Vested Interest (Flynn Family Book 3)

by Kayt Miller

  “My dear?” Lester says in a condescending tone. “They’re expecting you downstairs. Just let Janice know when you get there. She’s got plenty of work for you to do.”

  Like that’s supposed to make me feel better? I turn to David again and stare at him. He’s not going to say anything? Seriously? I move past him into his office looking for my box. I am honestly in shock. That’s the only thing I can think of as I pick it up and step back out into the outer office. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

  I turn and walk down the hall. I take a right toward the elevator. Once there, I hit the down button. I wait. Maybe if the elevator takes a long time, it’ll give David a chance to come to his senses. It does take a long time for the elevator to arrive, but not long enough for David to realize that he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  I step onto the elevator and turn to face the corridor. I hold out one last bit of hope that he’ll run down the hall to stop me. When the doors shut, I lose it. I let the tears fall as I sob down floor forty-seven, forty-six, and on down. I make a deal with myself. Once I hit bottom… I sob just thinking about hitting bottom. Once I hit the main level and the doors open, the tears stop, and I never look back.

  When the doors hit the lobby, I wipe the tears from my face, smile at the poor sucker who had to ride down twelve floors with the bawling woman, walk through the lobby and out the door into the Chicago sunshine. I stop and take a deep, deep breath. “Everything’s going to be all right,” I say out loud. My dad always told me. ‘No matter how bad things get, it will always get better.’

  I walk a few blocks to get more fresh air then hop on the metro bus. Once I get home, I set the box inside the door, I strip out of my outfit and plop my ass on the couch in my bra and panties. “It’s time to regroup,” I say to my walls. And I will regroup.

  Chapter 7: David

  “I just stood there.”

  “You just stood there?” asks my sister Sandy.

  “Yeah, I just stood there and watched her grab her box and walk down the hallway.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” I spit defensively.

  “Why’d you let her walk away? Why didn’t you stand up for her?”

  “I. Don’t. Know! It’s complicated!” I shout into my phone. I can’t bring myself to tell Sandy that I diddled my assistant in a dirty fucking alley outside of Emmit’s. Shit, honestly, I think I felt a tiny bit of relief when Lester told her she was going to be working in the pool again. For a split second, I thought it’d be for the best to cut ties because it was just going to be awkward as fuck now to work together. Since it came from Lester, it made it okay. But, that’s complete and utter bullshit.

  “Jesus, Dave. If you can’t talk to me like a normal person instead of a raging douchebag, I’m hanging up. Fuck you! I’m hanging up anyway. Maybe it’ll be better for Cass to be gone. She doesn’t deserve your level of assholery.”

  I hear the phone click and know she did what she said she was going to do. My sister hung up on me. It’s taken me a few months to get back in her good graces after the way my wife, now ex-wife, treated her. I let it happen, so I understand her apprehension to restore our relationship.

  Sandy and I have always been tight. She’s my confidant, or she was until Jennifer came into the picture. Before Jen, we’d tell each other everything. You’d think I’d talk to my brothers, but they don’t get me like Sandy gets me. She also doesn’t put up with any of my bullshit; something Cassandra did on a daily basis. I think Cassie knew it was bullshit; she just didn’t want to call me out. She was professional.

  I pick my phone back up to text Sandy.

  Me: Sorry.

  Sandy: Whatever, asshat. Reach out to her. You’re a fucking V.P. now. You should be able to request the admin assistant you want. Bring her back upstairs from that damn pool.

  Me: I guess.

  Sandy: Seriously, grow a pair. Did they cut her pay when they put back down there?

  Shit. I didn’t think of that. She already lives in a rat-infested hellhole.

  Me: I’ll check.

  Sandy: Jesus, dude. I’m being completely straight with you, Grow. A. Pair.

  Me: Yeah. Okay.

  I’m sitting in my new desk chair with the ergonomic back support staring out at the city. “She was right, I won’t get anything done.” I turn the chair to face my desk. I’ve logged into my schedule and see that Gretchen has gotten everything logged. She even has ‘Get to know Gretchen’ scheduled over my lunch hour. As I click on it attempting to delete that entry, she appears in my doorway.

