Chapter Three
Josh
At two sharp, I steeple my fingers and watch as Ted Lasker settles his imposing frame into a seat on the other side of my desk.
He still has a full head of hair—dark too, although the color might be from a bottle.
He has twinkling eyes that look blue-gray under the light and the square jaw he gave to all seven of his sons.
They were born to seven different women, one of them being my aunt Jeremiah.
He’s in a sapphire short-sleeve, button-down shirt and light beige slacks.
His assistant Joey Martin takes Ted’s sunglasses and places them in a case with reverence reserved for the Holy Grail.
His orange hair is cut short and spiked, showing every square inch of an enormous forehead.
I told him if he’d comb his hair down a little, he might look better.
At least it’d provide some coverage for his ridiculous forehead, but he refused, saying Ted likes his hair up.
If Ted told him to lick his own balls, he might do just that.
“What’s wrong with the options contract now? You didn’t have any problem before,” I say when Ted’s finally comfortable enough in the chair not designed to be comfortable.
“I didn’t, but now it seems the author has designs on me.”
“Who could blame her, sir?” Joey lays it on thick.
I keep my expression perfectly professional.
Ted thinks everyone wants him, man or woman, old or young.
And Joey feeds Ted’s delusions because he’s the ultimate sycophant.
“Well…” I say, “if she’s bothering you, you need to call the police.
I can’t add a clause telling her to stay away to the options contract. ”
Ted’s eyes widen with horror. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that. Her story’s just the thing I’m looking for, for my next project. Baby for the Asshole.”
“Baby for the Billionaire Boss, sir,” Joey says quickly.
Ted waves a hand. “Whatever, something like that. Point is, the main character reminds me of me, if I ever got crazy enough to go into finance.” He laughs.
“You’d be great at it, although thank God you didn’t because Hollywood would’ve lost its brightest star,” Joey says.
Why don’t you lick his toes, too? I keep the thought to myself because Joey might just do it. “Then what is it you’d like me to do?”
“Add a clause to the contract that says I reduce her payment by fifty percent if I sleep with her.”
I’m so glad I’m not having my post-lunch coffee right now.
“She has the hots for me,” Ted says, by way of explanation.
“Understandably,” Joey puts in.
Ted smiles. “And honestly, for a chance to sleep with me? She should just give me the book for free. But at the same time, you know, I’m not a total bastard. She’s probably poor. I don’t even think she has a private jet.”
“Most people don’t,” I point out.
Ted says, “I think fifty percent is more than fair. Half-half. Am I right?”
“Absolutely,” Joey says, nodding furiously.
“Although she could get difficult. If so…” Ted shakes his head. “I guess she’ll just have to miss out.” His tone says that would be a tragedy rivaling Romeo and Juliet.
“I don’t think it would be wise to put that in the contract,” I say, since I’m a lawyer dealing with reality, not delusion.
“Why not?” Ted looks genuinely confused. Joey’s expression snaps from woeful loss to nuclear glare in an instant.
“Because it sounds uncomfortably close to prostitution.”
“Hey, it’s not prostitution if she likes it.”
Joey leans forward, forehead glinting. “And really, what young woman wouldn’t pay to be with someone like—”
“Just pay the money.” I maintain my professional demeanor. “It isn’t that much, and it’ll be better for you down the road. Less chance of things getting muddled. She could—”
A piercing scream outside cuts me off.
“Who the hell do you think you are? You aren’t even that cute!” comes a loud female voice outside my office.
Klein says something in even, measured words, which I can’t make out through the door.
“I don’t care if he’s in a meeting! I deserve to see him!” Miss Shrill screeches.
Banging and things falling. The door to my office burst opens, and a tall, lithe blonde struts in, her hips moving with exaggerated swings. Her dress is so tight that everything is outlined, including her nipples. Definitely no underwear.
Behind her, a stapler and desk phone lie on the floor.
She must’ve knocked them over on purpose.
Klein rushes in, her cheeks flushed and mouth tight.
I stand up. “Excuse me for a moment.” The blonde’s eyes light up as my strides eat the distance between us, then her jaw drops when I go past her and stop in front of Klein. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she says. “Sorry, I couldn’t keep her—”
“It’s all right.” I pick up the stapler and the phone and place them on the desk. “Give me a moment with her.”
Klein’s eyebrows pull together. She nods, then turns her cellphone to show building security on the screen. “Just in case.”
