by C. A. Harms
“I’ll think about it.” I haven’t heard from him since the last time he showed up at my place to get his fix. I’m not sure if we are just a friends with benefits type of thing, yet I’m also unsure we can be classified as friends at this point. Because friends talk, and we’ve done very little of that since the first moment we met.
Nicholas
“This is Misty,” Terry says as he introduces me to the blonde who appears as if at any second she’s about to lose her tits out of her tight white top. I’m sure it was meant more for a child than a woman with a chest as large as hers. The skirt she has on isn’t any better. I don’t think she even has to bend over for her ass to hang out.
“And this is Danielle.” I turn to my left and see a brunette with a nice smile. “She is Misty’s roommate."
“Nice to meet you,” I say as I hold out my hand in greeting.
“You too.” My hand freezes mid-air and I blink a time or two, trying my very best not to seem affected by her high-pitched squeal of a voice, but it’s impossible. It was like she’d been sucking helium from balloons for the last few hours. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I look over at Terry, and he smiles wide at me. The fucker is proud of what he’s done, and I want to kill him. Even the death glare I’m now shooting his direction does nothing to affect his happy mood.
The music is loud in the bar, and I’m instantly grateful because it helps drown out Danielle’s voice. I swear, my ears feel like they are bleeding.
I sit in the corner at a small table. All four of us face the stage as the band continues to play and I pull out my phone, holding it tight in my hands. I’ve been fighting the urge to call or text Emerson all day. I know she’s been spending time with whatever the fucking asshole in the suit’s name was, and I’ll admit I don’t like it. It’s been eating away at me because somehow in my mind I’ve let myself actually believe that she’s mine. Only she isn’t, but it sure doesn’t stop the jealous rage within me. Each time I picture her with another man I want to go to her and reclaim her, showing her again and again that there is something between us. I feel it each time I touch her, and I know she feels it too.
Nic: What are you up too?
I tap out the message, and my finger hovers over the send button a few seconds as I wonder if I should. Maybe I see more into this than what is indeed there. What the hell, I think to myself before I hit the button.
I half expect it to be hours before a response comes back, but am pleasantly surprised when a reply comes within seconds after I sent the message.
Emerson: I’m stuck at a theater watching a play, about to fall asleep from boredom. You?
Nic: At a bar with music so loud it’s giving me a headache.
Emerson: Poor baby.
Nic: It’s better than the helium queen at my side, her voice is worse than nails on a chalkboard.
There’s a longer pause this time before she responds back. I imagine her sitting there at her boring play next to the stuffy suit growing jealous of the idea that I’m on a date.
Emerson: On a date huh?
My grin grows wider as my thoughts are confirmed. It does bother her, which means she does feel something.
Nic: Same as you, though this is my first since I met you. What is this your third, fourth maybe?
Emerson: He’s a colleague and in town for business.
Nic: I think we both know you’re stretching the truth there just a bit, but I won’t push. I’ll be happy that you’re texting me during your date. Means things can’t be going that well, and call me an ass, but that makes me happy.
Another delay follows, and the waitress arrives at our table with our next round of drinks.
“Thank you so much,” Danielle squeaks, and I grip my beer bottle tighter as I try not to flinch. “Tonight is so fun. I’ve never heard this band before.”
In my mind, I am killing Terry over and over for dragging me into this fucking mess. I offer her a simple nod because I don’t want to take the chance that a response would trigger her to talk even more.
Emerson: Truth? I guess I’m happy that your date is dull enough that you find the time to text me too.
Reading over Emerson’s last text message calms my need to hurt Terry just a little bit as I’m able to get lost once again.
Nic: She’s not you, and since you are the only woman I seem to think about lately, that poses a problem.
I never do this shit, this flirtatious teasing with a woman, especially by phone. But with Emerson, it feels natural—that rush of excitement you get when things are new.
Emerson: I think it’s unfair how you’ve managed to consume my thoughts too. Now every man I meet, I compare them to you.
Nic: Why is that so bad?
Emerson: Because none of them have a chance.
It’s my turn to hold back, but not because I don’t know what to say. Fuck, I can think of a million things I want to say; the problem is my hands are shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me.
Nic: I have one question.
Emerson: And what’s that?
Nic: Why are the two of us on dates with other people, when we’d much rather be with one another?
I fucking hate when she pauses. It makes my stomach tighten with an uneasy feeling. My leg bounces nervously, and the woman at my side assumes I am moving to the beat. She leans in closer and starts talking about how great the band is and all I can think about is Emerson and why in the fuck it was taking so long for her to respond.
Emerson: I’m not sure.
That’s it? That’s all she gives me. My mind races with ideas, things I should type back, but instead, I put my phone back in my pocket and stare ahead at the band.
I try to ignore the way Danielle’s voice grates on my nerves. It isn’t her fault that the only thing I see when I close my eyes is Emerson. It’s unfair because I’m more than sure that had I not met Emerson only a week or so ago, I could have had a nice time with Danielle, despite her voice.
