“Okay, let’s go,” he said as he emerged from the bedroom.
Kassidy smiled at him. She looked pretty in a flowered orange and yellow sundress, the bodice two tiny triangles over her breasts, held up with equally tiny straps, showing a lot of smooth, golden skin including some nice cleavage. Chris looked good too, as usual, in a pair of plaid shorts and a pink—pink!—polo shirt that only he, with his wide shoulders and muscled arms, could pull off.
“Nice shirt, man,” he said, raising a brow. “You borrow that from Kassidy?”
Chris laughed. “Fuck off. Grab that case of beer and let’s go.”
They got Mrs. Langdon settled on the deck in a comfortably cushioned chair in the shade. The backyard swimming pool shimmered turquoise and aqua in the late-afternoon sun and colorful flowers and greenery spilled out of pots arranged around the deck. It was so far from how Dag had grown up, it made his skin itch. Chris and Kassidy had both had completely different lives than he had. And yet, from the moment he’d met Chris he had never felt inferior or any less. And Kassidy had been the same. Dag’s chest tightened at those thoughts, which he pushed away as he directed his best smile at Kassidy’s mom.
“How’re you doing, Mrs. L.?” he asked.
“I told you, Dag, call me Hope.”
“Oh yeah.” He winked at her. “Hope. How’s the pelvis?”
She made a face. “I suppose it’s getting better. It’s driving me crazy, though, to sit around and do nothing all this time.”
“Good thing it’s summer holidays and you’re not missing work.” He’d learned she was an elementary school principal the day he’d spent with her, a day that once again had been surprisingly enjoyable.
She sighed. “Yes, if there was anything good about this whole thing, it’s that. I should be more mobile by the end of the summer.”
“Do you need a drink?”
“I’d love some iced tea.”
“I’ll get it for you then.” He flashed another smile and returned to the kitchen where Kassidy was unloading the bags of food they’d brought. Chris and Mr. Langdon were already opening beers and talking about the Cubs.
“Dag, good to see you again,” Mr. Langdon said, reaching to shake his hand.
“Thanks for having me.”
He found iced tea for Hope and a beer for himself, and the men wandered back out onto the deck. It wasn’t a wild party, that’s for sure, but Dag found himself feeling remarkably relaxed and comfortable, sitting there in the warm sun, drinking beer and talking to Chris and Kassidy’s parents. They clearly loved Chris, and a pang of envy twinged in Dag’s chest at that. Not that he was jealous of Chris, but Dag had never experienced that easy acceptance by the parents of any of his dates—they were more likely to look at him, sense the badass inside him and try to discourage their daughters from having anything to do with him.
Mr. Langdon was interested in Dag’s work and had a lot of questions, smart and knowledgeable, absorbing him in conversation, and then Dag also felt a stab of guilt at the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Langdon were just as accepting of him as Chris and Kassidy, even though he was totally corrupting their sweet daughter.
After a while, Kassidy emerged with a tray loaded with food—bowls of chips and salsa, a layered dip and some stuffed jalapeno peppers she’d made earlier. She laid things out on the table.
“Looks good, Kassie,” her dad said to her.
“Thank you for doing this,” Hope added. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“You know we’ll take you out for a special dinner when you’re feeling up to it,” Kassidy said to her mom. “This isn’t much, really. But thirty years is something to celebrate. I even brought a bottle of champagne for later.”
“You’re such a sweetheart,” Hope said. Kassidy’s cheeks got a little pinker.
The business conversation continued, turning to talk of government bailouts for struggling companies.
“You’re opposed to that?” Dave Langdon asked Dag, picking up a chip.
“Absolutely.”
“Dag’s a laissez-faire capitalist,” Chris put in with a smile. “Dog-eat-dog Darwinist capitalist.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Dag responded. “But a capitalist, yeah. If those businesses can’t survive on their own, why should the taxpayers be bailing them out? A business has to make it or break on its own merits. If it can’t be financially viable, then what’s the reason for its existence?”
“How about to provide jobs to thousands of people,” Kassidy spoke up. Dag looked at her. “That’s important,” she continued. “Some of those businesses are so big they’re the backbone of the entire economy. If that many people lose their jobs, think how many other business will suffer because of it—because nobody has money to spend.”
“A simplified point, but true,” Dag acknowledged. He loved talking about stuff like this—it revved his motor. “I just hate to think of people getting handouts, when some of us…” Yeah it was personal, he fully admitted it. “Had to work our asses off for everything we have. That’s the way things should work. You work for what you want.”
“You sure taught me that,” Chris said. Dag’s head whipped around and he stared at Chris.
“Taught you what?”
“That I had to work.” Chris gave a rueful smile. “I cruised through high school. My parents had the dough to send me to a good university. You were there on a scholarship that you busted your… I mean…” He shot a glance at Hope. “I mean you had to work hard to get there while I just walked in. And I probably would have just kept walking right out if it hadn’t been for you.”
Dag clenched his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open in astonishment, reined in his emotions to keep his face neutral.
“Yeah, you were a slacker, all right,” he said, forcing a laugh. He couldn’t believe Chris actually realized how much he’d changed while they’d gone to school. The fact, that he, Dag, had actually had some kind of positive influence on someone gave him a weird aching feeling inside.
“And the truth is, I wouldn’t be where I am now at RBM if it wasn’t for that.”
Dag’s chest constricted. Jesus, the guy was killing him here. He lifted his beer and caught Kassidy’s warm gaze on him. She’d thought he was the slacker, but now admiration gleamed in her eyes. For him. Jesus. “See. I knew I’d suck you into my philosophy—living by your own effort. Getting what you deserve rather than getting something you didn’t work for. Achievement. Happiness.”
“Sounds like you’re a follower of Ayn Rand,” Dave said.
Dag looked at him with surprise. “Yeah. To a certain extent.
“You’re an Objectivist?”
“Again, to a certain extent. Laissez-faire capitalism, limited government protecting individual rights to life, liberty and property.”
“Entrepreneurs who create by building businesses.”
“Yeah.” Dag grinned. “That’s me. But so is Chris. He invents new technologies.”
Chris grinned. “I’ll admit I share your views on some things.”
“Well, I don’t,” Kassidy said. She lifted her chin, but her smile told Dag she was prepared to hold a different view but not hold a grudge. He respected that. “Don’t Objectivists believe the purpose of life is the pursuit of one’s own happiness?”
“Yeah.” Now it was her turn to get a surprised glance from him.
“Well, I can’t agree. Instead of Darwinist capitalism, how about conscious capitalism?”
Dag’s lips quirked. “Wow, Kassidy. Idealistic much?”
She shrugged. “Call me idealistic if you want. I’ve heard it before. But I believe in it.”
“Of course you do—” He bit his tongue. He’d almost called her “baby” in front of her parents. “Tell me more about that.”