Aggie the Horrible vs. Max the Pompous Ass

by Lisa Wells

  He didn’t laugh. “Have you ever tried to find her?”

  She glanced down at her hands. “Meemaw is all the family I need.” Part of the statement was true. She definitely needed no one else to love her.

  Richard sat down and leaned forward. When she looked at him, his expression was intent. “That’s not what I asked.”

  How had they gotten so personal? “I have. But to no avail.”

  “How hard have you tried?” He leaned back, folded his arms across his chest.

  She dropped her feet back to the floor. Her brain told her to stand up and flee this conversation. But she didn’t listen. “Any time I have extra cash, I give it to a detective who uses it to search for Mom.” He wasn’t actually a detective. More of a dropout with amazing computer tracking skills.

  Richard pulled at his earlobe. “Any leads?”

  Why did he care? Then again, as long as they kept talking, the less chance for him to get mad because Max still hadn’t shown. “Not yet.”

  “How does Meemaw feel about your search?”

  “She doesn’t know. It would break her heart.” Aggie inhaled slowly to steady her emotions and laced her fingers in her lap. “She would worry she didn’t do enough for me growing up. Which is anything but the truth.” Meemaw had saved her.

  Richard removed a business card from a silver cardholder, scribbled something on the back. “This is the number of a guy I know who is superb at finding people who don’t want to be found. Call him and tell him I recommended him. Tell him to give you the Richard Harris discount.”

  She didn’t reach for the card. Temptation and reality warred with each other. It was like taking the packet of information one needed in order to sign up for the Washington, D.C. trip even while knowing going on said trip was nothing but a pipe dream. “Thank you, but I’m sure, even with the Richard Harris discount, he’s out of my price range.”

  “Rubbish. Take my card. I have him on retainer. When I’m not using him, I’ve been known to loan him out to my friends at no cost.”

  “Do you have a lot of friends in need of a detective?” Had he loaned this detective out to Max so he could run a background check on Meemaw?

  He winked at her. “One. You. Now, please take the card.”

  She still didn’t reach for the card. Free was never really free. What strings were attached? She didn’t get the vibe from Richard it would be sex, but she could have a broken vibe detector. After all, she actually liked Max.

  Richard leaned forward.

  Oh God. Here it comes. Disappointment jabbed her brain with both its middle fingers.

  “In return,” Richard said, “how about giving me Meemaw’s personal number? She sounds like someone I’d like to have coffee with.”

  Aggie smiled. Her vibe detector worked. He wasn’t a pervert. Which meant Max might actually be worthy of taking a chance on. She casually took the card. “Richard Harris, has anyone ever told you you’re as sweet as a Georgia peach?”

  She grabbed a Post-it and jotted Meemaw’s number and real name. “I don’t give this number to just any man,” she teased. “Guard it with your life.” As she leaned across the table to hand it to him, a shadow in the doorway caught her attention.

  She jerked her head in that direction. Max. Sweet baby Jesus. How much of their conversation had he heard? The last thing she wanted was for him to know the dirty details of her childhood. Or that she’d just set up Meemaw with Richard. Max would for sure think that was as unprofessional as short skirts.

  “There you are, boss man.” Her words sounded like a guilty person spoke them. “I’ll leave the two of you to your meeting.”

  Max fixed his gaze on Richard. “Please forgive me. I don’t know how this meeting didn’t stay on my radar.”

  “Don’t fret. Trust me, I’m not,” Richard said. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed spending time with this lovely, lovely woman. Aggie, please don’t forget to consider my…proposal.”

  “Proposal?” Max sounded like a lion one second away from pouncing on its prey. “Richard, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been busy trying to steal my assistant.”

  Richard chuckled. “I never mix business with pleasure.”

  “Me, either.” Max turned his full gaze on Aggie. “Did you get those estimates I needed?”

  “Stop barking at your assistant and come talk,” Richard said before she could admit she hadn’t. “We have business to finish up, and if it works well, there might be another deal.”

