Chapter 31
Miles
“ T his legislation tracker is legit. It paints a clear picture of all the states that need to step it up. Great job.”
Paco, one of Zo’s newest interns, shrugs off the compliments to dig his shoe into the carpet. “It was nothing.”
“Nah, don’t downplay what you did. Own that with your whole chest.”
The kid is a buck thirty wet in a department store suit two sizes too big. His confidence hasn’t hit its growth spurt yet, but we’re working on it.
“Sorry, Mr. Walker.”
And that.
“Do I look like Morgan Freeman? I told you to call me Miles.” I’m all for respect, but I don’t need to feel like a church elder whenever I step into the office. I’m old as fuck compared to the rest of Zo’s LA office staff. They’re all in their early twenties or thirties, except Paco, who’s eighteen.
“My bad, Miles,” he says under a crown of shaggy brown hair that needs a trim.
“I won’t hold you. We’ll go over regulations and areas to strengthen later. Take an early lunch if you want.” Or scratch your nuts—I don’t care.
“Okay, thanks.” Paco waves and exits the conference room.
Zo has a job lined up for him once he graduates high school. The kid needs some guidance with his gear, but he’s smart as hell. His full ride to a nearby college takes the pressure off his household to pay tuition and will have him on Capitol Hill in no time.
I call Zo for our first check-in of the week. He picks up on the second ring.
“ Bueno, bueno .”
“Aye, what’s good?” I adjust the tie I’ve been itching to take off since I came into the office.
“Same shit, different Monday,” he chuckles. “Thanks for sending over Paco’s database so quickly.”
“The shit is good, right?” As my GG used to say, Paco is smart beyond his years.
“He reminds me of you.”
I smack my lips. “Never once did you see me dressed for a tent revival at Bodie.” The scholarships I got eased my pockets so I could keep my closet tight. Paco should wear what makes him comfortable, but we’ll help him find a size that fits.
Zo laughs out loud but catches himself. “Leave the kid alone. We all have our starting point. Keep it up with the data and research. We might get a public hearing on the bill in the next few months.”
The US lacks a comprehensive data protection law for consumers. Zo wants to fix that with his federal bill, and he has a real shot if things keep up he way they are. My consulting role isn’t a requirement for its success, but it pushes his efforts to the next level. I’m not an in-office person, but being here isn’t a pain in the ass yet. Zo has a good team.
“How was dinner on Friday?”
A pain in my ass . “I cut off the lights,” I say, and Zo starts cackling. “You’re a better man than me dealing with that bullshit. Em’s family is on one.”
My mama and GG never played about family, taking the chicken out of the freezer before they got home, or mac ’n cheese. They loved me and got me right when I needed it, always keeping my best interest at heart. It’s wild that Emma grew up in such a toxic-ass environment. There’s no question why she keeps her guard up, though it’s a motherfucker to take down.
“John talks about his daughter all the time,” Zo says. “It surprised me to see their family dynamic.”
“He needs to come correct with her. Emma doesn’t deserve that.”
“Look at you, taking up for your lady.” The grin in his tone is loud as hell.
“Don’t start,” I huff.
“Whatever you say, carnal . You’ve been quiet about leaving.”
Trying not to think about it.
“Don’t you have taxpayer money to waste?”
“There’s something between you and Emma whether you take your head out your ass to see it or not. Life is too short to not go for it.”
Zo ends the call, leaving me in an empty conference room with a lot on my mind. It’s instinct at this point to defend Emma when it should be just about sex. I wanted to comfort her Friday after witnessing the uncensored version of her mama’s mouth. Fucking with the electricity by hacking into the city grid was the only response outside of knocking Carter’s ass out for not standing up for a woman he claims to care about. I went to the pier to calm my ass down with a hot dog and figure out why I cared to intervene.
I’m not a praying man but tossed up a request for a sign—and then came Emma on the other end of the pier. She wore the same look of confusion I did, but we met each other in the middle of the boardwalk and let the night take us.
Em saying Let’s go home felt natural. Right. We fucked on every surface and corner of the house we share. The sex was phenomenal but tethered us to the connection that’s veering us away from friends with benefits. We’re sinking into a foundation neither of us wanted in the beginning, and we’re putting up less of a fight as the days stretch across the calendar.
I only have a few weeks left in LA and never had any intention of leaving in a relationship. Yet, when the time comes, I’m not sure how I’ll say goodbye.
“Why do they eat yogurt in front of the Met?” Emma screws up her face through a bite of popcorn.
