by Jayce Ellis
Marcus sighed and rolled onto his back, staring hard at the ceiling. “Can’t what? Bottom?”
I gulped. “Yeah.”
Marcus’s laugh was weary, and I watched his dick soften next to me. He rolled his head to the side and hell, he looked even more tired then.
“Baby, why you do this to us?” He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I don’t mean that. Why do you do this to yourself? Hype yourself up for something you don’t want and aren’t ready for?”
“You think I’m leading you on?”
He didn’t flinch. “That first night? Hell yeah. Then I got to know you and know that ain’t it, but...”
Marcus didn’t need to finish that. I climbed off the bed and he sat up. “André?”
I waited until I’d scrounged up a pair of sweatpants before answering. “I’m thirty-four fucking years old,” I practically yelled. “I shouldn’t be hung up on my parents or brother or that asshole of an ex as reasons why I can’t let you fuck me.” My chest was three sizes too tight, my body vibrating like a snake shedding its skin. It was too damn much. “I need a drink.”
I walked out without waiting for him to respond, and poured myself two fingers of Leopold’s. I drank it down a little too quickly, but who cared? Marcus joined me a few moments later, and didn’t speak while he made himself a glass and swallowed it in one gulp.
“You need to stop blaming shit on everyone else,” he said after taking a few sips of his refill.
“Huh?”
“You blamed your ex, your brother, and your parents for your sexual desires. They’re not the problem. You are.”
Yeah, not what I needed to hear. I squared my shoulders.
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Man, knock that shit off. You don’t trust me. Hurts, but I get it. We haven’t been together long enough for all that. So bet. Cool. We wait until you are, if you are. Just stop trying to gear yourself up for this if it’s not what you want.”
I deflated. I’d known him for less than two months and already trusted him more than Phil. He’d stuck up for me dealing with George and Mrs. Browne, and I still couldn’t let my guard down when it mattered most. He was right. I was the problem.
“Hey,” Marcus whispered, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I don’t want to fight. Let’s put up the food, get back in bed and let me kiss on you all night.”
My laugh was watery, but I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Marcus
André clung closer to me last night than he had in Tallahassee, as though he was scared I’d disappear otherwise. And this morning, he’d kissed and touched and held me like he had to prove to himself I was still there. I let him, and after mutual blow jobs, I made us a quick breakfast of bacon, hard fried eggs, and cheese grits. I actually needed to go to Clarymore today, because they apparently wanted to lay eyes on me or something, and would meet him at his office a bit later.
I left the apartment after a series of increasingly deep kisses, promising without words that we were okay and I’d see him soon, then walked out. Mr. Johnson waved at me, and it was nice to get his smile instead of his consternation, so I grinned back.
But it wasn’t entirely real. I was still irritable, and I was at a loss for what to do. André and I didn’t get a lot of time together, not with me in town only twice a month and having actual work to do, and I didn’t want to spend those hours fighting. Hell, I’d thought I’d be worn out from fucking all night, a stupid smile on my face at the office. I guess the worn out part was right?
I sighed and blinked. And damn near missed my stop, pushing off the seat and rushing out the doors just before they closed. Jesus, this man had me fucked up. I leaned against the post for a few minutes to catch my breath before leaving Farragut West and heading for Clarymore.
At least Saturdays were genuinely quiet. I’d feared what the reality of being on-call twenty-four/seven meant, so it was nice to see that the firm wasn’t teeming with advisors. And two steps in, I wanted to turn and leave.
“Marcus, long time no see,” Phil said with that same grin that I definitely no longer trusted. “I wasn’t sure we’d be seeing you here.”
I frowned. “Why’s that?”
He chuckled. “You were so eager to run back to Ellison, I thought maybe you’d decided the small firm life was right for you.”
Whether any firm life was the life for me was the bigger question, but I damn sure wasn’t admitting that. I forced a smile on my face. “Harold was nice enough to let me stay at Mr. Ellison’s office, but he wants me to at least check in.” I started in that direction, hoping he’d take the cue and leave.
Which had to be the most wishful thought I’d ever had, because of course he fell in lockstep beside me. “I don’t think Harold is here yet,” he said smoothly. “And look, I wanted to talk to you about your performance.”
Of course he did. Because the weird thing about moving from the presentation directly into working on the project was that I’d missed the end-of-summer review and stuff. I hadn’t been worried; I figured if anything had been too bad, they would’ve said something about me staying on Pennington.
We passed by Harold’s office and, goddammit, Phil was right. Harold wasn’t there and there was no sign he’d come in and just stepped away for a moment. Phil pointed. “Believe it or not, I have an office down there.”
I actually laughed at that, because the interns had wondered if he had his own office, given how comfortable he’d seemed in the closet-sized space that had functioned as the only private room on the intern floor. He smiled, and it was the definition of not meeting his eyes. Never really knew what that meant until now and legit, shit was kinda creepy.
“So, Marcus,” Phil started the minute we walked inside, not even waiting to sit, “I have to say I was a little disturbed to find out you were working with André instead of here.”
“Why?” I took my seat and waited for him to take his.
