“Look Kim was drunk and that was incredibly weird and awkward. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says. “But you’ve got to trust me on this, we haven’t done anything in quite some time.”
I step toward him enough that I can smell his cologne again. Even in the dark, only having the light of the moon and street lamps, he looks gorgeous as ever.
“You told me specifically when I asked you, do you do this with many employees? You said, no never, right?” I say.
“No never, as in, never any more. Look, me and Kim happened many moons ago, years ago. Since then, I’ve vowed not to be with an employee, past or present. But I broke that rule with you, it’s true.”
“So since we started hooking up, you haven’t been with anyone else?”
I want to fall into his open arms but still something is holding me back.
“Since I’ve been with you, I haven’t been with anyone else,” he confirms.
I try to gauge if he’s telling the truth. “I really want to believe you,” I murmur.
He rakes a hand through his hair.
“Fuck, this is stressful. You realize I’ve been looking for you all over tonight?”
“And I’ve been trying to get away from you and not see you tonight after yesterday. I just needed some space.”
We pause and there’s an awkward air in between us. But the silence is broken by a hoard of women who walk on the sidewalk toward the bar, hooting and hollering in what looks to be some kind of bachelorette party. And guess who’s leading the charge, but Samantha, a soccer mom who we sat with during the high school soccer game weeks ago.
“Oh my Gosh!” Samantha says as she runs up to us. “It’s my two favorite soccer fans,” she says enthusiastically. She’s clearly drunk.
“How are y’all doing?” She hugs me and then hugs Sebastian, pushing her breasts into his chest just a little bit too much for my liking.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet up with me next week,” she says to Sebastian. “You won’t regret it and I’m going to be your next, best business investor, you’ll see. And who knows, I could even be more than an investment.” She winks, lays her hand on his chest, then draws it off. Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, and I’m sure he must notice the daggers I’m sending him.
“Y’all headed inside?” Samantha asks cheerily.
I nod.
“Have a good night,” Sebastian says.
The bouncer checks her ID and she heads inside.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask Sebastian.
“I have not talked to her for some time now. That’s the first I’ve seen her since the soccer game.”
“Yeah, well I wish I could trust you on that.” I sigh deeply, and look at him. His eyes glisten in the moonlight. “Did you think we’d be more than this?” I stare down at my hands, and I’m suddenly heavy-hearted. “We were each other’s fantasy on paper; nothing more, nothing less. I mean, should I really expect that a billionaire hung like a stallion is going to stroll into my life and make me his one and only? The problem isn’t anything with you--it’s that I wasn’t realistic. So have a nice night, Sebastian.”
He raises his voice to protest as I head back inside the bar. “Can’t you at least let me try to explain?”
The buzz courses through me, and maybe I should give him a chance. But something inside me reverts to the very first time I shut down Sebastian. I spin toward him, put a hand on his chest, and stop him from moving forward, lightly touching his chest. And those damn muscular pecs.
Still, I resist him.
I flash my eyes up toward him, and maybe it’s the way I found out my ex-boyfriend Patrick was keeping five different girlfriends and I was just his Tuesday girl, when he let me believe I was the one.
“No,” is the word that crosses my lips, and I swear I can feel a chill come over Sebastian’s body. He swallows hard, but says nothing.
“Besides,” I say, and look him dead in the eye. “You couldn’t even give me all my fantasies.”
As soon as I say it, I regret it, but it’s too late. It can’t be unsaid.
Even if Sebastian’s in the wrong, calling out his lack of desire to give me a threesome is over the line.
He looks like I’ve just shot him in the gut.
In the distance, the thunder rumbles, and Sebastian turns and saunters away into the night.
I’m left with a slightly empty feeling in my heart. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I want him to fight for me. I want this to be different.
I want to be his one and only.
It’s true. I’m in love with Sebastian Blackwell.
And I’m likely just one of many.
Monday at the office, the vibe seems a little bit off, and not only with me. Bob gets to work a little bit late and smelling of alcohol. I wonder if his problems are like mine and for the first time in a long time, I have some empathy for him and all of his creepiness. As creepy as he is, maybe he has some redeeming qualities about him. When I go into a meeting later that day for the cross-company task force I'm on talking about the construction of the new distillery, I'm surprised to find that Sebastian isn't the one running the meeting. On the other hand, Kim is standing there with a sly smile on her face as I walk through the doorframe.
"Hello everyone," she says. Troy follows me in.
"It's great to be here. Mr. Blackwell couldn't make it today. He had something come up. Actually, I'm going to be taking point on this task force starting now. The first order of business is, I'm going to have each one of you write a little synopsis about what you're actually bringing to the table for the task force. Here's a piece of paper." She hands out blank pieces of paper.
"Now, if you'll just spend ten minutes writing that out, we'll be able to get on with the meeting. Sounds good? Great," she says without waiting to see if there's a reaction from the audience. I sigh and Troy frowns as well.
"What the fuck is this shit?" Troy mutters next to me.
