Hate Notes

by Vi Keeland

  I loved working with Iris. Not only did I learn new facets of the business every time she involved me in a project but also I felt a real woman-to-woman connection with her. When she asked how things were going, I believed she really wanted to hear the answer, unlike most people.

  We’d just finished compiling quarterly financial numbers to send over to the accountant when she asked, “How are things at work, Charlotte? Are you happy here so far?”

  That was probably one of the only questions that I didn’t have to ponder the answer to. “I love it here. I’m really happy, Iris. I’ve been meaning to tell you that. I know you took a big risk by hiring me, and to be honest, I probably didn’t take the job for the right reasons initially, except for that I knew you were a woman I wanted to be around. But I’m learning a lot, and this job feels right for me. I want to learn more. I want to learn everything!”

  Iris chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that, dear. We all feel your enthusiasm. You’ve really invigorated the office. How about your art? Are you still working at it?”

  “I am. And I think I finally found its place in my life. I always thought my dream job would be to work with clay all day. But I’m finding that I enjoy it much more when I use it to relax and escape.”

  “That’s wonderful. And my grandsons? How are things going with them?”

  “Well, things with Max are great. He’s really sweet.”

  She lowered her reading glasses to the tip of her nose and looked at me over them. “And my other grandson?”

  I shrugged. “Well, yesterday he knocked me over, and I chatted with his ex-fiancée about their honeymoon, so I probably should answer that things aren’t going that well.”

  Iris blinked twice. “Come again?”

  I laughed. “Well, technically he didn’t physically knock me over. He just scared me while I was lunging. And my chat with his ex consisted of her huffing a lot and being rude before she hung up in my ear.”

  Iris smiled. “That sounds like Allison.”

  “But on the other hand, I got him to go to church twice, and tonight I have my first climbing lesson, so I guess you could say that even though he’ll never admit it, we sort of have influenced each other in a positive way.”

  “Church? Climbing? I think you need to back up a bit, dear. You lost me after Allison acting like a bitch.”

  “Well, it all started with my Fuck-It List. Excuse my French. You actually helped inspire the start of the list. After our long talk in the ladies’ room and you giving me this great new job, I decided to make a list of things that I wanted to do.”

  “Like a bucket list.”

  “Yes. Except I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, so I called it a fuck-it list.”

  “Creative. Go on.”

  “Well, long story short, I told Reed about my list, and one night I found that he’d started his own list.”

  Something in Iris’s face changed. “My grandson made a bucket list?”

  “Yeah. I know. I couldn’t believe it, either. But that’s how I found out about his secret dream of singing in the choir. So I did some research and found out that the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir had tryouts coming up and told Reed about it.”

  Iris looked pretty shocked. “And he went?”

  “He did. Twice. He didn’t wind up trying out because he needs to work on his voice, but I think it was nice that he went. And I added rock climbing to my list after he said he was a climber. I’ve always wanted to try it. It seems like a badass hobby.”

  “Reed is taking you rock climbing?”

  “Oh. No. I said we’re tolerating each other and influencing from a distance. I think we’re a long way off from playdates. He just mentioned it was a hobby of his, and I thought I’d check it out. I found an open class over on Sixty-Second Street that starts tonight at seven.”

  “I see. Well, as long as he isn’t being difficult for you.”

  “He’s not. It’s funny, the harder he tries to be difficult, the more I see that it’s a wall he puts up to keep people out. I know it’s none of my business, but I have the urge to slap that Allison for whatever she did to him.”

  A warm smile spread across Iris’s face. “You’ve got my grandson’s number. Do me a favor? Don’t give up on him. I promise if he lets you in, it’s worth all the effort. Even if it’s just friendship.”

  I nodded.

  Since we were done for the day, I cleaned up the papers spread out all over the table in her office and said good night. Iris stopped me on the way out.

  “Charlotte?”

  “Yes?”

  “One last thing. If we ever have the opportunity to slap that Allison, you’ll have to get in line behind me.”

  I grinned from ear to ear. “No problem. Have a good night, Iris.”

  CHAPTER 20

  REED

  Apparently I’d decided on a new path to exit the office these days.

  Even though I’d been leaving the same way every night for the last eight years—turning left out of my office, right down the long hallway, and straight out the main entrance—now I automatically go right, then left, then right, and weave around cubicles like a rat in a maze to work my way to the front door. It takes twice as long, and I’d never admit that I took the extra steps to pass Charlotte’s office, yet there was an unwelcome disappointment inside of me when I saw that her door was already closed tonight.

  Grandmother’s office was located only a few doors down from Charlotte’s, and she walked out carrying her coat just as I passed.

  “Oh. Reed. I didn’t realize you were still here. I stopped by before, but your light was off.”

  “I had an appointment downtown but stopped back in to grab some files for my morning showing. Did you need something?”

  “Umm. Yes, actually. Do you remember my friend Helen?”

  “Bradbury?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, her grandson has recently taken up rock climbing, and apparently he’s bought some second-rate gear. His eighteenth birthday is coming up next week, and you know Helen, she’s having a party that is bigger than most weddings. I thought it would be nice if I purchased him some new gear as a gift. I’m sure it would put Helen’s mind at ease, too. Only . . . I have no idea what to buy.”

