by Claire Adams
Dean’s explanation for the picture, or so the article explained, was that he had met up with some old friends from Yonkers where he grew up and that they’d gone to dinner in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. While they were there, Iozzo, who was dining on the other side of the restaurant, came up to him, saying he’d bought Dean’s tax program and saved a few thousand dollars the year before. Dean said he didn’t know who Iozzo was at the time, but that he seemed to be a decent enough guy at the restaurant.
The article closed with the only direct quote from Dean. “You have my permission to keep running the story, though. You wouldn’t believe the kind of sales we’re getting off all the free advertisement. You might want to run it by the other guy, though. I’ve heard he has a bit of a temper.” Nobody else wrote about it after that, at least not from what I’d found.
I thought about it for a while and searched for anything more on either story, but finally the feeling became overwhelming and I had no choice but to let it out. I was covering my mouth, because I didn’t want Luke to hear me laughing. He’d come home a while earlier and went straight to bed. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop laughing.
How crazy had I let myself become? I was actually trying to track down information to prove Dean was a mobster just so I could continue to play out the self-immolating fantasy of being the Incredible Disposable Woman. After all, if he was interested in me, there had to be something wrong with him, right?
It all started to make sense. Luke had tried to teach me to be more assertive, to have more confidence. Dean had tried to teach me to be more assertive, to have more confidence. My response was to go as over-the-top as possible trying to prove he couldn’t actually like me unless there was some huge, unexpected problem. The laughter finally died down and I promised myself I’d stop looking for any reason at all not to just enjoy what was happening.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Shit,” I whispered, closing the window on the laptop. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“Have you ever been so thoroughly exhausted you can’t sleep? It’s personal hell: population this guy. Seriously, though, what’s so funny?”
“Oh, it was just some stupid video on YouTube.”
“I love stupid videos on YouTube,” he said. “Which one was it?”
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t have seen it. It was a cat one. You know me and cat videos.”
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I’m not other people, Marce. Actually, if you were looking at porn, I’d really rather not know about it. Just delete the browser history so I don’t have to even—just don’t watch porn in my house. It’s weird.”
“I wasn’t watching porn!” I laughed.
“Then what were you doing?” he asked. “You weren’t on YouTube when I came in here.”
My mouth went dry. “Luke, it’s really nothing. Just don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, I’d do that, but you’ve got the same look on your face right now that you had when I found out you were the one stealing from mom’s purse and then convincing me the next morning I’d done it. I was usually hungover enough to believe you, Marce, and I’m still mad about that by the way. What did you do? You didn’t try to hack any company software or anything, did you?”
“Are you stupid?” I asked.
“Okay, so you weren’t trying to hack anything. You’re pretty technologically underwater.”
“I was laughing. If you’re seeing some kind of guilt on my face, it’s probably because I feel guilty about making it harder for you to sleep. I know you’ve been busy as—”
“TV on, PC Input: replay the last five minutes of computer use,” Luke said.
Nothing happened. “Luke, I don’t know why you’re getting all weird.”
Right about at the “d” in weird, the enormous TV flickered to life, and on that massive screen was playing a video of the laptop screen as I was scrolling through more articles.
“How did you—”
“Where do I work, Marce? What do I do for a living? I work in the upper levels of a major software company. We have people who know how to do some pretty impressive things…and why were you looking up Dean Carrick’s personal history? I thought we went over this.
“I should have never had both of you at that dinner. You’ve started to think that you’ve got some weird permission to invade his privacy like that because you had a short dinner with him at the table and because you work at his company now? How ungrateful can you be?”
“Ungrateful?” I shot back. “How am I being ungrateful?”
“You’re being ungrateful because you’re looking into things I told you to stop looking into. You’re being ungrateful because that man asked for you to join us in meetings we all know are way beyond your experience and you’re trying to dig up dirt on him.”
“It’s not like that.”
“No, what are you going to do? Are you so pissed off you’re living with your brother and working at his company that you’d try to spread crap about the guy who runs it?” he accused.
“I told you,” I said, gritting my teeth, “it’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like, Marce? Tell me. Are you so bored you’ve got to try to—”
“I told you it’s not like that!” I shouted, rising to my feet.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“How would it not be my business? It involves my boss, my sister, my sister on my computer, and me—who thinks he’s about the only person in this little family unit who hasn’t completely lost it.”
“It’s none of your business because it’s none of your business. Can we please just drop it?”
“I want to know why you’re so interested in Dean. Why would you care so much if any of the thousands of idiotic rumors about him were true? You have a working relationship with him, and a pretty distant one at that. You’ve never been the weird, creepy type before, why start with the one person I told you specifically to leave alone?”
“I’m not interested in Dean.”
