19. Brock Jones
Chapter nineteen
Brock Jones
“Slater, my man, it’s great to see you,” I say with a grin as I walk up to the bar.
Sitting on a stool two sizes too small for him is Burt Slater, one of the most successful agents in the business, and also my mentor. He throws an arm around me and pulls me in for a hug. The scent of expensive aftershave makes my eyes burn.
“You’re looking good, kid. Not as good as me, but hey, you’ll get there one day.” He laughs, turning a few heads with the boisterous sound.
I hop up next to him and signal the bartender. The woman nods in acknowledgment while making a drink.
“How have you been?” I ask.
He types on his phone as he answers me. “Busy–-you know how it is. Got a new yacht last week though, she’s sleek. Named her Michelle after my ex-wife, because she’s powerful and could crush anyone in her path.”
I wince. “I didn’t know you and Michelle got divorced.”
That’s his third wife. But I don’t come to the man for life advice, just business.
The bartender comes over and I order a beer. Yes, it’s only early afternoon, but I know Slater won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t order a drink. He hates to drink alone.
“Did my assistant not send you the party invite?” He sets his phone down with a sigh. “I was hoping not to have to fire this one.”
“I haven’t accepted many party invitations lately,” I tell him, in hopes of saving his assistant’s job. “My secretary might have declined on my behalf.”
Slater takes a swig of dark brown liquid–probably whiskey, if I had to guess. “Makes sense. You must be busy. I’ve seen your name on just about every athlete. Seems like they either go with you or me.” He laughs again, his beer belly shaking with the movement.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I have to work hard to keep up with you.”
“That’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Working hard and leveling up. I did that when I was your age, and look at me now.” He spreads his arms wide. The sleeves of his suit ride up, exposing the Rolex on his wrist. “I’ve got everything you could want in life.”
I take a sip of my beer. For some reason, Ariel keeps coming to mind.
She dropped me off at my house yesterday and said she’d see me later.
Even though she hasn’t so much as texted since, I’ve had trouble getting her out of my head.
I get the feeling if she were here, she’d put Slater in his place and tell him he’s wrong.
Slater’s phone buzzes on the table again. He picks it up and starts typing. I’m tempted to check mine, but I want to ask him something first.
“Can I get your advice?” I ask.
“Shoot.”
I shift on the stool. “Did you ever have friends and family try to stop you from working so much?”
“All the time. Why do you think I’ve gone through so many wives?
They all think they can change me, make me settle down.
I’m straightforward with all of them, but there’s something in them that wants to fix me.
” He looks at me. “Listen to me, kid, no one is going to get it. They don’t understand the drive.
If I could go back in time, I’d never get married.
Then I’d be enjoying this life and my beach house in Key West that I had to give up to Margo with no worries. ”
“Margo?” I question. “I thought we were talking about Michelle.”
He waves a hand, eyes on his screen. “They all start to blur together. Women are my vice. They bat their lashes, and I give them a ring. It’s a sickness, but who has time for therapy? I’d rather be making money.”
“So you’re saying it’s better off not to get married?”
“Definitely. The less people you’re tied down to, the better.
Do you want to spend the rest of your life with someone nagging you about why you’re coming home late?
” He makes a face. “Don’t be like me, kid, stay away from women while you’re building this thing.
Once you’ve made it, maybe try the whole family man thing on.
Does get your foot in the door with clients who are into all that, so that’s a plus. ”
I nod, digesting his advice. He’s got plenty of issues, but it’s clear he’s successful. His name is right next to all the greats. If I want a chance at proving myself, I need to take at least part of his advice to heart.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
He grins and slaps me on the back. “Good. You’re gonna go far. I told you that the day I met you.”
A real smile stretches my lips. I remember that day.
I’d just negotiated a fantastic deal for Emmett.
Slater came up to me at a charity gala, handed me a glass of whiskey, and welcomed me to the big leagues.
He told me if I worked hard and gave it my all, that I’d be up there with him one day.
I’ve worked every day since then to prove him right.
We spend the rest of our time together, alternating between working on our phones and telling funny stories about our clients. It feels good to be around someone who doesn’t judge me for checking my email or taking a call in the middle of a conversation.
By the time I leave the restaurant, the thought of seeing my family this week feels like a storm cloud hanging over me.
I wish that they could see me the way Slater does.
All they see is the things I miss. No one recognizes my work ethic, or all the great things I’ve accomplished.
I watched Sutton get every award in school.
That was never my thing. This is my chance to prove to everyone that I’m building something great .
