Chapter 2 – Dean
“Go home, Connie,” I said lovingly. If my personal assistant had it her way, she’d talk my ear off until our agenda for next week actually ran into next week. I checked the time on my phone. Yep, we’d been talking for forty-three minutes so far, minus a few while I ran through the Salad-And-Go drive-thru for my dinner. It was a pet peeve of hers to have to listen to me order food while she waited in the background, so I always put myself on mute and notified her when I was done.
“I am home, you big lug.” As evidence, her little yorkie yapped in the background, only stopping when she cooed at him and promised him a walk.
“What I mean is, be off the clock. It’s the weekend. Go take your dog for a walk. It’s good for your health.”
“Are you calling me old, Mr. Kinney?”
“I’m calling you a workaholic. As soon as I’m home, I’m ending this call.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make this brief.”
Sure she would. Just like the traffic jam up ahead would be brief. I never should have let her schedule that appointment for me in Sun City right before rush hour. It was probably time to give in and hire a personal driver for the days I did nothing but go from meeting to meeting. I just… really liked driving. Everyone had a little bit of control freak in them. I saw it every day when I suggested changes to the way people ran their businesses. Driving was mine. I was the commander of my ship. The driver of my own destiny. If I was going to shout at bad drivers like a red-blooded American, I wanted to do it from the driver’s seat.
“What’s left to go over?” I asked.
“Your schedule conflicts for Monday.”
“Okay, hit me with ‘em.”
“The owners of TrekNova want to push their two p.m. meeting to four. Which is great because I snuck in a new client assessment at two. I’ll email you the details for that. However, you had me put a note for you to check on Donut Haven sometime in the early afternoon and anonymously observe them. I need to know if you still plan on that. Mike Raintree would like a phone conference after three p.m. Preferably at three-thirty. The pro bono case, the woman who runs the thrift store for the women’s shelter, was hoping to meet with you soon, but I haven’t given her a time yet. Oh, and you have a haircut scheduled at three, and if you cancel on Luis again, he’ll never forgive you.”
“He’ll forgive me.”
“This is the fourth reschedule, and your hair is looking scraggly.”
“Connie, you and I both know he can’t get a haircut done in under an hour. He’s meticulous. Call and reschedule again. I’ll pay him whatever he wants.”
“You’re spoiling him. Find a Great Clips this weekend and do a walk-in.”
“Then he really wouldn’t forgive me. Besides, I don’t gamble when it comes to my hair.”
Connie sighed loudly. As if she wasn’t fussy about her own hair. My seventy-year-old secretary kept her mane the color of a wheatfield at dawn, and she NEVER missed an appointment. “What about the other things?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll find time to check on Donut Haven. Yes to Mike Raintree. Tell him he can have a phone conference at three-fifteen. And do not put off the pro bono case. I can do a later afternoon appointment for her, or I can even meet with her tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you on that. Enjoy your weekend, Dean.”
“You, too.”
“Do you have any plans tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, I have a date.”
“Did your mother set this one up?”
Connie usually didn’t comment on my family life, and never with snark. So much for wrapping up this conversation. I pulled into my garage and blew a kiss to my shiny new Polaris Ranger in the next stall, silently promising it adventures in the near future. I’d taken it to Sedona once, and I was dying to do it again.
I rested my head back against the leather seat of my Audi. “Was that a dig at my mother, or at me?”
Connie laughed. She feared no one. Oh, to be old enough to never fear the repercussions of anything. “Dearie, the fact that you took it as a dig should tell you something. You only go out with these women to placate her. She’s not even trying to marry you off. It’s just an exchange of favors from one socialite to another. It’s connection building, and you’re that little connector block. So, I’m going to give you some advice. Favors are optional. It’s good for her to be disappointed every now and again. Especially by you.”
I took in a deep breath and blew it out. Connie wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t sure knowing that would change anything for me. “How long have you been holding onto that?”
“A long time. I’m sorry. You have enough on your shoulders without me tacking on what you should do with your life. ”
“Well, you’re usually the one chasing these women off when I stop calling them back.”
“And you pay me well for it.”
“To answer your original question, my date tonight is not a favor to anyone. In fact, my mother wouldn’t approve.”
“Good. In that case, have an excellent time.”
I noticed she didn’t say, ‘I hope you fall in love and live happily ever after.’ It wasn’t just the awful setups I got talked into. Even when I was the one choosing, my dating life never went well. How could it when the one woman I wanted didn’t want me?
Tonight’s date would either be the beginning of changing that, or the moment I blew up a bridge that was already laughably, dangerously unstable.