A Kind of Honesty Read online

  Carter lifted his cocktail in a friendly toast and tapped his glass against mine. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I didn’t come yet,” I quipped.

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head in mock chagrin. “That was a bad joke the other night too.”

  “I know, but the worst part is it’s still true.”

  He chuckled lightly, then sipped his martini. He kept his gaze on me as though he was studying me for clues while probably aware that I was doing the same. This was so… awkward.

  We shared a weak smile, letting the soft hum of conversation from nearby tables float around us. I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to begin. I’d racked my brain all day trying to remember what, if anything, Benny or Zeke may have told me about Carter in the past, but I came up blank.

  “What do you—?”

  “Why don’t we—?”

  Carter gave a half laugh and gestured for me to go ahead.

  “We should have met at a sleazy bar. This place is so… stuffy.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “You should have suggested one. I wasn’t sure you’d show up tonight at all.”

  “I was too curious,” I admitted.

  I carelessly shook the ice in my glass as I studied his high cheekbones, strong jawline, and full mouth. There had to be some interesting explanation for his aristocratic mannerisms and regal bearing. Knowing he owned a finance firm didn’t give me any real clues. It only meant he was smart. And probably well-off. But material wealth didn’t equate to cultured grace. I’d met plenty of wealthy people in the last couple years with less polish than an empty can of Pledge. Carter practically oozed blue blood.

  “I’m glad you did.” He squinted playfully before he added, “But you look like you’re planning your escape. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I just have a lot of questions. How old are you? Where are you from? Why are we really here? You know… the basics. I don’t get this and I need something concrete so this makes sense.”

  Carter pursed his lips together as if the gesture might hold back his grin. It didn’t. “What do you want to know?”

  I felt that same heated flash of awareness I had earlier. It rendered me tongue-tied for a moment. I reached for my water again and sat back in my chair.

  “Everything. Tell me about yourself. Are we really here to discuss stocks and equity? If so, don’t order a big dinner. This will be quick. I don’t know anything about those topics other than I have them.”

  “Got it. But I’m pretty sure we’ve already covered the basics. I’m a New Yorker, born and raised and—”

  “You said Jersey,” I corrected.

  “I did? When?”

  “At the bar in LA. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t believe anything you said that night anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked sincerely taken aback, which made me laugh. “Because you were a hookup. You were supposed to lie. Hell, I lied. The way I see it, I did you a favor. You didn’t want to know about the real me any more than I wanted to know about you. It was friendly banter meant only as a precursor to the main event.”

  “Sex?” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin.

  “Yeah, sex,” I repeated loudly.

  When the older couple seated next to us threw an annoyed glance our way, I snickered like a moronic teenager. It may have been immaturity at its finest or evidence of the warped sense of humor I shared with my bandmates, but Carter clearly wasn’t amused, if his stern expression was any indication.

  “Shh!” he hissed.

  “Sorry,” I whispered mischievously. “Where’d you go to college?”

  He hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat before speaking. “I received my undergrad degree from Princeton and my business degree from Columbia.”

  I hummed thoughtfully. “Bet you went to boarding school too.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said in a haughty tone, dropping his gaze to reach for the dinner menu. “You?”

  “I went to Madison High and Battersea Community College.” I gave a short, derisive huff. “We have nothing in common, except the people we know and an incredible night of—”

  Carter snapped his menu closed and glared at me.

  “What’d I say?” I cocked my head in mock confusion. I was being a prick and I knew it, but I was fascinated by his funny duality. This uptight side fit the well-dressed businessman dining a client at a high-end Manhattan restaurant. But I’d witnessed a completely different man sidled up to a trashy bar in a seedy part of LA wearing cowboy boots and tight jeans, looking for sex.

  “Hmph. You forget, we have your money in common too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d bet my left nut my money is chump change compared to what you’re used to dealing with. I’m the equivalent of a kid with a piggy bank. I don’t take trips to the Bahamas on a whim or funnel funny money through the Caymans. I’m just stoked I can afford a place of my own in the city and Knicks tickets whenever they’re in town.”

  “Don’t play the part of a homebody. I don’t buy it. Spiral is a big deal these days.”

  “Is that why we’re really here? Spiral?”

  He snorted derisively. “Gee, and I thought we were here because you’re such charming company. Let’s be honest. We’re here because LA happened.”

  I leaned forward to respond just as the headwaiter reappeared to take our order. I opened my menu, stealing glances at my erudite companion as he asked questions about the specials. He had an uncanny ability to look relaxed yet dignified at the same time.

  The waiter retreated, leaving us with a promise of fresh bread and another visit by the sommelier with our wine. I sat back in my chair to observe Carter as he polished off his martini. Damn, he was hot. When he tipped his glass, I had a flashback of him arching his back in ecstasy, exposing his elegant neck for me to lick and bite while I moved inside him. I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Or I should have insisted on choosing the restaurant. Somewhere hip, casual, and loud. The kind of place I could use noise and ambience as an excuse to get closer to him.

  I leaned forward again, resting my chin on my hand in a casual pose that was surely frowned upon in ritzy restaurants. “LA was a departure for me. But in a good way.”

