Chapter 33
thirty-three
that’s a big word
H oly cow, holy shit!
What had she done? The words had just popped out of her mouth, her mental filter loaded with holes the size of semitrucks. Why? Why would her brain do this to her? She treated it well. She ate healthy, got plenty of exercise and rest. Why would it betray her now?
Elissa parked Bertha at a ridiculous angle and ran up the stairs. Jules’s stuff was everywhere—five blankets on the couch, dirty dishes on the coffee table, dirty clothes piled next to the door, and clean clothes in a basket next to the TV.
“Crap!”
It was going to be one of those nights. She dropped her bag on the end table, pulled out a twenty, and added it to the small collection in a jar on the kitchen table.
Jules teased her, saying Elissa was a goddamned adult and didn’t need a swear jar.
But some habits were hard to break, and she would treat Jules to a night out when it was full.
She grabbed the piles and chucked them into her BFF’s room but kept the dirty and clean clothes separate. She was panicked, not a jerk.
She gathered the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, cleared the kitchen table of mail and Jule’s spare bag, and looked for any incriminating evidence.
Evidence of what, she had no clue. That other men had been here recently?
Jules had frequent guests, but they rarely stayed the night.
At most, they’d leave a shirt or a sock.
Knock, knock, knock.
Just in time. She ran a hand over her hair, trying not to look like she’d spent the last twenty minutes running around the apartment trying to clean. Elissa smiled and opened the door.
“Hey, come in.”
Ryan held a bag of what looked and smelled like Asian food in one hand and a motorcycle helmet in the other. He placed his helmet on the floor next to the door and moved toward the kitchen.
“Hope you like Thai.” He put the bag on the kitchen table and pulled out the containers.
“I’m not picky. As long as there’s no octopus or lima beans, I’ll eat it.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame.” An impish grin brightened his eyes and drew her gaze to his full lips. “It’s stir-fried octopus with lima beans.”
“Good thing I have leftover pizza in the fridge.” She returned his grin with one of her own. “Want a beer?”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
She grabbed two from the fridge and some plates and silverware.
From the smells emanating from the containers, he had not ordered anything resembling octopus and lima beans.
She pulled a container toward her. Rice.
He opened another, and she leaned over. Pad Thai.
Yum. The last container had red curry chicken, and he’d picked up some spring rolls, too.
“This looks delish. I haven’t had Thai in a while.”
They filled their plates, and Ryan lifted his can of beer.
“Cheers.”
They bumped the cans together and ate in silence for a few bites before Elissa said what was on her mind.
“Thanks for coming here. Writing a business plan in a noisy restaurant isn’t exactly conducive to productivity.”
“Uh-huh. Conducive. That’s a big word.”
Dang it. She had a tendency to use big words when nervous. Elissa bit her lip.
He grabbed another spring roll and dipped it into the sweet chili sauce. “I’m kidding. Sorry, growing up in a big family, we tease each other relentlessly. I forget not everyone grows up the same way.”
She grinned in relief. “Yeah, it was mostly the five of us. My grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins all live out of state.”
“You seemed to want to meet somewhere public, so I was a little surprised you invited me over.”
Elissa pressed her lips together. She was naturally cautious but found herself torn when it came to Ryan DeMarco. She wanted to be alone with him so desperately it was better to meet in public. Yet, somehow, they were here, at her apartment, all alone.
“I did, but, I don’t know, you didn’t push.”
“Well, thank you for trusting me. And thank you for offering to help. Iz’s expertise is in restaurants. They’ve gone over my business plan, but I still have a lot of questions.”
“Show me what you got, Mr. DeMarco.”
Ryan pulled a few pages out of his backpack. Handing them to Elissa, he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he focused his attention on the food in front of him. She read it over.
It wasn’t bad. There were holes, some pretty big ones, but this was a solid draft. She put the last page aside and turned toward Ryan.
“Want another beer?”
He finally met her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”
Elissa grabbed another beer from the fridge for him, and a half-empty bottle of white she and Jules had opened a couple days ago. She poured herself a glass and carried both drinks over to the table.