I walk back to my office building, more determined than ever to work as hard as I can. Nothing and no one can stand in my way.
The elevator opens on my office floor, and I frown. Why is music blasting? Marie isn’t at her desk, either. I round the corner and see Ariel standing on my desk , using an iced coffee as a microphone, singing along to a terrible–but catchy–pop song. She’s moved most of my things to nearby shelves.
“What are you doing?” I shout over the music.
She grins down at me. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re creating a disturbance for someone to call the police about.”
Her laughter is infectious, and I can’t help but chuckle with her. “I’m not disturbing anyone but you. I told your assistant you needed lunch. She went to a bagel place thirty minutes from here. Should take her a while.”
“She believed you?”
“I can be very convincing,” she replies with a mischievous grin that kicks my heart rate up.
“Is that so?”
“I’m counting on it. Get up here, Carolina.”
I laugh. “What? I’m not climbing on my desk.”
I look around for the speaker to turn it off, but she’s got it well hidden.
“Your sister gets into town tonight. Should I greet her at the airport with the news that you’ve been hiding things from her?”
I scowl. “You’re already forcing me to go to dinner on Wednesday. I’m never going to get any work done at this rate.”
“The sooner you get up here, the sooner I leave,” she singsongs.
I let out a growl and climb up on the desk. I lift my hands up and drop them. “There, happy now?”
“Almost.” She takes a sip of her iced coffee. “Dance with me.”
“Someone should make a missing person poster for your brain, because it must be gone if you think I’m going to dance with you.”
“Dance, or I’m not leaving.”
I grimace and start to shift side to side like an awkward preteen at their first middle school dance. “You have terrible taste in music.”
“I have fantastic taste. You don’t like it because you gave your soul up to this skyscraper.”
With that encouraging statement, she places a hand on my shoulder as she sways her hips to the beat. I swallow and avert my gaze.
“Is that really all you’ve got?” she challenges.
I snag her iced coffee and drop it into the trash can beside my desk.
“Hey! You can’t–” She cuts off with a gasp when I grab her by her hips and pull her to me.
I meet her gaze as we move in time to the beat.
“How’s this?” My voice comes out huskier than I intended.
“Better, but still weak,” she replies, fire in her eyes.
I smirk and take her hand, then spin her away from me. Her long brown hair flies out with the movement. She spins back into my chest. I press my lips to her ear.
“How about now?”
“Not half bad,” she replies in a breathy voice before spinning away again.
We dance, and I start to loosen up as we do. After a dizzying set of turns, Ariel’s foot slips off the edge. I catch her, drawing her to me as she laughs. When I bought this desk, I thought the size was overkill. Who knew it would serve as a dance floor?
Ariel’s forehead falls against my chest. Her shoulders shake with her giggles. The song changes before she moves away. It’s a slower one, singing about the wonders of love.
She lifts her head and meets my gaze. “I don’t know why this one came on. It’s supposed to be playing my dance party playlist.”
We sway to the melody. Neither of us pulls away. I can’t stop staring into her deep blue eyes.
“You have a dance party playlist?” I raise a brow. “Do you dance on desks often?”
“Yours is the first,” she says with a shy smile that causes warmth to spread throughout my chest. “I have danced on a few tables in my day and a kitchen island or two.”
I smile at the image of her dancing in her kitchen without a care in the world. It’s easy to picture after watching her sing while cooking over the weekend.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“What can I say? I like to have fun. Life should be fun .” She grabs the lapels of my suit coat and gives me a playful shake. “Not all work.”
I let go of her waist and step back. “Speaking of work, I should get back to it. Since you sent my assistant away, I’m going to have double the calls.”
I get down off my desk, then look up at Ariel. Concern blankets her expression. I expected anger. I’m not sure what’s worse anymore. She glances at the skirt she’s wearing and then at the floor.
“You didn’t think about getting down, did you?” I ask, laughing.
She frowns. “Spontaneous plans aren’t meant to be thought through.”
I shake my head. “Come here, I’ll get you down.”
She steps to the edge of the desk. I grab her hips and lift her up, then gently set her down on the floor. I take a second too long to let her go. Her gaze burns into mine.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
I dip my chin, words failing me. I shouldn’t have touched her. I’ve done that far too much lately.
“I-I should probably get back to work,” she stutters and takes a step back. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
She speeds to the door and quickly slides on her heels before leaving. I watch her go, wondering if Ariel might be the vice Slater warned me to stay away from.