The Ballerina's Stand Read Free

ranch house was still impressive, though. It dwarfed even Wyatt’s place, and the trees had easily been around for an additional century. An older woman answered the door, nodding but not smiling as she let Jason in. He followed her as she slowly walked down the long hallway, her serviceable shoes squeaking against the polished wood floors.
    She stopped at the wide entry of a room, waving him in before turning back and returning the way she’d come. Squeak. Squeak.
    â€œSomeone should buy that woman some decent shoes.” Pal’s voice came from the corner of the big room.
    The old man sat there in a leather recliner, his scrawny legs lifted up, a newspaper spread over his lap. Clear green tubing from an oxygen tank beside the recliner snaked around the chair, finally wrapping around Pal’s weathered face. He aimed a remote at the giant TV screen and turned it off.
    â€œYou wanted to see me?” Jason didn’t hesitate.
    â€œHave a seat.” Pal leaned forward and lowered the footrest. “I ain’t gonna get a crick in my neck for this, and I sure as hell can’t get up.”
    Jason nodded and took the chair facing the man. He hadn’t brought his briefcase, or anything to write on. He didn’t intend to take this job. Curiosity had brought him here today—that, and the need to make sure this jerk was no longer a threat to his family.
    â€œWhat did you want to talk about?” Jason leaned back, forcing himself to look casual, uncaring.
    â€œI got business out in your neck of the woods.” Pal slowly folded the newspaper. “I’m heading out there on Monday.”
    â€œI thought you were under house arrest.”
    The old man laughed—laughter that dissolved into a fit of coughing. “My attorney’s taking care of that.” He looked Jason in the eye. “I’ll be dead long before they can lock me up. So, what’s the point?”
    He probably had a point, if the blue tinge to his skin was any indication. As a corporate attorney, Jason mainly worked on business deals, but oddly enough a lot of business deals resulted from deathbed promises.
    â€œWhat kind of business are we discussing?”
    â€œMy demise. I’m adjusting parts of my will—”
    â€œI’m not helping you screw your family more than you already have.” Jason began to rise. He’d had enough of this man.
    â€œNow sit your ass down, young man.” Pal spat out. “I ain’t gonna take anything away from either of my boys.” Another coughing fit made Pal pause. “I’m talking about someone else.” Oddly, Pal’s eyes and voice grew faded and distant. “Somethin’ I gotta make right ’fore I go.”
    Pal Haymaker had a smidgen of conscience? Not possible. “What are you talking about?”
    The old man leaned back, spearing Jason with a glare. “I’ll let you know when I get to LA.”
    â€œThat’s not much answer, old man.” Jason sat on the edge of the chair, preparing to leave. He had a plane to catch.
    â€œNot supposed to be.” Pal leaned closer. “There’s too many ears in this house.”
    Was Pal paranoid, or was there a grain of truth in what he was hinting at? He wouldn’t put it past Pal Jr. to place a spy in his father’s house.
    â€œHere’s the deal.” Jason stood. “You get to town, get in touch with my assistant.” He pulled a white utilitarian card out of his wallet, flicking it with a decisive snap onto the side table. “If you time it right, I’ll meet with you.” He headed to the door. “You’ve done enough damage to this world, so make this good.”
    He didn’t wait for Pal to dismiss him. Walking out into the hot Texas morning, Jason took a deep breath, the fresh country air clearing his head of the stink of rotten old man.
    â€œYou learn anything?” Chet leaned against the truck’s