  “Dave? Did you see I scheduled lunch together?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “I thought we’d order in. Have a cozy lunch here on your sofa.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “What do you want to eat?” she says with a smirk.

  Not you. “Reuben, fries, and sweet tea,” I say in a monotone voice.

  “All right. I’ll get lunch and see you back here shortly.”

  She turns and saunters away from me doing her damn best to make those narrow, manly hips sway. “Not gonna happen, sweetheart,” I mumble to myself. “You’ve got to have real womanly hips like Cassandra’s to make that work.” I turn to look at my screen and think about what Sandy just said. Before I talk to someone in the pool, I want to text Cassie to see how she’s doing.

  Me: Cassie, it’s me, David. Are you okay?

  I wait for a while, minutes, just staring at my phone.

  Cass: I’m fine.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  Cass: It’s fine.

  Me: What was I supposed to do?

  Cass: Grow a pair.

  Has she been talking to Sandy?

  Me: Ha ha, you know I’ve got a pair. ;)

  I wait for a few minutes but hear nothing back. She must have gotten busy. Lester said she’d have a lot of work to do.

  I pick up my phone to call Janice in the administrative assistant pool.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello Janice. This is David Flynn. How are you today?”

  “Good. Congrats on your promotion. You deserve it.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “What can I do you for,” she asks all business.

  “Well, I was checking on Cassandra.”

  “Cassandra Darrow?”

  “Yeah. Is she okay? Is she going to get a pay cut down there?” I know that’s none of my business, but I need to know.

  “Well, if she were employed by IIM any longer, I wouldn’t be able to answer you. Since she quit, I can say that yes, she would have had a substantial cut in pay if she worked back in the pool.”

  Fuck! Fuck to all of it. “What do you mean she quit?”

  “I mean, she quit. She emailed me this morning letting me know she will no longer be working at IIM. To be honest, I don’t blame her. Pretty bad form up there, if you’ll excuse me saying so, Mr. Flynn.”

  Fuck! Mr. Flynn again? I ignore those added comments, “Okay. Thank you very much, Janice.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I wait for her phone to hang up first, a habit of mine, when I don’t hear it, I say, “Hello?”

  “Um, I probably shouldn’t say anything but I feel like I need to warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  “Gretchen has a thing for the Vice Presidents, and it never ends well. It’s why there was an opening.” I’d heard rumors that the last V.P. stepped down after a sexual harassment complaint had been registered against him.

  “How could Gretchen have anything to do with that?”

  “Well, she’s Lester’s niece, so there’s that.”

  Fuck! “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do. Talk to you later.”

  I wait to hear the click so I can hang up my phone. I place my head in my hands and groan. “This is so fucked up.”

  “Oh, now, things aren’t that bad, are they?” her voice is syrupy sweet, and I hate it.

  I look up and
see Jennifer, I mean Gretchen, setting out our meals. She pats the seat right next to her on the sofa, but I move to the single chair. I grab my food and tear into it. I’m hungry. And pissed. And disgusted with myself. Absolutely fucking disgusted.

  Chapter 8: David

  The first two weeks at my new job suck balls. I hate my new ergonomic chair. I hate the view, and I really hate my new assistant. She knows nothing, and I mean nothing about this business. She barely knows how to type. Now, I’ve got to proof read my own fucking memos after she types them up. I’m scared shitless that she’s already sent some letters out to clients with my name on them.

  Combine that with her constant need to be touching me. The second she gets within two feet of me, some part of her is touching part of me. A long talon-like fingernail scraping down the top of my hand, sliding so close to me her breast brushes against my arm, and last Tuesday, she ‘accidentally’ spilled an open bottle of water in my lap and tried to clean me off.

  When that occurred, I jumped out of my fucking ergonomic chair and said, “Enough! Do not touch me.” I walked into my bathroom and slammed the door shut making sure to lock it once inside. “If she accused someone of sexual harassment, that’s just plain bullshit. It’s like she’s got fucking tentacles,” I grumble. Part of me wishes she’d get caught; the other part wishes I’d just get fired.

