Chapter 1
"WHAT THE HELL?" Ryan shouted, not believing what he was reading on his phone screen. "You have to be fucking kidding me."
"Dude, what's your problem?" Shane mumbled from his side of the dark dorm room.
"My dad got remarried to some bitch half his age," Ryan said, not catching on to the fact that Shane wasn't in the least bit curious about why he was upset.
"Good for him. Now shut the hell up." He snapped, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head to block out any further outbursts from Ryan's side.
"Fucking asshole," Ryan muttered under his breath, raising a middle finger at Shane from the safety of the dark room, before turning his attention back to the soft blue glow of his cell. Ryan reread the text from his dad, looking for an angle he could exploit.
"Ryan, I really didn't want to do this via a text, but you seem to be either too busy or are deliberately avoiding my calls. I have married a beautiful young woman named Emily. You would have met her if you had come home at Christmas as I asked. We will talk more when you are home next week for semester break. Don't make plans, as I have booked us all a trip to Jamaica for the ceremony. You are expected to attend or pay your own way for school next semester. Your boarding passes are in your email."
For the first time in... well probably ever, Ryan clicked on his father's Facebook page. An image of his Dad standing in front of his prize fishing boat popped up, and sure enough, standing next to him was an honest to god dime. Her arms wrapped suggestively around him, her head back in laughter, long hair cascading down her back, chest out and pressing into his Dad's arm. The image filled Ryan with malice. Why should a chick like that have any interest in his dad? He was a gruff, over-the-hill, bald guy who was stuck in the last century. She had to be interested in him only for his money. Ryan's future inheritance. Ryan clicked on her link in the photo and opened a DM. "Congrats on getting your gold-digging claws into my father. I can't wait to meet you in a week and expose you for the whore you are."
o0o
Emily sat on the back deck of the house, still dressed in her PJ set, a thick robe around her for protection against the crisp spring morning. She held a mug full of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She stared at the message she had received late last night, contemplating how to best handle it. Her thoughts were interrupted when the slider to the Master bedroom opened and Hank stepped out carrying his own cup of coffee.
"Morning Babe," Hank said, kissing the top of Emily's head as he walked over to his deck chair. "No yoga this morning?"
Emily smiled at him. "Not this morning. I have a bit of a headache developing, it would seem." She looked out over the serene wooded hills that made up Hank's- No their property. When she first started dating Hank, she knew she would have to deal with 'gold digger' comments but she didn't expect such open hostility from Hank's own son. Now that they were married, it seemed like everything was once again in jeopardy. "Tell me more about Ryan," she said softly, taking a sip of coffee.
Hank coughed struggling not to choke on his own swig of coffee. "Now I have a headache," he joked before letting out a deep sigh and looking down into his cup. "I don't know where I went wrong with that boy. I suppose he needed a woman’s touch, but his mother died when he was still so young. I tried to raise him the best I knew how. I didn't want to spoil him. I tried to make him earn his way once he was old enough. Made him work around the shop when he was 14 and started him on a pump crew a year later. He resented me for it, but tell me how many other 15-year-old boys were getting $1000 paychecks. Ryan just never could get over the fact his old man decided to make a career of septic. It always embarrassed him. Never mind that it paid for all of this," Hank gestured out at the property. "Or pays for him to piss away his time in college, barely passing his classes. That is if he even bothers to show up." Hank gave a snort before taking a big gulp of his coffee.
Emily reached a hand out and placed it on Hank's leg. "I'm sorry honey," she said. She knew Ryan was a bit of a sore subject and Hank rarely brought him up.
"Bah," Hank said waving his hand in dismal, "it's fine. What had you thinking of him this morning? You're not worried about next week are you?"
"No," Emily lied. "I am sure we will get along famously. I was just thinking of redoing his old bedroom into my new yoga studio. The light is better in there than in the other room." She said as a way of explanation and then quickly added, "But I don't want to step on any toes."
Hank muttered something that Emily couldn't quite catch but she was pretty sure she heard Ryan's name followed by a curse. "You don't need to worry about hurting his feelings. I was planning on packing it all up and sticking it in storage anyways. He has made it pretty clear, that he intends to avoid this place as much as possible."
Emily gave Hank's leg another pat, as a plan began to take shape in her mind.
o0o
It was Friday morning and Ryan was due to arrive in just a few hours. Emily was in his old room packing up the last of his stuff. Over the last few days, she had been busy preparing for her plan to go into action. It had mostly involved extensive online shopping and figuring out how to best lay her snares so that Ryan had no room to wiggle out. It helped that he repeatedly rejected any attempts Hank made to bridge the gulf between them. She knew that Ryan's footing with Hank was shaky at best.
The night before she had carefully placed a few key pieces of evidence in Ryan's room so that they looked hidden, but were still discoverable with Emily's innocent packing up. "Hank honey, can you come in here?" Emily called down the hall, from her place on the floor in the back of the closet. Moments later she heard Hank's footsteps coming down the hall. When he entered the room, she pulled a beat-up old shoe box from the back of the closet and lifted the lid so Hank could see inside. "I found this in Ryan's closet," she said turning it upside down and spilling the contents on the floor; two pink Megamaxx diapers and three pairs of panties, one a lacey black thong, the other two cotton with very childish prints and cuts. Emily's voice shook a little as she spoke and the color had drained from her face. How Hank reacted would determine whether or not the rest of her plan would work. It was a huge risk, but she was confident in her plan. Emily's nervousness would just appear to be a legitimate shock at the discovery.
Hank just stared down at the items, a flush creeping up his neck. Emily quickly stood up, wanting to plant her idea before he got too angry and did something rash. Taking his hands in hers she began. "Why don't you take off for the islands early? You said you were getting really anxious about the preparations there anyway. This will let you handle it directly, and I will stay here and… deal with this." Emily said, indicating the items at their feet. "You said it yourself, Ryan needs a woman's touch." She smiled weakly at Hank. "I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I am sure with a little compassion and understanding we can get it straightened out."
Hank shook his head, "I don't know Em. I can't ask you to take this on. You guys haven't even met yet," he said rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "I know Ryan has been a problem for a while, but I wouldn't have guessed at... at... whatever the hell this is." Hank finished, kicking the pile of diapers and panties with the toe of his boot.
Emily smiled up at him. "It will be ok, I promise. You have enough on your plate already. Let me handle this." She stood up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "If you would just give him a call and let him know that he is to listen to me, I should be able to take care of the rest." She suppressed a grin. The riskiest part of her whole plan had just come off flawlessly.
