Backing You Up

by Weston Parker

  I wasn’t nervous, which surprised me. I looked out at the happy faces and felt like I belonged.

  They weren’t looking at me like they hated me. They weren’t looking at me with disdain like they had that first time I showed up. This was my chance to talk to all of them. They were my captive audience.

  “Thank you for letting me crash the little lunch party,” I said with a laugh. “It was good—like really good. This was Rogan’s choice. Turns out the guy knows his food.”

  There was a ripple of laughter through the crowd. It made me more at ease. “You guys are amazing. I’m not just saying that. You guys have done an amazing job. I want to make sure you are all recognized for all the hard work you have done and continue to do. As you guys know, Ben Mallet was my father. I have known for most of my life that one day I would take over the company. I will admit, none of us were quite prepared for just how soon that would happen. I want you all to know I am trying. I want to do right by all of you.”

  I looked over at Rogan, who was watching the crowd. His eyes met mine before giving me a small nod.

  I turned back to the crowd. “I don’t know if you all know Rogan and his story, but let me tell you. It’s impressive. He started with the company right here. He worked hard and climbed the ladder. My dad always talked about this guy at work. I’m honored to work with him and have him to advise me. He’s an inspiration to us all. I know some of you probably have some ideas about me, but I hope I can show you I am not those labels. I want to be a good owner, and with guys like Rogan to help keep me in check, I think I can do that. I want to set up an open-door policy. If any of you have an issue, please bring it to me. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken. If you aren’t comfortable taking it to me, take it to Rogan. We want to hear from you.”

  I finished my speech, and with Rogan’s help, I climbed down from the chair. We spent another thirty minutes enjoying more conversation and tacos. By the time we headed back to Rogan’s truck, I was feeling like I could conquer the world.

  “Thank you for what you said back there,” he said as the truck bounced down the dirt road.

  “You’re welcome. I meant it.”

  “You didn’t have to make me sound like some kind of hero. It was nice but it wasn’t needed.”

  “It was all true. Your experience has made you a valuable asset. You know what it is like to be in the trenches, so to speak. You can relate and that helps me.”

  He smiled as he pulled onto the highway. “I suppose I can relate but I think being genuine and showing real concern for the people that are keeping you in business is easy. You seem to be doing that.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “You are doing it. You are doing it well.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed. “I am trying. I want to do right by them and my father.”

  “Just keep doing what you are doing, and I think you will be fine.”

  I looked out the window, thinking about my next move. I figured since we were being open and honest, I needed to thank him for something else he had done for me. “Rogan, I wanted to say thank you for being a decent human being.”

  He burst into laughter. “Thanks, I think.”

  “I’m sorry. That was not how I meant that to come out. What I meant to say was thank you for not making things weird after… you know.”

  “After we slept together?” he asked, slightly teasing.

  “Yes. I know that wasn’t exactly the best idea and I know you could have said or done something that made it difficult at work. I want to thank you for giving me a free pass.”

  “It wasn’t a free pass. We didn’t need a free pass. We had a nice time together, but we also work together. I think we can both agree that this company is more important than weird feelings and awkwardness.”

  “Yes,” I quickly agreed. “Exactly.”

  “We work well together,” he continued. “I don’t want to screw that up by mixing personal and professional.”

  I was nodding, completely agreeing with him but also a little bummed. I was beginning to see him for something other than the pain in my ass that worked down the hall. He was a good man. He had a good sense of humor and he was as loyal as the day was long.

  “I appreciate it,” I told him. “Really. And today was amazing. That was because of you. I don’t think anyone else could have pulled off what you did in less than twenty-four hours. It was impressive.”

  “Money talks,” he joked. “Especially when I suggested it could become regular business for them.”

  “You used your charm on them,” I teased. “You can admit it.”

  He looked over and winked. “Maybe a little.”

  Dammit it all to hell. The man had me wanting him all over again. He was so damn sexy. When he grinned like that and was playful, I just wanted to crawl into his lap and ride him. I had never done it in a truck or car. The excitement of having sex with him in his truck was extremely appealing. He would be pinned beneath me. I could ride him the way I wanted, slow and deep.

  I heard my sharp intake of breath and realized my thoughts were getting carried away. I quickly reined it in. “Who was that man you were talking to?”

  “I talked to a lot of men,” he answered.

  “The tall one, with the kind of shaggy hair.”

  “Oh, that would be Granger. He’s a good friend of mine. We started at the railyard together.”

  I nodded, finding it kind of interesting that Granger was his friend. I’d spoken with him briefly and the guy had a very Matthew McConaughey vibe about him. Rogan was a bit more uptight.

  “He’s a funny guy,” I commented.

  Rogan choked out a laugh. “Granger is the kind of guy that moves to the beat of his own drum. He is very serious about being laid back. He likes the simplest things in life and has no desire to immerse himself in the trappings of wealth. He lives in a little trailer by the lake and spends his day fishing, grilling, and just being totally relaxed.”