  How can I go from loving what I do to hating everything about it two weeks? I know the answer to that, but I refuse to say her name. Cassandra. I thought it. I didn’t say it. I’ve accomplished nothing, and I mean nothing since she left. Lester has had me in his office four times since I’ve started asking me what I’ve got brewing. I haven’t had the balls to tell him the truth. Without Cassie, I have nothing brewing. No new ideas. Nothing.

  Maybe I should call her. Ask her to dinner. See how’s she holding up. If she hasn’t found a job yet, I could make some calls on her behalf. Yeah, that’s a great idea. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit her number. It goes to voicemail, so I leave a message, “Cassie, hey, it’s David. I’m calling to see how you’re doing and ask if you’d like to have dinner with me this week. I’ve, uh, missed you. So, yeah, call me.”

  I hang up and stare at my phone. “Jesus, I sounded like a pathetic ass. But if it gets her to call me back, then it’s worth it.” Okay, gotta quit talking to myself. I feel energized by my phone call like I’ve just done something proactive. I spin my chair around to my computer and get to work. I’ve got client investments to monitor and a staff to manage. Being Vice President isn’t all fun and games.

  I’ve kept Gretchen busy reorganizing my files. I’m sure that was a mistake, but I had to think of something that would keep her out of my office. By four o’clock, Cassie still hasn’t returned my call. “Maybe she’s got a new job.” I hope so. I would hate for her to lose the shithole she’s living in and be forced to live somewhere even more terrible.

  When no call comes before five, I grab my coat and head out the door. “I’m beat,” I mumble to myself in the elevator down. It’s kind of funny to be this tired when I actually did nothing but check on clients and surf the Internet for the best deal on fishing gear. I don’t even fish.

  At home, I change into sweats and an old University of Illinois tee from the good old days, plop my ass on my couch and speed dial the pizza place around the corner. “Yeah, I’d like a large Beast Master, extra cheese.” I love that pizza. It’s a thick crust, Chicago style pizza filled with every kind of meat and vegetable on the menu. There’s also a mixture of four different types of cheese used, mozzarella, white cheddar, pepper jack, and provolone. It’s decadent and one of Cassie’s favorites too, but whenever I’d order it in, she’d barely eat one slice while I ate the rest.

  I bring my feet up to rest on my wooden coffee table and grab the remote. I scroll through the channels and find one or two things of interest. The Cubs are playing, but I feel like watching a movie. I’ve got all the pay movie channels, so I scroll through those looking for something I’ve never seen before. “I feel like watching something old or even a classic.” Shit, I’ve got to stop talking to myself. I sound like a crazy person. Just like Cassie said.

  I find one that looks interesting about an English woman named Bridget something or other. It says it’s a comedy, so we’ll see. Five minutes in and I know I’ve stumbled upon a chick flick but it’s made me laugh already, and I could use a laugh. My doorbell rings and a jog to it. “Pizza time,” I say to myself. I pre-paid so all I need to do is grab some paper towels and a beer and I’m good.

  Halfway through the film and I wonder why Sandy never made me watch this movie. This movie fits her tastes to a tee. As I pick up my phone to send her a quick text it rings. Cassie’s name appears on the screen. I stop the movie and answer as fast as I can, “Hello?”

  There’s a pause before she speaks, “Oh, hi, David. I heard your message.” She pauses again, “Um, how are you?”

  I’m good now that I hear her voice. She has a way of calming me that I can’t explain, “Good. What have you been up to? Did you find another job?”

  “No. Not yet. I’m taking my time on that front. I want to be sure it’s the right fit.”

  The right fit? What does that mean? “Of course. That’s a good plan. So, um, would you go out with me? Have dinner?”

  “Yeah, sure. That sounds lovely. When?”

  “I’ve got a thing on Friday so what about Thursday?”

  “Thursday works. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll book us at Next. Seven?”

  “Wow, Next? I’ve heard that place was fantastic. It sounds wonderful. See you then.”

