by B. B. Hamel
“Okay,” I say finally. “I’ll do it.”
His grin is huge. “Great, we can start—”
“But you have to promise something,” I say before he can finish.
He stops and nods. “Anything.”
“We keep it professional.”
His grin could blind the dead. “Of course. When have I acted anything but professional?”
I groan and look away. I can’t help but feel like I’m making a deal with the devil, except this devil I want to fuck just as much as I want to hit him right in the jaw. It’s confusing, it’s messed up, and I’m going to be in the thick of it for some time to come.
8
Aaron
I look down at Riley and I can feel my whole body vibrating with desire, but I keep it in check. She wants to be professional about this, and I’m going to do my best to give her what she wants.
The day after she made her big decision, she reports to a little-used conference room tucked away in a corner near my office. I’m already there and prepared for her, a small presentation loaded up and ready on the screen.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Do you really need to dim the lights?”
I give her a serious look. “Of course I do, Miss Hollins,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “How very professional of you.”
I grin and push ahead. Once the lights are down and the door is shut, I tap the spacebar on my laptop to flip to the first slide.
Up on the screen is a black background with big, bold white text right in the middle. “I’m Your Boss Now,” I read to her.
“Asshole,” she grumbles.
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought we were being professional, Miss Hollins.”
She gestures impatiently at the screen. “Go ahead, boss.”
I nod, smiling. “Very good, Miss Hollins. As we embark on this journey together, you need to understand one thing, and one thing only. I am your boss from now until we’re through, and if you want to be successful, you’d better do exactly as I say.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you in charge?”
“Because this is my project, and because Mitchell told me I am.”
“Maybe I should ask Mitchell myself,” she says.
“Be my guest, but before you do, there’s something you need to understand.”
“What?”
I hit the spacebar and read the next slide, still bold white text on a black background. “Mitchell Doesn’t Care What You Think, So Don’t Bother.”
She groans, shaking her head. “Are you serious? You knew I’d say that?”
“I guessed. Would’ve looked stupid if I was wrong.” I shrug, grinning at her.
“Can you be serious for, like, one second?”
“Of course, I can. This is serious stuff, Miss Hollins.”
“Stop calling me that,” she grates at me.
I hit the spacebar again and read the next slide. “Only If You Call Me Aaron.” I grin at her and shrug. “Close enough.”
She groans again. “Oh my god. How many of these did you do?”
“That’s the last one, I promise.”
“Seriously, Aaron. I’m rethinking my decision.”
“Don’t do that. You have a lot to lose now.”
“I don’t have anything to lose,” she grumbles.
“Look, I know you’re not happy about this, but you have to understand that all your money is dependent on listening to me.”
That gets her attention. “I thought I was getting my two percent no matter what.”
“No, you’re not,” I tell her. “You’re getting your two percent if we’re successful.”
“What the fuck, Aaron?” She half stands up. “You didn’t say that.”
“I fudged the truth a bit,” I say, shrugging. “I’m a slimeball, after all, right? But look, we are going to succeed.”
“What, exactly, do we have to do?”
“First, you have to…” I hit the spacebar and read. “Listen To Me.”
She crosses her arms and doesn’t smile. “And?”
I hit the spacebar again. “Work With Me.”
“I’m guessing there’s a third thing.”
I wink at her and hit the spacebar. “Obey Me.”
She sighs. “How much of this presentation is about how you’re in charge?”
“Most of it,” I admit. “I really wanted to hammer that point home.”
“Great.” She stands up. “I’m done with this bullshit.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say. “Hold on, Riley, look.” I skip ahead in the presentation, although there were some gems in there about how she must give me her complete and utter submission, and how I’ll bring her to new levels of pleasure if she’ll only get on her knees and beg me, etc., etc. Definitely not professional, but whatever, she would’ve loved it. I stop after half the slides, the background now shifted to blue.
“Okay, look at this,” I say as I hit the spacebar to populate the slide. “It’s a list of all the vendors and the locations we’re visiting. We have to sell to four companies, preferably big orders, or get verbal commitments from six. If we can do that, the money’s all yours.”
She squints at the slide, going over the venders listed and doing the math.
“You want us to hit… three places per day for two months?” Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit, Aaron.”
“Holy shit is right. We’re being sent to the Midwest, which doesn’t sound exciting, but those bastards love solar. I mean, they fucking love it. The Midwest has a ton of light and sun, and people like the environment out there, go figure. So we’re going to sell the shit out of this product.”
She’s quiet for a second, just staring at the screen. I can tell she’s trying to work this out for herself, and I have to admit, I’m a little nervous for what she’s thinking.
“We’re going to spend a lot of time together,” she says finally.
“Yes, we are,” I agree. “Lots of miles and lots of sales calls.”
“Lots of hotels and shitty food.”
“Lots of fun and late nights spent exploring each other’s—”
“Aaron,” she says, cutting me off. “It’s insane. That’s just too much.”