“It’s no secret I preferred another firm to Ellison’s. I’d have been fine with it, except seeing my intern in a lover’s embrace gave me cause for concern.” He crossed his arms and looked a little too satisfied with himself. “I suppose I could tell Harold, see what he has to say. Since we’re here and all.”
“Harold already knows.”
Yeah, the shock on his face was worth it. Asshole. He thought he held the cards, and chances were high he didn’t know that I knew about him.
Phil didn’t have a chance to respond before Neil Pennington himself bustled in. “Hey, ho—” He saw me and jumped, holding a hand over his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” He peered closer. “I recognize you.”
I smiled, or tried to. Neil was not here for a business meeting, that I was sure of. He was too casual, his cheeks too pink, the way he glanced at Phil too obvious. Neil gave a little laugh and fiddled with his cuff, exposing a gold watch underneath. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it.
Phil coughed then and stood. “Neil, thanks for coming in on such short notice. There are a couple of things I wanted to go over with you.”
Yeah, I didn’t buy that for a minute, but Neil smiled—the professional one from the presentation, not the breathless one I’d seen a few minutes ago—and said, “Of course. This is the perk of a large firm I tried to impress on my grandmother. We’re too large to be bound to the confines of a nine-to-five.”
O-kay. It was time for me to go. I actually had things to do this weekend, and I was only here to check in with Harold and make sure I was on task. After that, I planned to spend the rest of my day with André, letting him know things would be okay, even if we didn’t say the words.
I walked out without a goodbye. Harold still wasn’t there, so I left him a note so he’d know I’d actually shown up, and made my way to André.
Chapter Twenty-Two
André
T
he one thing I didn’t miss from my time at Clarymore was its insistence on meetings. Sure, I’d done it with Marcus, but if he were my employee, I certainly wouldn’t require daily meetings. Maybe weekly. Maybe. But Clarymore lived for them, and that meant I was responsible for carving out a minimum of four hours of my week to be there. Which would’ve been okay if something productive actually happened. But in the grand scheme of office meetings everywhere, there was very little that couldn’t have been handled via email.
Especially today. Marcus had left yesterday morning, and he still seemed irritable from Friday. He’d sworn he was fine, just stressed, and I hated that I probably wasn’t helping. He was juggling school, this internship, being in a relationship that neither of us had seen coming, everything. Lord knows he was holding up a hell of a lot better than I would have under the circumstances.
After we finished a whole bunch of stuff not worth my time, as I had imagined, Phil pulled me aside. I’d managed to avoid having to deal with him alone, something Harold was fairly exceptional about ensuring. Still, today he had to be somewhere almost immediately when our meeting ended, and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“André, we need to talk.” Phil’s voice was low, like he was trying to be seductive or something. Something that, five years ago, would’ve meant we were getting ready for a good night, but now just turned my stomach.
“I can’t imagine we have anything to discuss that can’t be done during the meeting,” I told him, and started walking. Phil never approached anyone for their benefit. If it didn’t benefit him, Phil didn’t bother. A lesson I learned the very hard way.
“Come on now, Dre, don’t be like that. It’s important, and it’s about your boy.”
I fucking hated when he called me Dre. It always rang false coming from him, especially since he only said it was when he wanted something. “And who might that be?” I knew, of course, but I wasn’t giving him any more leeway than I absolutely had to.
He laughed now, and there was the snarky, condescending shit I’d gotten used to. Good to know he didn’t keep it too far under the surface. “Don’t play dumb with me. I can’t imagine hugging my interns the way you and Mr. Thompson did.”
Fucking hell. The absolute worst person to have seen me and Marcus together, and he wasn’t shy about making sure I knew about it.
“What about him?” I asked.
He shrugged, the nonchalance in the movement belied by the sheer glee in his voice. “I’m just saying the Penningtons, Neil especially, have voiced some concerns about his performance. They’re worried that he’s not up to the task of such a large partnership, especially given his out-of-state location. As a matter of fact...” He paused and waited until I’d turned to face him. “Neil made a special trip to the office on Saturday to tell me exactly that.”
A shudder ripped through me, something I was helpless to hide and which Phil saw immediately. I closed my eyes, thinking back over the weekend, and how worn out, how stressed Marcus had appeared.
And then I stopped. “No. I’m not doing this.” I turned to Phil and looked him dead in the eyes. “You want me to believe that Marcus is having issues? You have Harold call and tell me as much. You have Nancy Pennington, not her grandson, call and tell me their concerns. Until then, I’ve long-since learned not to believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”
Phil reddened, that red he only went when he was spitting mad, and maybe it was wrong of me, but I loved to see it. “You think you’re so fucking special because you can schmooze up to a white woman?”
I straight up guffawed. “I’m Black. I can schmooze up to any woman. It’s your Wonder Bread ass who can only kiss up to people who look like the Gram you stayed in the closet for so she wouldn’t disown your whole damn family.”
Yep. Had him. Phil looked like a little blond Hulk. I could tell he was on the verge of a rant about the sacrifices he’d made keeping his secret—like I couldn’t recite them almost five years after the fact—but then he remembered where we were. “Right. You were just ousted from one of the premier financial firms in the world because of your inferior advisory skills.”