“Then why do you keep calling him that? You’ve talked about him before like you know him personally or something, like the two of you are old friends. It’s kind of pathetic.”
“It’s not pathetic!” I yelled. The rest was out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. “We’re dating!”
Well, at least I hadn’t said we were sleeping together.
“You’re what?”
“Luke, I—”
“First question: Is this some kind of joke? Are you screwing with me?”
“That’s actually two questions.”
“Really not in the mood, Marce.”
I took a breath. “No, it’s not a joke. I’m not screwing with you.”
“Second question: okay, seriously, have you lost your mind?”
“You think I’m making it up?”
“No,” he said. “I think you’re telling me the truth and I think you’re out of your damn mind. Okay, third question: define dating, and please, dear God above, do not give me too many details.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. We’re dating. He and I were seeing each other for a while and we decided to make it more official. Just as soon as everything’s taken care of in Italy, he said we could stop sneaking around so much.”
Luke was holding his breath. When he finally let it out, it was in the form of a long sigh. Suddenly, his demeanor had changed. “You really like him?”
“Yeah,” I said, “we’re still getting to know each other, but I do like him. He makes me feel confident, like maybe I’m not just a big screw up.”
“Yeah, dating your billionaire boss will probably do that. How did this even happen? Was it because of dinner that night? I mean, the two of you looked like you were getting along pretty well, but I had no idea.”
Dean asked for my discretion, and it was very likely he was talking specifically about my brother. I didn’t know how much
I should say. “Dinner didn’t hurt,” I answered finally. “We’d already become acquainted by then, though.”
“If you like him then why are you digging through his past instead of talking to him about it?”
“Are you kidding? I can barely believe this is my life right now, let alone start asking him whether he was in the mafia. I don’t think we’re quite to that point in the relationship. I think you have the illegal activity conversation after six months, right? Or is it three months? Cosmo keeps changing it on me.”
Luke, who had very recently appeared to be trying to bite through his own teeth, cracked a smile. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He knows some people, but it’s not what you think. Just do me a favor and let him be the one to fill in the details and leave my name right the hell out of it.”
He was messing with me. He had to be. “Now who’s screwing with whom?”
“It’s ‘who,’” he said incorrectly, “and I’m not screwing with you. Just don’t rush to judgment. Like I said—it’s not what you think.”
The smile had gone from Luke’s face, and it quickly vanished from mine. “You’re serious.”
“It’s not what you think.”
Part Two:
Avoidance
Chapter Nine
Growing Pains
Luke hadn’t gone into any more detail about Dean’s connections with “some people” back in Yonkers, but surprisingly, I hardly even thought about it anymore. Over the next week, Dean and I got together a few times, and each time, I started finding less and less reason to worry about the relationship. He was assertive, sometimes startlingly so, but to me, he was sweet.
I’d seen him at work that day. We’d finally had another meeting on “Project Yalta,” and this time, for whatever reason, I started following what people were talking about. Along with separating out income automatically by source and taxable status by simply logging into your bank accounts, it would also search for relevant deductions and actually find them. It was huge. The language they’d been using to describe what they wanted to do and how to go about it was still above my head, but at least I had a more general idea what was going on.
On the way out of the meeting, Dean asked how I was doing. I stopped to talk to him, as everyone else filed out of the room. They all had their orders and with continued problems at the factory in Italy, whatever they were. Even Luke walked past, leaving Dean and me in the conference room alone.
“I’m doing really well,” I told him. “I think I’m really starting to get the hang of all this.”
“That’s good,” he said. “I’d like to hire you on permanently, but I want to let HR know we’re seeing each other. At least then we’re on the record as doing things the right way. I’ll have to assign someone other than me as your supervisor, obviously.”
“Would you be hiring me on permanently because I’m good at my job, or because we’re…” I trailed off, glancing around the room to make sure we were alone.
“From everything I’ve seen, you’re more than capable in your current job, and I think you’d be a better benefit to the company if you had more responsibility and, you know, actually received a paycheck from us. To be honest, I’ve felt a bit weird keeping you on as an unpaid intern so long.”
When anyone else was around, I’d never heard Dean give any indication that he struggled with any decision he made. He was always the boss who knew exactly what to do when presented with the relevant facts of a situation. There was never doubt or regret. It was good to know he felt comfortable enough to admit he felt unsure about something.
“The job and the relationship are two different things,” I said, very proud of myself for being so professional about it. “So long as you’d be hiring me on because I’m an asset to the company and not just—”
“No,” he interrupted. “That would be disrespectful to both of us. So you’ll take it?”
“I don’t know.” I crossed my arms. “What’s the job and how much does it pay?”
“Well, someone learned a few things about bargaining.” He chuckled. “How have things been going with Johnstone? Has he driven you to the brink of sanity yet?”
