“What?” I asked. “Did you not want your freshly squeezed compost? Should I have gotten you coffee?”
She crossed her legs, swinging her black Jimmy Choos at me. “Are you kissing ass about something?”
“No. I was out early this morning and was being considerate.”
I almost asked her if she was cranky, but she hated it when I asked her if she was cranky when she was cranky.
“Thank you. Although it does make me think you’re kissing ass about something which also makes me think you have an idea what I’m going to tell you.”
“What?”
“Now, I don’t want you to panic…”
“Are you firing me?”
She held up her hand to stop me. “Just let me talk,” she said, pausing for a moment. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it was a done deal, but now that it is, I can tell you. By Invitation Only is expanding into a second location.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“It means there’s going to be a Charleston, South Carolina, office,” she said, moving to the edge of her chair. A smile, one that was both warm and excited, took over her face. It was about as rare as snowless Chicago winter.
I was having a hard time processing what she was saying. Another location? Charleston? Was she leaving? Was I? What did it all mean? I lifted my coffee to my mouth, sipping as I chose the most important question to ask so she didn’t freak out on me for asking too many questions again.
“I can see by your reaction you have concerns. Sweetie, these are all good things. For the both of us,” she said.
“How did this…happen? Why Charleston? Who’s going to run it? When is it up and running?”
She rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. “Charleston has hit a huge boom on the destination wedding front within the last several years. Now, there is going to be some travel for me. In fact, I’ve snuck away a few times already when I told you I was at conference or something. I’ve hired a very well-established planner who’s already there. Her name is Trinity and is the cutest little Southern belle, but a total tiger when it comes to business.”
Dread weighed down my body, and I couldn’t even form a question to ask. I’d always thought if anyone would be made a partner, it would be me, not someone who lived one thousand miles away. My expression gave me away and Bridget picked right up on it.
She sighed loudly. “You seriously need to stop freaking out before you know all the details.”
“How can I not? This is huge. It’s bigger than huge. Plus—”
“And if you’d let me finish,” she said, interrupting me. “This is a huge opportunity for you, and one I haven’t taken lightly. I want you to go out there for three months in the fall. It’s only from September to December, so you’ll be home in time for the holidays. Trinity knows what she’s doing, but you know how I like things done. I want you to help with the transition, get the office organized, get marketing squared away and all that stuff. You’ll be with her on the weddings already booked, but it’s to make sure things are being handled with the utmost care. When you come back, I want to start putting you on your own weddings.”
This was all too much information at once. My brain couldn’t catch up with everything Bridget was throwing at me. The only logical question, which I was sure wasn’t very logical to her, was “Huh?”
She smiled. “I’m moving you up, dollface.”
“You’re making me your partner?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I still pay your salary, but you are ready for this. You could pull off any event, and now is the chance to show me you can pull off another By Invitation Only.”
It all began to sink in. It wasn’t exactly what I’d dreamed of. I had always imagined going out on my own, but at this stage of my life, what Bridget was offering was the next logical step. I’d worked so hard, and this was a huge move forward.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Pride and gratitude overcame me.
Then something else followed.
All the what-ifs.
What if I really wasn’t ready for this?
What if I got homesick for Chicago, a place I’d never been away from for more than a couple weeks at a time, and missed Callie being so close?
What if what was happening with Abel turned into something more?
No. It wouldn’t. It couldn’t.
It brought back so many painful emotions from when I was with Patrick. How he’d make me feel poorly if I chose work or something to help me further my career over something as simple as having dinner with him. There would be passive-aggression for days after, where I’d have to do all I could to make it up to him. The day I did my first independent event for Bridget, and it went over seamlessly, all I got from him was bitching about how late I was coming home. It occurred to me soon after I had no idea who I was anymore—no idea who I was with him. I never wanted to experience that again. I refused to.
I wasn’t going to express any of those thoughts to her. I only wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear most and what superseded any other emotion.
“I’m ready,” I said. “I’m ready to be all in.”
Chapter Eight
ABEL—
If you don’t put that thing away, I’m calling Aaron and telling him I’m firing you.”
Marshall shoved my shoulder, but I knew he was all talk. I slipped my phone back in my pocket and mumbled, “No one is even here yet.”
It was a Wednesday night, and we were setting up for a private party. Extra champagne glasses, which Marshall insisted be wiped down to make sure they were crystal clear, covered the top of the bar while the kitchen crew began setting out mini desserts for a sweets bar.
“If Aaron walked in and saw you on your phone, my head would be on the chopping block.”
“Quit being so dramatic. Since when does Aaron pop in? Never. I was only checking my texts, and besides, no one is getting in trouble or fired, so stop acting like a seven-year-old girl tattling to her teacher.”
It had been three days since I’d seen Evelyn, but we had been texting and talking back and forth during that entire time. With every ding of my message alert, my heart beat a little faster knowing it was her. At the same time, my masculinity deflated, knowing that this girl had me so completely wrapped up in her. It was an ego thing for sure, but I was sure I could handle it as long as no one else saw it.
