Granger wraps the towel around his waist. He’s about Cash’s size, five nine or so, and is in extremely good physical shape, possibly even better shape than Cash, and he’s fifty-six years old. The villa has a full gym with two Peloton bikes; Granger and Tilda’s mother, Lauren, get up at five thirty every morning to ride together, then Granger does his weight regimen, then he swims.
“Want some green juice?” Granger asks Cash. On the counter of the outdoor kitchen is a carafe of liquid the color of shamrocks. It was most likely put there by Virgie, the housekeeper, who moves around the villa with the stealth of a ninja and who, this past week, has refused to let Cash do so much as take his own dishes to the sink.
Guilt—his mother; Baker; Floyd. If they knew how Cash was living, what would they think? “Sure,” Cash says. He accepts a glass of green juice, takes a sip, and immediately wants to spit it out. It’s liquefied kale, he suspects, with maybe a thin slice of apple or one green grape thrown in.
“Lauren and I are very protective where Tilda is concerned,” Granger says. “She tends to show all her cards. She doesn’t have much of a poker face, I’m afraid.” Granger gulps down the entire glass of juice and Cash shivers just watching; he’s unsure he can manage even one more sip. “It’s clear how much she likes you. She says you have other places you can go, so it’s not like you’re using her to avoid being homeless.”
“Right,” Cash says quickly. “That’s right, sir.”
“Please, call me Granger.”
“Granger, sir,” Cash says. He can’t help it; the sir comes automatically. Granger Payne is a sir as surely as Johnny Cash or Muhammad Ali would be a sir. “I could move in with my mother or my brother. And I’ll do that if it makes you more comfortable.” Here, Cash holds Granger’s gaze, willing the older man not to call his bluff. Irene is presently living in Maia’s bedroom at Huck’s house, and Baker is still at the Westin hemorrhaging five hundred dollars a night while he looks for an affordable year-round rental. Cash told Baker that if he found something big enough, Cash would happily move in, share the rent, provide child care for Floyd.
“Okay,” Baker said. “But you’d better have a backup plan.”
Cash had initially considered asking Ayers if he could take over her lease, since she had gotten engaged to Mick and would likely move in with him. He wasn’t sure how much she paid but if she could afford it, then he could, right? They worked at the same place. But Ayers had a second, very lucrative job waiting tables at La Tapa. Cash would likely need to get a second job as well. He should be looking now instead of goofing off every day with Tilda.
The plan of taking over Ayers’s place vanished when Tilda came home from La Tapa with the news that Ayers was no longer engaged. She had given the ring back to Mick.
“Stay here for the time being, please,” Granger says. “I have to admit, I like the idea of having another man around. Tilda and her mother tend to gang up on me. I could use some support.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cash says. He needs to excuse himself so Tilda can drive him to work. He’s dependent on her for everything, and she has been a total rock star, accommodating him and never making him feel bad. I have more than enough privilege for both of us.
“Tilda tells me you used to be in the outdoor-supply business in Colorado,” Granger says. “What happened?”
“Ah,” Cash says. He has any number of responses ready: I got tired of the cold, the lack of oxygen, the stoner teenagers who worked for me stealing from the register. But he suspects that Granger Payne has run a background check on him and maybe also investigated his credit. “I blew it. My father bought me the stores and expected me to know how to run them. But I didn’t learn how to manage them properly until it was too late. I got behind with the bank and they went under. It was quite a learning experience.”
“I’m happy to hear you learned something,” Granger says. “Because I have an exciting business proposition on the horizon, and Tilda is dead set on having you be a part of it. Sweat equity, boots-on-the-ground type of stuff. You’re good with people, I can see that, and you seem to have personal integrity. Another man might have lied to me about the stores or tried to blame the failure on someone else.”
Cash nods. Integrity he has. It’s everything else he’s lacking.
“How well do you handle unexpected setbacks?” Granger asks.
“Um…” Cash says. “Pretty well. I mean, yeah, my life has been one unexpected setback after another recently, but I’m still standing. So I’d say