“So, what do you think?” Ryan was apparently unable to contain himself any longer. His face was pale in his nervousness, his foot bouncing against the ground, and his fingers tapping an intricate rhythm on her table.
“It’s a solid start,” she said. “The plan lacked specific financial info, which I expected since you asked for my help in that area. The only real weakness I could see at this stage is the market research. I won’t be able to narrow the focus of the money bit until we can at least make some assumptions about your market. ”
“I’ve run into some trouble there. Iz can tell you exactly who eats at their family’s restaurants. I can find some general information about who listens to podcasts, but who would listen to an in-depth food history podcast? I don’t know, and I don’t know where to find out, either.”
“Let’s get comfortable. I have a few suggestions that should help.”
Ryan grabbed his half-finished beer from the table and headed to the couch.
Elissa swallowed the rest of her wine in a long gulp before refilling the glass.
As much as she wanted to sit next to him—who was she kidding—as much as she wanted to sit on his lap, she made herself comfortable at the other end of the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. Serious conversation first.
“So, do you want the good news first, or the bad?” she asked.
“Bad.”
“I’ve done a little research into podcasting in the last few days. The market is getting saturated, so marketing will be key. Which means…”
“I need to do the market research. So, what’s the good news?”
Elissa sipped her wine. How would he take the news? Would he even see it as good given his relationship with his family?
“Spit it out,” he said when she hesitated.
“Unlike a lot of other start-up podcasters, you have resources. You can pay for the market research, and you can afford ads.”
“But the podcast will take longer to be profitable.” He tapped his fingers against the can, a nervous habit she found endearing.
He was always in motion. A function of his ADHD, but she came from a more sedate family.
Plenty of downtime for reading and watching TV and playing board games. She found his energy refreshing.
“Yeah, exactly. I thought you said you weren’t good at this.”
“I’m not, but I’m not stupid, either. More money upfront means it takes longer to recoup the costs.”
“By resources, I don’t only mean money, though. You have family who?—”
“No.” He took a long swig.
“Your dad is a successful businessman, your brother seems to be following in his footsteps. Your aunt is a marketing expert, and you have cousins who might be willing to help. Why not use their expertise?”
“I need to be successful without their help.”
“Why? Isn’t that what family is for?”
Ryan set the can down on the table and leaned forward.
“Maybe that’s how things work in your family, but in mine, the company is the family.
If your dream doesn’t advance the company’s bottom line, you need a better dream.
If what you’re good at falls outside their sphere of influence, it doesn’t count.
If you can’t be the absolute best at everything you attempt, don’t expect any accolades.
I’ve lived so long being told that what I want to do, what I’m good at, isn’t enough, that I’m not really part of this family because I don’t want to be part of the company.
This podcast is my dream. I want to create something unique, something that uses the skills I’ve honed to support myself. ”
Oh… The tears welled in her eyes as she fought breaking down entirely. He deserved better. He deserved his dreams.
Before she registered what he was doing, he’d scooted over to her side of the couch and wiped the tears away with his thumb.
“Don’t cry for me, Elissa,” he murmured. “I grew up luckier than so many others, every need taken care of. The only thing I ever wanted that I never got was my parents’ approval. I can live with that.”
“It’s not fair,” she breathed.
“I gave up on fair a while ago. Few things in life are truly fair, Elissa.”
“They should be.” Elissa regarded Ryan for a moment before she turned her attention to the table and the mess of dishes and containers strewn over it. “I’m gonna clean up while I think of a compelling reason for you to go to your family.”
She rose from the couch and cleared the table.
But Elissa didn’t think about reasons Ryan should go to his family for help.
Instead, she thought about how his face lit up when he talked about his podcast. She thought about how she could help him.
She thought about her future at JMS Accounting and what a relationship with a client’s employee who was also a close relative would mean.
What they were doing here, now, was a bad idea.
At least until she talked to Karina, they needed to put a pause on whatever this was.
She turned around after placing the dishes in the sink, determined to tell him so, only to be met with his broad, muscled chest. The words caught in her throat, and she lifted a hand, half in surprise and half to close the distance between them.
She was drawn to him and had to fight her instinct to touch him.
Bad idea.