”

  “Collette Russo.”

  He crossed her off his list and offered his hand. “Watch your step, Ms. Russo. Don’t want one of your heels to get stuck in a crack.”

  “Please call me Collette. And thank you.” She stepped onto the deck, set down her bags, and removed her blazer, revealin
g a fitted black dress. The dark color and simple design contrasted sharply against the glittery gowns worn by the other female passengers. She looked elegant, more like a mogul than a millionaire.

  Collette tossed her jacket over the back of a lounge chair and rested a hand on the railing, her dark eyebrows lifting as she took in the Tammy Jo show. “Who let that thing on here?” she asked quietly, as though she was thinking out loud.

  “Not me,” I said, shaking my head. “Monkeys belong in jungles or zoos, not on boats.”

  She turned to look at me and smirked. “I wasn’t talking about the monkey.”

  I laughed and inched closer to her. “At least it stopped throwing a fit before you got here. I thought for sure somebody was going to get bitten.”

  “I’d throw a fit, too, if someone turned me into a sideshow. The poor thing is probably miserable as hell.”

  We stood in silence for a beat. A server approached and offered us hors d’oeuvres. Collette leaned over and asked in a low voice, “Is it possible to get a beer? Or better yet, a vodka tonic with a lemon wedge?”

  “Make it two, please.” I winced as Precious let out an ear-splitting shriek. “If it isn’t too much trouble, could you see if there are any cotton balls in the first aid kit? This noise is worse than fingernails on a blackboard.”

  “I can do much better than cotton balls.” He motioned for us to follow him, pausing for Collette to grab her belongings. I pulled out my wallet and withdrew some cash, folding the bills until they were concealed in my palm as he led us to a cluster of small tables nestled under a canopy of white lights at the stern and set down his tray. “You’ll be more comfortable here.”

  Collette stepped forward and extended a hand, the corner of a bill visible between her fingers. “Thank you…” she drifted off and gave the young man a pointed look.

  “Luke,” he supplied, deftly palming the cash as they shook hands. “And I should be the one thanking you because now I have a legitimate reason to spend less time up front.”

  “I’m Collette, and this is…” Her dark brown eyes moved over to me, delicate brows raised in question.

  “Ryan,” I said, offering my hand to pass him the tip he had most definitely earned.

  “Thank you, Luke. I feel like I’ve won the lottery all over again with you in my corner.” Collette sat on the chair he pulled out for her and gave him a sly grin. “Feel free to check on us as often as you like.”

  Luke winked at her and picked up his tray. “I’ll be back shortly with your drinks.”

  I smiled at Collette and shrugged out of my jacket, rolling up my shirtsleeves. “The world needs more Lukes, don’t you agree?”

  She shifted her gaze from the water to me. “He’d make a great personal assistant. I’m just not sure if I can get used to the idea of someone being at my beck and call all the time. This final semester is kicking my butt. I swear my professors saved the worst for last with all the papers and projects they’re assigning. I’ll need help with staying organized once the foundation is up and running at full speed after we move into our new offices.”

  So she was a student, not a working stiff. Interesting. “What degree are you pursuing?” My curiosity had been piqued, and now I wanted details.

  “An MBA. I already have my undergrad in Marketing. I took a semester off and decided to dive back in before losing the urge.”

  I figured she was a year younger than me, maybe two if she was a brainiac and had graduated early. “You mentioned a foundation? What does it do?”

  “We recognize individuals or groups who do good deeds or perform random acts of kindness and contribute to their effort, sponsoring events to raise awareness and funds. Our most recent recipient is a woman who has fostered kids for ten years. She wanted to take on one or two more children, but her house was too small. We put on an addition and remodeled the existing rooms.”

  I’d already liked her before hearing this, and now I wanted to, I don’t know, hug her or something. “Wow. How do you find out about these people?”

  “We hired an agency to place ads in all the local newspapers listing the criteria and the submission process. Emails poured into the general account the day the ads appeared, and bags of mail arrived less than a week later. We had to hire more employees to review all the bids. They whittle the piles down to a manageable stack for my brothers and me. We have the final say and believe me, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. I’ve shed a lot of tears over some of the proposals we turned down.” The smile on her face faded to a solemn expression, and she sighed deeply, turning her gaze back to the water. It wasn’t quick enough. I saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

  “Hey.” I reached over to squeeze her hand. A warm tingle skittered up my arm when we made contact, and her eyes darted over to meet mine. “You’re doing what you can, which is more than most people.” I jerked a thumb toward the front of the boat, where Tammy Jo and the others were probably comparing net worth.

