Chapter 9
Highest Boiling Point
Alan
“Oh yeah, I don’t know why people get so easily offended lately, but seriously, nobody’s getting hurt, right?”
The man on the other end of the phone rambles about general ethics, social norms, and every other bit of nonsense. I stay silent and swallow all his unhelpful lectures, my eyes rolling upward every time he recites sections on ad broadcasting.
“All right, sir, I get it. How about we meet to discuss this, hm? Face-to-face in a three Michelin star restaurant will feel different, yeah?”
Usually that trick works with a little hush money. What else do they want but cash? This controversy is completely baseless.
“No, no, I’m not trying to bribe you, sir. I just want to discuss and find clues to resolve this controversy.”
Shit. This one’s persistent. The high-ranking official keeps ranting and my head starts to throb from the nonsense he’s spewing. Why do they seem to hate me? I should be getting props for airing a funny, creatively engaging ad. Hell, our team might even win the annual advertising trophy for this.
“All right, all right. I understand. I’ll send an official letter as soon as possible.” I hang up.
My teeth grit and I chuck my phone at the wall. Damn it all. Everything’s a mess. Mallory and Roger don’t even pick up my calls. Fuck.
My phone rings again. Shit. Before I close one problem another pops up.
I can’t understand why people are losing it over an ad that ran on a rented LED screen for less than a minute. It’s not even on a streaming channel. What’s the big deal? No kids were at the event yesterday, no animals were harmed, nothing.
Journalists keep calling too. For exposure, I’ll entertain them. I pick my phone up from the floor and answer.
“Hey, how are you?” I greet, forcing a bright tone. “Oh yeah. Have you seen the ad? What do you think?”
The man on the other end starts checking boxes and asking confirmatory questions. I answer patiently while I sip my chamomile tea. It always calms me down.
“Yeah, Fenella’s incredible. She’s professional as hell toward me regardless of whatever personal stuff might be happening right now.”
I scratch my head at his ridiculous suggestions. He wants to do more controversial projects with us. Is he out of his mind? Can’t he see my office is burning? Opportunistic, absolutely.
“Listen, right now Fenella and I are dealing with the ad fallout. We’re not taking on anything else. Rain check?”
The reporter loses it, starts ranting and throwing threats into the air like confetti—hoaxes, dirt on me and Fenella, whatever he can conjure on the spot.
“Please, do as your heart desires, sir. I get it. Most of the stuff you write is trash anyway.” I hang up.
My lips press together into a thin line. I kill the ringer and switch my phone to silent. Oh, what’s this? Laird sent me a message.
My eyes scan the text and laughter bursts out of me, sharp and involuntary. Is he threatening me? Goddamn. How dare he. What does he know about me? Nothing.
I call Mike. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Call Jessy and make sure he’s with Fenella. Drag them far away from Gene’s office,” I say as I start shoving things into my bag.
“For what?” he asks in his usual stupid tone.
“Someone’s threatening to kill me.” I don’t know how serious it is, but you never know when someone snaps. Better to be cautious, be prepared, and get them as far away as possible.
“So you don’t want Jessy and Fenella to see you die?”
“For God’s sake, Mike, stop with the nonsense!” I snap. “What’s the point if I die? Will they pity me if I’m hurt? Do you think that’s funny, Mike?!”
“Uh, okay. Sorry, I thought they’d pity you. I’ll call Jessy and get them somewhere away from the office.” Mike stammers.
“Wait.” A sudden idea hits me—an ugly, delicious little plan. “You’re right, Mike. Women pity other people, especially Fenella.”
I narrow my eyes and a wide smile spreads across my face. Yes. Yes. I could make this work. Let me be the victim. If I’m hurt, they’ll pity me, they’ll call the cops on Laird, and maybe they’ll break up.
“Hello, Alan?”
“Yes, Mike. Make sure they come to the office now and see it all,” I say, letting my smile calm my voice.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Tell them Laird Evans has gone off the rails with blind jealousy.”
“Alright.”
The call ends. I block all incoming calls, stare at my screen where Laird’s name and message sit, take a screenshot, and send it to Fenella.
Me:
Please help me. It seems like Laird is going to kill me.
Now I just have to wait.
* * *
“Bastard.”
Laird bursts into my office, and I can’t help but grin wide. Yeah, he’s furious this time. His eyes are blazing, his breath rough and heavy, and he’s coming at me with long, fast strides like he wants to crush the floor.
“Welcome,” I greet him, casual as hell.
“Cut the act.” He slams a brown envelope down on my desk like he’s throwing down a gauntlet.
“What’s this?” I ask, my brows pulling together just enough to make it look like I care.
“Don’t play dumb, Alan. I know exactly who you are.” His jaw locks tight and he leans in with that dagger look he’s trying to pin me with.
I push up from my chair, curiosity flickering. My hands tear open the envelope, pull out the crumpled papers, and I skim through them page by page.
“Oh wow, I’m flattered. Didn’t know you were such a devoted fan.” I drop the pile back on the desk like it’s junk mail.
My hands slide into my pockets and I tilt my head. I glance down at his hands just in case, but nah, no knife, no gun. Maybe it’s all bark and no bite.
“I’ve sent a copy to her, and she’s coming here. You’re done.” His voice comes low and sharp, like he’s spitting nails.
“Doesn’t mean shit to her or me.” I shrug.
“Of course it does. She’ll know your lies. She’ll hate you for life.”
“So what if she hates me for life? She hates me already. You’re wasting your breath.” I sneer, but he just keeps glaring. Those green eyes burn like he’s ready to torch the place.
“You know what? I’m done with your games. Just admit you’re into her.” He scrunches up his face.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Laird.” My grin turns crooked, almost amused.
“No. I know I’m right. You’ve been into her forever, since high school.”
And yeah, that’s a bomb right there. I’ve got to give it to him, Laird Evans isn’t dumb. Makes me wonder if he could actually outplay me. My eyes flick to my laptop screen on the desk. The CCTV plays, showing Fenella and Jessy stepping into Gene’s office in a rush.
“Listen, Laird.” My gaze swings back to him. “How many damn times do I gotta tell you I’m gay? What, you want me to draw you a diagram?”
I circle the table slowly, then plant myself right in front of him. His face stays locked tight. No fear, nothing but that stubborn wall.
“You could fake it,” he growls, jaw twitching.
“Like you did in your office?” I shoot back with a smile.
His eyes snap wide and there it is. He knows I’ve caught on. He grabs my collar, yanking me in, his teeth grinding while he growls like a caged dog.
“Listen, you scumbag. You’re nothing but a scam, and now I’m gonna kill you.”
“Ooh, I like it rough. You’re really turning me on with this tough-guy routine. You even realize how cute you are when you’re pissed?” I chuckle, leaning in like the space between us doesn’t exist. His breath is hot and harsh against my face.
“I don’t give a fuck about labels anymore. The only thing I know for sure is you want to mess with her. But just so you know, if you ever get closer to her than this, I’ll crush your dick.” He grits his teeth.
“My, my, what a nasty bastard you are.” I laugh, sharp and loud.
Fenella pushes the door open. Before Laird can shove me off I cup his head with both hands and crash my mouth against his. Hard and forceful. He freezes, fists clenching tighter on my collar. Just a second, that’s all I need, and damn, it’s amazing.