  “I can help pick some things out. Why don’t I show you some sites online tomorrow when I get back in the afternoon, and we can order stuff for next week.”

  “Oh. Did I say next week? I meant tomorrow. The party is tomorrow.”

  I squinted. “The big party is on a weekday?”

  “Umm . . . yes. Helen is a stickler about having a party on an actual birthday. Anyway, I looked up local places, and there’s a store that sells top-of-the-line gear over on Sixty-Second Street—it’s sort of on your way home.”

  I nodded. “Extreme Climb. I know the place. They hold climbing classes and arrange group trips, too.”

  Grandmother smiled and pointed a finger at me. “That’s the one.” She looked at her watch. “It’s already almost seven, and I have an appointment downtown at eight o’clock. The store closes at nine. I’m worried I won’t make it. Could I trouble you to pop in and pick out a helmet for me on the way home tonight?”

  “Sure. No problem. I’ll grab something and bring it to the office tomorrow.”

  She hugged me. “You’re a doll. And if you happen to see anything of interest while you’re there, you should pick it up, too.”

  “Umm. Okay.”

  “Have a wonderful evening, Reed.”

  “You, too.”

  Extreme Climb hadn’t changed much in the two years that I’d been absent. The megagym concentrated more on indoor rock-climbing classes than on gear sales, and even though they had more than ten thousand craggy square feet and three training walls, one reaching forty feet, the place was always packed.

  The guy at the front desk remembered me. I’d done a few of their climbing trips when I’d first started out.

  “Eastwood, right?”

&
nbsp; We shook. “Good memory. Unfortunately, mine’s not as sharp.”

  He smiled. “No problem. It’s Joe. Haven’t seen you around in a long time. Injury?”

  “Nah. Just took a break.”

  “Back for a refresher lesson? It’s beginner night. You probably don’t want to hit the twenty-five-foot wall with them. But the back climber is open if you want. I can get one of the guys to spot you.”

  “Maybe another night. I just stopped in to pick up a helmet for a gift.”

  “We just got the new Petzl Trios helmet in today in flat black.” He whistled. “The thing is sweet. It’s not out for display yet, but I can grab you one to check out if you want.”

  “Yeah. That’d be great.”

  “Give me a few minutes. If you want to amuse yourself in the meantime, go watch the beginner class. We have a few that strapped the helmet on backward. Should be fun to watch.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  When Joe disappeared, I wandered around. Seeing everyone climbing up walls, or excited for their first attempt, made me remember how much I used to love the sport. Maybe I should give it a shot again.

  A bunch of guys were gathered at the beginner’s wall, looking up while a woman climbed. She was almost to the top of the short wall, about twenty feet up the twenty-five-foot climb, and wore hot-pink shorts that displayed a heart-shaped rear from the bottom. I’d thought that was the cause for the giant smiles they wore. Until I heard the moan.

  Each time the woman climber reached for the next peg, she let out a sound that was an odd hybrid of whimper, moan, and sigh. Sort of like Venus Williams in a tennis match, except way fucking sexier. Clearly it wasn’t intentional, because the woman was stretching and trying her hardest to get to the top. But that didn’t make the sound any less sensual. She reached again, and the sultry moan shot straight down to my dick. Damn. It’d been a long time since I’d heard that sound. Too long. For some reason, it made my brain think of Charlotte. I bet she’d make some great sounds in the sack and was pretty damn uninhibited, too. All that pent-up crazy probably translated into one hell of a firecracker in bed.

  The woman managed to scale a few more feet and grab on to the top climbing holds with one last, loud moan. She stretched high and rang the bell at the top. The group of guys ogling a few feet away clapped and hooted. The tallest of the group said, “Damn. I’m gonna ask her out. I bet she sounds as good under me as she does overhead.” Even though I was no better than him—standing there staring at the woman’s ass while thinking about what another woman might sound like in bed—the guy’s comment pissed me off.

  My attention was diverted back to the climber when she shrieked a resounding woo-hoo and flailed her arms in the air like she’d just scaled Mount Everest.

  That voice.

  Oh no.

  Shit.

  It couldn’t be . . .

  The woman cheered once again.

  But it was . . .

  I’d know that scream anywhere.

  She started to make her way down. I watched in amazement, still unable to believe it was her.

  “Charlotte?” My voice was louder than I’d intended, practically echoing.

  She turned to look at me, pausing for a moment to catch her breath before she completely lost her focus and landed in a twisted position.

  “Ow . . . ow!”

  Shit!

  I rushed over to her, then knelt down. “Are you okay?”

  She looked up at me in a daze, her blue eyes glistening.

  God, she’s beautiful. Even when she is a mess.

  “What . . . what are you doing here?”

  “Can you move your leg?”

  “It’s my ankle and foot mostly. But everything hurts.”

  A couple of employees surrounded us. “Do you need assistance?”

  She held out her hand. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “We can call an ambulance. Are you sure?” one of them asked.

  “Yes.” She turned to me. “You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here?”

