Chapter Ten
Victory
It’s nice to be back in New York. It felt good to sleep in my own bed last night and to go to the gym in my building this morning.
While I was working out, Wells sent me a picture of himself jogging on the beach and an invitation to another game of WordLink.
We had fun playing and chatting, but I’ve been at work for four hours now, and I haven’t had time to play a single word since I got here.
I’m surprised by how much that annoys me.
I’ve never gotten frustrated over work coming ahead of friends before.
Then again, I’ve never slept with a friend before.
But I can’t get lost in that right now, so I try to push those unwanted thoughts away—which feels like a habit, I’ve done it so often recently—and focus on the litany of excuses coming from one of my top agents over speakerphone about why his client has missed, or shown up late, to the last several events. I’m not in the mood for this.
“I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Kevin,” I say sharply, and stop pacing behind my desk.
“Every time your client misses an event, this company’s reputation takes a hit.
You’ve got one week to get Bo under control.
If you can’t manage that, I’ll give him to someone who can.
” I end the call, and a knock rings out on my office door. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Padma peers in, surveying me. Her dark hair is pulled back at the nape of her neck, and she’s the picture of professionalism in a black pantsuit. “I was going to ask if you had a minute, but you look like you want to kill someone, and I’d rather it wasn’t me.”
That makes me smile. “You’re safe. Come in. I just hung up with Kevin Mickelson. Bo Jasper missed another engagement, and the company called me .”
“Bo’s a handful.”
“I’m aware, but Kevin’s an excellent agent. He’s been with us for six years, and he’s one of the best at reining in clients. There must be something going on with him.”
Padma lowers her voice and says, “Don’t take this as gold, but I heard through the grapevine that Kevin and his husband are going through a rough patch.”
“Damn. Haven’t they been married for eight or nine years?”
“Almost nine.”
I sigh. “Now I feel bad. I just told him he’s got one week to fix this, or I’ll give Bo to another agent.”
“Business is business. He knows that.”
“I know, but I think I’ll call him back and see if he has time for lunch early next week. Maybe I can suggest something to help with Bo and offer a softer out if he needs a little time to get things back on track in his personal life.”
Padma smiles and shakes her head.
“What?”
“Kevin is worth the extra time and attention, but you’re just like Harvey. Hard as nails when you need to be and a soft place to land when your team needs it.”
As much as I love hearing that, it brings rise to the undercurrent of guilt I’ve been pretending hasn’t been there all week. “I’m not soft,” I say as we sit down.
“Being empathetic is not a bad thing,” Padma says. “Seeing past the bottom line when you’re the boss is a skill some people don’t have. Running this place is a thankless job, and you deserve to be commended for it.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “I appreciate that, but I love what I do.” Although, talking with Wells about the aspects of my job that I gave up when Harvey died was a harsh reminder of what I’m missing.
“And I couldn’t do it without you, Padma, so you deserve a pat on the back, too.
But I know you didn’t come in here to pat me on the back, so what’s going on? ”
“I wanted to bring you up to speed on what went down with the M&O transition when you were gone. We hit a bump in the road with the software system. The company that was handling the software transition fell behind schedule, and they wanted us to push our deadline back by two months.”
“That won’t work. I’ll call them, and if they can’t meet the terms of the contract, I’ll get another tech company who can.”
“I already took care of it,” Padma said. “And don’t worry. Before terminating the contract, I checked with legal. The old company was terminated Wednesday, and the new guys were here at seven o’clock yesterday morning. I just wanted to make you aware of what went down.”
“Good job, Pad. That explains the message I have from Meckland. What did Jack say about the termination?” John Meckland is the head of the tech company that was terminated, and Jack Ross is the head of our legal department. “Failure to perform?”
“Material breach of contract since we had a time-is-of-the-essence clause.”
“Perfect. That leaves no room for negotiation. We’re not seeking compensation, are we?”
Padma shakes her head. “No, and it was a seamless transition. That said, Meckland is not happy about this.”
My cell vibrates on the desk, and Wells’s name appears in a text bubble. I try to hide the stroke of happiness his name brings and turn the phone over as I say, “I’ll handle him, and, Padma. I think you’ve made Harvey proud, too.”
