“What are you looking so pleased about?” she says.
I hadn’t realized that I was smiling. I wondered why my face felt weird.
“A woman offered to buy me coffee. I guess she thought I was hot.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that. Should I be jealous?”
“No, baby. She wasn’t my type.”
We drive home listening to songs from Wicked. What is it about women and show-tunes? I don’t get it.
I just have time to help Rachel get all the shopping bags to the staff kitchen when my iPhone buzzes.
“Gotta go, baby. The boss needs a ride.”
“Oh, I’d better hurry and get dinner started.”
She turns to go. Oh no, baby, not yet. I sweep her into my arms and kiss her hard. Her lip gloss tastes of strawberries.
“Justin! What has gotten into you this week?”
She pulls away breathless.
“I think it’s the other way around, baby!”
She swats my ass and I make a strategic retreat.
She can’t keep her hands off me.
I pull up in front of DMA Tower and text the boss to let him know that I’m here. I lean on the hood of the Rover, and the lobby security guard comes out to shoot the breeze.
“Hey, Walt. Anything to report?”
“Naw, Mr. Trainer.”
“The boss fire anyone today?”
Walt snorts.
“Tessa nearly got canned. Heidi told me she’s been crying in the ladies’ room most of the day. Again.”
I roll my eyes.
“What did she do this time?”
“The New York Times called to confirm a rumor that’s going around. They’d heard that the boss was dating.”
“And?”
“Apparently she said, ‘I can’t confirm whether or not Mr. Anderson is dating Ms. Alvarez’.”
I shake my head. Tessa really is as dumb as wood.
“I can’t believe she fell for that old trick. Ryan must be going crazy.”
Walt grins.
“Yep, he’s been fielding calls ever since. Mr. Anderson was pretty heated up about it. So is it true? The boss has finally gotten himself a girlfriend? I always thought he was the wrong way up the turnpike.”
“No comment, Walt. No comment.”
We see the boss cannoning through the lobby, employees diving out of his way as the tornado in Armani cuts through the herd. He really takes the phrase ‘looking pissed’ to a whole new dimension. So what’s new? Walt straightens up and opens the car door. Anderson scowls at him before muttering a quiet ‘thank you’. He gets in without speaking, tension heating the air around us until it crackles. It’s going to be a long, long evening.
As I head out into the traffic, I can see in the rear view mirror that the boss is glancing at his cell every few seconds. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he’s waiting to hear from.
Finally, he gets a message and his whole body relaxes. Irritatingly, I find that I relax at the same time. I’m going to have to put a note on my calendar, Get a fucking life.
All the way back to Wolf Point, he’s tapping messages into his cell phone, but he looks happy enough. Maybe she really will miss him while she vacations with her friends. I’m almost surprised he hasn’t put surveillance in place, but then again, he already tracks her every movement via the new iPhone he gave her. It’s compulsive: definitely stalkerish. If she knew half the time he spent worrying about her, she’d probably head for the hills. Or be flattered. Nope, I’m voting for the hills, or maybe one of those underground bunkers that end-timers build. Anderson on the prowl or a zombie apocalypse? Hey, zombies in suits! They could make a movie about that.
But Ms. Alvarez doesn’t know. She really hasn’t a clue that she’s become the center of the boss’s world.
He heads for his study, saying that he’ll eat after he’s been for a run. Which means after we’ve been for a run. Not that I mind. At least I get to stay fit in this job.
We pound our way around a six-mile circuit and it’s the same thing all over again: running to calm his brain, running to escape his thoughts, running to escape his compulsion to control. He’ll never run fast enough. I almost feel sorry for him. If I had any breath left.
Rachel serves him up a damn fine sea bass fillet with rice and salad when we get back. I know it’s damn fine because we’re having the same meal. But the boss eats alone.
“How is he?”
I frown at Rachel. Can’t we have one meal where we don’t talk about him?
“His normal fucked up self.”
“Justin!”
