Chapter 18
Colin
“We can go somewhere else, Colin,” Makayla says, looking at the table a few feet away. They’re all laughing now, and Brynne hasn’t looked this way since she noticed me at this table.
“Why should we?” I ask, still fuming at Brynne’s attitude. It’s not just her attitude tonight that’s pissed me off. It’s been her attitude all fucking week. From the moment she left the office, earlier than planned, I might add, things have been shit.
Ernestine has been as helpful as titties on a bull. She’s gone out of her way to sabotage me. She’s given me the wrong times for meetings, and when I confront her, she bats her long eyelashes and assures me it was an honest mistake. Honest, my ass.
I’m also confident she’s behind the rumor at work claiming that I wear a hairpiece. I noticed everyone would look at my head when I stepped out of my office. At one point, I went to the bathroom to ensure I had nothing in my hair. It was mid-afternoon yesterday when I heard two people talking in the kitchen. One mentioned how real it looked; the other said she wasn’t surprised because I’m richer than King Midas, so I would have the best toupee. They both blanched when they turned around and saw me standing there. Both sets of eyes looked at my head and then ran out of the kitchen, giggling. When it was time to go home, I got on the same elevator as Ernestine and another woman from the mailroom. They could barely hold their laughter.
And that’s how the week went. Brynne ignored my emails, didn’t send me the work I requested, and has not updated my calendar about future trips, even though I know she’s charged flights to her corporate credit card.
She’s a smart woman, and I’m sure she’s figured out that I can’t fire her as per Uncle Milton’s orders, and now I know why. If she gets fired, the non-compete clause is null and void. She wants me to fire her, but she’s not getting her way.
Not only did Milton drop me into a hostile work environment, he's tied one of my hands behind my back.
“No. We’re not going anywhere. If she has a problem, she’s free to leave.” When the server arrives, we order drinks, and I order a bottle of Chianti for their table. “Put their check on my tab,” I whisper to the server. I point at their table, and they are intently studying the menu. “Don’t tell them yet.” She smiles and nods.
“So, out of all the women on earth, she’s the one you fell for on vacation, and now your uncle screwed you over?” Makayla asks, and Malcolm laughs. I catch his eye, and he sobers up. “She’s pretty. She’s also pissed off, and I don’t blame her, Colin. It looks bad.”
“I know, but my hands are tied. You know that.” I explained everything to my friends earlier today.
“Well, it’s not your fault. That’s a complication you don’t need anyway, man,” Malcolm says.
When he’s not fighting with Ian, he’s a rational person. Out of all the guys, he’s the one I’d call to talk through something, but something changed when he found out about Ian, and he’s been angry at me and Brody for not siding with him in this drama. I wonder if he’s only being less of a jerk now because his sister is here or if he’s gotten over whatever issue he had about Ian marrying her. There’s nothing he can do about it anyway, and Makayla is incredibly happy and won’t put up with any of his bullshit.
“Yup,” I say. “She’s the one.” And she’s not pretty. She’s beautiful. Even in her anger, she’s beautiful.
“Do you still like her?” Makayla asks.
Malcolm snorts. “He’s practically drooling over her now.” I ignore him and look at the table.
“Just go over there and beg,” Brody says.
I ignore him, too. He’s the last person I’d take relationship advice from. He can’t keep a woman longer than a couple of weeks.
“Maybe it’s best to give her some space tonight.” Makayla reaches over Ian and covers my hand with hers.
“I’m going over there,” Brody says. He stands and smooths his shirt. “I’m a psychiatrist. I might suck at fixing my problems, but I’m an expert at other people’s issues.”
I want to tell him to sit down, but a part of me hopes he can fix it. The server brings the wine as Brody walks to their table. I know the instant the waitress tells them the Chianti is from me because she turns in my direction, and her eyes narrow. She shakes her head at the waitress, so the waitress pours for Amira and Raven.
Brody sits with his back to me, and I have no idea what he’s saying.
“Well, congrats on the new job, Colin,” Makayla says. Ian kisses her cheek. “And thanks for giving Ian the best bachelor party.” She takes out her phone and shows me pictures of her and Ian in Thailand.
“Look at how hot my wife is,” Ian says as he admires Makayla in the pictures.
“Oh, please. No, she’s not,” Malcolm says before adding, “Brody’s coming back. I guess they didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.”
She’s laughing without a care in the world. She hasn’t looked this way once, and according to Brody, she’s over not getting that little job and will focus on the projects she has. She also shut him down when he tried to plead my case.
I sip on a glass of dry white wine when I only want to go home and go to bed. It’s been a long, shitty week, and despite being around my best friends, I want to leave, especially when the one person I want is a few feet away but completely out of reach.
My dinner is delivered to me. A roasted half chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and green beans, and I wonder if she ordered the same thing. I only got this meal because I remember it’s her favorite. My tablemates all talk, but I just listen and nod at the appropriate times.
I barely taste my food, and when I look at her, I think she’s having the same thing. The three of them all eat off each other’s plates and talk and laugh the entire time. They even get dessert, and I can’t tell what hers is, but it looks like pie with ice cream. She eats it slowly and as if it’s the best thing on earth. After her last drink, she doesn’t order anymore.
“Give it up, man,” Malcolm says. “You deserve better.” I think it’s Malcolm’s way of giving me a pep talk, but his words irk me. “After the drama you went through with Esme, you don’t need more drama. Especially not at work where you’re in a position of authority. You can meet someone else.”
