“Eryk,” I repeat.
He swivels around and peers at me, continuing to pull groceries out of the bags while he does so.
“My job is complicated,” I feebly say.
“That’s what you say.”
I stamp my foot on the floor — literally stamp my foot on the floor like a five-year-old child. I’m formulating my next comeback when the front door opens again.
“Hey,” Crystal says. She walks in wearing the rec shirt and khaki work pants that look so out of place on her. She throws her keys at the designated bowl on the shelf near the couch. They miss their mark and fall onto the floor. She groans as she bends down to pick them up. “What’s going on?”
“Eryk is being an asshole,” I say, pointing.
“What the hell, Sydney?” he snaps. He’s got yet another bag of tortilla chips in his hands.
“Just how many bags of chips do you need?” I snarl. “Are you having a naked Mexican night?”
He makes a face at me. “Oh, whatever. At least I get to sleep with the man I lust after.”
“You asshole!” I stand up again, my hands clenching into fists.
I’m formulating a suggestion about Eryk combining extra spicy salsa and his private parts when Crystal gets in the mix.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” She puts her palms up and steps between us. “What’s the problem?”
“Don’t try to act like a marriage counselor, Crystal,” I snarl. The second the words leave my mouth, I bite my bottom lip. Eryk is right. I am in a bad mood. “Sorry,” I mumble, staring at the ground.
Eryk’s voice is quiet. “I’ll ask him to make sure he wears clothes from now on. And no more rape jokes.”
“Who?” Crystal asks.
I sneak a look up at Eryk. He’s leaning against the counter, his head inches away from the pots and pans dangling from the ceiling. “Brian,” he says softly. “And keep your voice down. He’s here.”
“Ah.” Crystal goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.
“I’m sorry, Crystal,” I say. “I didn’t mean to be such a bitch.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay.”
“She’s in a bad mood,” Eryk offers.
I grit my teeth, but don’t say anything. He’s right, yes. But why would I admit it?
Crystal leans against the kitchen wall. “I know why,” she says and I stare at her. “Eryk told me about your dream.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I sigh and fall back on the couch. “Well, I’ve had more than one.”
“Damn, girl. Obviously I need to see this man in person.”
“He’s a jerk.” I grab one of the throw pillows to hug against my chest. “At least I think.”
“What do you mean you think?”
“The other day he was actually kind of nice to me. He said I looked good… and not in a creepy way. He was almost polite.”
“So he likes you,” Eryk says.
“No,” I quickly respond. “I mean… God, I don’t know. No. He can’t like me like that. We can’t get together. That’s impossible.”
“Slow down, Juliet. Don’t stab yourself to death just yet. I didn’t say he liked you in a romantic way.” Eryk gives me a look I swear is laced with pity.
I shut my mouth. I’m talking myself into a corner.
Crystal sits down on one of the bar stools at the counter. “Sydney, you need to get out. Like, seriously. When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I don’t want to go on dates. It’s so impersonal.”
Crystal rolls her eyes. “How do you expect to meet people?”
“I can meet people. You know, like at parties and stuff.”
“Work?” Eryk asks. “You mean you can meet them at work.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“It’s settled,” Crystal says. “We’re going out tonight.”
Eryk claps his hands excitedly. “Should I bring Brian?”
“Only if he puts some clothes on,” she answers.
*
“This place is boring,” Eryk complains. He swirls the straw in his drink and looks sullenly down the bar at me.
“Text your boyfriend,” Crystal snaps from in between us.
“He’s not my boyfriend. And he’s at work, remember?”
“That’s right,” I laugh. “I love that cage dancing is actually a legit job.”
“Does it come with benefits?” Crystal asks. “Like health insurance? Do you think he can hook me up with a discount on g-strings?”
Eryk playfully pushes her shoulder. I take a sip of my gin and tonic. He’s partially right. The hotel bar is slow, and maybe for some people that equals boring. I don’t mind all that much. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about going out, and when Crystal picked the spot, I only went along with it because it at least wasn’t a night club.
“We should go to Destiny next,” Eryk says, reading my mind.
I hesitate. “I don’t really want to go to a club.”
Crystal nods. “It’s hard to meet people there. It’s so loud. Plus, the men at clubs are so skeevy.”
Eryk snorts. “And men at hotel bars are any different?”
I smooth down my sequined skirt. Crystal loaned it to me, and it’s almost too short to wear. To tell the truth, I’m perfectly okay with just sitting at the mostly empty bar nursing a drink and listening to the soft jazz play overhead. The place is nice, with low lighting, lots of polished wood, and a bartender who wears a bowtie and calls me “miss.” It feels like a throwback to a classier time.
I still stand by what I said at the apartment earlier. Trying to meet guys by going out is hard. I’m not interested in it.
“What about him?” Crystal asks.
“Damn,” Eryk murmurs. “He’s hot. How old do you think he is?”
“Hard to say.”
“Who?” I ask, looking up.
“There.” Crystal nods straight across from us. The bar is an oval one, set in the middle of the dining room. The bartender’s work station is in the center, mostly covered by a plethora of bottles. The other side is still partly visible, though, and the few people over there can be seen through drink mixers and brands of bourbon that are probably so expensive I’d be a week late on my rent if I were to buy one.
