by Tara Brown
“I’m sorry, Mr. Levisohn. What happened was all my fault and I’m so—”
“I know. I’m aware how far you’ll go for a client. It’s why you’ll still end up being my superstar, one day. Just not today.”
“You’re not firing me?” I gasp.
“No, God no. We know the story now, you’re hardly to blame.”
“Wait? What?” It dawns on me suddenly why Lawrence was here. “What did he say?” I ask, losing my usual ass-kissing tone.
“Mr. Eckelston told us he tried to get you to go out with him and you turned him down. So he followed you to LA, hoping to see you. Mr. Farringdon called him out on it and they fought, with Mr. Farringdon as the one defending your honor. Mr. Eckelston owned up to everything—”
“What!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing and end up laughing mockingly. “But the video shows Liam—”
“Yes, well his words weren’t gentlemanly. He said he was trying to provoke Mr. Eckelston, as he was aware of his feelings for you. Both are mindful of the effect their actions have had and the cleanup we must now do to sweep this under the rug. Mr. Eckelston isn’t planning to charge Mr. Farringdon for starting the fight. They would like to forget it ever happened. I think we can spin it as a bit of drunken misbehavior and add a nice touch of a poor Liam Farringdon who was defending the honor of Josh Snowdon’s sister. I couldn’t have planned this better myself. It’s the sort of news and sympathy Liam needs.”
“What?” I gasp again but all the ridiculous humor is gone. “You mean poor Liam Farringdon who put his hands all over me without my permission, to the point that Lori felt he had to come and smack him around to defend me? That poor Liam Farringdon? And why is my brother being dragged into the spin?” I’m about to throw up.
“That’s the business, Jenny. Defend and deflect. Lie, deny, blame the other guy. You know the rules.” Stan scoffs bitterly. “Your brother’s band adds a nice bit of distraction to it all, a little confusion to spice things up. And Mr. Eckelston is young and popular and a brilliant hockey player. He can afford some public rejection as payment for his misdeeds. Gives him a bad-boy edge hockey players like to have.”
“Misdeeds? He’s innocent.”
“Right, but they’re both our clients and Mr. Farringdon needs the favor. His reputation is already tattered. We have to make him the hero of the story.” Stan shrugs and my brother’s words jump to the forefront of my mind. “Mr. Eckelston will take his three-game suspension for misconduct—”
“Three games! I can’t let this happen. Lori didn’t come to LA to get me to date him, I was already seeing him.” The confession burns my throat, but it’s obvious Stan is aware of this skipped-over detail. “When he saw the pictures of Liam kissing me in the elevator, he was furious. Which he had a right to be. And Liam threw the first punch. Lori was genuinely defending me, and if he hadn’t, my brother would’ve been the one beating Liam’s ass. Liam Farringdon is a terrible person.”
“They’re all terrible people, Jenny.” His tone changes, “That’s why they need us. If celebrities could handle being rich and famous without shitting the bed, we would be out of work. But the sad fact is, this is a babysitting gig. I thought you understood that.” Stan’s face turns that scary shade of red.
“I can’t let Lori take the blame, he did nothing wrong.” I refuse to give in on this.
“Neither did Natasha Wentworth, but we blamed her, didn’t we? And that was your idea. Which you had no problem doing.” He points at me, no longer that sweet older man who reminds me of a grandpa. His words make me disgusted, with him and myself. “And I’m sure you’re already aware, the relationship with Lawrence is over. You can’t date a client. I’m shocked I need to explain that to you,”
“What?” I can’t stop saying that word.
“You heard me, no Lawrence Eckelston. And I expect you to put in some appearances with Mr. Farringdon, to ensure everyone believes the story of him defending you.” His words are a harsh reality check. No Lawrence. Is that what I want? Is any of this what I want, or want to be part of?
As if sent by God, or Mom, my phone vibrates and my eyes can’t fight glimpsing down at the message from my brother.