  “Another deal?” Max echoed.

  “After listening to Aggie rave about your ability to see the big picture without getting lost in the woods, I’m convinced you might be the right man for a new project.”

  It was kind of Richard to not tell Max about what they’d been discussing in his absence.

  “I’m glad to hear she wasn’t boring you with stories about nothing,” Max said. “I’ve discovered she can sometimes be rather chatty.”

  Was that supposed to be an insult? Because if it was, she didn’t care. Being able to carry on an interesting conversation was a valuable life tool. Meemaw had taught her that.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?” Max aimed a too-sweet smile at Aggie. Gah. He’d be brushing his teeth for an hour to get all that sugar off them.

  “Can’t it wait? Richard has been waiting a while already.”

  Max’s expression went perfectly blank. “I’m afraid not.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Under hooded eyes, Max watched as Aggie glided across the carpet toward him where he stood in the receptionist area. A perfect vision in a pink suit and a pair of black skyscraping heels. The kind she daily kicked off under her desk.

  He motioned for her to close the door. He forced himself to stay calm as he asked, “Did you make plans to go on a date with one of my clients?” He wanted to believe Richard wasn’t the sort to date someone young enough to be his granddaughter, but if Aggie put her mind to it, she could probably talk a Mormon into skipping their two-year mission trip experience. Or him breaking his vow not to mix business with pleasure. That one teetered daily.

  “Why do you always assume the worst of me?” She stomped back to the receptionist desk, grabbed a tissue out of its box, and dabbed at her cleavage.

  Christ. She did that to trash his line of thought. “Are you saying I’m wrong?” His hands tightened into fists as a need to crush something took hold of him.

  She stared stonily. “Besides the notes you left on my desk, do you have anything else you need me to do?”

  She could cause all of his dealings with Richard Harris to blow up if she went out with him and things went sideways. “I do.” He’d planned on doing this task himself. And it was a shitty thing to ask. But she’d just done a shitty thing to him by jeopardizing a business deal. And as a result, he was feeling quite fucking shitty.

  “And it is?” Her words were followed with a grade-A smirk. A smirk that sealed her fate.

  He released his fists. “I stayed late last night, working on a new project.”

  “And?” she asked in an impatient tone.

  “I threw away a document I still need.” Probably because his brain had kept coming back to thoughts of her naked on his conference table. “Right before I left, the janitor came in and emptied the trash bins.”

  “And…?” Again with the tone.

  Was he asking her to do this for the right reason? Absolutely not.

  Fuck. Watching her hand Richard her phone number had made him feel something he didn’t want to feel. Jealousy.

  As a rule, he wasn’t the jealous sort. What was it about Aggie that brought that emotion out in him? It couldn’t be simply she was beautiful and sexy. Hell, he’d dated his fair share of that type of women.

  The obvious answer to the puzzle didn’t escape him. There’s brain jealousy and then there’s
heart jealousy. Just because his brain didn’t do the jealous thing didn’t mean his heart was immune.

  If his heart was attempting to get involved, he needed to shut it down.

  There was a saying the heart wants what the heart wants, but all you had to do was look at the divorce column to know more times than not the heart wanted the wrong person.

  She had said herself they were incompatible.

  If he couldn’t stop his own headstrong heart, he would stop hers. When hers crashed and burned, his wouldn’t have any choice but to give up. Which meant asking her to do something unforgivable. Something far worse than toilet paper pickup. Something that would take any shine off how she was feeling about him. “I need you to go out to the dumpster and locate my office trash bag and bring it back in.” He’d just cemented his asshole status. There would be no recovering from this.

  Assholes don’t win the love of the lady. His heart was safe.

  Her chin jerked. “You want me to dumpster dive?” Instead of anger or distaste, her voice held an odd hint of panic.

  “Afraid Richard might see you out there and decide not to ask you out on a date?” Yep, asshole-of-the-year award was his for the taking.

  Her eyes narrowed. “He’s not that shallow.”