I shrug. It’s true, we both know it.
“Perhaps you should go talk to him.”
“And say what? He’s my boss, not my buddy. And the only person he wants to talk to has flown three-and-a-half thousand miles to get away from him.”
“I thought it was a bachelorette party?”
“Sure, but she also told him he was intense.”
“Oh, Justin! Sometimes you men are so literal!”
What? She’s lumping me in with him? I don’t fucking think so!
“I’m sure she’ll miss him. Poor Mr. Anderson.”
“Poor, he ain’t.”
“You know what I mean.”
Whatever.
My iPhone buzzes.
“Trainer, I won’t need you again tonight, but I’ll be running at 5AM tomorrow.”
Great.
I toss the phone aside and persuade Rachel that clearing up isn’t nearly as interesting as what I have in mind. She’s a woman of weak will. I fucking love that about her.
I fall asleep with her curled in my arms. But not for long enough. At some point in the night, I’m vaguely aware that the boss is prowling the premises and I hear the door to the meditation room slam shut. He hasn’t been in there since he started dating Ms. Alvarez. I know for a fact that since the Farm fiasco, he hasn’t shared any more of his secrets with her. She has no idea that his spare dungeon is next to his home office.
As I crawl out of bed at 4:45AM, I’m seriously thinking of contacting Ms. Alvarez and begging her to come back early. Maybe if I paid her…
One good thing about running at this time, it breaks the routine. I get nervous if the boss runs at the same time for several days. It makes him an easy target. We vary the route but even so … and with Tessa’s foot-swallowing trick, the paparazzi will be out in force. Probably more on Saturday than right now. Although I don’t see any of those lazy fuckers getting up before dawn.
He seems in a much better mood on the way to the office, so I can only assume Ms. Alvarez has deigned to send him an email, although he looks preoccupied, not his usual bastard self.
The day drags. The only entertainment is watching Tessa try to avoid Ryan’s icy stare and get back in his good graces. It seems unlikely—not this side of the century. I wouldn’t want to mess with Ryan. I reckon he could kneecap a guy from a thousand yards just by throwing him a harsh look. Which is how he’s managed to keep a job as Anderson’s P.A. for so long. The effete gay thing is just an act with him: you could freeze ice cubes on his ass when he’s pissed. Trouble is, he’d like it. Ryan is my kind of gay. I mean guy.
The boss insists on another long run at lunchtime. It makes me laugh my ass off in a strong-silent-type sort of way when I see half the female employees hanging around in the lobby just to see the boss returning all sweaty. Dream on, ladies; it ain’t never gonna happen. There’s even one there his grandmother’s age. Don’t these women have any shame lusting after a guy of thirty? Nope. None. Zilch. Nada. Zip. Dumb question.
Shortly after lunch, Pam comes over to my office and knocks on the door.
“You got a minute, Trainer?”
“Sure, Pam. What do you need?”
She comes in and closes the door. Hmm. She wants privacy, and I’m assuming it’s not for my dazzling good looks.
“What’s up with Devon? He’s been on a rampage through the building for the
last half an hour. I’m surprised the place isn’t on lockdown. Howard has threatened to quit and nothing usually bothers him. Tessa is crying, although that’s nothing new, and Joyce in PR has had to order in Krispy Kreme for the whole floor to avoid a mass walkout. I need to know what’s going on. I don’t think it’s anything to do with business, but if it is…”
“Pam, you know I can’t talk to you about the boss.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Trainer. I’ve known him for nearly nine years and I’ve never seen him like this. I need to know what the problem is.”
She’s right. She needs to know, but I really don’t want to be the snitch. I take a deep breath.
“You signed off Ms. Alvarez’s vacation request.”
“For a long weekend! Not a month in Maui! Really? This is what’s gotten Devon bent out of shape?”
“Yup.”
“Oh. Well, first love and all that. Okay, nothing for me to worry about. At least, I don’t think so.” She frowns as she walks away. “Well, well, well, Devon in love. This should be interesting.”
