Taking Control

by Danielle Dickson

  Marty—Kai’s doorman—points to the waiting cab outside. I push my shoulders back and walk toward it, my heart pounding out of my chest as Taylor’s gaze meets mine.

  I try to act unaffected as I lean in the window. “Well well well, what do we have here?”

  Taylor pouts, her perfect lips teasing me. “Where were you? We’ve been”—hiccup—"waiting for hours.”

  “No we haven’t,” her friend supplies, leaning over Taylor and putting out a hand. “D, and you are?”

  “Taking you home,” I comment, opening the car door and passing bills to the cab driver before picking Taylor up in my arms like a baby.

  Her friend shuffles out of the cab, following me over to my car. “I’m not getting into a stranger’s car.”

  I place Taylor on the passenger seat and buckle her in. “I can call the cab back if you’d prefer?" I don’t have the time nor the patience for drunken women tonight.

  She screws up her face as I open the back door for her, her gaze darting to the back seats. “I swear to god if you kidnap us I’ll be so mad at Tay.”

  I usher her into the car and make sure she puts on her seatbelt before asking for her address first.

  “We live together.”

  I roll my eyes as she reels off the address and doesn’t stop talking the whole way there. She’s a never-ending record and I have to refrain from telling her I like silence. It doesn’t help that Taylor fell asleep after I put her in here, leaving me to the mercy of her chatty friend.

  We arrive at their apartment block and I look up at it from the lot. I never realized the direction we were driving in. It’s deathly close to where I grew up and I don’t like them being here one little bit.

  “This is where you live?”

  “Yeah, it’s not much but it’s ours. Are you coming up?” Taylor’s friend—who I’ve already forgotten the name of—asks. Her question is laced with a sultry tone and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.

  I ignore her, unplugging Taylor’s seatbelt and climbing out of the car, walking around and lifting her out while her friend stumbles beside us, tripping as we near the doors.

  “Would you watch where you’re going, I can’t look after both of you,” I snap, taking a deep breath when her eyes widen. “Sorry, I’m tired. Come on, open the door and I’ll get her into bed.”

  I’m being a total shit and it’s nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I don’t like being in this neighborhood which is stupid since my whole time lately is occupied with opening a gym around here. What a great idea that’s turning out to be.

  “The elevator's broken,” she slurs as I start to walk toward it, halting my steps.

  “After you then,” I grit out, motioning toward the stairs while peering down at Taylor’s sleeping face. I’d say she looked like an angel, peaceful even, if it wasn’t for her mouth hanging open and drool soaking into my shirt.

  After three flights of stairs and three tries to get the key in the door, we're finally in. I screw up my nose at the pink fluffy cushions on the sofa, glancing up at the three doors around the room. “Which one’s hers?”

  She points toward the one on the right and I walk over to it, managing to open it with her still in my arms. Her room is small containing a double bed, desk, and a door to my left which I assume is a closet.

  I place her down on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I’d love to climb into bed with her right now.

  With that thought I reel back, pushing away from her and walking out of the room, closing the door behind me.

  “You’re not staying?” her friend asks, perched on top of the sofa with a glass in her hands.

  “Absolutely fucking not.”

  Gripping my hair in my hands, I growl in frustration, climbing into my car and getting the fuck out of there. I was up all night convincing myself that I did the right thing in leaving, but the truth is, I couldn’t sleep because she was all I could think about.

  That scares the shit out of me. So why the hell did I go back this morning?

  I pull the vibrating cell out of my pocket as I unlock the front door to my house, walking inside as I say, “Hello?”

  “Dude! I’ve been trying to call for the last three hours.”

  I sigh into the phone at Kai’s voice. I’ve been avoiding his calls. “I’ve been busy. How’s England?”

  “Boring. I could do with some company.”

  I flop down onto my sofa, playing with a rip in my jeans. “Call someone.” And by someone, I mean anyone but me.

  He’s silent so I pull my cell away, checking we haven’t been disconnected. “Kai?”

  “Yeah, man, I’m still here.”

  “Stop being a mopey dickhead and call Sofia or Emma. Or Francheska. Or—”

  “I get it.”

  “Go have yourself some fun. You’ve got nothing scheduled until tomorrow.” I scrub a hand down my face, my stubble longer than I’m used to it being as it scrapes against my palm.

  “What you doing?”

  I don’t have the time to sit and have a mothers’ meeting right now. “Having an unnecessary conversation with you.”

  He snorts. “Dick. I meant what have you been doing to keep you so busy.”

  I contemplate the direction this is going in. I could be honest and tell him how I’m really feeling. He obviously picked up on my mood the other night. But then again, I could completely brush him off like I seem to always do lately. The latter sounds like the easier option.

  “Sleeping, I was up late last night.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  I sigh, he isn’t going to drop it. “I can’t stop thinking about Taylor.” Deathly silence greets me. “Kai?”

  He clears his throat. “I’m here, I just… Z, we need to talk when I’m back.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Gotta go, man, room service is here but we’ll talk when I get back in a couple of days.”

