Three Rivers (5 page)

Nicholas Griffen Tate rubbed his face and gritted his teeth as he drank his
Macallan Gold Scotch
on a stool at the crowded downtown Pittsburgh bar two blocks away from the glamorous
Fairmont Hotel
, which would be his home for the next two weeks.

His mom wanted him to stay with her, but he couldn't do it. Even now that his father was dead and buried all these years, it still hurt to be in that house — the whole street for that matter. If a zip code could be filled with regret and lost opportunities, for Griffen, that was it.

"Need another?" Griffen looked up quickly at the nattily dressed bartender.

"Yeah, a double sounds good."

"Gaht it. Comin' right up." Griffen smirked bitterly into his glass as he emptied it and shook the perfectly square ice cube against the sides.

He hadn't heard the Pittsburgh dialect in years, but it was as distinct as they come. The years away were disappearing for him with each extended vowel he heard.

"Hey, you look familiar," the bartender added as he started to fill a fresh tumbler. "Have you been in 'ere before?"

"No, I, uh, grew up here, but I'm thirty-one, man, I doubt you know me from then."

"Nah, that's naht it. Sorry, but it's gonna bug me all night." Someone elbowed him behind the bar and whispered in his ear. "Oh man, I didn't realize — you're Griffen Tate, the writer! I heard you were from da Burgh, but this is crazy. Though, it looks like you probably don't want any attention, right?"

"No. No, I don't want attention, just the drink."

"Gaht it," the bartender said as he switched out the glasses. "Man, that's so cool though. I love those Cade Jackson movies," he whispered across the bar, his young hands gripping the edge.

"Thanks. You know they were books, too, right?"

"Oh yeah, I read 'em. I just love watching all that stuff blow up for real in the movies."

Griffen winced. Of course this kid would like his Cade Jackson stories. Young males with a love of booze and a desire to live like they were in a video game were his target audience. He nodded at the grinning bartender in thanks for the second round, hoping that getting drunk would take the edge off his shitty mood, and then hating himself for sounding just like his dad.

He sighed, feeling weary down to his bones. It wasn't too long of a drive down from New York, but for him it had felt like an eternity. He'd been filled with dread each mile that he drove closer to his hometown and all that it meant to him.

Everyone raves about the view coming out of Fort Pitt Tunnel into the heart of the city. You emerge from the belly of an ancient mountain to see each of the three rivers and all of the triangular shaped modern downtown area laid out in front of you, as though you're trapped in some enormous snow globe. Yet, for him it had felt like a slow march into a past he'd been running from for longer than he cared to admit.

Christ, man, just drink your scotch and turn down the self-loathing a notch already, will you,
he told himself.

Being back here was doing a number on his head. He ran his hand through his wavy dark hair and squeezed for a second. He shook his head, letting his hair flop across his forehead and his hand fall back to his glass. Griffen wasn't a drink snob, but he'd felt like getting from zero to wasted as quickly as possible, and a glass full of the throat burning hooch had seemed like an effective way to start.

Ten years.

That's how long he'd stayed away and it would have been longer if it were up to him.

Forever seemed like a good length of time.

Griffen jerked when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out with a grimace. Kevin Stevens texting again:
Glad you made it in all right. The key to your office for the next 2 weeks is with the provost. Thanks again kid!

Griffen snorted. He definitely wasn't a kid anymore, but he couldn't complain. Coming from Professor Stevens the term felt like a badge of honor, an endearment. Even though his mind was reeling from the rush of old memories that being back in Pittsburgh brought to him, Griffen hadn't hesitated to agree to fill in for a couple weeks to cover the start of Stevens' investigative journalism and non-fiction writing courses at the
University of Pittsburgh
while he finished recovering from his double bypass surgery. In fact, he felt grateful for the opportunity to help him out. Stevens and his high school football coach had been the only relationships Griffen had ever experienced that resembled what someone would have with a good father.

Stevens' heart attack had hit Griffen so much harder than his own bastard of a dad's death. He was still handsome and fit at fifty; no one had seen it coming and it made Griffen feel like an ass that he hadn't visited him during all this time. He owed him the world. He knew that the least,
seriously, the least
, he could do was swallow the painful discomfort of being back in the Steel City and all the rotten memories that came with it — if only for a couple weeks.

Stevens was great friends with Griffen's mom Valerie. He suspected Stevens had wanted it to be more, but he never said anything to his mom. Either way, it was Stevens who'd mentored him when he went to
University of Pittsburgh
, recognized his talent and guided him toward becoming an investigative journalist and writer.

Even after Griffen left school, Stevens never stopped looking out for him and giving him advice. He'd supported his decision to quit football and leave college after his sophomore year and set him up with his first big job with the Associated Press. Griffen always sought out the most dangerous assignments, quickly landing an assistant job on an exciting embedment with an elite Army Rangers unit in the heart of the biggest Taliban insurgency in Afghanistan.

His time with the Rangers inspired "Mountains of Enemies" — his first mystery thriller starring "Cade Jackson." It became a runaway bestseller with the hottest action hero character in the world.

After it was turned into a successful movie, Griffen got restless, then living in Mexico for a year, researching and investigating the Mexican drug cartels. This led to his second bestseller and another movie and a solid reputation as an "
it
" writer. Then came a blockbuster video game based on the books, cell phone covers, ring tones. Whatever crap could be made from these stories, they'd done it.

Christ, last I heard there was some whiskey in Japan name after Cade.
Ridiculous
.

Now, at thirty-one, he had more money than he could ever spend, he never wanted for female attention and he could finally try to convince himself he was worth something. That he was better than his father. Yet, the moment this city had laid itself out in front of him, he realized just how little pride he really felt in who he'd become.

