Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Ten years. Feels like yesterday my boy was still with me.” Grandpop laughs bitterly. “Time moves fast when you get to be my age.”
“Why are you thinking about him?”
“I thought your father would succeed me one day. That was the plan for a very long time.”
My eyebrows raise. “That’s news to me,” I say, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement. Grandpop never, ever discusses succession, not even when asked directly, and this is the first time he’s even mentioned the possibility. I didn’t know my father was the first one in line and I doubt anyone else did, including my old man. Otherwise, he might’ve gotten his shit together, forced himself to get sober, and he might still be here today.
“Don’t be so surprised. Your father was the only one that truly gave a shit about Mack’s Barbecue. The rest of my useless kids thinks it’s beneath them to run a restaurant chain, but they don’t understand the value of hard work. They only see our family name and think that should be enough.” Grandpop spits and shakes his head. He’s a rugged old bastard, a gritty, hardscrabble sort of Texan that thinks he’s still a cowboy even though he spends most of his life in luxury and hasn’t ridden a horse in twenty years at least.
“I’m mostly surprised you’re bringing it up at all. We’ve all noticed that you don’t like discussing about your successor.”
Grandpop snorts. “Would you like talking about that? Do you want to talk about how you’re gonna be put out to pasture one day?”
“No, but it’s sensible to have a plan.”
“I have a plan.” His jaw works for a moment and his pace slows. “I’ve done a lot in my day, Ford. I started Mack’s when the family was at its lowest and I saved all our asses by creating an empire. I’ve won bets, married beautiful women, had a big family, traveled the world. I killed a bull in Spain and kissed a girl on the Eiffel tower. I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m still restless.”
“You’ve had one hell of a life.” I smile at him tightly and don’t bother to mention the string of divorces and the long list of scandals and messes he’s caused by doing whatever he wants. Not that I can blame him—in his position, I would’ve done exactly the same.
Hell, I still plan on it, which is why I’m putting up with his rambling nonsense.
“One hell of a life,” he agrees, nodding. “But it’s not over yet and there’s still work to do. There’s one goal I’ve never achieved, and it’s the one goal I care about the most in this world. That’s why you’re here.”
“Whatever it is, I’d be happy to help.”
“Don’t butter me up, god damn it. I get enough of your cousins shoving their noses up my asshole and sniffing and telling me how nice it smells.” He stops and jams a finger in my chest. I have a strange moment where I remember another time someone did that exact thing to me, except she was young and stupid and trying to be seductive, while Grandpop is old and smart and trying to intimidate. Strange how the same gesture can mean two completely different things. “I’m going to ask you to do something hard. You’re not going to like it. But if you pull it off, I promise I’ll make it worth the effort.”
I stare down at him. “You’ll make me your successor.”
“Damn right I will.” He stares back, which means this is big. This is very big. I’m sweating now, heart racing. This is what I’ve wanted my whole life—my chance to sit at the head of the family and run the Arc empire, and all I have to do is cross one last item off Grandpop’s bucket list. If the old man wants me to carry him from room to room in some sick, niche whorehouse in the deepest, darkest depths of Siberian Russia, I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do anything to make this happen.
Years and years of hard work brought me to this moment. Years of fighting off my cousins, of dealing with their bullshit, their backstabbing, their two-faced lying, their aggression. Years of working diligently at the company and not taking shit from anyone. Years of my uncles looking down on me, of my aunts talking shit behind my back, all to end up on this hike with this old man out in the wilderness.
I’m so close. So fucking close. It’s right there and all I have to do is take it.
“What do you need from me?”
“You know the Stockton family.” That’s not a question. Every Arc knows the Stocktons. There’s a feud going back to our cattle ranching days and for some reason, Grandpa’s been holding on to it tighter than most. He despises Ernest Stockton, the current head of the Stockton family, maybe because their family is everything we used to be: independently wealthy, politically connected, immensely powerful. We lost all that thanks to bad investments by Grandpop’s father, and we only managed to claw back a portion of our former selves through Grandpop’s ingenuity.