Page 9 of Backwoods
That Saturday at six o’clock in the morning, Nick sat beside Amiya on his bed and gently shook her shoulder.
“Up and at ’em, beautiful,” he said. “It’s time to roll out.”
Groaning, Amiya shifted away from him and snatched the sheets over her head.
“It’s still dark,” she said, her voice muffled.
“True, but I know you, girl. You take forever to get ready. We need to get to Grandpa Lee’s place as early as we can.”
Nick was already dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and had consumed his usual two cups of strong black coffee. He was not usually an early riser, but he’d been so charged with anticipation that he’d barely slept.
Earlier in the week, he had called Falcon Properties about the letter they had sent to his mother. A representative had confirmed the legitimacy of the offer and asked if the family was ready to proceed with an official contract, contingent upon an appraisal of the property. It had required every ounce of self-control in Nick for him to reply, “Not yet. We’ll let you know soon.”
But he’d already made plans for that money. Four and a half million dollars after federal and state taxes would be about 3.6 million. Grandpa Lee, who obviously had no interest in the financial windfall and drew a handsome pension from his Army service, could get a hundred thousand or so. The rest could be split between Nick and his mother, the sole living heirs to his grandfather’s holdings.
With over 1.5 million dollars at his disposal, he could use a portion to pay off the gangster, Shango, and then he could sell his stake in Legacy Nutrition and do his own thing. He had decided that he couldn’t stay in business with Omar and his shady associates. If they paid off Shango this one time, he would be back again in the future to shake them down, like a schoolyard bully demanding lunch money every day. The only way for Nick to avoid that outcome was for him to cut his ties and launch his own company, with his own money.
Nick hadn’t disclosed any of his detailed plans with Amiya. He’d shared with her that he was going to discuss the matter of the property with Grandpa Lee, but little else. She disagreed with his intent; Amiya was too much like his mother in some ways, and bought into those rosy notions about generational wealth. He loved her, but he was a practical man, and he had to make plans for today.
“Hey.” He shook Amiya again. “Come on, lady. We need to get going.”
Amiya tossed off the sheets and sat up. She was nude, her typical manner of sleeping. Unable to resist, he reached for her leg, pulled her toward him, bent, and kissed the soft flesh of her upper thigh.
“I thought you wanted me to get dressed,” she said. “But looks like you want to get freaky.”
“Sorry.” He smiled, rose from the bed. “Temporary lapse of judgment.”
“Such a man.” She pushed off the mattress and stretched her arms above her head. Even in the shadowed room, her body was a sight to behold.
She walked to the bathroom, and as she went past him he reached out to touch her butt. She playfully swatted his hand away.
“You said to get ready; now I’m getting ready,” she said.
“Fine, fine,” he said.
Forty-five minutes later, she was ready to go. As he’d advised her, she was casually dressed for a day in the country: floral print blouse, white gaucho pants, and comfortable flat-soled shoes. They loaded up in his Range Rover, and he pulled out of his garage into the early-morning sunshine.
“We can eat along the way,” Nick said. “I can swing through a drive-thru, McDonald’s or something like that.”
“Are you serious?” Amiya puckered her lips. “Since when do I eat at McDonald’s? Why can’t we go somewhere decent and sit down?”
“It needs to be somewhere fast. We can’t waste time having some long, leisurely breakfast.”
They compromised on a local coffee shop and ate inside the restaurant, finding a table in the corner of the busy café. Amiya nibbled on a yogurt parfait, and Nick had ordered a sausage and egg sandwich.
“I’m struggling to understand the urgency to get to your grandfather’s place.” Amiya sipped her vanilla latte. “It’s outside of Macon, correct? Only a two-hour drive?”
“A little less than that,” Nick said. “But you have to understand, my grandfather is . . . different.”
“Different how?”
“I already told you that he doesn’t have a phone. Or electricity, or plumbing.”
“So he lives off the grid.” Amiya shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. That’s the new trend.”
“You say that until you spend a little time there, and you realize how dependent we are on modern conveniences. When was the last time you had to use an outhouse?”
“Say no more.” Amiya wrinkled her nose. “That’s not mealtime conversation.”