"I know, right?" I say. “Since when do we have to do such B.S. work. I thought this task force was supposed to be about efficiency.” I get to work because Kim is barely out of earshot, so she might hear me and get me into even more trouble.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she says. “And sorry for the repetitive work, but Mr. Blackwell will be taking a leave of absence.” There's a certain venom in her voice. Troy raises his hand.
"We didn't hear anything about this. Why wouldn't he tell us in person? Is he okay?"
"You know Troy, that's a good question and it's one that you don't need to know the answer to. Are there any other questions?" Something is super weird, but I can't figure out exactly what Kim did to Mr. Blackwell. She shoots me a deathly look.
"Perfect." Kim smiles.
"Now, I'll just be reading these to determine who will stay and who will go. Who is expendable and who is actually doing work. So, thanks for your time we're actually going to just leave it at that today."
She walks out of the room with the stack of papers in her hand, and this has just officially been the weirdest meeting I've ever been in.
22
Sebastian
Sometimes, when the shit hits the fan in your life, you just gotta take a step back and think about things.
You also need to take some time off work, go out to your grandparents, and make some homemade pizza.
It’s been a whole week since the fiasco with Brett. I’ve never been bent out of shape because of a girl before. Something about the way Brett and I left things sits horribly with me though, and I need to figure out what to do about it.
So on Friday evening, I head out to my grandparents’ place, in the country to the north of Blackwell. Sure, I could go to my Dad's, but there's just something that makes me feel more comfortable asking my grandparents about this particular dilemma that I'm facing right now.
My grandmother kneads the dough for the pizza while my grandfather starts the homemade tomato sauce recipe that's been in our family for generations.
It's really not that hard; olive oil, garlic, onion, and of course, the most important ingredient, fresh tomatoes directly from the garden. There's nothing like those. Tomatoes of the freshest order.
As I help my grandfather chop tomatoes, I am reminded of how tomato red Brett's cheeks got when Kim came to the door.
This has the dual effect of getting me worked up while putting thoughts of Brett back in my head, and also making me angry about my situation. I shake my head slightly, trying to get rid of the bad thoughts going through me.
“So Sebastian,” my grandfather says. “What's got you down?”
“Just some work stuff.” I shrug.
“Mo’ money, mo’ problems,” my grandmother quips mindlessly, still kneading the dough.
I furrow up my brow. “Grandma...did you just quote Notorious B.I.G.?”
Before she can respond, my grandpa clasps his hand over my shoulder and squeezes. “Look Sebastian, now maybe you can bullshit your way with some people. But I know that you didn’t call me up to take a day off work on a random Friday just because you want to make pizza with your lovely grandparents. Now, I know, we are great people. All I mean to say is you can go ahead and tell me what the hell is going on in your life. I may be eighty-five years old, but I give a shit about the repercussions of things. I'll give you the advice you need, no judgment.”
I nod. “Thanks. I don't know if what I have to say is exactly appropriate.”
He nods, and clears his throat, before turning to his wife of fifty-five years. “Hey honey, would you mind going outside and assessing the situation with regards to the weather. I was thinking we could eat outside but I want to make sure there isn’t any rain coming.”
My grandma turns her ears perking up. “Of course, Earl.”
She gives my grandfather a kiss, then heads outside.
“All right Sonny, give it to me straight, no chaser,” he says once we’re alone.
“Well, see I did a thing with the girl at my company.” I admit.
“Oh boy. Keep going.” He tossses the tomatoes I’ve chopped into the pot.
“Yeah, so this is probably kind of crazy, but this girl in my company was writing these fantasies during work hours about a woman and her boss. So I talked to her and turns out there was a bit of a mutual attraction there, to say the least”.
“Mutual attraction.” he smirks. “And you indulged in this attraction?”
“That's putting it lightly,” I say, trying to figure out how to tell my grandpa that once Brett and I got started, we were banging like rabbits for the last few weeks. I tell him about Kim and how we hooked up one drunken night many years ago but how she still doesn't
seem to want to go away. And now is threatening Brett and us with going to the press with a picture of Brett in a sexy apron. This scandal of which wouldn’t be great for my career, and it would certainly tarnish Brett's reputation in this small town forever and ever.
I tell him the story as concisely and best I can. Who knows how long my grandmother will be gone, and I’m just not sure how I would feel about her knowing all of these dirty details.
“Now back up a second,” he says, holding up his hand. “And you say you were just about to tell this lovely lady that you are falling in love with her.”
“The words were on the tip of my tongue right before everything went to shit. We didn't even get to enjoy our wine and the steak. My God, that steak was so juicy looking.”
“All right, fuck the steak,” he says, putting his arms down at his sides. “There’s always another steak, but there isn’t another girl. So if you could do something to get her back, what would you do?”
I finish chopping up the tomato and we put everything into the boiling pot of tomato sauce deliciousness.
I shrug, feeling a bit frustrated because it just doesn't make any sense.
“Hey Grandpa, let me ask you something. How the fuck can a guy like me make a billion dollars, but still have no fucking clue what to do when it comes to matters like these?”
