Shark Bite
Page 11
“I think I already proved I can’t run a business,” I tell her, remembering my failed bicycle shop venture. Even though I had to sell it for other reasons, I never did make much money at it.
“But this business is established, Shay. Didn’t your great grandfather start it? It’s iconic. What would Sussex County be without Kelly Carriages?”
I know she’s trying to pull at my heartstrings. I don’t know what to tell her because I’m not the man she needs me to be. I wish I were.
And, to be honest, that’s what’s keeping me from Megan too. I’m not the man she needs me to be.
As much as I hate my father, I’m just as much of an asshole as he is.
I stand up, leaving most of my food untouched. What was once hunger is now a raw ache deep in the pit of my stomach.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Kathy assures me, following me toward the door. “They’re just listing the property… It may be a while before they get an offer. But the clock is ticking; I want to make sure you know that. Surely you don’t want to see this place go to someone else?” There’s a plea in her eyes as she stares at me.
“I’ll think about it, Kathy. That’s all I can promise right now.” I give her a hug, squeezing her tighter than I have in a long time. “Thanks for breakfast.”
When I pull away, I notice an unshed tear glistening like the dew on the grass when I drove in. She nods and murmurs, “You’re welcome.”
When I close the door behind me, through the glass I can see she’s still watching me.
12
It’s starting to make me nervous that the county permits clerk hasn’t responded to my request yet. We’re only a month out from the event, and I have all the contracts signed, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if everything falls apart now. I’ve been meaning to have a heart-to-heart with Shark, but he was so distant the last time I saw him, I thought it was better to just try to tackle this on my own. I even called Mateo Flores, like Claire suggested, and he said the permits office has a personal vendetta against him due to moving this summer’s Little Miss Rehoboth pageant to a new venue at the last minute.
That’s why I’m pressing my luck and going to my boss. I head down the hallway toward her office door, taking in the cute little company logo with its buzzing bee etched into the glass before I knock. It’s open a crack, but I don’t want to startle her.
She looks up from her computer and pops out her earbuds before gesturing for me to come in. “Hey, Megan, what’s up?”
I take a deep breath before sitting in the “hot seat,” which is what I always call the lone chair next to her desk. Most other bosses I’ve had (including my father) keep two chairs for guests, and that always seemed less intimidating to me than the solo chair. Like this way she can focus all of her energy on me. She’s a nice lady, but she does have very high expectations for her employees—which is why I suppose I want to impress her so badly. Oh, and so I can get a promotion and raise, of course.
I was not intending to tell her about my little side deal with the Riptide until I was being celebrated as a community hero in the local newspapers after the carnival, but now that I’ve run up against this roadblock, I need some help.
“Hey, Andrea. Sorry to bother you,” I start. She stares at me, blinking expectantly, so I continue, “I have a little issue, and I wanted to get your advice.”
“What kind of issue? One of our clients?” She clicks something on her computer and then rolls her mouse to the side so she can devote her attention to me.
“Uh, not exactly…” I watch her eyebrow quirk as I try to figure out the least threatening way to tell her that I sort of started my own business behind her back—though I truly hope she won’t see it that way. I don’t want her to feel threatened by me, only to be in awe at my initiative and drive.
“Then what?”
“So, one of my friends is the social secretary for the Rehoboth Riptide, the local rugby team. Have you heard of them?”
“Aren’t they the guys who almost got kicked out of their league because they had so many players in violation of the ethics code?” Her brows pull together as she stares at me.
“Uh…sorta,” I explain, “but they’ve worked out those issues and are trying to get back in the league’s and the community’s good graces.”
“Okay. So what does this have to do with The Buzz?”
I grit my teeth because this is where it might get hairy. “Well…like I said, I know the team, and they were looking for a way to elevate their standing, so I’m helping them organize a community event.” I didn’t use the word PR, see? That’s using my noggin, right?
“I see.” She folds her hands together on top of her desk as if I’m about to get an earful. Crap.
“So, we’re working with Beach Buddies to host a carnival after one of their rugby games next month, and I submitted an event permit request with the county office, but I haven’t heard anything from them. It’s been about three weeks now,” I explain.
She purses her lips and stares at me. “You’re organizing a carnival. On your own.”
“Uh…yeah?” My nerves are sheltering in place, waiting for the impact of her tidal wave of wrath.
“Megan, that is a very brave—and possibly stupid—thing to do.”
Her lips are curved in a smile, but I can’t tell if it’s one of sympathy, anger, or none of the above. “I know. It’s just that the team couldn’t afford to hire The Buzz, and I really wanted to—”
“The county permits office is notoriously slow and stingy,” she tells me. “They will make you take out liability insurance, you know.”
“The Legion has a policy for events,” I explain. “I’ve already cleared it with them. All the info is on the form I submitted.”
She taps her fingertips together, her hands facing each other but still resting on the surface of her desk. “I know people there.”
“I’m sure you do; that’s why I’m asking…”
“In the future, you should really run things like this by me first, Megan.” She has the look of rebuke on her face, but hey, at least she’s not yelling at me.