He’s right. Drama is the last thing I want, and I’m still convinced that Brynne is drama-free. Everyone except Joel loves her in the office. No one has ever said a bad thing. She’s highly regarded by our clients, and the girl I got to know while on vacation is everything I’m looking for. She’s everything Esme is not.
At least if she doesn’t kill me because I think the waitress just dropped the bomb that I’m paying the tab. I’ve already paid, so it’s too late for her to do anything about it. Her smile is wiped, and I pick up my water glass for a mock salute. She stands, looking regal, and I admire her long legs in those tight leather pants. She slams her napkin on her empty dessert plate and walks to the table. Amira nervously looks from me to Raven, who is sitting back with her arms crossed.
“Hey, girl,” Makayla says with a big smile. “You want to sit with us? I want to know where you got those leather pants.”
Ian quickly stands and offers her his seat.
“Thank you, Makayla and Ian, but I won’t be here long enough to sit.” Ian remains standing, and I think it’s because he’s preparing himself to get between us. “You,” she says, pointing at me.
“Me?”
“How did you know I’d be here? Are you having me followed?”
“Are you insane?” I ask.
“It’s just that out of all the restaurants in this city, we end up at the same one at the same time.” She has the nerve to cross her arms and tap one of her feet.
“Makayla is the one who made the reservation,” I say in my defense.
“He’s right. I did. Me and Ian wanted to treat him to a nice dinner to celebrate his new—" Ian clears his throat and puts both hands on her shoulders. “Uh, thank him for the bachelor party he planned and treated everyone to, and welcome him back home. He’s been such a good friend to my husband and me too.” Makayla pats my cheek.
“Well, that’s not my experience with him, but whatever. To each their own, I guess,” she says with her nose turned up. “How much is he paying you to put on this show?” She gestures at everyone at the table. Makayla furrows her brows, and Malcolm scoffs and rolls his eyes. I know he’s thinking that I attract nothing but crazy females. “Someone who wastes money doesn’t need this job, but I do.”
“Your experience couldn’t have been that bad. You were attached to his hip from the moment you eye fucked him,” Malcolm says.
“Malcolm,” Makayla admonishes.
“It’s true,” Malcolm says. “She spent more time at our place than she did at hers, and now she wants to make him out to be this bad guy? He wasn’t so bad when your arms were wrapped around him constantly.”
“Oh, really?” Brynne sneers. “You want me to tell your sister how—”
“What did you come here for?” I ask, interrupting whatever she was going to say to Malcolm, which I’m positive would only piss off his sister.
“I want you to stay away from me.”
Another scoff from Malcolm before he mutters. “He’s not the one in your face.”
“Then why are you at my table?” I ask.
Makayla does her best to cover her smile with her hand.
“I don’t need you bringing me food at the office,” she continues as if she didn’t hear me.
“You brought her food?” Malcolm asks. “Typical Killah.”
“That’s sweet. Killah is always feeding us. He’s a great cook,” Makayla says. “He wanted to cook for us at his place tonight, but I had to drag him out.”
“Well, I wish you all had taken him up on his offer to stay in. And sweet?” Brynne asks as if outraged by the statement. She points at me. “You think this lunatic is sweet?”
“Well, yeah,” Makayla says. “He’s—”
“First of all,” Brody says, “the word lunatic is outdated and offensive. It was originally used to describe someone who—"
“Killah killed my dreams,” she hisses, but I don’t think she meant to say that. Then she straightens up and looks at me. “I don’t need you to pay for our dinner. My friends are treating.”
“Well, I’ve already paid.”
“Fine. They’ll pay you back.”
“Um, no, we won’t,” Raven says as she arrives at our table. “Come on. I want to go to the lounge and listen to some music.”
“I’m not done yet,” Brynne says. “I have a few more things to say to him.” She gestures in my direction. “And don’t even think of micromanaging me at work.”
Having had enough of her, I stand and tower over her. Ian pushes me back down in my chair and clamps both hands on my shoulders.
“I don’t consider you my manager.”
“Well, the thing about that is, I am your manager whether you consider it or not. That’s how management works. It’s not a state of mind. It just is,” I announce.
“Go to hell,” she says.
“It looks like I’m already there, and you’re part of the welcoming committee.”
“In my opinion,” Brody says, “Hell is a construct created to control—"
“Brynne, that’s enough,” Raven says, cutting off whatever Brody was going to say. “Let’s get out of here.
On her way back to her table, Brynne sticks her hand in my mashed potatoes. I snatch her wrist and lick the potatoes from her hand. She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grasp while I lick between her fingers. Everyone at the table stares at me wide-eyed. Once I’m done, I drop her wrist. She wipes her hand on my shirt, and I grab her wrist again.
“Next time someone pays for your dinner, you should learn to say thank you.”
“I don’t need you to pay for my dinner or to do anything for me,” she mutters and walks away.
The family at the table next to me stares, including the gray-haired old woman.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I lie. “She’s just mad at me.”
“Well, dear, if she’s mad, it’s not her hand you need to lick,” the old woman says.
“Grandma!” someone admonishes.
“So, do you guys want to go to the lounge next door?” Malcolm asks once Brynne is back at her table. “Maybe there will be some less hostile women there.”