Chapter 30 – Remington
CHAPTER THIRTY
I hate being wrong
Remington
“Hell no I’m not going back to that ancient-ass scheduler,” Phoenix balks that evening over dinner at my apartment.
Helix slurps up some noodles and shakes his head.
“I’m not switching either. That thing was basically a white calendar, and that’s it.
I think it was developed the same year I was born.
The new one has all kinds of features like alerting you thirty minutes before a meeting. That’s saved my ass more than once.”
I scowl at them. “You’re supposed to have my back. I’m your brother.”
Nicolette expertly picks up a dumpling with her chopsticks. “You’re not my brother.”
My eyes narrow in her direction. “But we’re family now.”
“And family members are supposed to be honest with each other, so here goes. You’re being a stubborn ass, Remi.
No one wants to use something that’s one step above Moses carving the Ten Commandments on stone tablets.
” She rolls her eyes. “We’re a Fortune 500 company, for Christ’s sake.
Next thing we know, you’ll want to replace everyone’s cell phones with a flip phone and one of those old Palm Pilots. ”
“Definitely a stubborn ass,” Phoenix agrees, pointing his chopsticks at me. “You’re just looking for shit to complain about, Rem. The app is fantastic. Even Jordie uses it now to keep up with her schedule. Games, practices, photo shoots, special appearances, all that stuff.”
“Speaking of Jordie, where did you say she went tonight?” I ask, changing the subject because they’re obviously not going to be swayed on the Task-Pro thing.
“It’s a kids’ night event at the stadium. Kind of like a mini-camp for the players’ children. She took Reece.”
Nicolette smiles and rests her hand on her barely swollen abdomen. “I love how family friendly the WNFL is. The league really seems to care about the players who have children.”
They launch into a discussion about the women’s league while I sit there and try to figure out what to do. I’m apparently the only person in the entire building using the old app. Maybe I should get with the program and use the new one.
I’ll download it and play around with it tonight.
I hate being wrong.
But the fact is, the app is just as good as everyone said it is. I’ll hold out and use the old one for the rest of the week for posterity’s sake, and then I’ll quietly start using Task-Pro next Monday.
Stepping off the elevator on Tuesday morning, I’m practically salivating for those peach pie cookies. Ambrosia greets me with a smile over her shoulder as she finishes making a coffee for Charlotte, Phoenix’s assistant.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say and politely wait my turn.
“Have a good day, Ambrosia, Mr. Hale,” Charlotte says, taking her coffee and some kind of yellow cookie and exiting through the opening to the marketing hallway.
Ambrosia pours my coffee and hands me a plate holding three of the yellow cookies. “I saved these for you, just like I promised,” she says.
I stare at them like they personally insulted me and then look up at the barista. “What about the peach ones?”
“We had those yesterday. Today we got lemon butter. They’re amazing, I promise.” She taps the edge of the glass plate with her fingernail and nods encouragingly.
“Okay, thanks,” I say, taking my breakfast of champions and heading to my office. Mindy is already there, and my stomach tightens when I see she’s in the red suit again today, the same one I saw her wearing last week. The one that’s the exact color of the dress from that night.
“Morning, Ms. Espinoza.”
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she trills, and my jaw tightens. Mostly because I’m trying not to laugh at her smartass greeting. I was quite a dick yesterday with the whole I’m the boss thing, so I’ll let her have this one.
Once again, she leaps from her chair and opens my door for me, and I mutter a thank you.
The lemon butter cookies are delicious, but not quite as satisfying as the peach ones from yesterday. Maybe she alternates days and will bring them again tomorrow.
I busy myself with emails and a few phone calls until Mindy knocks on my door at 10:25. “Come in,” I call.
She steps inside, and I keep my eyes firmly on her face and not on how her body looks in that suit. “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Hale, but I was wondering if you’re planning to leave soon for the meeting over at the lab building?”
I look at the plain black-and-white calendar on my screen. “I have time. It’s not until 11:00.”
She winces. “Actually, it’s at 10:30, which only gives you five minutes to get over there.”
Squinting at the calendar, I realize the meeting is wedged halfway between the ten and eleven. Motherfucker. This really is a piece of shit system.
Standing quickly, I start rolling down the sleeves of my dress shirt. When I fumble to do the buttons one-handed, Mindy steps forward and buttons them for me and deftly adds my cufflinks. Then she plucks my jacket from the back of my chair and holds it up so I can stick my arms into the sleeves.
“Let me see,” she says, pushing my shoulder until I turn around so she can look me over. The backs of her fingers brush my neck as she straightens my tie, and I can feel blood rushing to the point of contact.
“All good?” I ask.
“Um, you have a little…” She reaches up and brushes a cookie crumb from my beard with her thumb and smiles shyly. “All good now.”
I have an overwhelming urge to suck that thumb into my mouth, but of course I don’t. “Thanks, Mindy,” I say, using her first name out loud for the first time in front of her.
“You’re welcome, sir.” She closes my laptop and hands it over. “I compiled your notes into bullet points so you can find them easily. They’re in the purple folder labeled with today’s date, which is pinned to your desktop.”
She really is a fantastic assistant. I only wish I could keep her.