I soften my smile a bit. “We’ll do what we can. Honestly, I know it’s ambitious, but we can do this. We have two months to get three big sales. That can’t be hard, right?”
“We don’t even have a product to sell yet,” she says. “It’s not even a prototype. It’s just in the design phase.”
“I know.” I lean on the desk and look into her eyes. “But together, Riley, we can do this. I believe in you.”
She stares back at me and for a second, I think I’m going to kiss her. We’re alone in a small room, the lights are down, and she’s so fucking beautiful. She’s practically glowing, and not just because she’s pregnant, but because the reflection from the presentation is hitting her. I want to kiss those full, gorgeous lips and feel what I felt that night again so fucking bad it almost hurts.
Instead, she leans back and fixes a little half smile on me. “Okay then, boss,” she says. “Run me through the logistics.”
I straighten up with a serious face. “Okay, Miss Hollins,” I say, switching to the next slide. “Here are our objectives.”
Her eyebrows go straight up after reading the first objective. “Make sweet, sweet love every night?” she reads.
“Oh, ah, how’d that get in there.” I hit the spacebar and it disappears. “Whoops.”
She rolls her eyes. “You sure know how to ruin a moment.”
I watch her for a second, hit the spacebar again, and dive into my presentation. She’s leaning forward and hanging on my words now, and I can tell she’s getting into this, even if she doesn’t want to be.
I know it’s the prospect of potentially millions. I know she’s only doing this to secure her future and make sure her product succeeds. I know she doesn’t care about me, doesn’t care about being alone in hotels with
me, alone in the car with me, close enough to touch for two whole, long months. I know she doesn’t care about that.
But it’s the reason I’m doing this. Sure, I want to sell some fucking solar panels and make her rich in the process, but it’s not about that. For me, it’s about being with the mother of my future baby and getting her to see that I’m not just some asshole, slimeball salesman.
I’m the man that’s going to make her feel fucking good.
9
Riley
I sit in my living room staring at my packed bag, wondering if I’m in a living nightmare.
“Wake up,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut, but when I open them again the bag is still there and I’m still running late.
“Shit.”
I lean back on my couch and sigh. I know I need to get up and get to the airport, but the idea of meeting Aaron there this early in the morning makes me want to puke a little bit.
Okay, that’s not fair, the pregnancy makes me want to puke a little bit, but that’s normal.
I don’t know why I’m dreading this do much. The past week has been a confusing whirlwind of planning and working closely with Aaron as we made some calls ahead of time to set everything up. He’s passionate and smart and when he’s actually working, he’s working hard. I actually found it pretty fun sitting in that conference room with him, making jokes and making calls and getting our shit done to prepare for this asinine trip. And I think that’s the real problem.
I shouldn’t want to be around him. I’m pregnant with his baby, my brother’s old friend, the asshole that’s forcing me on this trip. I shouldn’t get giddy when I think about spending two months with him on the road. I shouldn’t feel excited to sleep in a hotel room right next to his. I definitely shouldn’t get turned on when I imagine him sneaking into my room in the middle of the night to…
I’m so stupid. I want to give this baby up for adoption, but the more attached I get to him, the harder it’s going to be. I’m only hurting myself with this bullshit.
I think that’s the real problem. It’s not that I hate Aaron, although I do hate him, at least a little bit.
It’s that I’m terrified I’m going to have a good time, and then I’ll never want to leave him. If that happens, who knows what I’ll be giving up? I’m trying so desperately to hold on to my old image of myself, but that image is changing ,and it’s changing fast.
I stand up, breathing fast, my heart beating quickly in my chest. I shake my head and walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I need to order an Uber and head out before it’s too late, but I can’t make myself do it. I want to run away so badly it almost hurts.
I don’t know what to do. Almost automatically, I get out my phone and call the only person I think might understand.
Davis answers on the fourth ring, sleep clear in his voice. “Riley?”
“Hi,” I say. “I’m sorry, I know it’s early.”
“It’s like… Jesus, five? This is ass-crack of dawn early. What’s going on?”
“I’m really sorry,” I tell him, “but I didn’t know who else to call.”
I hear him grunt and sit up in bed, or at least I think that’s what he’s doing. “What’s the matter, Riles?”
I quickly rattle off everything that’s happened lately, focusing mainly on this business trip and my very confused feelings about the whole thing. Davis listens as I go off for like five minutes before he finally speaks up.
“You’re making a mistake.”
I blink, surprised by that. “But you’re listening, right? I mean, Aaron’s treating me nice but I don’t want this baby and he does and—”
“You have to go,” Davis interrupts.
I blink, surprised. “Really?”
“Jesus, Riles, two percent of profits off this thing? That’s huge, that’ll change your life. Who cares if you have to deal with Aaron for two months? It’s temporary, but imagine what you can do with all that money, the life you can lead. You can never see him again if you don’t want to, quit that job and never work again, I don’t know.”