Yeah, and the Chinese have a curse: May you live in interesting times.
Chapter 10
Happy Families
MY LITTLE GIRL is going to be eight years-old tomorrow. I can’t believe so much time has passed since I held her in my arms for the first time.
As always, my ex is making it difficult for me to see Lilly. I know she’s having a party, and I know that having her friends over is more important than seeing her old man, but I want to be there.
Carla isn’t happy, but what’s new?
“It’s ridiculous! She won’t have time to talk to you, she’ll be with her friends. You’ll be asking her to choose between them and you and that’s not fair, especially on her birthday!”
“Jeez, I’m not asking her to choose because I’ll be right there, just like you. I’m not saying I’ll make her leave the party, I just want to be there.”
In the end, I tune out and let her rant on. I’m going to be there whatever she says.
“You can’t just come into my home whenever you feel like it, Justin!”
I bite back the retort that I pay for the damn place, because I know that’s what she wants. Her favorite trick is to escalate any argument so I end up acting like a prick. I figured that out years ago, but sometimes it’s hard to stay silent.
Before I hang up on her, I toss out a grenade, “And I’m bringing a cake.”
As she hisses and spits, I end the call with a smile on my face.
Rachel has been working on the most amazing cake for days now. It’s in two layers, like a wedding cake, but in different shades of pink, with white and silver decorations. It looks a bit like Elsa’s ice castle. And yeah, it bothers me that I can recognize it.
Rachel helped me wrap the bike, too, adding a large pink and white ribbon with a ridiculously enormous bow. All this pink—feels like it sucks the testosterone out of a man.
I pull Rachel to me tightly, so fucking thankful that I took a job with a weird, fucked up, billionaire from New York.
THE NEXT DAY, I head out after prepping my stand-in for the boss’s driving duties. He’s got two meetings across town and a fundraiser tonight, but Mason has hired a guy that did stand-in last year when the very whacked out former fuck-buddy of the boss was on the loose. Even thinking about Van Sant brings back very fucking bad memories.
John Evans is former 101st Airborne, tough, handy and good at his job. He reminds me of me.
I’ve been thinking for a while that the boss is going to need more protection than one man can offer, especially if he and Ms. Alvarez become … whatever they become. Because I know for a fact that the boss will put her safety before his own—and one man can’t watch two people.
“Evans, how you doing?”
“Good, T. You? Any red flags for Anderson this week?”
See? Right to the point.
“Nope. Mason has the latest intel. It should be cool.”
He flicks me an ironic salute and gets to work.
Feeling like I can leave Anderson in safe hands, I ignore Evans’ raised eyebrows as I carry Lilly’s bike down to the Rover.
The cake is next, and by now Evans is full out laughing at me.
I mutter something about ‘Chicken Man’ which is a derogatory name for his old Army division because their badge is a bald eagle, but he’s grinning like an asshole so I load the cake into the car and give him the bird with both hands.
The drive up to rural Connecticut goes smoothly, but when I arrive at the house, parking isn’t easy because the driveway and road is full of minivans and family hatchbacks. Once I open the car door, I can hear the party in full swing.
Ariana Grande rises above the shrill voices of two dozen kids and their parents. Despite the cool weather, I’d guess that most of them are in the backyard.
I wrestle the wrapped bike out of the trunk, swearing when I rip the paper in two places. Ah hell, it’s gonna get ripped off anyway. So I lean it against the garage door and go back for the cake. I have to hold it carefully or Rachel warned it would slide right off the base and I’m not going to let that happen to a work of art.
I knock on the door with some difficulty but I guess no one can hear me over the ruckus, so I walk around to the backyard.
Several little girls see the cake and start squealing which draws Lilly’s attention. She’s been standing in the center of them like the Queen Bee, but when she sees me her eyes light up and she runs toward me.