I crane my neck, trying to do it as inconspicuously as possible. “Where?”
“Straight across. Do you see him?”
Oh, boy. Do I ever.
Every muscle in my body freezes. I have to work my jaw around to get it to unhinge. “That’s Mr. Mulroney,” I whisper.
“What?” Crystal asks, her mouth dropping open. “No way.”
Eryk spits out his drink. The bartender shoots him a look, but he ignores it. “Your boss?”
I clench my eyes shut. Seriously, what are the chances of this happening? Years in Los Angeles and I’ve never once run into the guy, at least not that I remember. And now that I’ve worked for him for a week he’s suddenly popping up right in front of me. God has a really twisted sense of humor.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes back up. “The one and only.”
“Oh my God,” says Crystal. “You weren’t kidding. He’s a hunk.”
I sneak another glance at him. Dressed in a gray blazer and white button-up shirt, he’s tapping his fingers against the bar, staring down at the floor with a serious look on his face.
“He’s alone,” Crystal points out.
I raise my eyebrows at her. “And?”
She shrugs. “Just saying.”
Eryk leans closer to us. “This is totally crazy, you guys. We came here to help Sydney forget about him and she runs into him. What do you think it means?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Crystal automatically says.
“It’s the Law of Attraction. You can’t get away from what you’re most preoccupied with.” He taps his finger on the bar for emphasis. “If you try to push something away, it’s just going to keep coming back to you. Remember when my mom kept having all those car tr
oubles last year? She couldn’t stop talking about the first accident at the stoplight, and then she had another one.”
Eryk prattles on, his voice fading away. Unfortunately, nothing exists for me anymore but the man on the other side of the room.
I shrink in my chair and peek across the bar again. Did he see me? He’s still looking down, but if he hasn’t caught onto my presence, it’s only a matter of time before he does.
“I need to go hide in the bathroom,” I fiercely whisper.
“Why?” Eryk asks. “Just go say hi. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t know,” I say, doubt drawing out the words. “He’s my boss. It might be super weird.”
“Precisely. He’s your boss. It’s not like you’re picking him up. You’re just going over there to say hello.”
I look at Crystal. She shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt either way.”
My heels are already slipping off the bar stool and down onto the floor, although I still haven’t put a final destination into my internal GPS. Bathroom or boss?
What if being away from our work environment is all the extra incentive he needs to hit on me full blast? If he’ll check me out and offer me sex at work, then what will he do in a bar? Dry hump me by the ice cooler?
“Ooh,” Eryk says. “He’s with someone.”
“What?” I nearly shriek the word out.
I twist my head around so fast I nearly get whip lash. A petite woman with straight blonde hair stands next to Mr. Mulroney’s seat, her hand on his shoulder. She’s someone I’ve never seen before. Not the woman I walked in on him spanking in the office.
She speaks quietly to him and he nods, although the grimace is still on his lips.
“I don’t want to interrupt them,” I say. The woman now has her lips inches away from his ear, and he laughs as she whispers something to him. So Mr. Mulroney does get around. I can’t say I’m surprised. “And I actually do have to go to the bathroom,” I add. Snatching my clutch from the bar top, I book it away as fast as a person in heels can.
Winding my way through abnormally large potted plants and small round tables with diners, I keep my eyes trained on the bathroom hallway. The ladies’ room is all the way at the end. I push the swinging door open and take a turn around the powder station to the sinks. Dropping my purse on the counter, I go to turn the sink on, thinking to splash my face with water.
“Damn it,” I mutter into the mirror, remembering I’m wearing makeup.
My kohl-lined eyes stare back, Crystal’s handiwork. I snatch my clutch and go sit on the couch in the powder room. What am I doing anyway? Why did I feel it necessary to head for the hills upon seeing my boss on a date?
I bite my lip and think back to the second day at the office. After making his absurd offer, Mr. Mulroney told me he would be there should I change my mind.
And what if I did? Would the proposition include more than just fooling around in the office? Would he take me out on a date, maybe even drive me home at the end of the night?
Not likely.
I shake my head, utterly, finally, and royally disgusted with myself. Mr. Mulroney uses women. The signs are all there. After all, I’ve already seen him with two separate women. Who’s to say he doesn’t bang a new one each night?
Not only that, he basically flat out asked me to take part in his sexual escapades.
The man is a pig. My attraction to him is nothing but hormonal and unfortunate. And the fact that this is a man I call ‘Mr.’ is the rotting cherry on top of it all.
With my head finally clear, I stand up from the couch and head for the bar.
Mr. Mulroney and his date are gone. My heart sinks a little bit at first, but then I remember the conclusion I came to in the bathroom. Lifting my head a little higher, I find my friends.
“He’s gone,” Crystal says.
“Yeah, I saw.”
“So now can we leave?” Eryk asks. “I want to see Brian perform before he’s done for the night.”
Crystal wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Fine.”
“I’m just going to go home,” I say.
Crystal’s hand clamps down onto my shoulder. “Sydney.”
“Really. And it’s okay. It’s almost ten and I wanted to wake up early tomorrow anyway.”