“Not yet.” I crossed my fingers. “There’s still time, though.”
He smiled. “I like the confident you. She’s got a great sense of humor.”
Once I left the room and I was just another intern again, to everyone else, at least, I knew I’d probably start trying to tear down every compliment he gave me. Maybe not, though.
Since we’d become an official couple, he really had started opening up to me. We hadn’t gone too far into his past by any means, but we hadn’t really gone into mine, either. He’d let his defenses down, at least a little. It was time for me to do the same.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I started.
Right about then, the door to the conference room opened and out of nothing but pure instinct, I started walking toward the door as if I had just been leaving. Mr. Yearly poked his head in, saying, “Dean, we’ve got a problem.”
“I’ll be right there,” Dean said. “Miss Blair?”
I stopped. Mr. Yearly was looking at me, his eyes narrowing a little. I turned back around to face Dean. “Yes, Mr. Carrick?”
“Bruce, tell everyone to meet in my office. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Mr. Yearly nodded and went on his way, closing the door after him. Dean walked over to me. “I talk to people, men and women both, in private all the time as a matter of business. You don’t have to make a break for it every time someone walks in on us together.”
“I just figured the two of you probably had something important to discuss and figured we could talk later.”
“I should go see what’s going on, but you said you wanted to tell me something.”
“We can talk later,” I answered. “I’m not playing coy or anything, I can just see it being a longer conversation than what we have time for right now.”
“Okay, but I want to hear what you have to say. First, though, am I hiring you on permanently?”
“Let’s wait until we have a chance to talk before we do that. I want to make sure we’re on the same page about things.”
He furrowed his brow. “This doesn’t sound like the kind of conversation I’d really like to postpone very long. How about this,” he said and reached into his inside jacket pocket, producing a business card. He took a pen from the conference table and wrote on the back before handing me the card. “When you get off work, go here. I’ll tell them to expect you and to let you in if you get there before I do.”
“What is it?” I asked, looking at the back of the card. “It doesn’t have the name of the restaurant.”
“It’s the most exclusive place in the city,” he said. “It’s high time we started being better about letting one another in, don’t you think?”
“Is that how you got to be so successful in business: repeating ideas to the people who came up with them?” I teased.
Dean smiled. “That’s mostly it. The rest is just backroom deals and extortion.”
“Well, I hope you’re not the one being extorted too often.”
“But a little would be just right?”
“Yeah, someone needs to make sure you don’t get a bigger head than you’ve already got,” I answered.
“That’s not likely to happen, but it’s good to know I’ve got your support kind of,” he laughed. “I really should—”
“Yeah. I should just head here when I’m off work?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll do my best to beat you there, but I may be a few minutes. If that happens, just make yourself comfortable. I shouldn’t be too long.”
Work ended eventually and I ran home quickly to change and pretty myself up for the evening. When I got to the address Dean had given me, though, I thought there had been some kind of mistake.
The address he’d given me was to the Sobu Building. It was, as far as I was aware, one of the most exclusive re
sidential buildings in the city. A lot of the buildings in Manhattan have both residential and commercial levels. There are just too many people trying to worm their way into the Big Apple to go about it any other way. I didn’t know there was a restaurant in the Sobu, though.
It took a while to find a place to park, but I didn’t mind the extra time. Dean said he might be late, and I really didn’t want to wander around an enormous and stunningly opulent residential building without him there to justify my presence. When I got around to the front of the building, however, something strange happened. The doorman, whom I’d never seen before in my life, grinned like a bobcat when he spotted me.
“Why, Miss Blair, welcome to the Sobu,” the middle-aged doorman said. “Mr. Carrick called ahead and said he would be a few extra minutes, but that you could just go ahead on up. Mitsy will get you everything you need to get up to Mr. Carrick’s floor. She’s in the third office on your left after you walk through the door.”
“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked. Dean said he would call ahead, but the man recognized me on sight.
“Mr. Carrick sent a photo ahead so you wouldn’t have any trouble getting where you needed to go. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn.”
I had no idea whether he was speaking out of turn or not, but it was kind of nice to be expected, especially at a ritzy place like this. “Not at all,” I responded, feeling my posture straighten a little. “Third office on the left, you say?”
“Yes, miss. Thank you for joining us at the Sobu.” The doorman held the door open wide and shut it quickly just as soon as I was on the other side of it. I glance back to see him turning away someone else. In that moment, I understood the draw of exclusivity. Sure, I felt bad for the woman carrying groceries, trying to convince the doorman to let her into the building, but I also felt pretty damn special. I didn’t have to deal with that. Maybe it was the way Dean had been pushing me to be more assertive, but I was actually starting to feel the confidence instead of simply faking it.