  “It was,” he agreed in a huskier tone. His eyes smoldered with a sensual heat that told me he was having his own flashback.

  “The truth is I really am a homebody. I’m a simple guy. This”—I swept my arm in a flourishing gesture toward the restaurant’s grand interior—“is nice, but it’s not the real world, and it’s definitely not me.”

  “Tell me about you, then.”

  I flashed a cocky, lopsided grin. “I’m twenty-eight. A Virgo. I like piña coladas, walking… rain or shine, and I’ve never tried yoga, but I could be persuaded. How about you?”

  Carter snorted in a decidedly undignified manner that made me chuckle. “I’m thirty-three, a Pisces. I hate piña coladas or anything with coconut, I love yoga, and… you totally botched the lyrics. It’s something about getting lost or stuck in the rain. I think it’s a Jimmy Buffett song. Or he wrote it anyway.”

  I grinned. “Nicely done. You like Jimmy Buffett?”

  “Sure. I like all kinds of music, but I mostly listen to classic rock.”

  “You look more like the classical type.”

  “I like it, but I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite necessarily.” He paused and gave me a playful scowl. “I get the impression you think you’ve got me figured out.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Then you’re wrong. I’m trying, though. You’re kind of a mystery. I wish I could just ask Benny and Zeke, but I don’t feel like trying to explain my sudden interest without fielding a million questions.”

  “Zeke wouldn’t be fazed in the slightest.”

  “Benny would.”

  “True,” Carter agreed with a grin. “But he was too busy setting you up with his cousin the other night to even consider the idea tha
t we might know each other. He would have been shocked.”

  “Maybe we should have told them.”

  “We were shocked too,” he reminded me. “I couldn’t adjust fast enough, and I wasn’t sure you wanted me to anyway. And with Lance there, it would have been awkward.”

  “Ah! Lance. Tell me about your complication.”

  “He’s my ex. We broke up a few months ago, but—”

  “You broke up and he’s still groping your ass in public?” I asked incredulously. I rolled my eyes as I reached for my water. “Whatever. The guy is sexy as fuck. I’d do him.”

  Carter guffawed merrily but quickly regained composure when he was treated to a round of dirty looks from the adjacent table. “Nice to know.”

  “What’s the story?”

  “We dated casually over the past year or so. He’s a lawyer. I met him through another ex and—we were never serious. It felt more like friends with benefits one minute and then more than I bargained for the next.”

  “So why bring him to Benny’s party?”

  “We’re still friends. Lance was my ‘plus one’ the other night. That’s all.”

  I narrowed my gaze and leaned toward him inquisitively. “Did you have sex with him?” I asked louder than intended.

  “Shh! Jesus! What is your problem?” He reached for his cocktail, darting his eyes sideways to gauge our neighbors’ reaction.

  I held up my hands in a show of innocence and whispered, “Sorry. It’s not my business. I’m just curious.”

  Carter heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Relax. I’ll be good.”

  I’d opened my mouth to add God knows what when our waiter returned. He recited an impressive array of gourmet additions to the menu and asked if we’d made our selections. And yes, those were his words, “impressive array” and “additional gourmet selections.” The ridiculous pretension was borderline hysterical.

  “Do you know what you’d like, Tim?” Carter asked in a cool, collected tone that made me do a double take. He didn’t sound like the guy who’d been talking about hooking up with his sexy ex a few seconds ago.

  I stared at him blankly before turning to our waiter. “Do you have hamburgers?”

  To his credit, the waiter didn’t falter. “We do indeed, sir. How would you like yours prepared?”

  “Medium, please. How about fries? Do you have steak fries, regular or skinny? I’m not a fan of steak fries… too much potato. But I’ll go with anything else.”

  “Our french fries are a shoestring cut. Will that suffice?”

  “Awesome. And ketchup please. If you put it in those tiny round bowls, bring at least four.”

  “Certainly, sir. May I pour your wine?”

  “Not for me, thanks. I’m taking the subway home. I gotta make sure I don’t wind up in Astoria.”

  I handed the waiter my menu with a smile, ultra-aware of Carter’s scrutiny before he turned to place his order in a barely discernable tone. I was sitting a couple feet away from the guy and I had no idea what the hell he ordered. For all I knew, he may have requested a doggie bag for me with strict instructions to be as quick in the kitchen as possible.

  When the waiter stepped aside, I stood again to remove my sport coat. A few people glanced in our direction before averting their eyes. When I sat down, I unbuttoned my shirtsleeves, folding the fabric to expose the colorful ink on my right forearm before working on the other sleeve.

  “What are you doing?” Carter asked with careful nonchalance.

  “It’s hot in here. If we’re talking sex or money… comfort is key, right?” I lifted my water and took a sip, making sure to catch a piece of ice on my tongue. I smiled as I crunched the ice obnoxiously.

  “Hmm. Let’s save the sex talk for later. Do me a favor and keep your voice down. And your clothes on.”

  I chuckled lightly. “Fine. No sex. No money. What now? Hunky Lance, our mutual friends, movies, music, or—”

  “What’s your family like?”

