CHAPTER 12
THREE WORDS: HOUSTON FREAKING MCGREGOR
Midnight. That’s when Erin finally called. I got out of bed so I wouldn’t wake Chad, but he’d had so much to drink that starting drum lessons beside his pillow probably wouldn’t have roused him.
I was angry with him, but that didn’t matter right now. I needed to hear what Erin had to say.
I’d cycled through all kinds of possibilities, from Houston in a sex-trafficking ring, handcuffed, his no-longer-smug face above the newspaper article that said his clients would be transferred to independent financial planner Pen Auberge, all the way to Houston guaranteeing Chad’s dad better financial returns, an impossible promise.
“Sorry for the delay,” Erin said. “My boyfriend just broke up with me.”
Uh. How to respond?
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” For me, this wasn’t a huge deal. But for normal people, breakups weren’t necessarily par for the course.
“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s going to be a little weird living with him until I get my own place, but ...” She inhaled. “Don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll cry if I do.” She sighed. “I want to tell you about Houston instead.”
I was downstairs now, pacing in my still-empty living room.
“So, you remember the Fletchers. Ugh! Of course you remember them. They’re why you left Twin Cities. I’m sorry. I’m tired and angry—so, so angry. And I did something. I could really get into trouble, and I need this job, and ...”
“Erin.” I forced patience into her name. “Take a second and calm down. There’s no pressure. No rush.” There absolutely was pressure, definitely a rush.
“So, Tyler’s been managing the Fletcher account, right? Mrs. Fletcher called the office earlier today—apparently this wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time I talked to her. She asked for you, and when I told her you no longer worked at TCF, she was livid. She demanded I transfer her to Houston immediately. I did.”
I hoped the next thing she told me was that the Fletchers had pulled their business. My noncompete prohibited me from going after them, but them dropping Houston was a glorious thought.
“He had them come into the office, and I listened to their conversation,” Erin continued. I heard her take a drink of something. “Pen, Houston never told them that Tyler was handling them solo. Mrs. Fletcher said, ‘How dare you lie to me,’ and Houston tried to smooth things over—you know how he does—but she wasn’t buying his back-alley crap. She told him she wanted your information, but he wouldn’t give it to her. He suggested she and her husband come to the office so he could explain the delicate situation. Totally sus because all you’d done was an awesome job. You’re literally my idol, and I’ve been trying to think of a way to get you justice.”
Her last words rocketed into me. I had to sit down on the carpet.
Her idol?
I must’ve misheard. I wasn’t anyone’s idol.
Her idol.
I cleared my throat.
“I haven’t told you the worst part,” she continued. “Houston told them you left under shady circumstances.”
“What?” I couldn’t swallow. All the saliva in my mouth evaporated.
“He told them he was trying to spare your reputation by keeping it quiet because he felt bad about putting their funds into your hands, someone so unworthy of it.”
My vision blurred. The room went red, red and too small and lacking the proper amount of oxygen. They were huge clients with a long reach. If they believed Houston ...
“He told them what?” I spit into the phone.
“I know. I was furious. I didn’t know what to do. You should’ve seen his fat, smug face. He was proud of himself, like lying about you gave him another ball or something. He called me into his office after, but I told him Mrs. Fletcher had dropped her bracelet, and I needed to catch her to give it back. She hadn’t, but I couldn’t let them leave thinking what Houston had told them about you was true. I caught them in the parking lot.”
My head swam. “What did you do?”
“I told them Houston was lying.” A dog barked in the background, and she paused again to soothe it. “I told them everything, laid it out right beside their freakin’ Mercedes. Mr. Fletcher was skeptical, but there was doubt on Mrs. Fletcher’s face. She wanted to believe me. You’d made an impression on her. Stop it, Hulk!” I blinked, wondering if this was what Erin had screamed at Mr. Fletcher, but she was talking to the dog again. “I begged her to call you, gave her your cell, and she promised me she would Monday. Mr. Fletcher wanted to go back up and talk to Houston again, but I told Mrs. Fletcher I’d be fired if he knew I’d told them. She said they wouldn’t say anything. I should’ve been relieved because I think she meant it, but I’m not. I’m sick over this whole thing. Can you believe this?”
I’d had a ton of negative thoughts about Houston over the last several weeks, but I’d never thought anything close to this. He’d screwed me over so badly that day when he’d told me he was giving Tyler the Fletcher account. Tyler, whose parents had money, whose parents’ parents had money. My parents had money, too, but apparently not enough. And my dad was a Black doctor who drank too much and cheated on his wife, and my mother was the White control freak who allowed it. The truth was, Houston had a fair amount of ammunition to ruin my reputation if he wanted to, and he appeared to want to.
My eyes were leaking, but not from sadness. These were the tears you curse when you want to be taken seriously but your eyes betray you. They make you look weak, like you’re a fumbling, emotional mess who doesn’t know how to have a proper argument.
“Please say something,” Erin said.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’re going to skin Houston McGregor alive and use his hide to make me a hideous, faux-human jacket.”
I laughed. Despite it all, I laughed, and while I laughed, I came back to myself—a little.
“Thanks for that, Erin. Thanks for all this. Thanks for sticking your neck out there for me. No one else would’ve done it.”
“I’d do it again a thousand times. No one deserves to be lied about, especially not you. And I meant what I said earlier. I wanna be you when I grow up. You’re a boss and you slay. Nothing stands in your way. This won’t either.”
I thanked her again. This woman believed in me. And Deanna did too. For all the pretense in my life, my work was real, and I wasn’t going to let either of them down. I may not have had many personal victories, but I sure as hell was going to have some professional ones.
Her idol.
“Well, if I don’t get more clients soon, what Houston says about me will be the least of my worries. My book isn’t competitive right now.”
“What happened to the TCF clients who said they were following you?”
“I have a noncompete. I can’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know that, but that doesn’t count if clients follow you on their own, and at least four have said they planned to. Haven’t you heard from them?”
A rock landed in the base of my stomach. My noncompete expressly said I couldn’t pursue TCF clients for a period of one year, but that didn’t apply if they contacted me first.
“I haven’t heard from any of the clients I had at TCF.”
“Shit,” she whispered.
“That bastard.” The Fletchers weren’t the first. Of course they weren’t.
“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Let me know if you hear anything else. You’ve done a lot already.”
“I definitely will, but I better start looking for a new job myself,” she said. “Because once Houston finds out—”
“I’ll make sure Mrs. Fletcher doesn’t say anything. You’ll be fine.” I had no business promising that, especially since this had the potential to get real ugly, but she had faith in me.
We said our good nights, and I told her to get some sleep.
If Houston thought he could get away with this, he had another think coming. I went upstairs, ignoring Chad as I slammed doors and drawers too hard while looking for a pair of leggings. I needed to call my mother, tell her about this and see what she could find out in her social circles, tell her to be careful about what she said to Houston. But before facing my mother, Mrs. Fletcher, Houston, or anyone else, I needed my bicycle, and not the stationary one either. I needed the wind in my face. I needed the open air because this room couldn’t contain my fury.