I shrug. “It’s what Blair and The Minions do.”
“The who?” She passes me the popcorn bowl.
“Minions.” I point to Blair’s homegirls.
“Oh.” Em nods like she won’t ask me fifty more questions.
We started watching Gossip Girl over the weekend and are trying to get through at least two episodes a night. Every now and then, she cracks a joke about me liking the show. The shit is entertaining. They’d have me under the jail if people so much as farted some of that bullshit my way. Emma pretends she doesn’t like it, but I can tell she does.
Her mahogany hair whips over her shoulder when she spins toward me on the opposite side of the couch. “You thought I would be like Blair?” she asks around a mouthful of popcorn. “ Blair ?”
I chuckle at the daggers forming in her eyes and raise my hands. “All I know is, you were a senator’s daughter who came from money. You kinda dress like an Upper East Si—” I dodge a pillow and laugh. “Now that I know you better, I would never.”
She sips from her wineglass. “Well, if I’m Blair, you’re Chuck.”
“The fuck I am!” I almost catch a cramp rolling my neck her way. “His ass should’ve caught a few charges the first episode.” I shake my head and shovel popcorn into my mouth. “Chuck Bass,” I mumble to myself. “You saw the shit he wore to play ball on the court. Ain’t no way.”
A grin forms and tips Emma’s head back with laughter. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted to release a full-hearted melody that squeezes my chest. Emma is beautiful in whatever she wears, but now—hair down and makeup-free in a fuzzy crop top and shorts set, cackling her ass off—she’s the most gorgeous she’s ever been. Completely free and relaxed.
Coming home to this is foreign, but it’s the best Monday night I’ve had in a long time.
Home .
Emma wipes a tear and catches her breath. “You know I’m kidding. You’re more like Malik Wright from The Game .”
“That tracks,” I nod. “Terrence is a ding-dong like Derwin, and Justice is Girl Melanie in the flesh.” Shit, my dynamic with her is similar too. “You remind me of—”
“Do not say Tasha Mack.”
“Nah, that’s my mama—and that’s nasty, since we fuck. I was going to say Dionne, Derwin’s publicist. She made her own bread, was about her business, and took no shit off anybody.”
“Good choice.” Emma shifts back to watch Gossip Girl , but my eyes never leave her profile.
My mind wanders to an episode we starred in two years ago in the hallway of our best friends’ house. What would life look like if we were different people, people who believed in relationships and opening up enough to try?
My phone chimes on the coffee table with a text. Emma catches the message when she hands it to me, flaring her nostrils as she looks away.
Brandice
Hey, stranger. Interested in a nightcap this week?
“Big plans?” Her eyes flit to the phone in my hand.
I haven’t seen Brandice since I left her to be with Emma. But we’ve texted once or twice, which is how she knows I’m in the area.
“This is the first time Brandice is reaching out to link up,” I say. “She was the one I was with at the bar that night—”
Everything changed.
“Looks like you’ll have a redo once you get home.” Dare I say Emma looks pissed?
“Actually”—I peek at the incoming message—“Thursday. She’ll be in LA for a shoot.” My gaze swings from my phone to Emma and her tight jaw. “You’ll crack a tooth mugging me that hard.”
She squirms into her sectional and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not mugging anyone,” she huffs.
“You look jealous, kitten.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure about that?” I don’t know why I’m goading her to admit what we both haven’t. The lines between us have blurred.
“One night open for other people,” she says, reintroducing me to her guard, which is now back in place. “We agreed to it, and it’s not a problem. I might meet up with someone myself.” She returns to Gossip Girl and grabs the popcorn bowl.
Lying ass.
Em might think she’s running things and keeping me at arm’s length, but I see her— all of her. You have to earn her trust for her to feel comfortable enough to stay. That takes time, a gift I’m not used to giving.
Brandice is cool, a knockout with a tall, athletic build dipped in subtle curves. It’s not a bad idea to get something going since she lives in New York and I’m out of here in less than a month. My usual reflex would be to get up with whoever holds my interest, but I’m not moving like I did in the past.
Brandice
My shoot wraps at six. There’s a dinner spot next to my hotel we can try.
I’ve been following Emma’s lead since she made the rules. Going out with other people never came into play last week, but maybe she wants the flexibility to get down like we used to.
Emma shuts down the conversation when I ask again and reminds me we’re not together. I don’t know why the shit pisses me off, nor why I’m going back and forth like we are a couple. If she says she’s cool, I’ll take her at her word.
I’m game.