Chore Play

by Piper Rayne

  Greg takes Victoria’s place and if my busy morning is a sign of things to come today, I’ll lose my mind. Especially since all I really want is to be with Quinn, deep inside of her.

  “Jagger, did you read the book?” Greg sits down, his knee bouncing.

  “I’m halfway through. It’s good, but…”

  “What?” His hands tighten into fists and he looks like he’s about to explode.

  “I think it would cost a fortune to make into a film. I’m not denying it has potential, but we have to factor in what it will cost to do it right. We can’t go into the red on our first venture or my dad will shut this division down before we even have a chance to get it off the ground.”

  “So, you’re going to go with Trina’s idea? Might as well call up Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, circa the nineties sugar-sweet romantic comedies. Like in all of New York, they’d be emailing each other. Give me a break. How unrealistic.”

  I lean back in my chair, not mentioning that his sci-fi book isn’t near the realm of reality either. I steeple my hands, remembering my fingers drilling in and out of Quinn on my kitchen table yesterday. We’d been laughing, me trying to get her to try my duck from the takeout Chinese restaurant. Somehow, I went from having a piece of meat hanging off chopsticks in front of her mouth to her being my dinner, stripped down on my table. I can’t imagine ever tiring of having sex with Quinn this much. She’s one of a kind.

  “Jagger!” Greg’s voice rises. The guy is passionate, I’ll give him that.

  “I’m not making any decisions right now. I have to hear Trina’s and Hank’s pitches still, so relax. If I was you though, I’d be finding something that will cost less to produce.”

  “Fine.” His eyes light up and you’d think I just agreed to doing the movie. “I’m still holding out hope for this one though.”

  There’s no sense arguing about it, so I nod before reminding him, “Meeting at three today in the conference room, and Greg…” He turns around, pushing up his dark-rimmed glasses. “There will be criticism. You need to learn to see the other side and only argue the points you think are most important.”

  He nods, and I let a sigh escape, knowing that today’s meeting will be intense.

  “Lunch!” Victoria holds up two paper bags and I spot the green stamp on them.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Hey.” She places them down on the table, taking out salad, grilled chicken, vegetables, and hummus. Not one cheeseburger or fry. Now, I eat healthy, but this is flavorless crap. “He’s an athlete preparing for the Winter Games. Show some support.”

  “Support him?” I rise from my desk, my phone dinging and alerting me to a text message. I pick it up. “I’ve done nothing but support him. Me being hungry in an hour isn’t supporting him. Not to mention you’re the one who will deal with me being crabby.”

  She stops all movement, staring over at me. “So, a normal workday then?”

  Quinn: I’m all by myself…porn just a fingertip click away…you do the math.

  I shift my stance and poise my phone, ready to send some comeback her way.

  Me: Wish I was your hand?

  Quinn: You could be. Quickie?

  Fuck me.

  “When is Grady going to be here?”

  Victoria picks up her phone to check the time. “About five minutes.”

  “Damn it,” I murmur.

  Me: Lunch date.

  Quinn: Such a hard worker. Better be a guy.

  Me: Don’t worry, he’s not my type and he’s related.

  Quinn: Win-win for me. Well, then I guess I’ll hop back on to see if the repairman can fix the lonely author’s computer.

  Me: Hitting a little too close to real life there.

  Quinn: Jealous? Don’t be, you’re my only repairman. Think of my hand down my yoga pants during your lunch meeting.

  She sends a picture. Fuck me.

  Five minutes. Enough time to hammer one out in my private bathroom.

  “Looks great, Victoria. You can leave.”

  She places the plates on the table, her face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you need to do? Have phone sex with Quinn?”

  “Maybe if you get the hell out.”

  She laughs, grabbing the two empty bags and hightailing it out of the office.

  I head to my bathroom, my thumb already poised over Quinn’s number.

  “I figured I’d be hearing from you,” she says, all breathy and sweet.