  “Good for him.”

  She shrugged. “If I say no, are you going to fire me?”

  If you’re going to be an asshole, be a grade-A asshole. No soft underbelly. “I recall you saying, short of blowing me, there wasn’t anything you weren’t willing to do.” Hell. This might qualify him for dick-of-the-year as well. This was far worse than anything Father had ever done to secure the title.

  She gave a succinct nod and kicked out of her heels. “I’ll change shoes and go look for your bag of trash.”

  Grandmother would be appalled. Ms. Hazel might shoot him.

  Damn it. What in the hell was the matter with him? You didn’t make a woman hate you just so you didn’t have to deal with the risk of falling for her. He swallowed hard and backpedaled. Not all the way back, but far enough to save his soul when he some day met his Maker and had to defend his actions in life. “Ask the janitor for a hook to dig it out with.” He’d find another way to keep her at arm’s length. “I don’t want you to actually get in the dumpster. If you can’t get it with a hook, don’t worry about it.” If nothing else, he’d revamp her duties so she became his virtual assistant. If she wasn’t underfoot, his heart should be safe.

  Hell. Why hadn’t he thought of that idea before now?

  “Right. Lucky for you, I ordered trash bags to match our interior, so it’ll be easy to find.”

  Jealousy aside, he really did need the paper. “Great.”

  “Great.” She swept out the door and, not even bothering with a low voice, muttered, “Jackass.”

  Fair enough.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aggie stood outside the dumpster and concentrated on the sights and sounds and smells until the panic attacking her like a tsunami eased, allowing her to see and breathe and think. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and strategized.

  Her memories of doing this were as fresh as yesterday’s bread. Mom’s strategy had been simple. She’d lower Aggie inside the bin with a toddler strap attached to her back. Once she found a treasure, Mom would hoist her and the item out of the bin. Only to drop Aggie back in to discover more gems.

  The smell of those memories still burned Aggie’s nostrils. And the panic of having to hurry so no one caught them and stole their treasures away still tightened her chest. Once, someone else had been in the bin. An old guy with no teeth. He’d spat at her. Yelled at her to get out of his dumpster. And when Mom pulled her out, he’d taken Aggie’s shoes off her feet and laughed like a mad clown.

  Aggie slogged back inside the office building and located the janitor, who was mopping the foyer with a big machine. She waved her arms at him to get his attention. When he stopped, she asked, “Would you happen to have a ladder, and a hook, and some coveralls I could borrow?”

  “Not in the business of loaning out stuff.” He went back to his mopping.

  She waved her arms again. He stopped, his face a ruddy red. Either sunburned or high blood pressure. “Please.” She gave him her award-winning smile. At least Meemaw called it her award-winning smile.

  “What do you need with a ladder?”

  She glanced around to see if anyone could hear their conversation. “My boss accidentally threw something away. I need to dig it out of the trash bin before the truck comes and hauls it off.”

  The guy looked her over from head to toe and laughed, clutching his oversize belly while he did so.

  She waited for his hilarity to pass. Who could blame him? Today, she wore her favorite power suit. One that screamed corporate bitch. “Well?”

  “Let me get this straight. You’ve got a boss who expects you to dumpster dive, and you said yes?”

  “He’s kind of a jerk like that.” Normally, she would have told Max to piss off. But she’d made it a full two weeks as his assistant, and she was determined to ride this contract all the way to the finish line. Besides, if she quit, Richard might decide it would be somehow disloyal to Max if he pursued a date with Meemaw, and Aggie really wanted him to pursue that date.

  The janitor turned off his machine and walked away.

  She followed. “Where are you going?”

  “To get you what you asked for.” He pulled a pair of coveralls out of a supply closet and handed them to her. “Pull the door closed when you leave. It will lock on its own.”

  She watched him walk away carrying the ladder under one arm as if it weighed nothing.