I have to raise the cake above her head and hug her with one arm while she jumps up and down excitedly. It’s touch and go whether the cake will make it, but eventually two of the mothers come over and take it off my hands.
I can see Carla watching me, her lips twisting with distaste as she walks over.
“You always have to make an entrance, don’t you!” she hisses.
“I brought a cake,” I say reasonably, then ignore her, picking up Lilly and hugging her tightly while she pats my short hair.
“It’s like fur, Daddy,” she giggles.
I woof like a dog and she shrieks. Her little friends do the same and my ears start ringing.
I put her down and turn around to see that Carla has taken charge of the cake. She’s set it on a low table and hasn’t noticed that some of the younger kids are digging into it with their bare hands. One of the mothers looks horrified and Carla suddenly realizes what’s happening and yells at the kids, but the damage is done and the fairytale castle is ruined.
A hot flare of anger rushes through me. Carla’s face flushes and she hastily carries the cake into the kitchen, promising to cut it up for everyone. It feels like she did it deliberately, but I know she wouldn’t want to hurt our daughter like that.
Lilly looks distraught and I only just manage to avert tears by showing her the bike.
Soon, pink and silver paper is scattered over the grass and the large bow has been tied around a tree.
“I love it, Daddy!” she yells. “It’s so cool! Pink is my favorite color!”
“Yeah?” I pretend to be surprised. “I thought it was brown.”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Or maybe khaki.”
“You’re being silly, Daddy,” she says accurately, and I laugh with her.
Carla comes and stands next to me as Lilly wobbles around the yard on her new bike, the wheels bumping over the uneven turf.
“That’s an expensive bike,” she says, her voice critical, as always.
I don’t bother to tell her that the GPS tracker that I attached to it bumped up the price by a hundred and fifty dollars.
“You can’t buy her love,” she sniffs.
I eye the mountain of presents and torn wrapping paper that had been piled up before I arrived.
“I know that. Do you?”
Her cheeks redden with resentment, and I can see we’re heading for another argument. I need to back down.
“You’re a good mom, Carla.”
I discreetly test that the tracker is working. I thought about giving Lilly a piece of jewelry with a tracking device so she’d always have it on her. But the only thing a school would allow a kid her age to wear is a Cross, and I know Carla wouldn’t believe that it was just something I liked. She knows that me and God haven’t talked in a while. Not since Aiden died.
Carla says that Lilly is getting her ears pierced soon. My baby is growing up fast and I’m not sure how I feel about that, but at least I can put in an order for some very special earrings with GPS tracking.
I take a can of Pepsi and go sit with the only other guy who’s at the party.
He seems at home with the mothers and it turns out that his wife is a pediatrician who earns more than he could as a high school Math teacher, so he’s being daddy daycare while she goes out to work. He seems cool with it.
I wonder what it would be like to have Lilly live with me 24/7. The old familiar tug of guilt pulls at my gut.
I stay for a couple of hours, storing up precious memories of my daughter’s birthday, eat some amazing cake, and head home trying to think up a good enough lie to tell Rachel about why I don’t have a photo of Lilly with the princess cake.
Chapter 11
Bridesmaids
THE BOSS IS going to a wedding in the Bronx as Ms. Alvarez’s date, which means that I’m going, too. And since the boss’s girlfriend doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s like, rich, and that I’m, like, the bodyguard, Rachel is coming with me.
And yeah, like, she really did say it like that.
There’s nothing about this that I like.
Double-dating with the boss? That wasn’t on my to-do list in this lifetime.
And I have no idea how she’s explaining away two extra plus-ones to the bride and groom.
“Don’t be so grumpy, Justin. It’ll be fun!”
I glare at Rachel as she smirks back.
“First, it’s work, and that’s never fun. Second, it’s a wedding. I fucking hate weddings. All those smiles from people who are thinking, Nice dress for a 1980s Madonna video or More work for the divorce lawyers. Third, it’s work; fourth, the temperature is in the high eighties and I’m wearing a vest and coat…”
Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire Page 7