Starting from Scratch Read Free

that you can be,” Elisha consoled him. It wasn’t long after she was hired that she undertook the job of attempting to bolster Rocky’s sagging ego. The fact that she couldn’t was in no way because she didn’t say the right things, but that his father had conducted a scorched-earth policy long before she ever arrived on the scene.
    â€œNo,” Rocky contradicted her, “my father wants me to be better than him and we all know that’s not humanly possible.”
    Catching his arm, Elisha gently redirected Rocky’s elbow to make contact with the bar, causing the glass to fall short of making contact with his lips. “You’re wrong there.”
    â€œAbout me being better than him?”
    She grinned. No amount of talking would convince Rocky that in many ways, he was actually better than the dynamic, take-no-prisoners Hayden Randolph.
    â€œNo, about him wanting you to be better than him. I think if you were, it would completely crush your father. He’s always wanted to be nothing short of the best.” The goal applied to his publishing firm as well, which the man saw, more than his own flesh and blood, as an extension of himself.
    â€œCrush him, huh?”
    She smiled at Rocky affectionately. In a way, she almost thought of him as an older brother. But he was less self-assured than her own younger brother. “That wasn’t the key thought there. Keep up, Rocky.”
    â€œWith you? Not possible.” He took another sip of his wine. “You do the work of ten and your heart is pure. If this were the Middle Ages, there’d be a balladeer singing about you on every corner of the kingdom.” He laughed and shook his head. “The best thing I ever did was hire you.” He looked up at her. “Tell me, how is it that you and I never married?”
    â€œBecause you’re gay, Rocky.” It was one of those things that was regarded as an open secret, a secret he neither broadcasted nor guarded zealously. She’d had suspicions for a while before he had confided in her in a scene that had unfolded much the way this evening was heading.
    He put a finger to his lips and winked. “Shh, not too loud.”
    â€œI guess that means I should cancel my posting on the Internet,” she remarked glibly. Succumbing to both hunger and the aroma drifting around from the crab cakes, she finally took one from the server’s tray. The man smiled at her knowingly.
    â€œThe old man doesn’t know,” Rocky said before popping another crab cake into his mouth.
    She saw the facts in a slightly different light. Hayden Randolph was too savvy to be ignorant. “The old man doesn’t want to know,” she corrected Rocky.
    â€œYeah, it would be like Ernest Hemingway suddenly admitting that he fathered Truman Capote.”
    That was a little harsh. Up until now, she’d thought that he was putting her on as to his condition. But now she was beginning to grow concerned. She didn’t want the man to embarrass himself tonight. Aside from his father and the staff, there would be the usual gaggle of literary critics attending. “So how long have you been drinking?”
    â€œSince tenth grade.”
    â€œTonight, Rocky,” she emphasized. “How long have you been drinking tonight?”
    He thought a moment. “Before I got here. That’s the beauty of having a limo bring you. New York’s finest can’t arrest you for drunk sitting.”
    More people began to arrive, which brought the party to life. But her attention was focused on Rocky. Turning her back to the entrance so that her body partially shielded Rocky from view, she glared at him. “Why do you let him get to you like that? You’re very good at what you do.”
    He raised his brow before bringing the glass to his lips again. “Drink? None better.”
    â€œI mean being the executive editor.” His father had insisted he work his way up