Too Far 05 - Simple Perfection

my father; however, I don’t feel the same way about them. I have no need for a board that I can’t share my ideas with and whose opinions I can’t trust. I’m replacing the board with people I want to have input into the future of the Kerrington Club.”
    Dean held up a hand to stop me, then he cocked one dark eyebrow. “Are you saying you fired all their uppity asses?”
    I nodded.
    Dean threw his head back and cackled with laughter. “Damn, that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard in a while.”
    If I could have managed a smile these days I would have smiled then. “I want you on my board, sir. Rush will also be asked, of course.”
    Dean dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and studied me a moment. “You want me on your board?”
    “Yes, I do. My group of friends are all young. We need wisdom on the board and you’re the only man I know that I would want advising me.”
    A slow smile spread across Dean’s face. “I’ll be damned.”
    Probably, but I wasn’t going to agree with him. I just waited.
    “Hell yeah, I’ll be on your board. My grandson is going to grow up in this town and the Kerrington Club and the members here will be a big part of his life. I want to make sure he has the best.”
    I had hoped he would feel that way. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. I’m honored that you will be a part of the future of the club.”
    “Me too,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But, Woods, if we’re gonna do this, then should you stop calling me sir . Makes me sound old. I bang chicks younger than you, son.”
    I might not have been able to smile but I was amused. “I’m sure you do,” I replied.
    “That was pretty damn funny. What’s wrong with you, boy? I can’t seem to get you to crack a smile.”
    I didn’t want to talk about Della with Dean. He wouldn’t understand. Like he said, he was with a different girl every night. “Personal stuff. I’m working through it.”
    Dean rubbed his chin, then tilted his head as he looked at me too closely. “It’s a woman. That look is always caused by a fucking woman. Don’t bother denying it. I can see it all over your face.”
    I didn’t admit it but I didn’t deny it. Instead, I dropped my eyes to the table and shifted through some paperwork. I had a contract Dean needed to sign and we needed to discuss his monthly salary, not that he needed it.
    “Who is she? What did she do? She getting under your skin and you’re ready to run, or has she already got you on her hook and she’s trying to let you go?”
    I pulled out the contract and took my pen and pushed them across the table. “Neither. I need you to sign the contract saying everything we discuss about the club is confidential. Your salary is listed as well.”
    Dean didn’t lean forward and take the paper. He was still focused on me. He started to shake his head and let out a low whistle. “Woods motherfucking Kerrington is in love. Damn, it’s in the water down here. I need to get my ass back to LA. You young boys going manic over one pretty little girl. There’s lots of fish. Lots of fucking beautiful fish. Why worry about one when you can have ’em all? Brunette on Monday and a redhead on Tuesday, twins on Wednesday, a blonde with big ole titties on Thursday, an Asian beauty on Friday, and her sister on Saturday, then on Sunday is when you get you one of each and have one big-ass party all damn day. No need to get wrapped up in just one.”
    This was very similar to a speech he’d given us one summer when Rush had taken us on a road trip to see Slacker Demon in Atlanta. We had, of course, been granted backstage access and hung out with the band. It was Dean’s life. I had thought it was a lonely life back then. Now that I’d had Della, I knew it was a lonely life. I wasn’t interested.
    “Just want the one,” I told him.
    “She must be special,” he said, and leaned forward to pick up the pen. “I’m not signing my life away or adding you to my will, am I?” he asked.
    “No, just agreeing to keep the club’s business confidential.”
    “I don’t need the money. Put it in a trust fund for Nate. Have Rush set it up.”
    I’d expected as much. “Yes, sir”—his head snapped up—“I mean, Dean,” I said, correcting myself.
    He nodded. “Better.” Then he stood up and slapped his hand down on the desk. “Looks good on you, boy. Looks real good on you,” he said, then turned and walked out of the