If you don’t date that Lawrence guy, I will. He’s awesome. And quit that stupid job.
“I quit,” I say with no confidence in the statement. I’m not entirely sure if I’m repeating Josh’s words or if I’m taking a stand or just blackmailing Stan to do this my way, which makes me feel worse. I’ve become a terrible person in this job. A person my mother wouldn’t recognize.
“What did you say to me?” Stan barks, making me jump and look up to see the vein in the middle of his forehead pop out and pulsate.
“I quit,” I whisper.
“Is this a joke?” He scoffs.
“No, sir.”
“You ungrateful little bitch! Fine! You wanna quit for some hockey player, you can leave the building right now. I’ll have Sukii bring you your things.” His tone lowers to a creepy quiet, “And I expect you’ll have your belongings out of my apartment by tomorrow.” He arches an eyebrow, and I finally see the villain who built this company and made it the success it is. The cutthroat everyone spoke of, but I could never picture until this moment.
Without another word, I grab my purse and rush from the office, not sure if I’m numb from the shock of everything or just desperate to fix this because as usual, Josh is right.
I’m not thinking, I’m running.
I race past everyone to the elevators and push the button like a crazy person until one of them shows up. I jump in and press the “L” for the lobby.
My pulse is pounding as I tap my phone against my palm and bite my lip so hard it burns. The moment the elevator lands, I burst through the front doors and sprint for the subway. I’m pushing through people and running so hard the anxiety sweat becomes actual exercise sweat.
I’m huffing my breaths when I get through the doors and squish in with everyone else, gripping my purse as though I stole it.
A guy next to me wrinkles his nose at the water dripping down my face.
“Anxiety sweat,” I say with heavy breath.
“Gross, man.” He leans back a bit.
“Yup,” I agree and cling to the pole, grateful my deodorant is going strong.
It feels like forever to get to Fifty-ninth but the moment the doors are open, I’m through them, sprinting again. Pushing through people, I head back to the street, knowing how crowded Lexington will be, sprinting through three blocks of congested sidewalks until I reach the light across from the entrance to the Plaza. It’s the access to the park where the best hot dogs are sold. The smell of them wafts over me.
Waiting for the light, I’m worried he didn’t come home until I see him getting out of a car. I wave, shouting, “Lori!” But the city drowns me out.
He walks over to a homeless person sitting on the sidewalk and hands him something and then walks away, vanishing behind the building.
The moment the light’s green, I sprint and thank the gods I wore my Tieks today. I’m shoving through people, pushing to reach the hotel foyer, and panicking he’ll be inside the elevator before I get to him and vanish in that super sneaky elevator with the special key.
Once I’m in the lobby, I slow down to a fast walk through everyone until I’m closer to the elevators. I see him in the crowd, but he disappears, and without thinking I shout, “Lori!”
His head pops back out and our eyes meet.
I’m running again.
People start to realize who he is. Phones are out and I know what to do to set the record straight. I jump him, in front of them all and plant my sweaty face on his, kissing. He doesn’t question it. He lifts me into his arms and steps back into the elevator, hiding us from the world as the doors close.
When we’re alone, I struggle free and step back, winded and wiping my face, which I’m sure is interesting.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so sweaty.”
&nb
sp; Ignoring how gross I am, he steps close again. “Jenny, I want to say something—”
“No, you will listen to me, Lawrence Eckelston!” I point my finger up at him. “I ran all this way to say I fucked up. I messed this thing up. So I have to be the one to fix it.” I inhale a heavy breath. “I wanted to tell you that I like you. A lot. I’ve been lying to you and me about how much because you’re all wrong for me, and Ben and I just broke up. But I can’t fight this. I like you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Even though I’m older and you’re a hockey player and stupidly rich. I mean, I’d like to be a bigger person, but it bugs me that you’re so rich, and I don’t want people to think I’m with you for the money or the fame—”
“But you played hockey for Canada?” He cracks that grin.