“Man. That girl has got you whipped already,” he said, chuckling.
Wishful thinking.
“Shut up,” I said. “I seem to remember finding you crying in the office when Brit broke up with you.”
“My hamster had died, you dick. It had nothing to do with Brit.”
I picked up another glass, rubbing the crystal with a soft cotton towel. “She died like two years ago.”
“Sometimes grief comes over you at unexpected times.”
“Yeah, like when your girlfriend finds out that you were planning a three-way with her and her best friend, without either of them knowing?”
“You promised you’d never bring that up again,” he said with obvious anger. He started to walk away but stopped after a few steps. “Aaron’s brother or not, I could make your life hell.”
Watching him stomp off was like watching a four-year-old have a tantrum. He tried to be all boss, but in the end, he was like a big kid.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I decided one more look before the night got going was okay. I slid it out of my pocket, seeing as I hoped, a message from Evelyn.
Evelyn: I’m so exhausted and nowhere near close to finishing for the day. Is taking a nap at work frowned upon? Listen to me…your night is only beginning. Have a good one!
I started to type a response, but then had an even better idea. After putting my phone back in my pocket, I ran from behind the bar to the room directly behind it. Marshall was sitting at his desk, a small wooden rolltop with an oversized leather-bound chair.
“I need to run o
ut for a few,” I said. “Be back in like ten minutes.”
He pushed away from the desk, the wheels of his chair squeaking against the tile floor. “The hell you are. People are getting here any minute, and I need you.”
“The party isn’t due to start for another twenty minutes. I’ll be back in time. There’s something I have to get real quick around the corner.”
“What’s around the corner? The drugstore? Let me guess. You need some Midol and tampons, right?”
“Ha-ha,” I said, flipping him the bird. “Give me a break here.”
He sighed and pulled his chair back to his desk. “If you aren’t back before the first guest gets here, your ass is grass.”
“Thanks,” I shouted as I rushed from the room.
It was a little after seven o’clock, the sky beginning to fade dark in hues of purple and blue. Without a jacket on, the lake breeze washed across my skin, warmer now in early May to prepare us for the heat that would be coming soon. I ran down the sidewalk, jumping between the suits who were rushing from work to get to the train back to the suburbs.
“Slow the fuck down,” a guy with a messenger bag and a gold tweed sports coat hissed at me when I accidentally bumped his shoulder.
There was no time to apologize.
I crossed the street, not waiting for the light to change, and came dangerously close to being hit by a cab, which didn’t even attempt to brake. If you’re in the way of a Chicago cabbie, you move. They don’t stop.
I yanked open the door to Starbucks abruptly, swinging it hard into the side of the building. The entire shop went silent and glared at me from behind their laptops and Frappuccinos. If a little bubble would’ve appeared above their heads with their thoughts, I was sure it would’ve said, You…are a dick.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, stepping up to the counter.
I wasn’t sure what to get her, but something sweet, hot, and caffeinated seemed like a safe bet. Who didn’t like caramel? I glanced at the clock behind the counter and saw this was going to have to be quick.
Luckily for me, there was only one person ahead of me, a middle-aged woman, wearing a fur coat and a plastic rain-cover hat thing over her heavily hair-sprayed hair.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she whined, tapping her long, fake nails on the counter. “If I drink espresso this late in the afternoon, I might be up all night.”
“Well, you can get almost anything in decaf,” the teen barista said. He looked past her, and I could see him roll his eyes at me just behind the blond bangs.
“Of course,” she said. “But I do need a little pick-me-up, you know?”
“Half cafe?” the barista offered.
I looked down at my phone and realized if I didn’t order immediately, I’d be late getting back to WET, and Marshall would need an ambulance for the stroke he was going to have.
“All right. I’ll have a half-cafe Venti latte with skim milk, sugar-free vanilla, a touch of whipped cream, and make it extra hot,” she said. She slid to the display of pastries and bent down close to the glass. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll get a little treat, too. Those muffins look good. What are they, blueberry?”
“Yes, they—”
She continued talking, interrupting the barista. “Oh! No. I’ll have that chocolate thingy there.”
She stood up, leaving a smudge of her makeup on the glass from her nose.
“Do you know how many calories are in those?” she said, squatting back down. “I’m sure they’re too much. Maybe I should—”
I snapped. “Maybe you should stop being inconsiderate of the people waiting behind you and not stand there all day, making up your mind. Have you never been to Starbucks before?” I asked loudly. Probably too loudly.
Again. The room went quiet.
She put her hand to her chest and gasped. “And who do you think you’re talking to like that?”
Just before I told her where she could stick her pastry, another employee came up to the register. I moved up next to Ms. Fur Lady, shooting her a dirty look as I did.
“What can I get you?”