“So you can talk to someone for me? Or…?”
“Send me an email with the details, and I’ll see what I can do.” She takes a sip from her water bottle and then moves her mouse back over next to her keyboard. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Nope, that’s it. Thank you so much, Andrea.” I’m tempted to drop to my knees and kiss her Jimmy Choos, but instead, I stand up on shaky legs and proceed as gracefully as possible in my off-brand wedge sandals back to my cubby down the hall. That glare she gave me is still playing in my mind as I settle myself at my desk. But at least I have a way forward now. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if this all blows up in my face—especially since she knows about it now.
I find myself at Lindy and Meric’s house that night. I decided to be less of a pain in the ass this time and at least bring them dinner. I’ve never seen anyone look so relieved as Lindy was when I showed up with bags full of Chinese.
“I know you just went back to teaching,” I set everything out on the counter, “so I hope this makes things a little easier for you.”
“I love you so much!” She wraps her arms around my waist and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. That’s, of course, right when Meric walks in from the garage.
“Well, this is pretty much my dream getting-home-from-work scenario,” he says with a wide grin. “Dinner on the counter, ready to go, and two girls kissing in my kitchen.”
“Oh, please!” Lindy swats at him with a good-natured smile curling her full lips. She definitely has that pregnant lady glow about her.
“I didn’t say I brought enough for you,” I tease him.
“You two are really planning to eat all that?” He points to the array of cardboard containers spread out on the countertop. He’s right. It’s enough to feed a small army.
“I don’t know; I’m eating for two!” Lindy jokes as s
he hands me a plate and then her husband.
“Well, this is a treat. We definitely owe you one,” Meric says as he accepts the plate.
“Megan is a great name for a girl—or a boy!” I wink at them, then gesture for the mama-to-be to fill up her plate first, and she gives me a gracious nod. Her belly has grown so much just in the past few weeks. Last weekend I helped her buy maternity clothes so she’d have stuff to wear to work. She said her students seemed really surprised and excited for her when they found out she was expecting.
“Yeah,” she’d said, “I walked into the classroom and said to my junior AP Language and Composition class—I had most of them for tenth grade honors English last year—notice anything different?”
She said some of the boys snickered and seemed afraid to make a wrong guess, but the girls were all very sure of themselves. “You’re having a baby!” her pet student yelled. Everyone cheered and clapped.
“Remind me how happy I was in that moment with my students when it comes time to grade finals this winter, and I’m about to pop, okay?” she’d asked.
She takes a seat at the table, while Meric insists I fill my plate next. I sit down next to my friend and, seconds later, Meric joins us, thanking me again, “This is great, Meg, really appreciate it,” as he lays his napkin in his lap.
“So, you still haven’t told me how your date with the rugby captain went,” Lindy says between mouthfuls.
“Yeah I did.” I finish swallowing my General Tso’s chicken. “Don’t you remember? I said it went well. He wants to go out again soon, but they have an away game this weekend. So maybe the weekend after that.”
“What’s his name again?” Meric questions, trying to get in on the conversation. “I know I met him multiple times, but I’m so bad with names. Must be why I work with numbers!”
“Walt,” I answer. “Dr. Walter Byrd. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“It definitely does. So…what happened after the date?” Lindy leans forward, ready to soak up some juicy gossip.
“I answered that too, woman. Do you have pregnancy mush brain or what? We covered all this over text!”
“If it was first thing in the morning or right before bed, I was probably half asleep,” she apologizes. “This going back to teaching thing after being able to sleep whenever I wanted all summer is sucking my will to live.”
I can’t help but laugh. My friend learned how to be overdramatic from yours truly.
“Well?” She pins her green eyes on me and holds me hostage as she awaits my answer.
“Walt is a true gentleman and quite a catch,” I reveal. “We had a nice date, but nothing happened afterward. He took me home and gave me a hug; that’s it.”
“That’s it?” Lindy repeats. “Well, damn, I still think you need to get laid.”
I roll my eyes. “Listen to you. You used to be such a prude. Now you’re married and knocked up, and you think everyone needs more sex!”
“Well, it makes me a lot happier!” she fires back, her face turning crimson as she laughs.
Meric is sitting there shaking his head when Lucius starts to bark at approximately a zillion decibels. He races into the room, wagging his shaggy tail a mile a minute like he’s afraid we’ve failed to notice his alert to potential danger. Then he rushes into the living room to bark some more.
Lindy starts to wiggle out of her seat. “Someone must be at the door.”
“Stay there, babe, I’m on it!” Meric jumps up and follows his dog into the other room. After some low, deep voices rumble through the thin walls, he returns moments later with none other than Shark.
He looks around the table sheepishly, but his gaze doesn’t land on me for long. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner. I should have called first.”
“Nonsense!” Lindy says. “There’s plenty of food, right, Megan? Or were you planning to feed another family after us?”