He took another burning sip, desperate to quiet the painful memories and disappointment that kept rising up with each breath.

Griffen's phone buzzed again in his pocket. He frowned at the screen. Another call from his agent. He hadn't been able to write anything since his second book, instead relying on riding out the fame of his first two novels. His agent and publisher were still breathing down his neck for a new hit, but he didn't have it in him.

Fuck 'em, they can wait a little longer. I've made them all very rich.

Griffen took a deeper drink and thought,
well, if I can't write and I'm stuck in this damn city, I might as well keep drinking
.

As he waited for his next drink, Griffen was finally feeling nicely buzzed and leaned back to observe the crowd, surprised by the hip cocktails and hipper clientele. Chic or stodgy, he didn't give a crap, but this certainly differed from the dive joints he remembered getting loaded in growing up. Several women gave him long, meaningful glances. He smirked back but couldn't get himself interested in that kind of distraction.

Before he could get too wrapped up in the same cycle of guilty thoughts, a lilting female laugh behind Griffen's back jarred him to attention.

After a heartier laugh followed, a throaty but feminine voice said, "Jeez ladies, I think he's a bit too hipster for me. If I hooked up with him, it would have to be done
ironically
. I mean, he's got a beard
and
he's wearing a vest!" Griffen laughed as the bartender put down his drink and he tried to listen in as inconspicuously as possible.

"What about that one?" Griffen heard a louder voice ask. "
Mmm
, what a fine ass, and nice broad shoulders. He's turning around…
come on lucky seven
. Uh-oh, no," she added with a snort. "Sorry Tea, my bad. He's got a hot body, but his face, blech. Moving on."

A third female voice said, "Excellent point. Let's keep looking in a logical manner. I'm not giving up yet. Hmm. He's too big, he's too young, he's too short, he's too...Ugh."

"All right Goldi
cocks
, I think you both have had your shot here. This is the third bar you've dragged me to tonight. It's late, my feet hurt and I think I've been a good sport. Let's move it along now, shall we? How about we just go home? You promised me ice cream and pajamas if this didn’t work out — I think it’s time."

Aw hell no
, Griffen thought, he had to get a look at this woman with the sexy voice before she left. He slowly turned around in his stool and his breath caught and his throat closed right around it. She was fucking gorgeous.

Her friends — Goldicocks one and two he presumed — flanked her. They were lovely in their own right, a blonde and a brunette, but he only had eyes for the honey haired beauty in front of him.

He looked down at his drink pretending not to hear them, when the brunette blurted, "Over there by himself at the bar in the gray sports jacket. Ooh, he's delicious. This Goldicocks says he's
just right
."

Griffen stifled a smile when he glanced at the sleeve of his gray sports jacket.
Oh yes, Goldicock number one, do me a solid with your friend please,
he silently pleaded
.

"Uh, girls," the goddess stammered, "a little too perfect, don't you think? Not sure I can afford the stud fee on that one."

Griffen almost choked on his drink as he thanked God that women with a couple drinks in them lost all capacity to whisper effectively.

This pretty little thing finds me perfect, huh? Very far from the truth, but I can let her believe it for now. Maybe this night isn't a total loss after all.

He surreptitiously shifted in his stool so he could take her in more fully.

Gorgeous. That was the only word that kept going through his head. The only word he could say about her. He hadn't wanted any of the other women staring at him from around the bar, but this one was another thing altogether. She looked like exactly what he needed to take the edge off his internal shit storm. He had to have her.

Her hair was long and fell in waves across smooth, lovely shoulders and round, soft breasts that looked like they would fit nicely in his hands — and his mouth, which watered at the thought. It was her eyes that had him transfixed, though. They were wide and almond shaped and the most unique color — hazel, with radiating shades of gold and green throughout, with an outline of jet black around the irises making the unique color even more pronounced.

He stood up and walked toward her. She quickly realized what he was doing and her eyes suddenly turned scared and her cherry red lips parted slightly. She looked like a cornered deer recognizing a predator's scent in the air, but her eyes never drifted from each of his. They were like a tractor beam and he couldn't even feel his legs moving as he walked toward her.

"Hello, I couldn't help but overhearing that you're disappointed in tonight's offerings. I hope you aren't really leaving." She was sitting on a stool, so Griffen could look down at her without releasing her from his gaze.

From behind him he heard her two friends stumble out a flurry of assurances.

"Oh no, we're not leaving. Actually, Jenna and I just saw a friend of ours, right?"

"That's right, Brey, there is that friend over there. Hey...you." Griffen watched as his lovely conquest followed their retreating figures with wide eyes and visibly tensed up.

"Hi," she gulped out, training those beautiful eyes back on his. "No, I guess it looks like I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"Thank God, gorgeous," he drawled at her.

"Uh, what did you call me?" she asked on a gasp, sitting upright quickly.

"What? Oh, I called you gorgeous." He took advantage of her surprise to take her in more slowly. She was remarkably beautiful in a very unique way. Besides the hypnotic eyes that were doing some kind of Jedi mind trick on him, she had the fullest bottom lip with a perfect Cupid's bow on top. Everything about her was a combination of strong and soft — firm legs that were still softly sexy and shapely, a small waist and taut stomach that led up to smooth shoulders and pert rounded breasts.

She was stunning, yes, but what was truly knocking him off course was that although he'd never met her before, something about her seemed so familiar, but also so sad and a little lost. He alternately felt like kissing her senseless and just holding her on the sofa to watch a movie. Griffen had to shake himself back into the present.