Eryk looks horrified. “On a Saturday?”
“Yep, I want to get back to writing. I’ve been too busy during the week to do any.”
Crystal still looks doubtful.
I edge away from the bar. “Thanks, you guys. I really appreciate it.”
Crystal hooks her purse over her shoulder and stands up. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It’s okay. Really. See you at home.”
I head for the lobby, glad Eryk’s running late resulted in us taking two cars. It really hadn’t been my intention to sneak away early. My friends are only trying to help me out.
But after the night’s odd and sadistic twist, the only company I want is the TV remote and the entire contents of the snack cupboard.
I got lucky with parking. My Chevy is only a block away on the street. I head past the looming facades of two more hotels, digging in my clutch for my car keys.
“Sydney,” someone says.
I halt. My name came from somewhere behind me.
“Sydney,” he repeats. It’s a man, and his voice is all too familiar.
Mr. Mulroney steps in front of me, his head cocked. “I thought it was you.”
“Hi,” I slowly say. I glance over my shoulder, not caring how obvious it is. He’s alone, the blonde from earlier nowhere in sight.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Um.” My head is racing almost as fast as my heart. So close. I was so close to getting away and not having to interact with him. Judging by my track record, our conversation is only going to result in one thing: my having another filthy dream about him tonight.
He stares at me, a strange look on his face. His eyes briefly flick down to my bare legs. Heat washes over me. I suppose checking me out in his office wasn’t enough. Now he has to do it out on the street.
I briefly consider telling him I was on a date, just to see what he makes of it. “I was just grabbing a drink with someone,” I say, deciding to let him figure out the details himself.
“Ah.”
I shuffle my foot slightly against the concrete, waiting for him to dismiss me or just walk off, since that’s also his style.
“Would you like to get another drink?” he asks. “With me?”
I have to remember to inhale. I also have to remember the fortitude I established in the bathroom ten minutes ago. “I need to be getting home,” I say, making sure to look him straight in the eye.
I know what you are, I want to say.
The fact that my boss still has the pomp to ask me for a drink after I caught him spanking a woman in his office is beyond absurd. The man truly does believe he can have anything he wants.
He stares at me, his face blank. Is he waiting for me to change my mind?
“Have a good night, Mr. Mulroney. See you on Monday.”
I pivot and head for my car, my back held straight as it can be.
Never would I have been able to guess shooting a man down could feel so amazing.
CHAPTER THREE
I raise my arms up high and stretch. Morning light filters through the living room window, and all discernible noises come from across the back parking lot. Bass from a car driving by and the shouting of kids fill the air. In the apartment, all is still and quiet. I don’t even know what time Crystal and Eryk got in last night. All I know is I’ve been true to my word.
Up at seven, I’ve been writing for the last three hours.
If you can call completing one page and sporadically watching YouTube videos writing.
Yet it’s more than I’ve accomplished in days. The screenplay I’ve been crafting for the last few months is at least edging along. My heroine has just arrived at her aunt’s farm in Tennessee, fresh fr
om her parents’ funeral in New York. She’s in the barn feeding the chickens when she has her first brush with the supernatural powers she’ll soon learn she full out possesses.
I roll my head and stare at the cold, half-empty mug of coffee on the table in front of the couch. Two and a half cups down and my toenails themselves are buzzing. I’ve gone way beyond that perfect level of caffeination that leads to a well of ideas and instead I’m now just antsy. My legs vibrate, eager to get moving, and my stomach does little flips.
Setting my laptop down on the table, I head for the shoe pile and pull on my ratty white sneakers. My “don’t fuck me” shoes, Eryk calls them.
The courtyard is just as quiet as my apartment. The streets, of course, are a different story. I make my way to Runyon Canyon, the way already familiar. After driving around a few blocks, I find parking on the street.
I leave my backpack in the car and shove my keys and phone into my shorts’ pockets. One last grab in the glove compartment for some sunglasses and I’m ready to go.
Four years in the city and I’m still not tired of the weather. I hear people complain all the time about how it gets boring when the days are always the same — specifically, sunny and warm. The comments always make me laugh. They should try having to evacuate their town yearly thanks to hurricanes. I’ll take sunny and expected any day over the North Carolina coast’s tumultuous climate.
The wide trail up the hill stretches ahead, full of joggers, dogs, and women chatting while power walking. I skirt to the side, passing a man walking four dogs.
Higher up the trail, a yoga group stretches into cobra pose on the grass. The mob of people and animals is almost too much to handle, but no one pays me any mind. I’m just another person in a mass of many — something I’m perfectly fine with.
Hiking up the steep, dusty hill that leads to a great view of the city benefits me in more than one way. Not only does it clear my head — which is great for when I need a break from writing — it also is great fodder for stories. I’ve heard all sorts of conversation snippets while on this trail. One time, I heard a woman talking about how she suspected her sister’s husband had been murdered. Honest to God. I turned around and followed her, and before she and her friend veered off to the street, was able to gather it had been an “accidental” drowning in the pool. Another time, I met a man walking a wolf. We stopped to talk and he told me he trains the animals for films.
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 29