  “Get me off, baby.” I unbutton my slacks, sitting down and fisting my cock. “I’ve got five minutes.”

  It only takes her three. She really is a whiz with words.

  Five minutes later, I’m coming out of my bathroom, drying my hands, and my cousin walks in with his scruffy hair, a casual jeans and t-shirt. Would it kill the guy to dress up a little?

  “Make sure he’s washed his hands.” Victoria pops her head in the door for a second.

  Grady laughs, his hand weaving through his long strands.

  “Bye, Victoria.”

  I cross the room, my hand out between us, and we hug. Man, he’s got more muscle than the last time I saw him. He’s not as tall as me, but close. Those Kale genes are strong.

  “What’s up, cuz?” He glances to the table. “Man, did you order this?”

  “No, Victoria did.”

  He looks back toward the doorway. “Talk about a hot piece.”

  “Eyes forward, she’s my assistant.”

  “She’s not my assistant.”

  “You’re not fucking my assistant, Grady.” I sit down in the chair, my stomach already rejecting the idea of what it’s going to have for lunch.

  Grady does the same, except he’s already opening the containers.

  “Eat much?” I ask.

  “I’m an athlete, I’m always hungry.” He pours the clear dressing that’s probably made with water over his lettuce, grabs two of the grilled chicken breasts and starts eating.

  “Don’t you ever want a cheeseburger?” I sit back in my chair because I have no hopes of eating that crap. Victoria can order me a steak and a potato from somewhere.

  “Are you asking if I eat junk food?” He shoves a forkful of lettuce in his mouth and chews for a minute. “Yeah, but I have less than a year until the Games. No way.”

  “Sounds like a suck-ass life.”

  Grady wipes his mouth and leans back in his chair. “Don’t hold back.”

  “I never do. So why are you here?” I don’t know Grady all that well, mostly because I live in L.A. and he tends to live where the snow survives year-round.

  “I need an agent.”

  “I’m not a sports agent.”

  “Yeah, but you can get me an in with the best guy. I need to build myself up now with endorsements leading into the Games to carry me through because this will be my last.”

  My shoulders fall. “Your last?”

  He nods. “I’m cutting out after this. I’m going to win gold and get the hell out of Dodge before…”

  He leaves it open-ended and we both know what he’s not saying. He lives with the fear of a major injury every time he sets his board on the edge. I wonder if he even enjoys it anymore.

  Then it all clicks—this is why he came to me. I was the one with him and his buddy that night. The one who saw the torment and fear weasel its way in, making a new home inside of him. Stripping him of the man he was. It’s been almost nine years and it still haunts him. I can tell.

  “I’ll get you an appointment,” I say.

  He smiles and digs back into his food. “Perfect. I knew I could count on you.”

  Making miracles, that’s my job.

  Now, I need one for Marisol.

  23

  Quinn

  “So…someone called me today,” Wendy says, her voice not holding its usual ‘I’m going to cut you if you don’t send me chapters’ tone. “The good news is they don’t care about where you are with book two right now.”

  “I sent you ten chapte
rs. It’s coming together,” I argue because I’ve been working my ass off for the past week while Jagger’s been at work. Yes, my usual nighttime writing routine has been compromised, but I’ve more than made up for it. Not to mention, he’s great with giving me ideas for the love scenes.

  “Yeah, and I like it. We need some strife though. Conflict. Reasons they can’t be together.”

  “Why? Couples come together without something tragic all the time.”

  “Listen, Quinn. I know you’re new to this business. You got lucky. Most authors would kill to be in your situation, but you’re going to have to up the ante a little on the second. Put yourself in their shoes. Be the characters.”

  Wendy’s annoying me today. She’s bursting the love bubble I’ve been floating on since Jagger and I got back together. We’re fine and there’s no strife between us…yet. Because I’m doing it tonight. I told myself I’d do it this past weekend, but we were having such a great time together, I just couldn’t bring myself to bring up something that might annoy him. Tonight, is the night I tell him about my first book and cross my fingers that he isn’t too pissed with me.