He nods. “Well, I wish I could tell you. Seems like love is an easy thing when you've got it and a hard thing when you don't get it. But if I were you, just make sure she knows that you're serious about the whole commitment thing. Are you?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve known you to sow some wild oats.”
“I am serious. I'm very serious.” I swallow. “I don't think I ever wanted to commit to a girl and I always thought that just meant that I was a commitment-phobe. I mean, I've dated girls. I’ve dated lots of girls.”
“Okay, okay”, he says. “I know, no need to brag. You're a Blackwell, so of course you have.”
I chuckle and a realization passes through me.
“But I think that the reason I wasn’t wanting to settle down had nothing to do with me, it was just I hadn't found the right girl yet.”
“So, what are you going to do? I mean you got to get her back somehow.”
I shake my head. “She won't answer my texts, she won’t answer my calls, she won’t answer my emails.”
“What is with you and your generation? Everyone is doing these E-Invites and emails. Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned way, where you just talk to them in person?”
I rub my face, stressed, but knowing he’s right.
“So I should just go see her. But there's another problem. What do we do? Do I just announce our relationship to the world now? And what about the fact that there is no relationship now?” I shake my head. “Think about it, billionaire businessman hooks up with one of his employees as seen by this picture where she's wearing nothing but an apron. Grandma was right. Mo money, mo problems. Where is she anyway? How long does it take to…”
“She was wearing...nothing but an apron?”
“That’s your takeaway from my whole rant? Can I have a beer?” I look in their fridge, but I only see milk and juice.
“Okay, gotta stop. That sounds pretty nice. The apron. Makes me think of back in the day when your grandmother and I used to--”
“Ahem!” I clear my throat as my grandmother walks back into the kitchen, a big smile on her face.
“I assessed the situation. And the weather seems a little bit cold, but I think if we put some sweaters on we’ll be fine out there. It is about sixty degrees.”
“Well that sounds fun. I mean I think eating outside is always better than eating inside. What do you say, Sebastian?”
“I say let's get this pizza going. It smells delicious!”
We finish making the pepperoni, as well as a vegetarian pizza because my grandmother is on a big vegetable kick. She's not one-hundred percent vegetarian, but she definitely prefers to eat a lot of vegetables.
Once the pizza is done, we head outside and crack a bottle of red wine.
The wine gets my grandparents going, and my grandmother gets that look on her face. It’s the same look when she told us at Christmas last year all about my father’s first-time drinking.
“So honey,” my grandmother says. “Why don't you just tell me about what was going on in the dining room when Earl gave me the secret code to give you two some alone time?”
I scoff. “Did you just say ‘gave you the secret code?’ What on Earth are you talking about?”
My grandpa turns to me. “Oh come on, Sebastian. Do you really think I really need my wife to go out and check the weather outside? I've been living in this damn town for eighty-five years, I damn well know the weather,” he jokes. “Plus, once the temperature drops below sixty-five, my knees ache like hell.”
“You sly son of a bitch,” I joke.
“So honey, why don’t you just tell me what's going on? Sometimes you need a woman's touch you know, or a woman's advice, woman's perspective.”
I hesitate, but the truth is I still don’t have a plan of action for what I should do with Brett. So I give her the PG-13 rated version of what happened between Brett and me. She laughs when I’m finished.
“So what exactly are you afraid of here Sebastian? Are you a
fraid that everyone's going to know that you've been hooking up with this girl? Hooking up, right, that's what the kids are saying these days? Or shacking up?”
I practically choke on my wine, I'm laughing so hard.
“Grandma, well, first of all, yes, that's what they're saying these days and two yeah, yes, that's what I am afraid of. I mean, I'm a fucking billionaire. So I won't be hurting for money anytime soon, but like you always said, your reputation is priceless and I think after this gets free, everyone's going to be talking about how I am shady and how Brett Blue is some kind of office girl who gets around. And it’s not like that.”
“You love her though, right, don't you?”
I squint. My grandma and the light from the outside spotlight seep onto her face. She's seventy-eight, has grey hair, and I'll be damned if she still isn't one of the prettiest women I've ever seen.
“Yes, I do. I love her a lot, and how do you know about that, Grandma?”
“Well, it's just easy to tell. I can see it in your voice that you care about this girl and if you're not, let me put it this way. You wouldn't ask your grandparents to dinner to ask them for advice about a girl who you wanted nothing to do with. You see what I mean?”
“I do, but it's, can't you see how it's scandalous, Grandma? She's younger, and she’s my employee. This could be against the policy that we're hooking up and once people find out about this, they're going to raise hell, I don't know, Twitter, Instagram. They will try to make me out to be some kind of a villain.”
“Let me stop you right there,” she says. “So you're going to have some--I think Kanye West likes to call them--‘haters’.”
I scratch my brow. “Grandma, you listen to Kanye West? And Notorious B.I.G.? I feel like I don’t even know you.”
“I've heard a few songs, don't worry about it. Anyways, the point is why do you care about some haters if you're with the girl you love?”
“She's literally my fantasy girl,” I say. “She’s the dream girl. I don't know how life would go on without her.”
Bartender with Benefits Page 63