Chapter 34
Julianna
“You’re making the call,” I tell Presley over cocktails. “Because I don’t want to be the one to lick Moreau’s ass. You have a much more gifted tongue than I do.”
Presley knocks back her second Manhattan of the evening. This is following the Long Island iced tea from earlier, of course. What can we say? It’s Wednesday. We have to celebrate Hump Day somehow. Personally, I’m going home to hump my girlfriend after this is over, but Presley can do whatever she pleases.
“If I make the call, then you’ve gotta put together the spreadsheets yourself. No delegating to Vern or the interns.”
“You have my word.” Great. One less thing for me to think about.
We’re celebrating the finalization of our deal with Danica Moreau, the one we chose to go forward with in our business venture. Both she and Coleman made their compelling cases for getting in on our hot start-up action, but in the end, Moreau Industries had the history and name backing up what we are setting out to do. Now one of us has to call her and sweetly ask for the money so we can move forward.
Tonight, we’re in the VIP lounge of Presley’s most recent nightclub, Red Sky, the same place my girlfriend came that fateful night she learned that I am to be with her always, even if I am not physically present. I can now see why that incident happened. Even on a Wednesday night, the club is full of horny kids looking to up their “body count.” I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those same people Alessa encountered are here again tonight.
I will say, though, that even if Presley and mine’s tastes don’t perfectly line up, she knows how to run a successful business. It’s not easy to keep nightclubs open in a small city like Portland. But Presley has mastered the art of limited space vs. space that is still functional for drinking and dancing. That’s why she has three successful nightclubs throughout the metro area with completely different themes based on the tastes of the neighborhoods they’re in.
“You and spreadsheets sound like a hot date, Jules.” Presley laughs into her glass. “Speaking of, where’s your girlfriend tonight? Got her at home doing her spreadsheets?”
“She’s home but doing homework.” I’ll be so glad when Alessa’s term is over and she’s mine for the whole summer. (Then I have her overworked senior year to look forward to, but I’m not thinking about that right now.) This finals business is not something I signed up for. “Says she has a big test on Friday and wants to study.”
“You think she’s telling the truth and not trying to ditch you?”
My mouth twitches. “First of all, Stu is there doing his paperwork while also keeping an eye on her.”
“I’m only saying. A lot of those college girls make up shit to go hang out with their friends and be stupid young adults. Especially the girls. Remember how we were?” She chuckles again. “Remind me to never date a girl in college again.”
Something’s not adding up here. Then again, Presley has the loosest lips when she’s been drinking, and she’s had more than a bit tonight. “When have you dated a girl in college since you were there?” Presley likes her women younger than her, but she rarely goes college co-ed for more than a hot one-night stand. Can’t say I blame her at this point, either. They’re a handful.
“Ah, well…”
“Spill, woman.” We haven’t talked much about Presley’s love life lately. We’re probably overdue since we spend so much time talking about mine.
“There may have been a girl I was seeing off and on over the first half of the year. Nothing serious, of course. She knew it wasn’t serious, either. Sex here and there.”
“Of course.”
“Not like I was halfway to marrying her like you are with Alessa.”
I ignore that. “Go on.”
She looks away. That means she’s embarrassed. Now, is she embarrassed because the girl she was dating is someone I would look down on her for? Or because she had feelings for her?
Knowing Presley, it could go either way.
“It was a fling. That’s all.”
“Must be more than that if you’re looking that wistfully off into the distance.”
I laugh, because even yours truly can occasionally be swayed by good alcohol, but Presley isn’t laughing. Instead, she candidly says, “No matter what, I come off sounding like a huge hypocrite, and I’m not in the mood right now.”
Oh, no. She doesn’t get away with saying only that.
Time for me to employ the kind of gaze I rarely unleash on my business partner. Usually, it’s reserved for misbehaving employees, business associates who are on the verge of insulting me, and everyday citizens who I am not in the mood to deal with. If Presley is getting my nasty eye, it’s because she needs to fess up to something before I discover the truth for myself.
I suppose I finally got through to her. Presley puts her empty glass down with a sigh, smacks her lips, and gestures to the space between us. “Shortly after you started fooling around with Alessa,” she begins, “I may have had my inappropriate romance with one of our employees.”
The intensity of my gaze is giving me a headache. I can only imagine how I look to my blubbering idiot of a friend.
And business partner! May I remind everyone that whatever bullshit Presley gets up to can reflect upon me? And lose me money? Forever?
This is the woman who has given me nothing but shit ever since I started dating Alessa, let alone openly. This woman is such a hypocrite, and I’m not even sure what the whole truth of this matter is yet.
Dare I even ask?
“Who was it?”
Presley waves her hand as if it’s completely inconsequential. “Someone who isn’t even working for us anymore.”
That… is something I don’t like hearing because my brain instantly goes to one woman who might have some grievances to air based on the reasons I fired her. Damnit, I don’t remember her name for the life of me, but from the look cracking between us, I’m guessing Presley immediately knows who I am thinking of.
“Now, Jules…”
“It was not the woman I fired because she was acting like a petulant child, yes?”
“Cher. Her name was Cher.”
“Damnit, Presley!”
“I told you it was nothing!” She dares to go on the defensive so quickly? “She came on to me, okay. Late one night after you and Alessa had already left and most of the office was empty. I was finishing some stuff up when she came by with a stack of…”
“I swear to God if you say folders…”
“Anyway. I took her out for drinks. Stuff happened. Stuff, uh, happened off and on after that.” Presley continues to act as if this isn’t a big deal, yet here I am, fuming between my two ears. “It was never serious. She didn’t even care that I was seeing other women as long as I…”
“As long as you paid her favor at work and, let me guess, gave her some kind of financial compensation that quickly came to an end after we fired her?”
Presley kicks back in her seat. The empty glass teeters dangerously close to the edge of our table. “When you put it that way, I sound like a fucking idiot.”
“Because you are. Holy shit, Presley, at least I covered my bases before I continued to make a fool of myself with an intern. Did you clear it with HR at all?”
“Does paying half her tuition in exchange for her cooperation count?”
I smack the bottom of my hand against my forehead. This woman is going to ruin me and my reputation before I have the chance to embarrass the whole lot of us with my “romance.”
Excuse me while I throttle my business partner’s neck. Apparently, I didn’t do it hard enough the last time she almost lost me a billion bucks in legal fees.