  “It’s a date!” I say happily before I hang up. I smile from ear to ear. I’m going to see Cassie! Seeing her again will help me ease into this new job and new life. I can’t wait.

  Chapter 9: Cassandra

  I’m so nervous for this date. I’ve had dreams about him taking me on a real date, but I never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe two weeks apart has let him see how much he needs me. Maybe our little tryst in the alley let him see something more.

  What does one wear on a date with the man of their dreams? Since I wasn’t sure, I went to my favorite boutique that specializes in plus size fashions. They’ve got a wide range of clothing from casual wear to gowns. I opted for something in the middle, a stunning cocktail dress in a deep green that goes well with my dark brown hair and green eyes. The fabric is crepe, which is very forgiving for women with problem areas. It’s an off-the-shoulder dress fitted from the bodice down to just below my knees. I wasn’t sure I could pull off the look, but I have decent shoulders, and the sales woman was encouraging.

  I bought a new pair of shoes too––open-toe, nude sling backs with a few crystals on the top and sides, so they sparkle just a little bit. They’re amazing, but I spent way too much on those. They were nearly twice what the dress cost, but I promise I’ll wear the shoes a lot more than the dress. I decide to wear my hair down and apply a modest amount of makeup. I dab on my favorite perfume along with simple earrings and a cuff bracelet. I finish off my look with red lipstick. When I look in the mirror, I smile. “Not bad, Cassie. Not bad.”

  Grabbing my clutch, I toss in my necessities and open my front door. Outside, I hail a taxi and become absorbed in thought rather than on the crazy cab ride. It’s an easy trip having the majority of it straight down Halstead, so I make it to the restaurant with five minutes to spare.

  I gasp when I see the interior of Next. It’s, in a word, sexy. The lights are dim but not so much that you can’t see the clean lines of the interior. Each table on this level seems like it’s own private little oasis. My perusal is interrupted when the beautiful hostess asks, “May I help you, ma’am.”

  Ma’am? I hate that. I’m not ma’am yet. But, I smile and say, “I’m meeting my date here, David Flynn?”

  Her eyes pop open a little too quickly. She's surprised. “Follow me. He’s right this way.” I fol
low the adorable little pixie of a woman until she stops at a table and raises her palm.

  My eyes follow it until I see him. I smile. I can’t help it. Two weeks without him has been really hard. I watch as he stands up. “Cassie,” he whispers. He leans over and kisses my cheek then guides me to my chair with his hand on my back. “You look beautiful,” he adds as I sit in my chair.

  “So do you.” David in a suit and tie is a sight to behold, and tonight he’s wearing something I’ve never seen before. The jacket and pants are charcoal with a subtle windowpane pattern running throughout. He’s paired it with a plaid shirt of soft grays and blues and finished it with a deep blue tie. It looks like he shaved for this evening as well. His usual five o’clock shadow is gone and left behind is smooth, sculpted face. He’s gorgeous.

  He speaks first, “Have you been here before? I chose it because it’s close to your place. Did you have a difficult finding it?”

  I smirk. “No, I’ve never been here. I read up on it before tonight, and it’s gotten great reviews.” It’s not that close to my place, but I won’t delve into that.

  “It has. So, How have you been?”

  I’m unable to answer yet because our server arrives to take our drink orders. He orders a top shelf whiskey, and I order white wine. It’s safe. The drinks menu seems like it was written in another language. I continue with my response to his question, “I’ve been good.” I want to say, ‘I’ve missed you,’ but instead I continue with, “How have you been?”

  “Good,” he says just a little too loudly. He lowers his voice, “Good. Fine.”

  “Are you spending too much time looking out your window?” I giggle.

  He chuckles, “I am. You were right. I can’t help myself.”

  The waiter brings our drinks and mumbles something about coming back to take our orders. I pick up the menu and appear to be reading through it. This date is already amazing. I wonder if we’ll go somewhere after this? Dancing? He’s an excellent dancer. I slowly breathe in and out calming myself. I quickly choose the salmon dinner option. It’s light and easy, and I’m probably not going to eat much of it anyway. I’m too nervous. “I think I’ll have salmon. What about you?”