8. James
8
JAMES
“ I t happens. Sorry boss.”
“No, it keeps happening, and that’s what’s so damn annoying,” I fumed. “How many bartenders has Lucas Rushing managed to snag from us?”
Brian, my GM at Bloom, had called me with the news that we’d lost yet another new staff member in that window between us making the offer and them signing the employment agreement. Finding help that was up to my rigid standards was already hard enough, and this was yet another setback thanks to that asshole Lucas. What had my sister ever seen in him?
“That makes three. But we’ll find someone, don’t worry.”
“ Someone doesn’t cut it at Bloom and you know it.”
I had a reputation for expecting perfection with my staff and it’s what brought in the money. My clubs were known for staff with the perfect mix of jaw-dropping good looks and superlative white glove service. Everyone was excellent at their job, and they looked good doing it, but our bartenders were on another level. Sure, they slung drinks, but they were also part of the entertainment, showing off impressive bottle tricks in between mixing unbelievable concoctions. It wasn’t easy to find the right fit, which made losing yet another candidate, and losing her to Lucas Rushing , that much more painful.
“Back to the drawing board. I’ll keep you posted,” Brian said.
“Right.”
I hung up without saying more and swiveled my chair to look out the window. I’d been working from home since Harper’s breakdown a few days ago despite the fact that Kaitlyn told me it wasn’t necessary. Part of me hoped that Harper would pop in to see me throughout the day, but Kaitlyn kept her days structured. She’d asked me not to interrupt them, and I’d honored her request.
I didn’t like it, but I listened to her. Vita had filled me in on how quickly Kaitlyn was able to pull Harper out of her meltdown. It was nothing short of a miracle. I refused to allow myself to get jealous. That’s what I paid her for, after all. I wasn’t about to risk derailing Harper’s progress.
I looked back at my laptop screen and closed the photo of the woman who had been poached from Bloom. Lucas Rushing refused to stop shitting on my businesses, and it was driving me insane.
“Hey, are you ready for me?”
I glanced toward the doorway and saw my sister peeking in. “Jessica, what are you doing here?”
She was dressed up, at least for her, in a navy blazer, white t-shirt and white jeans. I still couldn’t figure out how my sister got her naturally dark brown hair to the bright blonde shade she always sported, but I assumed it involved a lot of money at the salon and possibly a deal with the devil.
“We have a meeting on the books!” Jess scolded me. “Remember, when I spent the night after Harper’s last, uh, thing? I specifically asked you to set aside some time for me, and I saw you add it to your calendar.”
Ah yes, the meeting I’d dismissed the day prior and forgotten to tell her.
“Hey listen, I’m dealing with some stuff?—”
“James, no . You’re not going to push me aside again. I booked a slot and I’m keeping it. I spent time preparing and everything.”
She held up a thick black binder in a vaguely menacing way.
I sighed and steepled my hands beneath my chin. Better to get it out of the way now and talk her down from whatever crazy scheme she was cooking up before she got too excited about it.
“Sit. You have fifteen minutes.”
Jess pulled a face as she plopped in the chair opposite me. “Must you always be such a grumpy asshole?”
“Lucas just stole another bartender.”
“Oh no.” She froze. Guilt flooded her face. “He just won’t quit.”
“Seems that way. Can you please explain to me what appeal he had? Why you had to?—”
“Enough.” Her face hardened. “We’ve gone over it, there’s no point talking about him, okay? Dating Lucas Rushing was the biggest mistake of my life, and you’re still making me pay for it.”
Even though she was talking a tough game, I could tell by her expression that I’d struck a nerve. Just mentioning him seemed to trigger insecurity on her part. She was right. I was an asshole for bringing it up.
“Fine. No more Lucas talk. You have the floor.”
I sat back and waited for my sister to get herself organized. While most of the ideas she’d brought to me weren’t sound businesses, I could appreciate the time she put into getting ready to pitch to me. She wanted so desperately to strike out on her own, to invest her inheritance in something that would really take off so she could make a name for herself without relying on the family reputation. So there was always the risk of her rushing into something without thinking it through. That was why it had been agreed that an investment from her would need my approval first. I hoped maybe this idea would be the one I could happily greenlight.
But I doubted it.
Jess cleared her throat to signal she was ready to begin. “I met Henri Fournier during my semester in Paris. He became a dear friend to me. He’s doing amazing things with…”
I raised my eyebrows. “With wine? Cheese?” Conning heiresses out of their money?