“Yeah, that’s different. It wasn’t for money. It was for my—it doesn’t matter.” I don’t catch myself before sounding like he’s for sale.
He laughs as I try to recover.
“I just—wish we’d met differently. Or we were different.” My voice cracks and I take a second deep breath, again wiping my sweaty face.
“Different?” He’s fully smiling now, tormenting me. But I don’t stop, the words keep pouring out.
“Yes, different, with a better meeting story!” I gasp. “Like imagine I wasn’t the rep for the NHL, and we met maybe six months after my breakup. And you asked me out like a gentleman and we dated for a respectable amount of time before you confessed to being stupidly rich. Something romantic and out of the public eye.”
“But that’s not what happened.” His eyes glint with humor.
“No, it’s not. And while my mother is probably shaking her head at me, and my father can never know how we met, I want you, Lawrence Eckelston. I mean, I want to date you.”
“Your job—Stan made it clear that this is not something—”
“As much as I hate the alpha male thing, you flew all the way to Los Angeles to punch someone in the face for me. Someone I should have punched in the face myself. The least I can do to repay the favor is protect your reputation and honor by quitting my stupid job.”
“What?” His eyes widen. “You quit?”
“Yeah,” I say it like it’s no big deal, but it’s killing me. “I won’t let you take a three-game suspension for being a good guy.” I move closer, taking his hands in mine and squeezing. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner to tell you that Liam was nothing but a douchebag who was torturing me.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I just can’t believe you quit.” All the humor is gone from his expression.
“We can’t date if I work there. So I don’t want to work there. I’d rather date you.” It’s the biggest confession of my life. Putting someone else in front of my personal and professional success is way out of my comfort zone. I wish I could explain to him how significant it is.
“I know.” He pauses, his stare boring into mine, and for a second I’m scared he doesn’t want what I do and pouring my heart out to him is a misstep.
“Unless I’m mistaken and you don’t feel the—”
“I do.” He sounds unsure and my heart cracks a bit. His stare grows wild with emotion with the declaration, “I wish I wasn’t in the way of your job.”
“Well, it’s done.” I shrug. “And we don’t have to rush into anything. We have all the time in the world to step back, slow down. Maybe have dinner and hang out and get acquainted. Actually date.” It’s my turn to grin.
“That’s gonna be tough because I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He lowers his face to mine. The kiss isn’t impatient or passionate. It’s slow, his tongue gently brushing against my lips and his hands cupping my still-warm face.
I don’t know if it’s because we’re here, and I have an elevator thing, but it’s the hottest kiss of my life. Slow and sexy.
My fingers are in his hair and I’m ready to climb his body when he whispers against my lips, “Can we start the dating thing tomorrow?”
My body screams yes but I whisper back, “No.” It takes every ounce of strength to say it, “I can’t. I have twenty-four hours to be out of my apartment.” I kiss him again and step back, pressing the “L” on the elevator so the doors open.
“How will you handle that alone? Let me help you.” He follows me out into the lobby where people start to notice him again.
“That’s okay.” I kiss him once more. “I like taking care of myself. I just wanted to find you and tell you that I like you. Even if you are a dumb puck.”
“Does this make you a puck bunny then?” He smirks.
“Say that again and me and my paintball gun will find you.” I point at him as I walk backwards, ignoring the rest of the world.
“Yeah, I hope you do.” He laughs. “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
I smile wide and turn, walking away, scared of everything about this moment, but certain this is the freest feeling I’ve had in my life.
4
The bitch slap heard ‘round the world
Friday, July 14
Lori
“Are we going to talk about how hard we all got watching Lori bitch-slap Liam Farringdon? Or does no one want to bring it up?” Carson asks as we walk through the park to my place where we’re meeting everyone for dinner.
“I got hard. The openhanded slap is one you don’t see used often enough. It legit is like calling someone a little bitch without speaking.” Brady slaps me on the ass. “No one talks about Jenny like that.”
“Nope, if I ever see that guy, I’m kicking his ass too,” Bev agrees.
