by Cassia Leo
“I’m sorry. I realize this is probably not going to score me any points, but if you’re not interested in hiring me for the position, can we just cut to the chase? I have to get home and finish packing. I have an early-morning flight to catch tomorrow.”
The silver fox smiles as he opens up the file on his desk and removes a single sheet of paper, sliding it across his glass desk toward me. “Your resume looks great, Sophie. And we received your recommendation letters this morning by email.”
I squint at him. “Letters?”
“Yes. I received the letter from Brady Harper, which you sent me, and another from Logan Pierce. That’s it right there.”
Tentatively, I reach for the sheet of paper he just pushed toward me and begin reading.
* * *
To Whom it May Concern:
* * *
Sophie Bishop was employed as a Staff Writer and Editorial Assistant at Close-Up magazine from 2012 to 2018. During her time at Close-Up, Ms. Bishop was responsible for researching and following leads, writing and editing celebrity news updates, fact-checking, and cultivating confidential sources.
Ms. Bishop fulfilled her responsibilities with little supervision and always went above and beyond to maintain journalistic integrity and the privacy of her sources and subjects. Frankly, I’ve never met a more qualified and principled columnist in all the years I’ve worked with various publishing companies. Any potential employer would be crazy not to hire her, because no one is as sharp and driven as Sophie Bishop.
I am happy to speak with you or your team should you have any questions about Ms. Bishop’s time with Close-Up magazine.
* * *
Sincerely,
Logan Pierce
Former CEO and Editor-in-Chief, Close-Up Magazine
* * *
Any potential employer would be crazy not to hire her?
I almost laugh at this break from the formal tone in the rest of the letter, just to make a point. Logan’s point being that he was crazy to let me go.
I blink furiously as my eyes begin to water.
The silver fox smiles. “Everything looks good, so we’ll definitely be in touch over the next week or so.”
“Thanks,” I say, standing up. “Do you… Do you mind if I take this with me?” I ask, holding up the recommendation letter.
“Not at all. That’s just a printed copy of an email,” he says. “Safe travels, Sophie.”
I smile as warmth rises in my chest. “Thank you.”
At a few minutes past four a.m., I deflate the air mattress I bought to sleep on after I donated my bed last week. Though my flight doesn’t leave for another five hours, I know I’m not going to get anymore sleep. I tossed and turned all night, contemplating whether I should call Logan. I don’t want to be the type of person who ends up alone because they’re too afraid to be vulnerable. But I’m still so hurt.
I know Logan has every right to hold a grudge against me, as well. My refusal to come clean about Everett’s bribe was almost as despicable as Logan extorting me to get a juicy scoop. But it’s not like there weren’t moments when I enjoyed being extorted. Namely, the moments when I didn’t feel so alone, like I finally had someone on my side again.
Team Ka’pipi forever.
I sigh as I fold the flat vinyl mattress neatly and place it in the same box it came in. Then, with my heart in my throat, I type an email to Logan.
* * *
Hey. I just want to thank you for the recommendation letter. I know you didn’t have to do that, especially after the way I left you high and dry without your scoop, but it was very much appreciated. I wish I knew what else to write in this email, but for once I’m speechless. I guess that’s no surprise. You probably have that effect on women everywhere you go. I guess I thought I wasn’t just another one of those disposable women. Not sure if that makes me naïve or optimistic. Maybe a little of both?
Anyway, thanks for the letter. And I’m really sorry I wasn’t honest with you about Everett’s bribe. I hope you gave him and Lindy hell after I left.
I’m going to be out of town for a while. Actually, my flight leaves in a few hours. I’m finally taking a trip to Japan to scatter my dad’s ashes. I’d like to think that if he were still here, he’d be proud I didn’t betray Kitty. And he’d be even more proud I wrote you this email, despite my intense desire to ignore how much we hurt each other.
Take care, Logan.
* * *
Yours,
Sophie
* * *
It’s still dark outside as I brush my teeth and change into my comfortable travel clothes: gray leggings, soft-pink hoodie, and some slip-on black Converse.
As I make my way to the door with my ultra-light backpack, I stop in the foyer to look around at the now-empty house. In two days, the funds for the sale of this house will be wired into my bank account and this house will officially no longer be mine. All the birthday parties and pizza nights and movie marathons and angsty teenage fights will exist only in my memory. I’ll never get to stare at the clock eagerly anticipating when Daddy gets home from work. I’ll never get to piss off my mom by eating all the French fries as she’s making them.
Growing up sucks balls.
I step outside and lock the front door for the last time. As promised, I ask my Lyft driver to stop by the realtor’s office, so I can slide an envelope containing the key into their mail slot. The driver helps me with my backpack, and I make sure to tip him well, then I head inside to the United Airlines check-in counter.
“Hi, I’d like to check my bag,” I say, plunking my backpack down on the luggage scale.
“ID, please,” the woman replies.
She punches in my information and scrunches up her eyebrows. “Hmm…”
“What… What’s the problem?”
She shakes her head. “It seems your gate information has changed. But you should still have plenty of time to make it to the gate before the flight takes off.” She prints the boarding pass and hands it to me with my ID. “Enjoy your flight!”
