Chapter 33
NOTHING NEAT ABOUT IT
JASON
It was a long week. First, I was in LA to meet with a few potential investors for the West Coast office.
On Wednesday, I caught a red eye out of LAX, landing in New York just in time for another early meeting with one of our East Coast investors, one who was looking to expand into the West Coast as well.
Their numbers were off the charts, so it seemed like the right move for them and a lucrative opportunity for our firm.
I haven’t been back to New York for a few weeks. I haven’t seen Shannon in person since that night outside the bar, and I’ve done my best to stay as faithful as I could be.
That doesn’t mean I wasn’t struggling. I got too drunk recently and stayed a few extra days in Chicago with Danny to clear my head. I told myself it was just to regroup, to get back on track, but I knew better.
I haven’t told Danny that anything stirred up between Shannon and me.
It wouldn’t look good for business, after all.
So instead, I stayed focused, kept breaking numbers.
I told myself that as long as I outperformed myself, everything else would be okay.
But I was thinking about Shannon, especially as I headed back to the office.
When I arrived, Shannon had everything ready to go for our clients. She handed me a black coffee, just the way I liked it.
“You know I can ask Rosie for this,” I said, taking the cup from her.
“First off, Rosie is now my assistant, and she had more important business to attend to this morning. I sent her to grab that special salmon Ray likes.” She leaned against my desk, crossing her arms. “Besides, this coffee place is on my way to work.”
“Rosie would never leave me,” I said, chuckling. “But thank you for the coffee.” I took a sip. “Can I get you a drink after work in return?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were avoiding me outside of work?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you. I just haven’t been to New York for a bit, and I thought we were on the same page,” I said carefully.
“The page where you’re married and whatever it was between us never existed?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Yeah, let’s get back to work.”
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that first thing in the morning, but that was Shannon, no bullshit.
Our client arrived right on time with a few of his team members. The meeting went on for four hours, hammering out a strategy that would benefit both sides. By the time we wrapped up, it was almost 3 p.m., but we had a clear plan, and I set a follow-up meeting in LA in a few weeks.
My inbox was flooded, and Rosie sent me a list of a few more meetings I had to prepare for.
As I worked through my emails, I looked over at Shannon’s office. She was typing away, laser-focused, the glow of her monitor illuminating her sharp features. She always looked so studious, and even though I hated to admit it, sexy.
I opened our work messaging system and sent her a quick message.
Jason Bradford: So how about that drink in a bit?
She looked over at me, her dark brown eyes cutting through the space between us before she typed back.
Shannon O’Conner: Is that a good idea?
Jason Bradford: It’s just one drink.
Shannon O’Conner: Sure. Give me an hour—I need to finish up some work.
As the sun began to set, the office transitioned into its after-hours rhythm. I wrapped up composing my last email just as Shannon walked into my office. She moved with unapologetic confidence, going straight to my liquor cabinet. Pulling out two glasses, she grabbed the scotch.
“You know, I never knew what ‘scotch neat’ meant when I was younger,” she said, pouring the amber liquid. “I thought it was a cleaner version of the alcohol.”
I laughed. “Well, they don’t teach us these things in school. They really should.”
She handed me my glass. I took in the way her tight pencil skirt hugged her hips and the way her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the soft curve of her collarbone, a teasing glimpse of her cleavage. Her perfume, something subtle but intoxicating, drifted toward me.
We clinked glasses, and I leaned back in my chair, taking a slow sip. She moved to the couch, settling in smoothly. Behind her, the warm light from my office lamp cast a soft glow over the small library, where a framed photo of my kids sat next to a signed Scottie Pippen basketball.
She glanced at the picture. “Your kids are cute.”
I wondered if this was the first time she’d really looked at it.
“Thanks,” I said. “Bebe and James.”
She smiled. “Bebe is a very pretty name. Unique.”
“Named after my grandmother, Bea,” I said. “She never got to meet Bebe, but she would’ve loved her. She had all sons, then all grandsons.”
Shannon studied me for a moment. “I like learning about your life. These parts,” she said.
I set my drink down. “What about the other parts?” I asked, unsure where I was going with this.
She swirled the scotch in her glass. “I like most of the parts,” she whispered.
I exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment.
“I like a lot of parts about you, too,” I admitted, finishing off my drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol spread through me.
The atmosphere changed; it felt charged and unspoken.
I walked over to pour myself another glass. “Want another?”
“I shouldn’t,” she murmured. She stood up and handed me her glass, but she didn’t step back. Instead, she moved in closer, so close I could smell a mix of jasmine and some classic perfume.
She licked her lips, her dark eyes holding mine.
“It’s too bad,” she said softly.
Then, just like that, she turned and walked out.
Leaving me with those three words.