“Thank you.” She pushes to her feet. “Are you going to the tavern tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. No client birthday parties this week. What’s happening with you? Did you end things with Corbin, or are you giving him another shot?”
“No way. I told you, three strikes are all they get, and even that is generous. But I do have a date tonight with a guy I met when I was picking up dinner the other night.”
“Oh yeah? What’s he like?”
“Tall, blond, and a little too dreamy.”
I laugh. “I’ve never heard you use that word before.”
“Dreamy? I use it all the time. You always tell me it’s outdated.”
“I meant blond . I’ve never heard you talk about a blond guy before.”
She lowers her voice like she’s sharing a secret. “I’m pretty sure he dyes his hair. At my age, men are either going gray or losing their hair. Fingers crossed he’s not a nut.” As she heads for the door, she says, “Want me to close it on my way out?”
“Yes, please.”
With the door safely closed, I snag my phone to read Wells’s message.
Wells: Hey, beautiful boss lady. Busy day? I miss Victorious.
I like knowing he misses me, too.
Me: Sorry. Crazy morning playing catch-up. How’s your day?
Wells: Better now. I know you said you usually have a solo Friday-night dinner date, but I wonder if you’d be up for something different?
I can’t believe he remembers about my Friday dinners at the tavern. I never miss dinner at the tavern for anything other than a family or work event. The fact that I’m excited to hear what he has to say has the guilt I’ve been trying to ignore rising to the surface again.
Me: What do you have in mind?
Wells: Keeping in line with our Wednesday Walkabout, I’m wondering if you’d like to join me for a Friday Flitabout.
I whisper, “ Friday Flitabout? ” and laugh softly.
Wells: I want to take you on a talent-scouting outing. I found a rock band I think you’ll like.
Excitement prickles my limbs. It’s been ages since I’ve gone to see a rock band.
Guilt presses in on me. I think about what Seth said about living in a box.
I like my box. But I also like spending time with Wells, and I haven’t gone scouting in forever.
Scouting is work. That’s how this business was built.
I cling to that like a lifeline to ease my guilt.
Me: I’d love to. Where should I meet you?
Wells: I can pick you up at your office. Any chance you can get out at 4:30?
My nerves are vibrating. I need to go home to get clothes to change into. I look at the emails on my computer and the messages on my desk. I could skip out now for half an hour.
There are a dozen reasons I should back out of this. But I want to go with Wells, so I respond before I can chicken out.
Me: Sure. I’ll meet you in front of my office at 4:30.
Wells: Looking forward to it.
I type, So am I . My thumb stills over the send icon, guilt hovering like a villain. We’re friends. There’s nothing wrong with that. I look at the words I’ve typed, and they don’t sound like just a friend, do they? Am I just overthinking?
I add, I love rock bands and a musical note emoji and send it off.
With my heart in my throat, I grab my purse and head out of my office.
Yvette looks up as I approach her desk. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes. I have to run an errand, but I shouldn’t be gone long. Can you please cancel my dinner reservation? I’ve got a line on a new band I want to check out. I’ll be leaving the office at 4:30 this afternoon.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’m excited for you. You haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Thanks. I’m excited, too.” I head out, praying I don’t look as guilty as I feel about canceling my dinner reservation and skipping out of work early to have fun with a guy who is the very antithesis of my late husband.
The afternoon moves quickly, and I’m on fire, making it through my to-do list with time to spare.
I change into my Bad Intentions T-shirt and jeans and push through the glass doors of my office building at four thirty on the dot.
Wells is waiting out front, as promised, looking too damn good in faded jeans and a gray T-shirt that hugs his broad chest.
Our eyes connect, and that familiar zing of electricity sizzles between us as smiles bloom across both our faces. His dark eyes drink me in, and he says, “There you are,” in the way that has become as familiar as the butterflies it causes.
“Hi,” I say as he leans in and kisses my cheek. God, he smells as good as he looks.
“I’m glad you could make it. Thanks for tabling your solo date. That means a lot to me.”
“You had me at rock band .”
“And here I thought Friday Flitabout would hook you.” With a hand on my lower back, he guides me toward the waiting black sedan and opens the back door.