“Thanks,” I mutter as I set off to submit myself to TSA scrutiny.
Once I’m through security, I glance at the gate number on my boarding pass, but when I look at the signs above the corridors to the left and right of me, neither of them displays my gate number. I head back toward the security area and ask a TSA agent who’s stacking plastic containers onto a dolly if he can point me in the right direction.
He glances at my boarding pass. “That’s a long way from here. You should flag down someone on a cart and ask them to take you or you’re going to miss your flight.”
I sigh as I realize the lady at the check-in counter gave me false hope. “Thank you, sir.”
I look down both corridors and, on my left, I see a guy riding a cart toward me. I jog toward him, flailing my arms in the air.
“I’m sorry, sir. One of the agents just informed me that my gate is very far, and he suggested I get someone to take me there on a cart, so I don’t miss my flight. Can you help me out?”
He takes the boarding pass I’m holding out to him and cocks an eyebrow before giving it back. “Yeah, that’s not in this terminal. You definitely won’t make it there on foot. Hop on.”
“Thank you!”
I hold on for dear life as the guy races through the concourse at what seems like a dangerous speed. But I don’t question his driving. He’s the one who knows how far my gate is, so he knows how fast we need to go to get there.
At the end of the concourse, another man opens a rolling door for us to drive out onto the tarmac. The concrete still bears patches of snow from last week’s white Christmas, which I graciously spent with Jen and her family. Pulling my hoodie over my head to stave off the chill, I almost lose my grip on my phone when my driver takes a hard left around a large hangar.
In front of us is a long row of private jet hangars, but only one of the planes has been moved onto the tarmac. And as we draw nearer, my heart leaps into my throat at the
words written on the side of the jet: Team Ka’pipi.
As the cart pulls up next to the plane, Logan begins descending the stairs to the tarmac in a viciously sexy navy-blue suit. The morning breeze rustles his hair and he looks like a male supermodel acting in a cologne commercial. I can hear the gritty voice-over in my head: Maybe he’s born with it. Maybe it’s Eau de Logan.
He smiles as he descends the last step and makes his way toward me. “Did the TSA agents do an anal-cavity search, as I requested?”
I shake my head. “Has there ever been a more romantic opening line?” I ask, my words coming out in steamy clouds.
“Well, I’m not sure how romantic your opening is, but I’m willing to do a cavity search to find out.”
I barely hold back my laughter as I watch the guy in the cart drive off. When I turn back, Logan is inches away from me. And in my flats, he looks positively gargantuan, but he still smells divine.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply as he pushes my hoodie back to reveal my messy pineapple. I left it in this morning so I wouldn’t have to do it again during my fourteen-hour flight.
“I got your recommendation letter,” I say, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. “I take it you got my email?”
He smiles. “I hope my recommendation letter wasn’t successful in helping you get a job.”
I gasp and lightly smack his chest. “I’m supposed to get a callback this week for a job in San Francisco.”
“The position at Wired? You don’t really want to work with a bunch of tech geeks, do you? Especially when you can spend your time writing about your travels and getting free cavity searches as you traverse the world in your private jet.”
I roll my eyes. “Your private jet.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, it will remain mine so I can write off the maintenance costs, but we have a fleet of jets at Angel Investments. This is my private jet, which is now yours to use as you please. Well, only if you want it. A little birdy told me you plan on doing a lot of traveling for the next few years.”
I swallow hard as I ponder his words and how casually he speaks them, as if gifting someone a private jet is something he does every day. “Are you trying to buy me?”
“Absolutely not,” he replies with a scandalized look on his gorgeous face. “Unless it’s working. Is it?” His expression suddenly becomes serious as he takes both my hands in his, rubbing them to warm me up. “You’ve been on my mind every second of every day for the last month. And I keep wishing I had been honest with you from the beginning. I wish I had trusted you the way I was asking you to trust me. I was unfair to you. I should have told you about the competition for the shares from the beginning.”
“I should have told you about Everett’s bribe. I was just…so afraid of losing the best thing to happen to me since my father passed. I was wrong and I betrayed your trust. And to do it after what we shared was reprehensible.” I fix him with a fierce stare. “I’ve never regretted anything more.”
His hand comes up and lands on my cheek. “I don’t want to have any more regrets. So…I need to be totally honest with you.” He takes a deep breath and smiles, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “For years, it was my job to find the person in a company who was most susceptible to coercion. Someone I could tempt with my charms, my good looks, my sexual prowess to coerce them into selling their company to Angel Investments. If it was a man, I would befriend him, show him my extravagant lifestyle, full of fast cars, sexy women, and more money than you can dream of. If it was a woman, I made her feel sexier and smarter than every other woman in the room. I used people. I manipulated people.” The muscle in his jaw twitches as he pauses. “I’ve never been in this situation, tongue-tied and unable to control everything and everyone around me. But this is what you do to me. And I’ve come to realize that I really fucking like what you do to me.”
I chuckle, wiping a tear as it rolls down my cheek.