  “Kai, don’t fucking hang up on me. What do you need to talk about? Is it Taylor?”

  “Yeah… Taylor.”

  My mouth turns drier than a desert at his admission and I sit up, clenching my free hand into a fist on my leg. “What?”

  “There’s just something about her. I don’t want you making a mistake and it end up setting you back.”

  I can’t reply, defensiveness swarming through me. I clear my throat, keeping my voice neutral. “She definitely wasn’t a mistake.”

  “You think?”

  In one smooth motion I launch my cell at the wall, smashing it to pieces as my chest heaves.

  “Shit!” I shout, kicking the broken pieces and fisting my hands in my hair.

  He was only voicing what I was thinking just last night, but my internal middle finger is raised high in his direction right now. I know he’s only trying to look out for me but I’m a grown man. I can make my own decisions, or my own mistakes.

  6

  Taylor

  “Knock, knock.” My bedroom door opens as I look up from the laptop I’ve been trying to send an email on for the last four hours.

  D walks in and jumps on my bed, kicking her shoes off.

  “Where’ve you been all day?” I ask, pressing the backspace key.

  She plays with her dark-brown ringlets. “Sav called early this morning, she’s having problems with Trent again.” She rolls her eyes. “A smart one my big sister is not.”

  “I don’t see why she didn’t get rid of him years ago,” I say absentmindedly, glancing back at my laptop screen. D’s sister has a kid with a total douchewad that’s been messing them around for years.

  “Yeah, me neither. Anyway, what you up to?”

  “I’m about to send an email of impending doom to my boss asking if I still have a job to go back to tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you just wait until tomorrow? March in there with your head held high, not your tail between your legs. He’s the one in the wrong.”


  I mull it over. I know I did nothing wrong, but I can’t help worrying. I need this job. It’s a stepping stone to bigger and better things.

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth before clicking off my email, deciding D is right and to let sleeping dogs lie.

  D moves over on the bed as I stand, flopping down beside her, an arm over my eyes. “How are you so bubbly anyway? I swear there’s a tiny man bouncing around in my head.”

  She chuckles. “It’s a shame there’s not a hot man bouncing around in your bed. Who the freaking eff was that delicious specimen?”

  “I erm… remember Dark and Broody?”

  I pull my arm away from my face as she sits up. “Shut up! If one of them looks like that I have to know what the other looks like! He was a walking wet dream.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mumble, thinking about how weird he left things.

  I never thought I’d see Kai or Zander again, never mind seek them out for another night of raunchy sex in my self-induced, drunken state.

  “Seriously, if he has friends you need to introduce me.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message if I ever see him again.”

  “No, no, no. There’ll be no if. You’re not letting someone who looks like that get away.”

  “D, it was one night with two guys. Not just him.”

  She shrugs. “And? I don’t see any of my one-night stands being my knight in shining armor and turning up at my door to check if I’m alright the next day.”

  I open my mouth, but no words come out. I have nothing to say back because she’s right. When have any of my drunken fumbles ever checked in on me after I’d technically stalked them?

  I groan. “What the hell happened last night? You were supposed to be taking care of me.”

  “I did! You were on top form, my friend. Seven tequilas down and you were asking anyone in sight if they’d ever had a threesome.”

  I pull a pillow over my face, a muffled, “Fuck’s sake,” coming out of my mouth.

  “Then you made me ride halfway across the city in a cab to shout up at a skyscraper.”

  “I got that bit out of Zander. Didn’t realize you were there though.” She grins mischievously. “What?” She pulls out her cell from her pocket. “You didn’t!”

  “Oh, I did.” She pulls up a video and I watch between gaps in my fingers, horrified.

  D is hanging out of the cab window, recording me shouting up at the building. I hear my slurred voice shout, “Zander! Let me in, she isn’t done with you!” as I point to my crotch.

  “Oh my God! I did not just call my vagina a she!” I squeal, seeing the doorman of the building walking over to me.

  After a slurred conversation as I sway side to side, I begin shouting Zander’s name again. Not Kai—Zander.

  Why? He doesn’t even live there, except I guess I didn’t seem to care last night.

  The video stops as the doorman helps me back into the cab. “I can’t believe you recorded that.”

  “I’m collecting videos for your thirtieth birthday party in five years, you know that.”

  I give her the stink eye. “You dare.”

  She winks at me. “Or what?”

  I sit up. “Do you realize how many stories and photos I have of you?”

  She shrugs. “Do it. I’m unflappable.”

  I chuckle. “Unflappable?”

  “You know I’d dance naked down the sidewalk and not bat an eyelid. I can’t be embarrassed, unlike you.”

  She clicks play on the video again and I groan. “I’m an idiot. They wanted one night of unadulterated sex with me and I go all stalker on their asses.”

  She stands, walking toward the door. “Well, at least you won’t have to see them again.”

  Thank God for small miracles.