  “I cannot imagine what that would be like,” I mused aloud. “I feel like I’m always on the move, always trying to get to the next level. I don’t know what that next level is, but I’m on this upward trajectory, and I don’t think I want off.”

  “You and me both. Few people can be as chill as Granger. It works for him. He’s a good balance for me.”

  “My friend, Leslie, is that balance for me,” I told him, having no idea why I was opening up to him at all. “Although I rarely see her anymore. With this new job, I’m not sure I will ever have time to hang out with her.”

  “Make time,” he said in a somber voice. “It’s something your father told me when I first moved up to the office. I worked my ass off. He told me I needed to take a step back and enjoy myself or I was going to burn out. Of course, I didn’t listen, and one day, it caught up with me.”

  “I wish he could have taken his own advice,” I whispered. “He worked a lot.”

  “He did, but he also seemed to enjoy it. I don’t think he thought of it as work. He treated it like hanging out with friends and meeting new people. Some days were rougher than others, but I don’t think he was unhappy.”

  I stared out the window. “He was happy.”

  We arrived at the office. I didn’t want to go back to work. I wanted to go anywhere with him. I wanted to spend more time with him and get to know even more about him. I reminded myself I couldn’t do that. He was off limits. It needed to stay professional between us.

  We stepped into the elevator, the excitement of the lunch quickly fading. “I have tickets to a Rockets game tomorrow,” he said.

  “Really?” I said with a friendly smile. “Basketball, right?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, basketball. It’s one of the finals games. It’s a pretty big deal in the sports world. Would you like to go?”

  I barely managed to keep myself from jumping up and down and clapping my hands together. “I would love to.”

  “Great. I can pick you up. Parking is a real bitch. It will be easier
if we ride together.”

  He was talking fast, like he was trying to convince me. He didn’t need to convince me at all. “That works for me. I’ve never been to one of their games.”

  “Really? I would have thought your dad had season tickets.”

  “My dad wasn’t much of a sports guy. Oakley used to go to the games when he lived here but he wasn’t inviting his little sister along.”

  He smiled, nodding. “I don’t suppose he would. That would have interfered with his plans.”

  “His womanizing plans,” I teased.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny anything,” he said with a laugh.

  The elevator came to a stop and it was time to get back to the real world. “I’ll see you later,” I said when he stopped at his office.

  “You did good today,” he said. “Really good. I think you’ve made big strides in earning their trust and respect.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  He gave me a nod before walking into his office. I was feeling very good about myself and life in general as I walked back to my office. I sat down at my desk and thought about calling Oakley. I wanted to tell him about my day. I wanted to tell him I made some serious headway and our family business was going to be okay.

  I knew he was worried. How could he not be? He was entrusting his little sister to keep things going. He pretended he wasn’t worried and told me everything I needed to hear, but I knew he was concerned. Instead of calling, I sent him a few texts, giving him a recap of the day. He replied with a thumbs-up, followed by clapping hands and he knew I could do it.

  Neither of us knew if I could do it. We both had our concerns. My dad was right to have Rogan and Beau in their positions. They were what was making it possible for me to succeed. Things would be very different if I didn’t have the two of them guiding me along.

  I wondered if it was possible for Rogan and me to be friends outside of work. I knew all about fraternization and why it was wrong, but I wasn’t exactly flush in the friend department, and he seemed to be a trustworthy guy. He was mature and had proven we could keep our private and professional lives separate.

  I was the one struggling to think of him as only a co-worker or employee. I was the one that craved his touch. I thought about the game tomorrow and wondered if I should cancel. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to behave. He was too good to resist.

  I might find myself throwing myself at him again.

  Chapter 25

  Rogan

  I pulled to a stop in the driveway of the Mallet home. It was a big house on beautiful acreage. I couldn’t imagine living in a house that big. It was intimidating. I had been to the house years ago, but I couldn’t remember ever getting past the front entry. I only picked up Oakley a handful of times and he was usually anxious to get out the door.

  I walked to the front door and rang the bell. Even the doorbell was fancy. Loud, pretty chimes echoed beyond the door.

  Cora pulled open the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said, trying not to stare.

  “Come in. I was just putting on my shoes.”

  I followed her inside, reminding myself not to let my mouth hang open. It was grand. A huge chandelier hung above the entry. She moved to walk into a living room or sitting room or whatever the hell rich people called the place where they put their fancy couches and artwork.

  “This is a nice house,” I said.

  She sat down, grabbed a sandal, and quickly pulled it on. “Thanks. It’s a big house. Way too big for one person. It’s too big for three people.”

  “It’s beautiful though.”

  “Did you ever come over?” she asked.

  I slowly shook my head. “No. I was way too intimidated to come to a house like this. I mean, I picked Oakley up, but I usually knocked on the door and we left.”

  “Did you come over after the funeral?”

  I found it odd she didn’t know I wasn’t there. “No. Did you?”