“Go ahead and grab some, Shark. There’s a ton left. Here, you can even have this last egg roll if you want.”
He lifts his hands in the air like he’s truly embarrassed to find me there. I mean, he knew Meric and Lindy would be there, so the only way I can explain his odd behavior is me. He’s still in uniform, and he’s rockin’ a five o’clock shadow on his perfectly sculpted jawline. Why does he have to be so hot? It would be a lot easier for me if he were ugly. Or had rotting teeth. Or a weird eye. I imagine any number of things that could detract from his hotness, but nope, he’s just gorgeous, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
He reluctantly serves himself some food and sits down next to me. “Hey,” he offers in what was probably the most casual greeting in the history of greetings.
“Hey to you too.” I roll my eyes at Lindy, and she gives me a puzzled look.
“Another bad day at work?” Meric guesses as Shark violently stabs a piece of pork.
“No, it was fine.”
Hmm, could have fooled all of us the way his jaw is ticking. Should I go? I feel like I’m weirding him out. And Lindy seems to sense it too because she doesn’t say another word about Walt.
But then she really throws me for a loop. “Hey, honey, why don’t you help me with these dishes, and Megan can catch Shark up on the carnival plans while he eats?”
She smiles at me like she’s giving me some sort of gift, and all I can do is wrinkle up my nose and look as puzzled as she did moments ago. Meric nods and follows his wife into the kitchen, and there I am alone with Shark.
“Sorry to crash your dinner,” he apologizes again.
“Why do you keep saying that? It’s totally fine. There’s probably still a ton of food in there.”
He smirks before he shovels another bite of pork and rice into his mouth. “It’s pretty good too.”
“You’re welcome.” I watch him take a few more bites, and I don’t know why, but providing dinner for him makes me happy. In a way I’m transported back to when we were kids and I shared my popcorn with him while we watched a movie together. Our parents used to tell us it was “adult time,” and we needed to stay in the living room and watch a cartoon together while they played cards or other games in the kitchen.
“So what’s new?” he finally says around a bite after there’s been silence for a few minutes.
“My boss has an in with the permits office, so she’s going to pull some strings for us.”
“Oh, that’s good news.” He takes a drink of the beer Meric brought him when he first arrived. “I could use some good news.”
“Why’s that?”
He sets his fork down abruptly and looks up at me, revealing the storm brewing in his eyes. “I was going to tell Meric because he’s a businessowner, and he’ll get it, but your family owns a business, so I’ll tell you.”
“Okay…” my voice trails off, a mixture of confusion and surprise. I’ve never known Shark to be a “talk about his issues” kind of guy, but I’m not going to dissuade him from sharing.
“How would you feel if you found out your parents were going to sell their pharmacy and didn’t even tell you? And what if they were also going to sell their house and move out of state, and you found out about it from someone who wasn’t them?” He delivers the scenario with his typical stoic tone, but I can tell he’s struggling with it.
“Your parents are selling the carriage company?” I guess, my mouth rounded in an O of shock. It’s been in his family for generations.
“Yep.” He shakes his head and downs the rest of his beer. He grunts, but it might have just been covering up a burp; I can’t tell.
We used to have burping contests when we were kids…
I can’t believe that thought just smacked me upside the head, but…well, there it is.
There’s a weary look on his face as he sets down the beer bottle and his fork. “Sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this crap.”
“Hey…” I lay my hand on top of his, and his warmth rockets through me like I’ve touched a hot stove. Yet I don’t pull away
. I like it. I can feel his energy flowing through me, tingling its way into each cell of my skin. “You don’t have to be like that. It’s me, Meggie, remember?” I give him a reassuring smile.
I’m not sure if reminding him of our past is a good thing or a bad thing, but if we can’t have a romantic relationship, then shouldn’t I at least be able to leverage that childhood friendship thing? I realize that means we’ll never hook up again…but that was my choice initially. We could have been doing it this whole time if it were up to him. At least that was the impression he gave me two years ago.
Though surely it would have run its course by now. Right?
That electricity zapping between us…the current is undeniable. Still flowing strong for now.
As I’m musing about the chemistry he either doesn’t feel or must just be ignoring, he abruptly scoots his chair back and stands from the table. A heavy sigh rumbles past his lips as he starts to clear his plate.
“Wait. Shark…”
“What?”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Geez, I feel like I’m trying to steal the gold from Fort Knox the way he’s locked up so tight. Impenetrable.
He looks up at me with unimaginable anguish in his eyes. For a guy who seems to be limited to one or two emotions—and sadness isn’t one of them—the word I’d use to describe what’s radiating off him right now is despair.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The stubble on his jaw is growing more defined by the minute. He looks at me as if he’s trying to decide if he can really let his walls crumble—after they’ve been so carefully built and secured.
What else can I do to show him I’m on his side?
I take his hand and guide him out of the dining room and into Meric and Lindy’s living room. They’re still in the kitchen, and I feel a little bad that we left our mess on the table, but right now Shark needs my attention. I can clean up the mess later.