“Venti Caramel Macchiato and chocolate croissant, please.”
“And that, young lady,” I said to the woman, “is how it’s done.”
The first barista snorted under his breath, but the lady was oblivious. She was mumbling about why there weren’t more gluten-free items because why wouldn’t she start complaining about something different. She was the exact type of customer the service industry hated.
Then, because I had been so distracted by the lady, I remembered Evelyn was a black coffee girl.
“Wait!” I said to the barista making the drink. “Can I change that? I messed up.”
Fur lady snorted, which to be fair, I deserved.
“Um,” the barista said over the loud churning of the espresso machine. “You want to change?”
“Just…ugh. Never mind.”
By the time I paid and got the warmed croissant and drink, I knew I’d have to hustle. I jogged back across the street and down to the large office building. While I tried to keep the coffee from bubbling up at me, it splashed my white shirt just as I was rushing through the revolving door.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I whispered as I waited for the elevator.
Checking my phone, I saw I had about two minutes to make the drop-off and get back to work. I also had a text message from an unknown number. I clicked it open.
Matthews—Dropping something off at WET tonight. If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll assume you’ll be there. Benji.
Dropping something off? What the hell did that mean? When did Benji and I ever “friend” outside of the poker table?
I shoved my phone back in my pocket. I’d think about it later.
Once the elevator doors opened, I jumped in and tapped my foot, waiting for it to slowly ascend.
I was off and running the moment the elevator doors opened again, stopping to slow down just before I reached the glass doors of By Invitation Only. She was sitting at her desk, hand under her chin, her hair covering the side of her face. God, she was beautiful. With no one around, she still looked as perfect as she did anytime I saw her. Hell, I could’ve caught her picking her nose and would still want to lift her up on her desk to have my way with her.
I pushed the door open as her eyes lifted to see who was entering. An electric smile brightened her entire face as she stood from her desk, pushing a slim, very tight black skirt down.
“Hey you!” she said, walking toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t stay. I have to get back to work, but I wanted to bring you something to help you get through the night.”
I handed her the coffee and croissant, which she took with a surprised reaction.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “This is the sweetest thing ever.”
“I fucked up and forgot that you liked it black. By the time I remembered, they’d already started. So, I got you a foo-foo one. Then I realized as I walked over here that I didn’t get it sugar-free, if that is how you would’ve wanted it. I mean, I guess I thought about it when I ordered it, but not really. I didn’t want to assume you wanted the lower calorie one because I know girls don’t like that. You get them something lower fat or something, thinking you’re being considerate, but then you get frozen yogurt thrown at you for calling her fat. I only wanted to—”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me to shut me up. I hadn’t expected to remember her touch with such clarity. Or the way she immediately made me want her, how my every sense responded to her, but that was exactly what happened. Her taste, the softness of her lips, the now-familiar scent of her perfume, everything made me realize one thing: I’d missed her.
She pulled away. “Thank you so much.”
I brushed my hand against her cheek, pushing her fallen hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome, beautiful. Free tomorrow night?”
“Don’t you have to work?” she said, wiping some of her lipstick from my lips.
; “No. I’m off.”
“Well, I am free, but not until closer to eight probably.”
“Dinner?”
I was going to play it safe and not ask her out until the weekend, maybe for a lunch or something. That was the plan before I saw her tonight. I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait that long. She was getting under my skin, in the best possible way, and it was giving me such a high. I wanted to ride it as long as I could and as soon as I could.
“Absolutely,” she said, patting my chest. She pulled her hand away and looked at my shirt. “Shit. You got coffee on your shirt.”
I almost didn’t hear her because I was too busy staring, but then it registered. Coffee. Shirt.
“Fuck,” I said, kissing her one last time. “I have to run. Call you later or tomorrow or you know.”
I raced for the door and swung it open, stopping to give her one more look. She took a sip from her coffee, bringing it away from her mouth, leaving a hint of foam on her upper lip. She knew I was still watching her because she licked the foam off her lip and winked at me.
* * *
Getting back to work ten minutes later than I’d promised, plus with a messed-up shirt, did not make Marshall happy. I never wanted the fact that Aaron owned the bar to be my Get Out of Jail Free card for me to do whatever I wanted. I tried to be conscious of that, but when Marshall told me he’d fire my ass if I ever did something like that again, I didn’t say a word. I needed to be on my best behavior.
Guests for the party, who were in from New York and celebrating some major deal they did in Chicago, were already arriving when I returned. By the time I changed into an extra shirt, a crowd had gathered at the bar.
“Hey there,” I said to a woman waiting. I placed a cocktail napkin down in front of her. “What can I get you tonight?”
She pulled her long, dark hair over her shoulders and motioned for me to come close. “Something very strong so I can get very drunk so I can forget about all the bores I’m with tonight,” she whispered.
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Gin drinker?” I asked.
So Screwed Page 8