  Inside the closet, she slipped on the coveralls. They were about ten sizes too big, but they were way better than nothing, so she rolled up the arms and legs. Leaving her purse tucked under an empty mop bucket, she stepped into the hallway and firmly closed the door, then double checked that it was locked. It was.

  About to hurry outside, she heard her phone moo. It was in the closet. She forced herself to ignore the siren call. No way would she bother the janitor for the keys to get back into the closet.

  Outside the dumpster, the janitor had propped the ladder in place. “I’ll hold it while you shimmy up there and over,” he said to her. “Can’t have you falling off. Boss would fire me for sure if I allowed that to happen. Probably going to fire me for letting you use the ladder.”

  She glanced around for a big stick. No trees in sight. “I don’t suppose you have one of those trash picker-upper thingies?”

  “Nope. Don’t do outdoor trash duty.”

  She sighed. Kicked off her Crocs—no sense ruining them with the smell of garbage—and climbed the ladder. At the top, she glanced down. It was empty of other human beings. According to all of the cop shows she watched, this was not always the case. What it lacked in dead bodies it made up for in its foul odor. She glanced around, her hopes high she would spot Max’s trash bag immediately and not have to rummage. Maybe nab it with an outstretched hand. No such luck.

  “I should have kept my job at the Estée Lauder Counter,” Aggie said. Applying makeup to rich old ladies who wanted the appearance of rich young ladies no longer seemed dire. Gah. Hindsight and all that shit.

  “Ain’t got all day. Get ’er done,” a disembodied voice said. The janitor’s. Still safely anchored to the ground on the opposite side of the bin’s metal wall.

  She sat down on the edge of the dumpster and considered her options—tell Max to go fuck himself or prove to him she didn’t always quit when things got rough. She lowered herself onto a black bag. Her foot immediately went through the thin material. “Eww,” she screamed, as she sunk knee deep into what smelled like a poopy diaper but was probably just rotten food. Right? Right. “I should have left my Crocs on.” It’s not like they were Prada. And she could have probably expensed them out to Max.<
br />
  “What is it? Dead body?” The question was asked with 100 percent sincerity and zero percent concern her answer might be yes. Like the phrase, been-there-done-that-have-the-dead-body-to-prove-it was his to legit recite. The janitor obviously also watched cop shows. If it was the last thing she did, Aggie would see to it Max Treadwell paid for this humiliation.

  “No dead body,” she shouted so he could hear her. “Just immense grossness.”

  “I’ll be back in ten,” the janitor said. “It’s my break time. Need to take a piss.”

  Panic crawled up her throat. She’d never been left alone while inside a bin. Mom always talked to her. Sometimes sang “You Are My Sunshine” to Aggie to help keep her calm.

  Humming the tune in her head, she added new lyrics. “You are a dick prick. A lowly dick prick. You make me angry when the skies are blue. You’ll never know, Max, how much I loathe you. Please someone take my dick prick away.” She bellowed out the words over and over as she poked around for Max’s trash bag.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Max took a breath before striding into his office. Richard stood at the window, looking out. If he looked down, the trash bin would be in clear sight. Aggie would appear there in no time. If the guy liked her, he’d be upset with Max for asking her to dig through trash even if she did utilize a long stick in the process. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Richard turned.

  Max chose a seat at the conference table, and Richard joined him. “Tell me about this new project on your radar?”

  Richard looked at him speculatively. “Actually, it’s my partner, David Long, who’s taking the lead on finding the right property for the venture.”

  Was she out there? “I haven’t yet had the pleasure of working with David.” He glanced at the window. Damn it. What in the hell had gotten into him? He’d behaved like a fucking coward.

  “We’ll see if you still see it as pleasure once you’ve met the man. He can be disagreeable.”

  “I’ve been told I can be disagreeable, too.” Max stood. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water. I’ve had a tickle in my throat all morning.” Not waiting for a response, he hurried toward the outer office. As soon as he was out of view of Richard, he sent Aggie a text telling her to abort her mission. Then he grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and went back to his office.