“…with fashion,” Jess continued glaring at me. “He’s the most gifted designer I know, and trust me, I’ve worn them all. Chanel, Lavin, Chloe, Marant, McQueen, you name it.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of your clothing budget,” I deadpanned.
She ignored me. “He’s getting ready to open his own place, and you might think he’d stay in France, or maybe try New York or Dubai, but he wants to open a fashion house in Raleigh .”
I frowned. “Why there?”
“He loves Raleigh, and he thinks it’s the perfect place to launch. More accessible than the big cities, but people still have money to spend. He can buy half a city block there for what he’d pay for a closet in any major city. And he’s good enough that people will travel to him no matter where he is. Here, look.”
Jess pushed the binder to me and I flipped through, noting a few models I’d bedded. I couldn’t argue with Jess though; This Fournier guy’s work was impeccable.
That red dress, for example, would look amazing on Kaitlyn.
Nope, don’t go there, I ordered myself, but the order was losing its heat. No matter how much I tried to ignore her, she kept creeping into my thoughts.
I’d been taking a lot of cold showers.
“He’s looking for a major investor, and I want in,” Jess said.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to let her down easy. “Jess, I can’t okay this. Fashion is unpredictable, and his plan to put a high-dollar fashion house outside of the major fashion hubs just doesn’t make sense to me.”
She blinked fast and I could tell she was fighting off tears. “You barely even considered it, that was a knee-jerk no. Like, the king has spoken.”
“Hold on?—”
“No! You still don’t believe in me, or trust me to make good decisions,” she said. “What happened with Lucas was a mistake for a bunch of different reasons, I get that. But it happened ages ago. I’ve learned my lesson. So why are you still punishing me?”
“I’m not punishing you. I’m making a business decision based on common sense. Investing in fashion is a risk I’m not willing to take. I hope you understand.”
She snorted and snatched the binder away from me. “I don’t. Thanks for the meeting, Mr. Morris.”
I tried to think of something to say to placate her, but I came up with nothing as she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.
My phone buzzed and when I read the message from Miguel telling me who was at my door, my heart sank. The day was definitely on a downswing.
Again ? Those fucking people were going to put us through the stupid charade again ?
I jumped up and headed for the front door to save Vida the trip. It was me they were here to see, after all, might as well face it.
Well, me and Harper.
Maybe they’d finally cross a line and I could sue for harassment. I knew that wouldn’t actually happen, but I was in the mood to savage somebody.
The chime sounded right as I got to the door. I swung it open and saw the usual Child Protective Services officer, Annette Lane, the one who’d been to my house six times in the past two months, along with a police officer I hadn’t met yet.
“Mr. Morris, I am so sorry to do this to you again,” the petite woman said, keeping her distance on the front step like she was a vampire and couldn’t come in until I invited her.
“Please, Mrs. Lane. I know you’re doing your job.” I stepped back and gestured for them to enter, keeping my voice polite. “Officer.”
“It’s a formality, you know that, right?” she said as she walked in, giving me a wide berth.
I nodded, trying not to let on that I was boiling inside.
“Shall we?”
Mrs. Lane and I were well-versed in the choreography of a reported child protection welfare visit seeing as Harper’s maternal grandparents had been calling them in regularly.
“Let’s do a quick food and home check, then I’ll peek in on Harper. We’ll be ten minutes, I promise. I know how busy you must be.”
Once the home tour was completed, I led the pair to the library, which had been transformed into Harper and Kaitlyn’s base camp. The space was so airy and cheerful that my daughter barely seemed to realize she was undergoing behavioral therapy in it each day.
As we approached the library, it hit me that I’d forgotten to warn Kaitlyn about my in-laws and their particular form of custody warfare. What if she freaked out when she saw CPS? Or worse, what if she concluded that smoke must mean fire, and decided she’d rather work for a less complicated family?
Too late now. I just had to hope that Kaitlyn would trust me.
Mrs. Lane peeked her head in the room where Harper was sitting at a table wearing headphones and repeating anchoring phrases. The policeman hung back in the hallway, close enough to hear what was going on but far back enough Harper wouldn’t see him if she looked up.
“Hello, I’m Annette Lane from CPS,” the woman said. “I’m here for a routine wellness visit.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes flashed to mine. I kept my face impassive, giving the tiniest of nods to let her know everything was fine.
Apparently that was all she needed. Her focus returned to Mrs. Lane, her expression never betraying an ounce of shock.