  Luke appeared with our drinks and another tray of finger foods. He sat and chatted for a bit after Collette insisted he take a break. Turned out he was a recent college graduate with a business degree. Collette and I shared a few looks as Luke explained how the waiter gig made ends meet while he searched for a job in his field. He left to check on other guests when the band began to play.

  The conversation and music seemed to cheer up Collette. She tapped the toe of her shoe in time to a cover of Santana’s “Black Magic Woman” while sipping her drink and sampling the food. “You have to try this.” She held out a stuffed mushroom clasped between two fingertips. “I think there’s crack in the filling. I’m going to ask Luke if he can bring a tray of just these guys.”

  I finished draining my glass and took it from her. “You know what would be hilarious?”

  “Someone up front pulling a Leonardo DiCaprio by yelling ‘I’m the king of the world!’ while standing on the railing?”

  Nice. Collette delivered one-liners like a pro. “You win. That’s much funnier than what I was going to say. It involved Precious, these meatballs, and target practice. And before you call PETA on me, the monkey wouldn’t be the target.” I popped the entire mushroom in my mouth and grinned when she burst into laughter.

  It was completely genuine–straight from the belly–and I loved it. This woman was unlike any other I’d ever met. She was kind, generous, beautiful, and had a great sense of humor. For the first time since the whole mess with Kim, I felt interested enough to consider asking Collette out on a date.

  I excused myself to run to the bathroom, bumping into Luke on my way there. He bustled off to get fresh drinks when I told him our glasses were already empty.

  As I walked out of the men’s room, Tammy Jo exited the ladies’. A member of the waitstaff stumbled out behind her, zipping up his pants with a shit-eating grin on his face. Well, well, well. This certainly answered some of the questions that had crossed my mind about her relationship with Edgar. I politely nodded at the gold digger out of habit and kept my eyes on the floor as I brushed past her.

  “Hey there,” she said in a flirtatious tone. Shit. Keep walking. She’ll get the message and go her own way. “Where’s a handsome fella like you headed off to all by himself?”

  Nonononono. The last thing I wanted was for Tammy Jo to follow me and disturb the peace at the back of the boat. Collette would not be happy. I could kiss any chance of scoring a date with her goodbye.

  I turned around and headed in the opposite direction, toward the front of the boat. “Thanks. I almost went the wrong way.”

  She stepped right in the middle of the narrow corridor, leaving me no choice but to stop. “What’s your name, sugar? I never properly introduced myself when we got here. How rude of me.”

  I did what any guy in this situation would do.

  I lied.

  “Francis,” I said, taking my cue from the Frank Sinatra song currently playing. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get back to my fiancée. You saw her, right? Gorgeous brunett
e with the most incredible brown eyes and legs for miles? I owe her a dance, and this is our song.” I’m a damn genius.

  “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” Tammy Jo shrilled, clapping her hands together. “You go on and sweep your woman off her feet. I can’t wait to see this for myself.”

  Oh shit, kill me now. I forced a smile and blew past her in a panic, speed-walking around the forward cabin and booking it down the other side to get to Collette. She and Luke looked up with concern etched on their faces. He held a business card in his free hand. Collette must have put out some feelers about the possibility of him working with her while I was gone.

  “You have to dance with me,” I said, holding out a hand. “We’re engaged, and this is our song, and if we don’t tear up the dance floor right now, Tammy Jo will shift into bloodhound mode and come looking for me and this,” I gestured at the area around us, “will be invaded by narcissists.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Collette stood and moved a small diamond ring from her right hand to her left. “Do us a solid and bring the entire bottle of vodka,” she said to Luke. “Something tells me we’re gonna need it.”

  We ran back up to the bow as the second verse of “The Way You Look Tonight” began. Collette placed one hand on my shoulder and the other in mine. “At least we chose a good song, pookie.” She grinned, and I chuckled, thankful for her great sense of humor.

  Tammy Jo squealed from the sidelines. “Aren’t they just the sweetest little couple you’ve ever seen? This is their song, y’all.” She tapped a cocktail fork against the side of her champagne flute. “Practice makes perfect for your wedding. Show us a nice kiss.”

  I dipped my head until my mouth hovered next to Collette’s ear, getting a whiff of her floral scented shampoo. “Why does this keep escalating at the speed of light? You’ll be knocked up with quadruplets before the night is over at this rate. We’re not her monkeys, so we’ll do as we damn well please.” She laughed as I spun her out, kissed her knuckles, and reeled her back in.