“Maybe I don’t deserve a second chance,” he continues. “Maybe you’re better off without me. Maybe you’ll tell me to get lost and we’ll both leave this airport alone. And maybe someday, we’ll even move on and find someone new. Get married and have kids, and maybe it will be even better than anything we could imagine.” He smiles again as he reaches up and brushes another tear off my cheek. “But I don’t want maybe. I don’t want to move on. All I want is you, Sophie. I want you in my bed. I want you in my arms. I want you in my life, because God fucking dammit, you’re already in my heart. I can’t shake you loose. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. So, what do you say? Can I fly you around the world and back again?”
I bite my lip to keep from ugly-crying as I nod enthusiastically.
He takes me in his arms and lifts me off the ground as he kisses me. And it’s even better than our first kiss, because this time it’s playful and passionate, packed with emotion and history, or as Dr. Mahoe might say, true intimacy. As I pull away, he leans his forehead against mine and we breathe together for a moment before he puts me back down on the tarmac.
I shake my head as I try to regain my composure. “So, what happened with the competition? Did Everett win your father’s shares?”
“My dad decided not to retire. I believe his exact words were, ‘I’ll have to put off retirement until you two can learn to act like adults. At this rate, I’d have more fun passing a kidney stone than passing my legacy down to either of you.’”
“Oof. That’s harsh,” I say, though I can’t help but laugh.
He chuckles with me. “That’s good ol’ Jasper Pierce for you. So, what do you say, pumpkin pie? Want to give this thing a spin? Maybe take a two-day layover in Okinawa followed by a short hop to Tokyo for the New Year?”
I lean into the warmth of his palm. “Sounds like a plan.”
He kisses my forehead and pulls me into his arms. Burying my face in his blazer, I breathe in that intoxicatingly masculine scent. And at the same time, I can hear him inhaling the scent of my pineapple. We stand like this for a while, completely oblivious of the bitter morning air, until I reluctantly loosen my hold on him.
“I could have probably stayed like that for the rest of my life,” he laments, leaning in to kiss the tip of my cold nose. “But I guess it’s better if we do that inside the plane, where it’s nice and warm. You know, it’s better to do cavity searches in a warm, relaxed environment.”
I roll my eyes. “If you mention cavity searches one more time, I might just learn to fly this thing and use it to run you over.”
“Well, you clearly don’t understand how planes work, because it’s really hard to run someone over when you’re flying 30,000 feet above the earth. But, I will say I’m glad I decided to give you a plane instead of my original idea, which was to get you a hatchet. You know, to break down the barriers to true intimacy.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think we’ll ever forget the lessons we learned from Dr. Mahoe.”
“I should hope not,” he replies, then he leans in, his lips brushing my ears as he murmurs, “I love you, Maleficent.”
I smile as I whisper, “I love you, Voldemort.”
Epilogue
SOPHIE
The sound of twenty-month-old Caden’s laughter is like music to my ears. But the sight of him running around on the lush green grass, in the same backyard where my dad used to practice volleyball with me when I was in middle school, gives me goose bumps. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay Logan for swooping in with an exorbitant cash offer to buy out the person who purchased my childhood home three years ago. But getting to spend my thirtieth birthday here is more than I ever could have hoped for.
It’s true that money can’t buy love, but it sure works for making grand gestures. And Logan is the king of grand gestures. My king.
As Logan chases after Caden, and our boy bellows with hiccuping laughter, Jen comes out onto the patio with three glasses of iced tea. She sets the beverages on the patio table and sinks into the cushioned chair next to me. Gail and
her husband follow closely behind her, her husband carrying two drinks while Gail brings out the birthday cake she baked for me.
Jen kicks up her legs and rests her feet on my lap as she stares at her phone. “Too bad Brady couldn’t be here. He’s in Egypt now,” she says, turning the screen toward me so I can see the picture of Brady and his wife posing in front of a pyramid.
“Maybe I should ask him to bring back a mummy for his orphaned ex-employee. You know, as a birthday gift,” I reply, reaching for my glass of iced tea.
Logan finally swoops up Caden in his arms and heads toward us. “Did you tell them?” he asks as he takes the seat next to me with our son in his lap.
“Tell us what?” Gail inquires as she begins sticking thirty candles in the top of the chocolate cake.
I glance around the table at the eager faces staring back at me, and I can’t control my stupid grin. “Jasper just announced that Logan will be his successor after he retires next year.”
Jen gasps, removing her feet from my lap as she sits up straight. “I knew it! You owe me a hundred dollars,” she reminds me.
Logan narrows his eyes at me. “You bet against me?”
I shrug. “Someone had to. It’s not a bet if everyone makes the same prediction,” I say, grabbing Caden as he reaches for me. “We all knew you’d win.”
“I always win,” he replies, a look of pure adoration in his eyes as he stands up and leans over to plant a kiss on my temple. “Which reminds me, I have your birthday gift.”
“Ooh, what is it?” I ask, grinning as he walks away. “Is it a new pink dildo?”
“Dildo,” Caden repeats.
Logan laughs and shakes his head as he enters the house through the back door.
I brush Caden’s golden-brown hair out of his face and look into silver eyes. “Mommy said ‘pink dodo’ like a dodo bird. Can you say dodo? Dodo,” I say, stretching out the vowels.