Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 Read Online Free Page B

himself believe it could be something else.
    To make amends with Rory, he’d agreed to help restore Justice’s boyfriend Nic’s boat. Nic wasn’t exactly a fan of Rich either. But lying in his bed on Saturday morning with his brain-melting headache, he was procrastinating. He groaned when his alarm clock went off for the fourth time. Slapping it for good measure, he tossed the covers off and staggered to his feet.
    Rich wavered a bit, momentarily thought about throwing up, but after a few deep breaths, he got his hangover under control. Once he was fairly sure he could walk, he made a beeline for the coffeepot that he’d fortunately remembered to put on auto-brew the night before. After chugging two cups of liquid bliss and downing some aspirin, he felt relatively human again.
    “Still don’t want to go slave away on some goddamn boat,” he muttered to the empty room. Oh well, he figured he’d wasted as much time as he could get away with. After dressing in his oldest clothes and scowling at his reflection, Rich headed for the door, only to be startled by a knock.
    Rich winced, because he so wasn’t up for dealing with humans. But he really didn’t have a choice, since he was on his way out anyway. Hesitantly, he opened up the door, wondering if it was Girl Scout cookie season already. The door swung open to reveal a rather handsome but innocuous looking man in steel gray trousers and a purple button-down. The man had salt-and-pepper hair and friendly blue eyes. He was older than Rich—early forties, maybe—and he didn’t look like any of Rory’s friends.
    Rich narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “If you’re looking for Rory, he doesn’t live here anymore. I can give you his forwarding.” It might have been bitchy, but he couldn’t stomach any more reminders of the fact that Rory was gone for good, at least from their shared house. They’d picked it out together after a couple of years sharing the apartment. Rich had bought it and Rory paid rent, but it had always seemed like their house. Not anymore , Rich thought.
    The man’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Actually, I’m looking for a Mr. Richard Lee Langston. Does he still live here?”
    Rich tensed at the use of his full name. No one called him Richard—no one good, anyway. He could barely think over the pounding of his heart. “It’s Rich. That’s me. Who are you?” He didn’t bother to try to keep the suspicion from his tone.
    The man tried for a guileless smile and handed Rich a card, which Rich didn’t look at. He just cocked an eyebrow and waited.
    “My name is Emory Scott. I’m a private investigator.” He paused to let that information sink in.
    Rich felt nauseated. God only knew who was looking for him and why. He had no idea if his mother or—God help him—his absentee father had any family. Now that Rich had made it up the ranks at InVentiv and was making a name for himself, it was possible that the creepers were starting to come out of the woodwork.
    “What do you want with me? I can tell you right now, I’m not giving any money to any distant relatives.” He crossed his arms and scowled at Mr. Scott.
    The PI held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Mr. Langston, I’m not here about money. I’ve been hired to find you by Mr. John-Michael Carrington né Dalton. Your brother.”
    Rich reared back like he’d been slapped, and he fought the urge to empty his stomach right there on the front porch. He didn’t want to know this. He couldn’t know this. In his wild imagination, he could only think of one reason J-M would look for him; that he had a shit life and wanted to have it out with Rich for getting them taken away from their mom. Rich knew it would do him in to see hatred in his little brother’s face, even while he ached to see the kid again.
    “Well, you’ve found me,” he said with his best snotty, uptown attitude. “Now what do you want?”
    Emory Scott definitely lost some of his bluster when faced with