You Need To Not Settle #2
I'd just finished reviewing a new artist contract with Zion when my assistant's voice came through the intercom, flustered: “Mr. Wade, there is a Ms. Carter here to—”
My door flew open before she could finish. Alyssa showed up at WadeHouse like she was marching into court. Chin high, eyes blazing, stride sharp enough to cut marble.
She waltzed past Glory at my door, then passed Zion, giving him a quick nod of acknowledgment, before she stopped right in front of my desk, staring me down. Zion quietly slipped out to join Glory outside my door.
“Did you really go behind my back and pay six months of my rent?” she fired off, no greeting or preamble.
“Yes,” I answered.
“That was out of line, Julian! Six months? That’s—” She stopped, visibly collecting herself. “I can handle my own life. I'm not a charity case! Take it back.”
“It's already done,” I said evenly. “Can't be undone. Accept it and move on.”
Her jaw locked as we stared each other down. She was pissed off and unflinching. I wasn't used to being challenged like that. Inside, I was completely thrown off, but I didn't blink.
Then she reached into her purse, pulled out a check and slid it across my desk like she was delivering evidence. “Fine. This covers what I was prepared to pay upfront. I'll pay you the rest monthly, just like I would've paid the landlord.”
I didn't even look at the check. Just ripped it clean in half, then in fourths, the sound purposefully slow. The pieces fluttered to my desk like surrender flags neither of us would claim.
Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing again. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, standing straighter. “I'm trying to pay you back.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“We're done discussing this.”
She huffed. “We're not done.”
“We are.”
She was quiet for a moment, looked down, then back at me. “Let me guess. You're helping me because you feel sorry for me. You learned my sob story, now you’ve decided I needed your pity?”
“I don't feel sorry for you in the least.” I leaned forward, cutting her off before she could build more steam. “I'm impressed by you. You went through a hurricane and came out standing. Most people would've crumbled. You rebuilt. That takes real strength.”
She blinked, caught completely off guard. The fire in her eyes flickered, replaced by something vulnerable she quickly tried to hide.
I stood up, moving around my desk to lean against the front of it, closer but not crowding her. “I know about weathering storms. About carrying the weight of someone else’s choices. Maybe I just respect what you've done. What you are doing.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. She stared at me like she was trying to figure me out.
“You don't know what you're talking about,” she said finally, but the fight had gone out of her voice.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I know resilience when I see it. I know what it looks like when someone doesn’t let their circumstances define them.”
She swallowed hard, tired, proud, stronger than she probably gave herself credit for.
“You're stubborn,” I said matter-of-factly. “So am I. The difference is, I know how to get a win without wasting energy on a fight.”
“By bulldozing people?” The spark was back, but gentler now.
“By handling things.”
Her nostrils flared, and I could see her working up more to say. Instead of arguing, I decided to give her an out.
“Relax. It's not personal. WadeHouse keeps blocks of short-term housing for out-of-town talent, producers, staff. These types of leases are standard. Business expense. I’ll write it off. Nothing more.”
She studied me like she was cross-examining a hostile witness, but the tension in her shoulders had eased.
I looked toward the door and saw Zion still there with Glory. “Zion!” I shouted to get his attention, though I was certain he had been eavesdropping the whole time.
He walked back in. I flicked my eyes to Alyssa, “Tell her. We lease blocks of short-term housing all the time, right?”
He caught the look I gave him and smiled. “Yeah. Standard practice.” He shrugged casually at Alyssa.
Her shoulders relaxed completely now, though suspicion still danced in her eyes. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Thank you. Didn't mean to come off ungrateful, I just…”
“No need to explain.” I moved back to my chair, ending it. “Happy to help.”
She nodded once, then turned to walk out, pausing at the door, looking back over her shoulder.
“For what it's worth,” she said quietly, “I'm impressed by you too. Not many people would've ripped up that check.”
Then she was gone.
The second the door shut behind her, Zion leaned against the frame, arms folded, grinning wide. “Wanna tell me why I just lied to Raschad's sister?”
“You didn't lie. We do lease housing.”
“She's not an artist, partner, or employee. You obviously paid it yourself.”
“What difference does it make? Drop in the bucket either way.”
Zion tilted his head, studying me like a hawk. I felt the sudden need to explain. “Raschad asked me to look out for her. She’s… family now, I guess. We take care of family. That's all I’m doing.”
“I didn’t ask all that,” he grinned.
I turned back to my desk, signaling the conversation was over.
A few hours after Alyssa left my office, I was still staring at the torn check pieces on my desk. It was bothering me more than it should have. I handled problems. I solved them, filed them away, and moved on. Loose ends didn't exist in my world because I didn't allow them to exist.
But despite the fact that she’d seemed to accept what I’d done, this felt different. Unresolved.
Three times now she'd thrown me off, and I don't get caught off guard. I controlled situations, anticipated outcomes, and stayed steps ahead. First the football field, then the wedding, now storming into my office like she owned the place. Most people either kissed my ass or steered clear. Not her.
That should have annoyed me. Instead, I found myself more curious about her.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, grabbing my keys.