  She smiled. “No. Oakley and I were very bad. We went down to the small lake on the property and hung out. I couldn’t do the whole sad thing.”

  “Me either.”

  “Would you like a tour?” she asked, getting to her feet. She was wearing another pair of tight jeans, wedge sandals, and a T-shirt that accentuated her curves. The woman looked good in casual attire. Too damn good.

  “Sure,” I answered. “I’m early and we have time.”

  I followed her through the house, appreciating the luxuriousness of the furnishings and the house itself, but it was the outside that wowed me.

  “He loved spending time back here,” she said in a soft voice.

  “I can see why. This is a beautiful home.”

  “Thanks. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay here. I kind of miss my small condo. I feel like I have to pack snacks just to go from the living room to my bedroom.”

  I laughed. “Rich people problems.”

  She giggled. “Exactly. I try not to complain too much. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was spoiled or ungrateful.”

  “Definitely not. Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  I led her out to my truck and headed for the Toyota Center. As expected, traffic was a nightmare. After a lot of stopping and going, a few curses, and some sign language, we finally found a place to park and began the trek to the game.

  “I cannot believe I’ve never been to one of these games,” she commented.

  “Honestly, I can’t either. I would have thought a boyfriend would have taken you at the very least.”

  She laughed, pushing against me. “I never dated the jock types. A few liked football but not many.”

  “Many?” I teased. “My, my.”

  “Stop. Not many, but the handful I did date weren’t sports fans. Are you?”

  I had to be honest with her. I felt like I was a guy’s guy, but sports were not my thing. “I don’t mind some football and maybe a little basketball, but it’s not anything I have to have. I’m not going to skip out on doing something because there is a game on.”

  “But you’ve been here before?”

  “Watching a game live is a little better than watching it on TV,” I explained. “I’ve been to a few games.”

  “I’m excited for the experience,” she said.

  We made our way inside, and with quite a bit of time to spare, I decided to give her the full experience. “We need to get you properly outfitted,” I told her.

  She looked down at herself. “What’s wrong?” she asked before looking around. “I thought this was a good outfit for a game.”

  “It is, but you need one of these,” I told her and pulled her toward one of the booths selling jerseys. We outfitted her with a jersey and a noisemaker before heading to our seats. She had pulled the jersey on over her shirt and blended in with the crowd.

  “Why aren’t you wearing a jersey?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Because I’m too cool.”

  She slapped at my shoulder. “That isn’t nice.”

  “A guy has to keep up his image,” I teased. “Besides, the jersey looks good on you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you know anything about basketball?” I asked, wondering how much I was going to have to explain.

  “I do. Kind of. I played when I was in middle school and I have watched a few games. I know the basics. The big orange ball goes in the net. Whoever gets the most balls in the hoop, wins.”

  I laughed, covering my face with my hand. “Lord help us.”

  “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

  “You just cheer whenever you want. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll back you up.”

  “My hero,” she sang and fanned her face.

  “I got you,” I teased.

  I looked around, taking it all in. I could feel the excitement humming in the air. People were talking and laughing and preparing to have a good time. I was thrilled to be a part of the party. I was thrilled to share the experience with her. I could fee
l her excitement and couldn’t wait until the game began and things really got exciting.

  “Why did you buy tickets to this if you aren’t really a fan?” she asked. “I mean, I’m not an expert, but these are pretty good seats, right?”

  “I was given the tickets. A customer couldn’t use them and asked if I wanted them. I didn’t want to be rude and reject the offering.”

  “Is this considered a kickback?” she asked.

  I smiled, shaking my head. “I think it is considered a nice offer, nothing more. It isn’t like I’m going to give them a discount. It’s part of the business. Sometimes, we scratch their backs, throwing in a little extra, and in appreciation, we get things like this.”

  “I see,” she said. “This is really nice. Should I send a thank-you note or something?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got it covered.”

  When the players strolled onto the court and the opening festivities began, Cora fell silent. She was leaning forward, hanging on every word, and intently watching the game. She winced when one of the players fouled another, slapping my thigh. “That wasn’t nice! Can he do that?”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “He shouldn’t do that, but if the ref doesn’t call it, he can do it.”

  “Someone needs to tell him to stop.”

  I nodded, patting her hand that was resting on my thigh. “I’m sure they will eventually.”

  When the other team scored, she jumped up, wildly clapping her hands and shouting, “Good job.”

  I winced, looking around us at the Rockets fans who were not pleased to have a traitor in their midst. When she finally took her seat, she looked at me with the biggest smile on her face.

  “Did you see that?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  I refrained from informing her of proper etiquette. She seemed completely oblivious to those behind her or the fact the game was still going. She was having a good time and I was enjoying watching her enjoy herself.

  “Why is he standing there?” she asked. “How easy is that?”

  “It’s a free throw because he was fouled,” I answered.

  She wrinkled her nose. “That guy barely touched him. He was very dramatic.”