A corner of my mouth quirks up. Despite the absurd situation it’s difficult to remain upset for long when I’m in Klein’s presence. “Good. Call them up here.” Then I turn around to face the intruder.
Before I can speak, Ted squints. “Nelly?”
“You know her?” I say, although I’d bet my left ball the blonde’s name isn’t Nelly. Other than Joey, Ted never remembers names. The only exceptions are the seven women who bore him sons, and he named each child after the mother so he could associate the mom-and-son pairings correctly.
“Ted!” she screams, fluttering her lashes as she folds both hands over her impressive double-E chest. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here! You know I’ve been looking for you, too.”
Ted shrugs. “Why would I tell you? You aren’t that special.”
The corners of Joey’s mouth twitch, his eyes gleaming maliciously. He loves it when Ted arrogantly exerts his power. Probably it makes him feel special. “Should I call 911 and report her for stalking?” he asks.
“I’m not stalking him! Although I do want to talk about this new movie.
I can play an excellent femme fatale. No,” she says dramatically, probably already starting to audition in the moment, “I’m here to deal with him.
” She points a long, lacquered nail in my direction, and her volume rises again. “How could you ignore my calls?”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” She looks vaguely familiar, but it’s probably the lip filler. So many women these days look like they stuck their mouths into a beehive.
She turns red. “Don’t be an asshole. We had the hottest connection of my life in April!”
I stare at her, studying her features more closely.
Her forehead isn’t moving—Botox. Her cheeks seem overly textured and red underneath the concealer.
Probably had some work done on them recently.
But she doesn’t ring a bell. Not even close.
Although I don’t always remember the numerous women I’ve had dinner with, I do remember those I’ve slept with.
Given her propensity to shriek, I’m pretty sure I didn’t have dinner with her, much less actual sex. My penis has standards.
I look toward Klein, who’s watching the scene with an avid, unblinking gaze. Awkward. She’s aware of my dating habits—thanks to certain persistent women who refuse to give up—but it’s one thing to know, another to witness. I want to pause the scene and explain, but that’d just be weird.
“Guess it wasn’t that hot for me.” My muttered response is still loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Really?” Ted gives the blonde a once-over. “Joey, make a note of that.”
“What? Why?” the woman says, finally realizing that getting on Ted’s radar like this might not be the best way to advance her career.
“I can’t cast a woman who leaves a dick cold and shriveled. This man is in his prime!” He gives me a meaningful look.
I rub the spot between my eyebrows. My dick doesn’t shrivel, thank you very much—except pointing that out is going to become even more awkward and might even encourage Ted.
He continues, “A true measure of a woman is her ability to make a guy get hard.”
“Exactly,” Joey adds with too much enthusiasm.
“Are you kidding? Men love me!” Nelly—or whoever she is—gestures from her shoulders to her hips, displaying her assets. “This isn’t something you can get just anywhere.”
“I’ve seen better,” Ted says with a shrug.
The woman seethes. “This is all your fault, Josh! You heartless asshole! You stood me up and humiliated me!” She screeches a string of curses that would make a rap star blush. People around the office crane their necks to watch the drama.
Great.
She bellows a battle cry, then lunges at me, her talons extended toward my face. I step left to avoid the attack. She moves surprisingly well for a woman in heels.
Thankfully, security comes in and grabs her arms. “You crazy asshole!” she yells again. “You’re going to be sorry when I’m famous!”
Ted turns to Joey. “They didn’t sleep together. If she screamed like this in bed, he’d remember.” Then, to her: “You have a nasty voice. A doc could IV Viagra into a guy and he’d stay wilted like month-old broccoli in the back of a fridge.”
“Ted, don’t! Give me a chance!” She shrieks and struggles as security drags her away. “I can make it worth your while!”
“Sorry, Sally. Too old.” Ted stands. “Well, that was exciting, but I gotta get going. I feel like I have an appointment.”
“You do, with Warren from Starlight,” Joey says.
“Right.” Ted turns to me. “Anyway, just see if you can add that thing about the fifty percent off. I didn’t get rich by giving my stuff away for free.”
He starts walking out, then says, “Oh hello, Preston.”
“Hello, Ted.”
I wince at Dad’s voice. That cool, even tone means he’s furious.
He appears in the doorway, dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit somewhere between midnight blue and navy. His tie is a muted wine color and knotted impeccably into a classic Windsor. As a senior partner, he exudes the confidence and authority many at the firm would love to emulate.
He gives me an unreadable look. “Joshua. To my office.”