“Was Jenny’s boss angry?” Nat asks, of course the one who thinks about that part of it.
“Not angry. Furious,” I groan. “Against your judgment, I went to see Stan to take all the blame. But she wouldn’t let it slide. She quit, and he kicked her out of her apartment, gave her twenty-four hours to be out.”
“She must really like you.” Bev nudges me.
“So is she just moving in with you?” Nat keeps the realistic questions going.
“No. I offered like ten times but she’s got that independent thing going strong. And we’re trying to slow down and date.”
“Slow down? You’re still keeping it light?” Brady scowls. “If you’re not careful, someone else is gonna scoop that up. Girls like Jenny don’t stay on the market long.”
“She’s not a condo on Billionaires’ Row, Brady.” Nat laughs.
“No, but she’s a lifer, like you Banks. Girls like you and Jenny and Bev don’t come along often. You gotta make a move so no one else does.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but you sound like one of the mothers in a Jane Austen novel.” Bev scoffs.
“Look, it’s not me deciding. Jenny’s making the rules. So we’re dating, officially, and beyond that, I don’t know.” The thing with Jenny is making me crazy.
She refuses to let me pay for anything.
Refused to let me help her move.
And has been too busy to call me back for longer than five minutes since her move. We Facetimed yesterday while she unpacked her old apartment she got back in Woodlawn Heights, wherever the hell that is.
“Speaking of boss bitches, is Sami in a mood again?” Rich asks. “Her text telling us to meet at your place, Lori, was salty.”
Nat winces but says nothing.
“She’s had something up her ass for weeks. I thought they’d get married and she’d be fine, but it’s much worse.” Bev glances at me. “Has she said anything to you about what’s up?”
“Nope.” I don’t add that we haven’t really spoken much because I’ve been obsessing over the girl who has done a bang-up job of destroying my focus on anything else.
We cross the street to the Plaza to find Sami and Matt already in the lobby. She’s talking to some girl while Matt hovers like the great beast he is, sporting a less than excited expression on his face. It’s not easy to do while pretending not to notice every
one staring at them.
He hardly lights up when he sees the group of us. But his knuckles come up for me. “Nice work on Liam Farringdon.”
I pound his knuckles.
“Fucker deserves another beating for saying that about Jenny.” He scans the crowd. “Where is she?”
“Woodlawn Heights,” I say with no real clue as to where that is. “She got her old apartment back.”
“Jesus. She moved out there?” Matt wrinkles his nose, though I’m betting he also doesn’t know where Woodlawn Heights is on the map. “Why didn’t you say anything? Surely, amongst us all, one person owns something she might have moved into.”
“She’s not like that. She doesn’t take help,” I grumble.
“What is it with you Canadians and your pride?” Rich asks, sneering at me suggesting this is somehow my fault.
“It’s our worst flaw.” I own it as I walk to the elevator and open the doors, giving Sami a look.
She fake kisses without touching like my mom does and says goodbye to whoever the random lady is.
“Good, you’re all here,” she says as she clicks her way into the elevator.
Simon greets us when the elevator doors open, rubbing against Rich and Brady, his two favorite people in my crowd of humans. Brady scoops him up and kisses him.
“So the trip to see your grandfather was cut short then?” Sami asks as we stroll into the living room to sit.
“Yeah. He might come out here in August. I saw him for one night and it was spent matchmaking me to some girl who just got a job working for Stan. Entertainment lawyer?”
“Oh my God. Your mom tried to set you up with Helaine Kamahi?” Sami’s jaw drops.
“Oh, she’s hot. Real freak.” Carson clearly knows her in the biblical sense.
“Gross.” Sami fake gags.
Carson lifts his eyebrows and nods. “If my parents were forcing me to marry someone, I’d be pumped if it was Helaine.”
“And that’s about all I can take of this conversation. I’ll play bartender!” Rich lifts Simon from Brady’s arms and kisses his face as he carries him behind the bar to mix drinks.