  Maybe this is the kind of thing Wendy’s talking about. This couldn’t end us though. Surely, he’ll think it’s great and be happy for my success, understand where I was coming from.

  “Quinn? Quinn?”

  “I gotta go. I have to get ready for tonight.”

  “But the call…”

  I click and hang up. I need to make sure I’m waxed and adorable in a sundress he can peel off me when I tell him, just to be on the safe side.

  24

  Jagger

  I push open the doors to the conference room. All three of the employees in my new division are sitting around arguing about Greg’s book suggestion.

  “I think it’s totally ridiculous that they could do that without anyone noticing,” Trina says, rolling her eyes behind her purple-framed glasses.

  “You’re going to use reality to argue your point? My genre is supposed to make you think outside the box. What are we going to read with yours? The fact that Ken’s dating Skipper behind Barbie’s back? Original.” Greg’s face is all hot and red.

  I take a seat at the conference table facing the glass wall, so I can see outside to the rest of the office in case I need to signal for help in here.

  “I think you’re mixing up some characters there. Was Skipper Barbie’s sister or her friend?” Hank asks, taking a bite of his giant sub sandwich. Does the guy eat all day long? Guess I can’t say anything since I had Victoria grab me a cheeseburger from In-and-Out and I’m reaching into the bag to grab it.

  “She was her sister, so no, Ken would not be dating her.” Trina’s so adamant that it makes me laugh over my mouthful of burger.

  “Or would he?” Hank asks.

  I think Greg might get screwed in this deal. Hank seems to enjoy the romance side. Having Quinn in my life has eased me into going that direction as well. I can understand the appeal now.

  Greg throws his arms up in the air. “You, too?” He sets his gaze on me and I can’t help but smile. “So, it’s done. I’m done. We’re doing romance.” He flops down in his chair as though he’s filled with helium and we’ve poked a hole in him.

  “Calm down. Nothing’s been finalized,” I assure him. I crunch up the wrapper to my burger and place it next to my bottle of water. “Let’s start though. Go around and we’ll talk about Greg’s choice. Then if Trina’s ready, we’ll talk about what she’s got. Sorry to put you on the spot, Trina, but my dad wants a decision made by next week. Which means we need to move on this.”

  “I finished Greg’s book,” Trina chimes in.

  “Me too,” Hank says.

  “So, I’m the loser who didn’t?” I chuckle.

  “Technically if you didn’t finish it and we did, I’d say you’re the winner. I can’t get those hours back.” Trina quirks up one side of her lips.

  Greg’s face is now even redder than before, so I quickly try to move us on in a different direction. “Okay, let’s begin. Hank.”

  We go around the table, Hank saying he could see it. He lists the parts he liked that could be incorporated, and what he thinks the public would like and dislike in adapting it to a movie. Greg pleads his case again. Trina though, she surprises me with her favorable comments and very little negativity except for the cost to shoot the film.

  An hour goes by and I check the clock to see we should wrap up for the day. Being on the West Coast, we all only have limited time before the East Coast closes down and that’s for the people who work late.

  “Okay, really quick, Trina.”

  She smiles, sitting up in her chair, positioning her glasses and sliding her book out from under Greg’s.

  “As I mentioned, it’s young adult, YA. Maybe more upper YA because they lose their virginity, so we wouldn’t be marketing to thirteen-year-olds or anything. But”—her hand lands over her heart—“it’s a true love story. There’s so much raw emotion. The only thing is, we might have to change the ending because hello, everyone wants HEA.”

  “What’s HEA?” Greg asks, leaning back and appearing indifferent about the conversation.

  She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Happily Ever After.”

  Greg’s face distorts, and he rolls his eyes.

  My phone vibrates in my suit jacket.

  “Okay, pass them out. What’s it called?” I ask, pulling out my phone to see who texted me.