“Look who showed up,” Terry announces loudly, and when I open my eyes, I see Spencer moving through the crowd toward our table. Close behind him is Gianna, his new found shadow. They are always together it seems, and frankly I’m envious of him. “Two hours too late, Bozo.”
Spencer flips off Terry as he slips in at my side and pulls Gia in close, caging her against the tall table where we are sitting. “Who’s the girl?” he asks as he looks to my other side. I see Gianna do the same and Danielle picks that moment to speak.
“Hi, I’m Danielle, or Dani, whichever.” Spencer's eyes widen and Gianna flinches in reaction to her voice.
“Don’t ask,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, “just don’t ask.”
“Terry?”
“I’m gonna kill him later,” I assure Spencer and he chuckles.
“You should’ve called Emerson,” Spencer says, and I look toward Gia instead of him. They’re best friends and I half expect her to be glaring at us or at least looking up toward us curiously only she isn’t. Instead, she’s smiling brightly and nodding her head in agreement.
“I told her the same thing earlier today,” Gianna says smiling wide.
“I texted her,” I tell them both as I lift my beer bottle to my lips. “She’s on a date.”
Looking back toward the stage I concentrate on the music and ignore the lingering stares I notice in my peripheral vision from the both of them.
“It’s more of a set up than an actual date,” Gianna finally says, regaining my attention. “Without giving too many details away, just know that it’s not what she wants.”
“What does she want then?”
“You need to ask her that,” she shrugs. “And when she tells you that she doesn’t know or when she tries to make excuses for her father and his actions, you need to push back. Because I can promise you that Emerson doesn’t want a tight ass executive, she wants excitement and thrill. She’s just afraid of the consequences.”
I’m even more confused than
I was only moments ago.
“She’s not who she seems to be.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I turn in my chair to face her, my back now to the woman behind me. “Gianna,” I say as I lean in closer, “what do you mean?”
“You need to get to know her and not just her body.”
I stare at her as she, in turn, does the same to me. I want to ask more, though I’m unsure if she’ll answer.
“She’s nothing like her father, yet he pushes and pushes for her to be. She’s caught between him and the life she wants, and he finds ways to drag her down more and more each day.” I feel my jaw tense as I scowl at no one in particular. “That’s all I can tell you Nic. You need to decide if she’s someone you truly want to know or if she’s just the one for a little fun. Don’t play with her head, because she gets enough of that from her dad.”
I wake up on Saturday with a headache from hell. I’m talking jackhammer between my eyes and vice grip on my temples.
After I left the bar and Danielle behind, I came home. I spent the evening going over the things Gianna said, trying to drown out my irritation with Mr. Mansfield with a bottle of Jack. Now here I am feeling no better about the situation and a headache to add to it.
I grab for my phone and pull up my messages from last night, those I sent back and forth with Emerson, and even the way it was all left. Then I start going over again what little information Gianna shared with me.
I’ve never been more confused about a woman in my life. I dial Spencer’s number and on the third ring, he answers, his voice hoarse, indicating I woke him up. “What the hell, asshole? It’s barely after eight a.m.”
“Give the phone to Gianna.” I ignore his irritation.
“What?”
“I know she’s lying next to you because the two of you have been up each other’s ass every night since you met.” That was no exaggeration. “So just give her the phone.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, “but just so we’re clear she has not been up my ass.” It doesn’t escape my mind how he leaves the other part out, but I don’t need a clarification. The man was easy to read.
Suddenly I’m now listening to an even crankier person as Gia snaps with a “What?” of her own.
Only I don’t give a shit as I move on. “So I understand that you don’t want to tell me any more about Emerson and that I should talk to her.” I ignore her groan of annoyance. “But tell me one thing.”
“Are you gonna hurt her?” I stop pacing and come to a halt near the end of my couch. My hand is cupping the back of my neck, as I seriously consider her question.
“No,” I say with a knowing grin, “I have no intentions of hurting her.”
“Then what do you wanna know?” She seems a little less irritated than before.
I finally relax, taking a seat on my couch. “Tell me what my way in is. How do I make her see that we’re good together?”
“You’ve already gotten your way in, Nic,” she assures me. “She may appear like the girl that loves all the fancy restaurants and shows, but I can assure you, she’d much rather have a burger and a beer. It’s just that all the guys she’s dated have been clones of her father and they force her to be that person. You want to make an impression, if you truly want to stand out, then just be you. Don’t go over the top with trying to impress her doing things you normally wouldn’t. She’s simple. She loves the simple things. She doesn’t get to enjoy them as she should.”
“Thanks,” I say. Without saying too much, she’s given me all I need to know. “I promise I’ll be good to her."
“You better,” she says sternly, “because I can guarantee if you’re not, then you better be ready for the backlash, Nic. Detective or not, I will kill you if you hurt her.”
She ends the call, leaving me with a smile on my face.
Emerson
“I’ve had an amazing time over the last few days.” I avoid eye contact with Rodger because this is always the part of the many dad hookups I hate, the part where I have to tell them that I don’t feel the connection they do. In reality, the only link they feel is with the probability of one day being a part of my father’s fortune. But it’s always the same, that uncomfortable conversation of “it’s not you, you're a great guy, I’m just not looking for anything long-term right now.”