I scoffed, not bothering to turn around as I walked down the hallway, Phil hot on my heels. He thought he was going to get me with that one. “If your advisory skills were so damn good, Nancy Pennington wouldn’t have insisted on partnering with a small firm, let alone my one-man show.” I paused and stepped closer to him. “And that shit burns you up, doesn’t it? That with one intern and my lonesome I still got the gig.”
He went florid. “You think you’re so goddamn slick. You caught a lucky fucking break.”
I got to the elevators, punched the button, and whirled on him. “I’m not the only one, Phil. Your entire career here is thanks to a lucky break, thanks to me having the confidence to strike out on my own, whereas your sole goal is to be a fucking lackey here. Don’t ever forget there are two of us in the video, and don’t forget there are people who know who the other person is. You weren’t worth the effort to expose four years ago, and you damn sure aren’t now. But you fuck with Marcus, and I’ll do whatever I have to.”
He stepped back and smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oh, I see. So you really care about him. Not sure that’s the best move for you right now, but we’ll see how this all plays out.”
Phil turned and walked away, whistling, and I stared at him in bewilderment. I didn’t know what his game was, and that’s my excuse for acting out of pocket when the phone rang.
“What?” I said when I saw it was the office calling.
“Mr. Ellison.” Fiona’s voice was short, sharp, and had every ounce of I-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-you-think-you’re-talking-to laced in it. “Mr. Walker is here to see you. He and his wife say they have an appointment.”
“Hold on.” I pulled the phone away and checked my calendar and, sure enough, there it was. Tuesday, four p.m.
“Fucking hell, Fiona, I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s there and I missed it. I’m on my way back now. Put them in the conference room and I’ll be there in ten.”
“Will do.” Her voice lowered. “Use the time to get your shit together, please.” She hung up and I stepped on the elevator, which had just now decided to arrive.
I was tempted to speed walk back to the office, but I slowed down instead. Wouldn’t do me any good to be looking rushed or harried when I got there, which was just what Mr. Walker would expect, especially after that last impromptu meeting. I’d honestly thought Mrs. Walker had dipped out on him. I took measured breaths as I made my way down the street, determined to be ready to rock ’n’ roll when I walked in the door, and for the most part, I was.
After a quick pit stop in the men’s room, I hightailed it to the conference room. “Mr. and Mrs. Walker, my apologies for being late.”
Mrs. Walker was gracious as always, but Mr. Walker looked spitting mad. “You sat up here making me have this appointment, then you’re not here when it’s time to show up? Waste of my time.”
I swallowed my retort. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t entirely sure you’d appear, especially after your last visit.”
Mr. Walker glowered, but Mrs. Walker smiled benevolently at me. “Jimmy here was upset, and he took it out on the wrong people. We had some friends set things to rights.” Mr. Walker didn’t speak, and she nudged him. “Jimmy?”
He coughed. “Well, yes, what Mary said. I’m sorry I was rude. Weren’t my intention and it won’t happen again.”
His wife patted him on the hand and he quieted, and he looked over at her with a frown that softened into something sweeter. No matter how brusque he was with me, how flustered the whole thing might make him, he was in love, to the point of nauseating, with her. I watched them for a second, remembering what it felt like to have Marcus in my own arms, then changed tactics.
“Mr. Walker, I can imagine how confusing having numbers thrown aro
und in the air must be for you.”
He nodded. “Damn right. Don’t make no sense.”
“Well, let’s see if I can help with that. I want you to stop me if you have any questions, no matter how big or small, and we’ll go from there.”
He frowned, like he wasn’t quite sure he trusted it, then nodded. “Well, okay then.”
For the next hour, we went over their most recent assessments, and little by little, he asked questions, I explained, and Mrs. Walker even made suggestions. Every time she did, he brimmed with what looked like joy. He had his wife back.
And...maybe my initial assumption of this guy wasn’t accurate at all. As much as I prided myself on getting things right, maybe I wasn’t perfect. Would you look at that?
We finished and, for the first time, I got a hearty handshake from Mr. Walker and an enthusiastic response about our next meeting, and I walked them to the door. When I got to my office, I got exactly sixty seconds of rest before Fiona barged in. I didn’t even let her speak, just launched into what had happened at Clarymore, and Phil’s vague threats towards Marcus. It wasn’t enough to let me off the hook, like I knew it wouldn’t be, but she was way more understanding than I’d deserved.
“Take care of him, André. You can see the stress he’s under, and that boy is gonna blow. So just, just take care of him, okay?”
I nodded, and she left the office, leaving me alone to ponder over her words.
Marcus
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d met with my advisor, and that included all advisors, from high school through now. And I guess this was kind of a mandatory meeting for the incoming second-years, but I was surprisingly, I don’t know, grateful for it.
I knocked on the door marked Brenda Fairley, and heard the low “Come in.”
Dr. Brenda was an older Black woman, with sisterlocs down her back, one of those take-no-shit types who inspired and scared me in equal measure.