  Why was she so concerned with that when she could barely move?

  “Is that really relevant? Iris sent me here to run an errand for her.”

  “That’s strange. I mentioned to her that I was coming here. Why didn’t she just ask me?”

  I have my theories.

  When she tried to move her ankle again, she cringed. “Ow.”

  “We’d better get you checked out. I’ll drive you to the hospital. Can you stand?”

  Blowing out a breath, she said, “Let’s find out.”

  Offering her my hand, I helped her up slowly.

  Charlotte immediately winced when she tried walking. “This is not good.” She leaned on me as she limped.

  I had her wait for me at the entrance while I went to retrieve my car.

  Helping her into the vehicle, I said, “I’m surprised you lost control so easily. I was watching you before it happened—before I realized it was you. Your balance was pretty impressive.”

  “Well, if I’d known you were watching me, I’m sure my concentration would have suffered. And I lost control because you freaked me out when you called my name. You weren’t supposed to be there.”

  I walked around to the driver’s seat, then said, “You might want to consider wearing something less revealing. You had quite the cheering squad of men admiring your little hot pants.”

  “Were you one of them?” She cocked her brow, then moved her seat back before kicking her leg up on my dash.

  Hell yes, I was . . .

  I refused to acknowledge her question.

  She laughed. “The answer is in your silence, Eastwood.”

  Weaving in and out of traffic, I said, “I’m your boss, Charlotte. All I would need to do is tell you I was admiring you in that way, and you could go after me for sexual harassment.”

  “I would never do that to you—ever.”

  I believed her. Charlotte wasn’t trying to trap me. She wasn’t an opportunist, either. Sometimes I wish she were, so I could find some kind of real fault in her.

  Keeping my eyes on the road was always a challenge with Charlotte in the car.

  I glanced over at her. “Rock climbing, huh? Right after I told you I rock climbed? Original. I see your stalkerish tendencies are still in full effect. You mean to tell me this was a coincidence?”

  “Not at all. You gave me the idea. I have no problem admitting that. I figured if you liked it, it must be worthwhile, since there’s so little you seem to enjoy.”

  I chuckled. “What are you basing that opinion on?”

  “You work long days and then you go home. There’s little room for anything else.”

  “How do you know what I do after I go home at night?”

  “Well, I’m privy to your entire schedule for the most part. I’m assuming there’s not a lot of time for extracurricular activities based on your hours. You work a lot of weekend showings, too.”

  “If I wanted to get something past you, I would, Darling.”

  “Darling as in my last name, with a big D not a little d, right? That’s okay, I like big Ds.”

  She did not just say that.

  I bet you do, Charlotte. And in another life, maybe I’d give it to you.

  CHAPTER 21

  CHARLOTTE

  Reed took me to the emergency room at New York–Presbyterian. He’d stepped out to take a phone call when the physician entered the room.

  “The results of your X-ray indicate that it’s just a sprain. You’re very lucky, Miss Darling.” He handed the paperwork over to the attending nurse.

  “So what do I need to do?”

  “Keep off your feet for a couple of days. I’ll leave you with this boot and crutches.” He helped me slip my foot into the boot before making his way out of the room.

  Reed passed the doctor on his way back in from the hallway.

  “Would you mind helping me up off the bed?” I asked.

  He looked d
own at my boot, then up at me. “Of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  He extended his hand. I took it, selfishly loving that I’d touched Reed more in the last two hours than I had in the entire time I’d known him. He looked particularly hot right now, too. His hair was a bit tousled, and he’d loosened his collar at the top. He’d come to Extreme Climb straight from work in his suit and bow tie, but over the course of the evening, he’d slowly come undone a little. I loved “undone” Reed.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “He said it was a . . .” I hesitated, deciding to bend the truth. “He said that I needed to keep off my foot for at least a few . . . weeks. Maybe.” The nurse who’d been preparing my discharge paperwork gave me a look from behind Reed’s shoulders. She knew I was bullshitting but didn’t ruin it for me.

  It was an impulsive decision to stretch the truth. I felt bad for lying about the time frame of my expected recovery, but I was able to justify it in my head because it was helping me get closer to Reed. I loved the attention I was getting from him and just wasn’t ready for it to end.

  “Shit. Okay,” he said, rubbing his chin. “What can I do to help you?”

  “You can drive me to my apartment.”

  “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

  Reed looked around as we entered my place down in Soho. “This is nice. Very . . . homey.”

  “The décor is shabby chic. Glad you like it.”

  I didn’t believe him. My taste was subtle and feminine and so not Reed Eastwood. Although I’d never seen the inside of his place, I had my ideas about what it looked like: dark, sleek, and modern.

  Even though my apartment was in the city, the décor was more country with light and airy colors. I had floral linen slipcovers on the sofas and matching custom draperies.

  Reed seemed to be hesitant to make his way fully into my living room. He stopped a few feet short of the door.

  “You can take as much time off work as you need,” he said.

  “Thank you. But I still plan to make it in to work. I can just stay off my foot. I may need a ride into the office, though.”

  “I can arrange that.” He slipped his hands into his pockets as he continued standing close to the entrance. “Are you hungry?”