I’d hate to go up against her in a poker tournament.
Kaitlyn stood up and joined us in the doorway, her hand outstretched. Mrs. Lane took it.
“Hi, I’m Kaitlyn Thorn, MSW, and I’m working with Harper.”
I didn’t miss the way she emphasized her degree, and I could have kissed her for it. For the first time during one of these visits, I felt like I had someone on my side who understood the rules of the game.
“She’s in the middle of a session, do you need to speak to her?” Kaitlyn continued.
Mrs. Lane shook her head. “No, I’ve seen everything I need to see. Thank you, and my apologies for disturbing you all.”
The police officer nodded in agreement, not quite able to hide the way he was checking out Kaitlyn in her sundress.
Back off, I thought. I must have been scowling pretty fiercely, because he paled and stopped drooling over Kaitlyn.
Once the rest of the visit was completed, I showed them out. I wasn’t surprised to find Kaitlyn heading down the hallway to me a few minutes later. Even though I was irate, I wasn’t too red zoned to notice that she looked incredible.
Maybe I should have cut that police officer more slack.
“What was that about?” she asked, frowning.
“Is Harper busy? Still wearing headphones?”
“Yes, she loves doing those exercises, so I have a few minutes.” Her eyes were wide. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
I sighed and leaned back against the wall, feeling about a thousand years old. “Harper’s maternal grandparents, Mitch and Maureen Dresher, are behind it. I didn’t mention it to you during our initial planning meetings. I guess I was hoping…it would all go away. Clearly it remains an issue.”
“But…why? They have to know that Harper has everything she needs and more.”
“They refuse to believe her psychiatric diagnosis.” I scoffed. I could feel my fists curling into balls as I thought about what they’d been putting us through. “They keep saying she’s too young to be experiencing agoraphobia and panic attacks, and they think I’m purposely keeping her from going to visit them, the way she used to.”
Kaitlyn winced. “Have you tried inviting them here?”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “My door is open and they’re welcome to stop by, but I think they’re uncomfortable being with her here, under my supervision. The fact that they can’t take her off-premises is an issue for them, so this is how they’re retaliating. Trying to chip away at us.”
“Well, my professional opinion is that these types of visits aren’t good for her,” she said acidly. “Having a policeman show up in her house after what she went through could easily trigger a regression.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that part. After the first visit, it was obvious to CPS what was going on. You’ll notice the officer stayed back where Harper wouldn’t see him. They know. They have to follow up on the call, but what they do here is far from a standard walk-through.”
Kaitlyn crossed her arms and glanced back toward the library. “What can I do to help you with it?”
It was a simple question, but it lodged in my chest.
She looked so concerned, so upset about what we’d been enduring. Kaitlyn’s devotion to Harper made it feel like she’d been a part of our household for ages.
I was so incredibly lucky to have her.
“There’s absolutely nothing you can do about the CPS bullshit,” I said gruffly. “Just stay the course with your treatment plans. Once she’s better, we can end the nonsense with the Dreshers.”
Something flickered across Kaitlyn’s face. “James… I need to remind you that ‘better’ is difficult to pinpoint. Progress isn’t always linear, which means that Harper will have wonderful days and days that feel like she’s losing all the progress we’ve made. We have a goal to get her ready for school, but even if she hits that milestone we still might have ancillary issues to address. Plus, she’ll have to start actually attending school.”
We both chose not to mention that her contract was up once school began. For a few minutes, I felt a creeping sense of dread when I considered finding new support staff to fill her position after that point. Based on what I’d seen in their short time together, no one would be able to replace Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn took a step toward me and placed her hand on my arm, as if to bring me back to the present. “Does that make sense?”
We hadn’t touched since that day in my office when she’d agreed to work for me, an unspoken agreement to keep our boundaries firmly established. My sleeves were rolled up, and her soft touch on my skin sent an unexpected tremor through me.
I didn’t want to move away, but I also didn’t trust myself to let her delicate hand linger on me, especially with the way she was looking at me. Worried, resolute…and so very caring, as if I mattered to her and not just Harper.
No, no, I was imagining it. Kaitlyn had been nothing but professional since she arrived. She had no interest in me, and I wasn’t about to take any chances with her employment by doing something stupid.
“James?”
I finally grounded myself enough to answer her. “Yes. That’s fine.”
I shook off her touch, turned on my heel, and walked away quickly, unwilling to let her see the effect she still had on me.