  7

  Taylor

  I stare at the looming skyscraper in front of me, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand and my purse in the other. I’ve been trying to convince myself to walk in there, but I can’t seem to do it.

  “Taylor!” I swivel around, scanning people on the sidewalk, seeing my colleague Steph teetering toward me. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I sigh out.

  “You too?” She looks at the building with me. “I’ve been desperately wishing for a catastrophic power failure or something so I didn’t have to come in today.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She takes the coffee I hand her. “Thanks. Come on, like a Band-Aid, let's rip this shit off.”

  I hesitate to follow her until she glances back. With one last breath of fresh January air, I jump into action. My heels click on the sidewalk and the tiled lobby, over to the elevators.

  “Where did you disappear to at New Year? Both Michael and I looked for you after midnight,” she asks as we ride up to our floor.

  The doors open and we walk out and down the hallway before I answer, “I didn’t feel like hanging around.”

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  We stop in front of my desk and I smile wide at her. Fake it ’til you make it, right? “I’m fine, I’m just recovering from a two-day hangover on top of the January blues.”

  She reaches into her purse and pulls out a bottle of pills. “Here. Take two Advil and you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Steph.” She waves me off and we say our goodbyes as she walks farther down the hallway to her desk.

  I twist open the cap on the bottle and shake two out, taking them with a swig of coffee before turning and groaning at the pile of paperwork already placed in the middle of my desk. I take off my coat and place it on the back of my chair while reading over sticky notes placed all over the top file.

  I look up, tensing when I see my boss walking toward me. His face is serious, wiped of any emotion as he says, “Taylor, my office,” and grabs a coffee, walking past me and into his office.

  I follow him immediately, my chest tightening. “Sir?”

  He walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back facing me. “Shut the door.” I do as I’m told, and he continues. “You’ve been with this company for three years now and I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?” I grit my teeth, nodding when he looks over his shoulder. Thinking about all the late nights he’s made me do on top of taking on work that isn’t in my job description; it's total bullshit. Not to mention having to put up with his shitty attitude. “So if you’ll give me the courtesy, I’d like to put what happened at the New Year’s party behind us.”

  I’m not losing my job after all. That’s a relief.

  I nod profusely until he interrupts my thoughts. “Even if you were being a little tease.”

  My gaze narrows on him and I clear my throat. “A tease? I have never been such a thing.”

  “Don’t try and bullshit a bullshitter, Miss Moore. Your whole vibe; desperate to please me, always going above and beyond for your job—”

  “Was to prove I’m more worthy than the tasks I’m given. I took this job three years ago because you assured me it was a stepping stone to bigger things.”

  “And I've entrusted you with more things than what's in your job description, have I not?”

  “Well yes, but—”

  “There we go then; bigger and better things have been thrown your way.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t try and make out like New Year’s was my fault. I don’t take kindly to being accused of such things.” He straightens out the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Now, we have a meeting with some important clients in conference room two. I’ll need you in there taking notes.”

  I don’t move, my feet feeling like they’re made of lead as I burn holes into the side of his head with my stare.

  He picks up a file off his desk before glancing up at me with a bored expression on his face. “You can go now we’ve cleared up your little misunderstanding.”

  I feel myself shaking as I force myself to turn on my heels, walking out of his office and over to my desk. I pick up the company laptop I u
se to take notes on since he insists I use it because he thinks my writing is illegible.

  I can’t believe he said this was my fault! I’m so angry I could scream. And, yeah, I’m angry at him, but I’m beyond livid at myself for not sticking it to him and telling him how this was going to go down. So, I’ll secretly rage at him and call him a few choice curse words behind his back because what else can I do?

  Picking up the top file off my desk, I walk down to conference room two. Sitting in one of the leather chairs around the long glass table, I set up the laptop.

  Five minutes pass before one of our lead graphic designers—Leela—pops her head in the room and smiles at me. “Hey, Taylor, if anyone arrives before I'm back can you tell them I’ve had to run down to HR, please?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Chica.” I’ve always liked Leela but I’m also insanely jealous of her job. I always have been since I originally applied for the very position she’s in now but struck out because she already had a year’s experience in the field.

  I peer at the file in front of me, noticing the company we're meeting with isn't one I recognize, almost jumping out of my seat when someone clears their throat.

  I paste a smile on my face and stand, greeting the man in an expensive-looking suit with a shake of my hand. “Hi, welcome to Noble Marketing.”

  He scans the length of my body. “Thank you. And you are?”

  “My assistant,” my A-hole boss says as he walks into the room, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Benton, how good to see you again.”

  Sitting back down in my chair, I try to hide the humiliation of him dismissing me as “his assistant”—as if I was the least important person Mr. Benton could meet. I have to bite my lip to keep me from saying something.

  Keeping my gaze on the laptop in front of me, I wish for it to suck me into it so I can disappear from here. People start filing into the room and the meeting begins, my boss starting his ridiculous proposal—I say ridiculous because he always has these grand ideas before the designers and marketers quash them down as unrealistic.