  “Buzzkill,” I grumbled, shaking my glass to dislodge more ice.

  “I’m curious. What do they think of the band’s success? They must be proud.”

  “I’m not sure proud is the right word. Confused is more like it. No one knows what to think. Including me. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I’m not sure if it’s real.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “One minute I was sharing a crappy two-bedroom, one-bath apartment with an iffy heater in the dead of winter with two buddies and playing at small clubs in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn, the next… everything changed. Don’t get me wrong. There was nothing overnight about it. We slogged our way through the club scene in Baltimore and DC before trying the Big Apple out for size. Every ounce of hard work came together one night at a random show in Brooklyn when Will stepped in for our then-guitarist. Never underestimate dumb luck,” I advised, raising my brow sagely.

  “I wouldn’t dare. What about your parents? Are you close to them?”

  I was a little surprised by his somewhat stubborn curiosity about my family. Most people wanted to know about my short stint in the limelight and what I thought about our chances to keep things moving in an upward trend. Not about my ragtag clan of middle-class relatives.

  “I’m as close as I can be without living in the same state. I talk to my mom at least once a week and try to always answer when she calls, even though it is supremely tempting to let her go to voice mail. She’s a nervous wreck half the time. Conversations with her are like walking on a freeway along the median. As long as everyone stays in their lanes, everything will be fine.”

  “What about siblings?”

  “I have one sister who’s a year older than me, and she has a nine-year-old son. And that’s pretty much it for the Chalmers clan. There are a few aunts, uncles, and assorted cousins, but I don’t really keep in touch.”

  “Hmm. What’s your sister like?”

  “Kat is… kind of a mess. She’s in rehab. Again. My nephew lives with his dad.”

  “Did they divorce?”

  “Nah. They were never married. It’s… hard to explain. But it was years ago. Liam is a great kid. He’s tough but funny too. My mom helps with after-school stuff, which I think takes the sting out of Kat’s issues. At least she gets to see Liam every day. She’s one of those parents who couldn’t wait for her children to marry nice church-going folks and spawn a few grandkids for her to spoil. Things haven’t gone according to plan exactly,” I huffed humorlessly. “Instead, her son’s in a band, her daughter’s an addict with a baby daddy who—whatever. At least she’s got Liam and the Lord. They keep her happy. Sort of.”

  “What about your father?”

  “I haven’t seen him in years.” My dull tone and matching stare didn’t invite further discussion.

  “Oh.”

  “Sorry you asked?” I crossed my eyes and made a goofy face I hoped would add a little levity. There was nothing like tales of dysfunctional family dynamics to bring a party to a screeching halt.

  “No. I like hearing about other people’s families.”

  There was a wistful quality to Carter’s smile I couldn’t read. I curbed my smartass remark about trading places and simply asked, “Why?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “No family? At all?”

  “No. My father passed away when I was twelve.”

  “That sucks.”

  “He was eighty.”

  “Huh?”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of our dinners. It took three servers to carry two plates, pour Carter’s wine, and deliver a small tray of ketchup for me. I tuned out the extra activity to study my dinner companion as he spoke in hushed tones to the headwaiter. The divide between our worlds was so obvious it was comical. Carter was elegant and refined. From the set of his shoulders to the proud tilt of his chin. He was the country club type who “summered” at exclusive European resorts and hung out with guys with nicknames l
ike Chip and Kit. I should have been completely turned off and maybe a little disgusted by the extreme disparity of our upbringings. There was no way he could relate on any level to my life experiences.

  It was ridiculous to pretend we had anything in common at all. He was part of corporate America while I played drums in a band who prided ourselves on our civic-mindedness and our ability to connect with the masses. I should have been choking for air in the midst of this oppressive opulence, the way I had been in that Bel Air hotel room the night I’d finally ended things with Miranda. This was the higher-end version of Hollywood pretension. A different side of the same coin.

  However, artifice didn’t cling to him the way it did to some people. He was strangely real in spite of his posh manners. He made me curious.

  When the waiters departed, I picked up a french fry and casually chomped on it until he looked up at me.

  “I’m waiting. You were about to tell me about your tough life among the Hamptons country club set.” I raised my eyebrows in query when he gave me a dirty look.

  “You’re a dick.”

  I gasped in mock dismay, and then theatrically glanced from side to side, noting that our nearest neighbors had left. We had a private corner to ourselves for now.

  “Sometimes.” I reached for a few more fries and offered him one with a mischievous grin. “Go on. Your father was old, your mother is—”

  “No idea.”

  “She’s missing?”

  “She may as well be. My mother was my father’s much younger mistress. Scandalous. I never really knew her. She married an older, rich man for his money and had a kid to secure her claim to a piece of his fortune. They divorced when I was a baby. She took her share and left town. Of course, she returned when he died, but my father was a finance wizard. He may have been taken once, but he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He made sure she didn’t receive another dime. Or custody of me. She wasn’t interested anyway. My Aunt Margaret, Father’s younger sister, lived with me until I left for college. She was a widow with no children. Great lady. Sadly, she passed away four years ago… making me the last of the Hamilton-Temples.”