14. Oakley
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
oakley
“And you think I’m the smart ass. I explained what happened… my father and…just forget it. I can see you’re the type to hold a grudge.” I pick up my purse, walking off abruptly to the sanctuary of the Pacman machine. I dig out two quarters and shove them in the slit when I hear the bleep, bleep as it swallows the coins whole. Pushing the joystick left, then up and to the right, back down and into the corner, I eat the power pellets, gobbling up ghosts and before I know it, I’ve cleared the first board.
As I straighten, waiting for the next course, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s large with the heel of the palm on my shoulder blade and the fingers folded over my collarbone. It’s warm and for some reason, it feels intimate. I’m trying to remember when someone had their hand on my shoulder like this. People have patted my back and put their hands on my shoulder when we were face to face, but this feels different.
The music plays, and the new screen is set. Nerves wash over me as he stares over my shoulder, but I complete the next two boards, and now Pacman meets Mrs. Pacman.
“You’re good.”
“Thanks,” I say as I shove the controller to the left and right at a quicker pace. The ghosts are turbo boosted in this phase, but I clear the board. Twenty minutes later, I finally lose my last life.
“You should be in video game tournaments. Or this could be your side hustle,” he says.
I turn to face him, and our bodies are so close that I can smell the garlic and spicy pepperoni on his breath. “Was that a compliment from the great Corbin Shearer?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “Let’s go.” He yells at Luna and Lou that he’s leaving and lays a hundred-dollar bill down, so he gives them a one hundred percent tip. Must be nice.
“What’s your hurry?”
“I need to get home.”
The truck is smoldering hot from the summer sun. Daylight seems to last forever and even though the sun is setting, it doesn’t negate that it’s ninety-four degrees. The leather burns the back of my thighs.
“Hot, hot, hot.” I pull the handle above the door, bouncing. Corbin’s grin curls up on one side as he watches me. “It’s not funny.”
All he says is, “I know.” But his focus lingers on my legs. He coughs in his elbow before asking, “Did you forget to bring the documents regarding your trust?”
I unzip my purse and take out the document folded twice. He laughs. “What? I didn’t forget?”
“Do you mind if my sister takes a look at it?”
“Why?”
“She’s a lawyer. She specializes in inheritance law or whatever they call it.”
I gnaw on my lip and turn in my seat. “Can we make a copy first and give her the copy?”
“Sure, she has a copy machine at her home office.”
“She already hates me. You said so,” I hem and haw. “Will she try to talk you out of our arrangement?” I sneak a glance at him when he pulls up to a downtown high rise. He pulls in front of the green awning, and the valet opens my door. Corbin opens the door and escorts me in. He says to the doorman, “Can you ring me up to 1200?”
“Sure, Mr. Shearer.”
As the elevator doors hum to a close, my nerves prickle under my skin. My palms sweat at the thought of coming face to face with his sister again. She seems to be the tiny but mighty kind of person, and she’s going to lose her mind when she sees me. I strum my fingers against my leg, wondering what kind of chaos might occur when we reach her floor.
Calm down. Corbin is a grown man and makes his own decisions and if he wants to help me, then she can’t stop him—unless she tells the world we’re faking it.
As if he senses my trepidation, his hand brushes against my arm, instantly soothing my nerves. “She’s a softy. It’ll be fine. But you need to understand that I have to know what exactly will help you gain access to your trust fund, so she can write up a contract between us.”
There’s no venom in his voice. Maybe we took a baby step tonight.
The doors open to a hallway which has one door on each side but not perfectly across from each other. He taps his knuckles against 1200, and his sister swings the door open wide. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Sorry, are you busy?”
That’s when his sister notices me. “Noooo, but…” I give her a tentative wave. “Well, hello, person who took advantage of my brother.”
“Can we come in?” he asks.
Her eyes narrow as she glances at me, then back to him. “Yeah, have you eaten?”
“Yeah, Oakley and I went to dinner.”
“Hmm. Why?”
“Because I asked her on a date. I need a favor, and you can’t even tell your hubs. Is he here?”
Corbin looks around the grand living area. This place is immaculate, warm, and inviting. She has a wall full of photos. There must be twenty frames with even more people in them. In her wedding photo, they don’t appear to go together. Usually, beautiful people marry other beautiful people. She’s tiny and flawlessly beautiful, and her husband is small, wiry with glasses. He must be a dynamo in bed.
“Yeah, he’s on a call with Japan. It’s morning there.”
“Can you copy this?” He hands her the documents. “You keep the copy and give Oakley the original.”
She unfolds them and scans the first page. “This seems to be in order.”
“Wait until you read it all. I don’t want you to read it now. Just copy it, and we’ll go, then you can call me so I can explain.”
Becca’s brows furrow as she stares at her brother and pads out of the room. Corbin whispers, “She’ll be on my side.”
“She should be because I’m not the only one who needs this.”
A few minutes later, she marches back in the room, handing me the stack of papers. Her eyes are tired. I can’t imagine reading documents like this for eight hours a day.
“Where did he take you to dinner?”
“Lou’s.”
“Sis, you should see this girl at Pacman. It’s unreal.”
She mumbles under her breath, “You should have taken her to the 401. No wonder you’re single.”
He ignores her, wrapping her in a hug. “Love you. We’ll talk later.”
She gives him a nod of acceptance as she walks us to the door. I sense that she has more to say but doesn’t want to say it in front of me. Probably “Run, Corbin, run,” but for different reasons than in Forrest Gump.
“Thank you. I appreciate you looking at this. I don’t have money for my own lawyer, and I don’t understand the legal terminology.”
“Yeah, thanks, Becca.”
She folds her lips inside, covering her teeth, and I can tell the gears inside her head are turning. Becca’s tone softens, but her stance is rigid. “It can be frustrating and intimidating for people who don’t have a background in law. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Corby.”
When we get back in the truck, I cackle. “Corby?”
“Childhood nickname.”
“It sounds like that stuffed animal that everyone wanted for one year. What was it? They could talk and respond to commands. One of my friends had one. They were so stinking cute.”
“A furby,” he utters, sounding slightly embarrassed. “My uncle worked for the National Security Agency, and they were banned because they could record audio and video.”
“Hmm, interesting, Corby. Corby. Corby.”
He turns onto the interstate to take me home.
“You’re annoying.”
“Just to you.”
“I’m putting in the contract that you have to be less annoying.”
“Aww, Corby. I’m sure you can find a way to make that happen.”
Knowing full well he’s attracted to me and me to him, but we can’t let that get in the way of the goal—get married and access my money. For him, get the press off his back.
Darkness stretches over the sky, but I’m feeling hopeful that Corbin has been put into my life for a reason. It may not be conventional, but we can have a life for a little while. We can pretend to be in love, but I don’t know how we can live together without tearing off each other’s clothes or killing each other.
He pulls in front of my apartment and while walking me to the door, his voice strains against his throat like he doesn’t mean to say his words aloud. “If I keep your mouth stuffed with… you can’t annoy me.”
Stuffed with what? Food? A cloth covered in formaldehyde? Or ….
Oh. Does he mean what I think he does? Arousal pools in my underwear at the thought as I open the door and wave goodbye.