  “Fool Me Once,” Trina says and a book flops on top of my notebook.

  Quinn: I’m coming up the elevator. Sundress, no panties.

  Me: I’m in a meeting. Get yourself nice and comfortable and WET in my office.

  Quinn: Are you finally going to fuck me on your desk?

  Me: I think you just might get lucky.

  Quinn: I’ll be wet and waiting, Mr. Kale.

  I straighten the book, barely getting a glimpse other than the picture of the beach on the cover.

  “Okay, everyone read the book and we’ll meet later this week to discuss.”

  “Wait,” Trina coos. “I thought I got a chance to pitch it today?”

  “Why do you have to pitch it? It’s already going to be selected,” Greg mumbles.

  Just then, Quinn walks by the conference room. I spot her through the glass wall wearing a short sundress and I have to shift in my seat to stay comfortable. Her hair is down and curled, perfect for me to fist in my hand while I take her from behind.

  “Oh, the boss’s girlfriend is here, that’s the rush,” Greg snaps and I’m about to take this guy off the project if he doesn’t keep it in check.

  “Wait.” Hank looks down at his book and then up again as Quinn disappears from view. “You didn’t say she was an author.”

  “What?” I say, my thoughts still on getting Quinn naked on my desk.

  “The author’s name isn’t Quinn, it’s Alisha Quinn.” Trina inspects the book again. “Oh.”

  I grab the book, turning it over. It drops from my hands and a picture of Quinn stares up at me from the back cover—her hair swung over her shoulder, the smile I know so well on her face.

  “What’s the book about?” I ask, my forehead creased while I’m still staring down at the book.

  “Um… a boy.”

  “More specifically, Trina,” I snap, waving my hand in the air, picking up the book and skimming the blurb on the back.

  “It’s a boy-next-door kind of trope. She falls for him and then he cheats on her and sends her away.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I pull all my stuff together and storm out of the office.

  “My money’s back on me,” Greg says as I leave the room.

  I walk down the hall, spotting Quinn talking to Victoria. I pass by them and hold the door to my office open.

  “Quinn,” I say with as much calm as I can muster, convincing myself to calm the fuck down before I start throwing the furniture.

  “See you, Victoria.”
Quinn saunters in, probably thinking I’m pretending to be mad for some type of boss-secretary roleplay encounter.

  I shut the door, flick the lock and Victoria glances back and sticks her tongue in her cheek, thinking the opposite of what’s going to happen.

  “Have I been a bad girl?” Quinn says, running her finger along the edge of my desk. “I really need this job, Mr. Kale.” She continues the charade that would usually have me unbuttoning my pants and playing along.

  She sits in my chair, resting her feet on the edge of my desk. I stalk toward the desk, ignoring the fact I can see up her dress and she really isn’t wearing any panties.

  My dick twitches. Traitor.

  I drop the book on my desk. “Explain.” Widening my stance, I cross my arms over my chest.

  She glances at the book and her feet fall, but unless she’s got an identical twin, the book isn’t a surprise to her.

  “Jag,” she says, her voice revealing the lie she’s held from me since we’ve been back together.

  “I have to find out like a dumbass from one of my employees? Boy, don’t I look like the lovesick idiot who didn’t know his girlfriend wrote a book about him.”

  “It’s not what you think and I was going to tell you.”

  “Tell me I’m not the asshole in the book then.”

  Her shoulders fall. “I wrote it on a whim. Kind of like therapy to get over you and purge you from my system. It was years ago and then I met this agent, and my friend told her I had a finished book. Everything kind of snowballed from there.” Her voice is shaky and her face is growing redder by the second.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I ask, falling into the chair across from her, grabbing the book on my way down.

  I flip through it while she stays quiet.

  “I was going to…but then things were so good. I planned to tell you tonight.”

  “‘He’s the typical rich-boy asshole who uses girls and tosses them out like yesterday’s trash,’” I read and wince. “Anything good about me in here?” I hold it up.