Lies, they were all lies, because I do want something long term. I want a forever, I just don’t want it with them.
“You’ve made this trip to Chicago memorable and fun.” Rodger walks around the side of my desk and my stomach tightens with discomfort. “But, I think the two of us can agree that we are much more suited to be friends.” I lift my head suddenly to look at him and he laughs. “And by the look on your face, I think it’s safe to say you thought I felt something else.”
“No, it’s that…” I pause, unable to decide what it is I truly want to say. Everything in my mind sounds so conceited and self-absorbed.
“Your father is a demanding man.” That’s putting it mildly. “But he is going about things with you all wrong. You are a beautiful woman, Emerson, and one day you’re going to find a man that cherishes you the way you deserve. He needs to stop trying to lead your future so much and let you live it on your terms.”
“Is it that obvious?” This man was a stranger to us only a few short days ago, yet here he saw the truth so easily.
“I heard about Hector Mansfield’s daughter who was perfect for me as part of the pitch to sell this location.” Again I hang my head only this time it’s out of embarrassment versus fear. “Don’t be embarrassed, Emerson, it’s your father that should feel the shame. He doesn’t realize what he's doing to the relationship you two could share if he’d see you as his daughter instead of a bonus for his lifelong dream of ruling the world.”
“Thank you.” I am not even sure it is the right thing to say.
“Stay in touch?”
“Of course,” I say as I stand up and he takes me into a hug. “Dinner when you come back to the city, only this time I get to choose the location.”
“Are you saying my choice of cuisine was something you didn’t enjoy?” I lean back and see him looking down at me with an arched brow. “What would you have preferred?”
“Burger and fries, and loaded nachos maybe,” I say with a smile, and he chuckles.
Then I see movement over his shoulder, and my heart practically lurches in my chest when I see Nic standing in the doorway of my office beside my assistant. The look on his face seems as though it is one of anger as he looks at the space where Rodger still stands, his arm circling my waist while the other hand rests upon my hip.
Rodger turns slightly to glance in the same direction, before slowly releasing his hold on me.
“Sorry Ms. Mansfield, I wasn’t aware you had someone in your office,” Kelly said, looking fearful that I’d be angry with her. The poor girl has been in my father’s presence far too many times and thought I would feel the same as him. She was a sweet girl and a fantastic assistant.
“It’s okay, Rodger was saying goodbye. He’s going back home today.” I try to ease the situation but Nic remains focused on Rodger, his eyes appearing hardened. “Mr. Vaughn is okay to stay.”
Talk about an uncomfortable situation.
“Rodger, I’d like you to meet Nicholas Vaughn.” My hand shakes nervously as I hold it out in his direction. I pull my arm back to my side quickly, attempting to hide it. “He’s a detective with Chicago PD.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Rodger says as he reaches out to shake Nic’s hand. I almost roll my eyes at the way he firmly grips Rodger’s hand as if he’s trying to make some statement. A power trip maybe, who knows.
“Well,” Rodger turns to face me once again with a grin on his face, “I better get going so I don’t miss my flight.” Rodger moves in quickly and hugs me once more, offering a friendly kiss to my cheek. “I’m gonna miss your smile, Emerson.”
When he steps back once more, he offers me a wink before pi
cking up his briefcase and moving toward the door. Nic follows him and for a moment, I feel my heart race with the idea that he may be leaving too. The truth is, I don’t want him to go.
I watch in silence as he pushes my office door closed behind Rodger and then flips the lock on the handle, before turning around to face me once more. “Is that the guy you’ve been spending all your time with?”
“That’s the business associate that I’ve been working with, yes.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hide the nervous jitters this man gives me.
He nods, his lips pressed firmly together as he continues to stare at me with such an intense gaze. “Is that the kind of man you like?” His question surprises me as he begins to move toward me. With each step he takes I can feel myself trembling even more. “The stiff suit type, one that treats you more as if you’re an accessory than a treasure?”
“He was never more than an associate.” I find myself repeating my earlier clarification instead of answering his question.
The moment he rounds the corner of my desk, I find myself stepping back. Not because I fear him, but because he looks like he is about to devour me and this isn’t the place or the time. “That’s not what I asked, Emerson.” I swallow hard, and his eyes shift toward the motion in my neck. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth; that smugness ensures me he understands the hold he has on me. “Is Rodger the kind of man you're attracted to?”
“Why?” I swear to god my heart feels like it is going to beat right out of my chest.
Nic sits on the corner of my desk and crosses his arms over his chest. That movement alone makes his muscles flex beneath the shirt he is wearing and only manages to make my pulse quicken even further.
I’m going to have a heart attack right here in my office, I swear to it.
“I just need to understand what I’m up against.” I tilt my head to the side, just slightly confused by his statement. Then he uncrosses his arms and reaches out for me, pulling my arms free from my body. “I didn’t much care for him holding you close the way he was.”