“Yeah, the money’s tempting,” I say, a little disappointed. It’s not just about money and he has to see that.
He sighs, though. “And you owe it to yourself to see if this thing with Aaron is real.”
“What? Real? I don’t…” I’m stuttering, I realize.
He laughs a little. “Look, I don’t love that he got you pregnant, but clearly there’s something between you two. Go on this trip and find out if it’s real. You don’t have to keep the baby, but maybe you want to keep him around.”
“It’s not so simple,” I say. “If I keep him, I’m keeping the baby. He wants to raise it.”
“Well,” he says, sighing, “shit, this is too damn complicated for five in the morning.” He laughs again. “Just fucking go, Riles. You can always come back home early if you want.”
“Yeah, I’m not stuck with him, right? I can leave whenever I want.”
“Exactly.” Davis sighs. “Now go, you’re probably late. And don’t fucking call me this early ever again.”
“Thanks, Davis. You’re a good brother.”
“I know.” He hangs up and I smile to myself as I slip my phone back into my bag.
I stand there surveying my apartment. I’m going to be away from it for a little while, so this is like a last look for me. “I don’t even love this place that much,” I grumble to myself as I order an Uber and lug my bags downstairs.
Aaron’s waiting for me at the gate. He checks his watch as I sit down next to him, but he doesn’t say anything. I cut it so close that they’re already boarding first class.
“Glad you’re here,” he says finally, and I look at him.
“Yeah, me too.” I grin despite the roiling, confused mess in my gut. “Let’s go sell some solar panels.”
“Fuck yes,” he says, a little too loudly. A few people look over at him, but he doesn’t seem to care.
That’s the sort of stupid charming confidence I wish I had, but is so incredibly appealing in him. Somehow he manages to make everything seem effortless, like he’s not embarrassed at all to curse loudly in an airport if he wants to. He lives his life doing what he wants to do, and I’m jealous of that.
Maybe that’s not entirely true. I realize that I don’t know what he actually wants to do, just what he’s been doing. I assume I know him already, but that’s not fair. If I think I’m too complex for him to figure out so quickly, then the same can be said for him.
He’s definitely an asshole, but I need to give him a big fat break. I’m on this trip, for better or worse, and I’m going to make the best of it. No matter what happens, I can always just leave if I need to, but sitting here next to Aaron waiting to get on our early morning flight, I don’t think I’m going to want to. Just being around him makes me feel giddy with excitement. His enthusiasm is infectious.
“They’re calling us,” he says, standing and looking down at me. “You ready?”
“Ready, boss.” I stand up and he grins, handing me a ticket.
I follow him into line, not knowing what’s coming, but trying to face it with honesty and optimism.
Who knows, maybe the asshole will surprise me and this will all be worth it. Or maybe I’ll waste two months. Only one way to find out.
10
Aaron
All eyes are on me, and I fucking love it.
The conference room is small and the lights are dimmed for my presentation. Riley sits a few feet away, her chair pressed back against the wall, probably because she wants to disappear.
That’s not my style, though. I stand up in front of these men and I demand their attention. I have something they want, something they need, and I’m going to make sure they know it.
Except their faces don’t give me much hope. The main boss, a guy named Kevin, is a typical dinosaur. He’s thin, almost emaciated, with a pinched face and a bored demeanor. He stifles a yawn as I explain to him the battery system and how it�
�s improved over our competitors.
“And so, these batteries will last ten times longer than traditional designs. That means ten years of basically no maintenance. Can you guys imagine that?”
“Yeah,” Kevin says suddenly. “I can. That’s ten years where we don’t do any work.”
I hesitate. “These are superior products, I’m sure you can see that.”
He shrugs. “Superior or not, we don’t make all our money on installations. We make our money on repairs.”
I take a breath and let it out. I knew this was going to be an issue. It’s messed up, but it’s a fact of life in this business that selling mediocre products and repairing them for the duration of their existence is more lucrative than selling higher quality but slightly more expensive versions. A lot of these guys don’t want to sell stuff that isn’t going to net them repair contracts as well.
“This is the future,” I say softly. “It’s coming one way or another. Sooner or later, batteries are going to get more reliable, but don’t take my word for it.” I turn to Riley and gesture at her. “Our lead engineer is here to explain what I mean.”
Her eyes go wide. She’s clearly surprised that she’s being called on, although that’s the whole reason she’s here. We practiced this on the plane, but clearly she wasn’t listening.
“Right, uh, right.” She gets up and walks over, taking the spotlight from me. I sit down in her chair, leaning forward to watch as she stumbles through what is probably the most awkward and boring explanation of the technology I’ve ever seen from her.
At the end, Kevin gives one of his engineers a look and closes his binder. “Well, thank you very much, uh, Miss—”
“Hollins,” Riley says.
“Right, Miss Hollins.” He’s getting up, and I’m on my feet, ready to stop it, but it’s too late. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.”