“I said I’m sorry.”
“And I said I don’t give a fuck.”
“When’d you say that?”
“Just now, motherfucker!” She leans over the counter to shout in my face.
I let out a sigh. “Will you hear me out or not?”
“Not.” She stands up straight and evil-eyes me before slinking away to a customer, refilling his glass.
I rub my eyes. The girl’s really fucking difficult. “I’m going on a little road trip. Would you like to tag along?”
“Is Hell a location you’ll hit? If so, fuck off and go by yourself!”
I sigh. “Red.”
She walks back over to me and looks me in the eyes, hands splayed on the counter. “Motherfucking Grey.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Has anyone told you you have quite a sailor mouth?”
“Has anyone told you suck a big fat dick?” she says in a sweet voice, a smile gracing her lips. She looks creepy, scary even, with a smile. I’m so used to seeing her scowling. It’s weird as fuck.
“No, but I’m sure you hear that more often than me,” I sass.
She narrows her eyes with a sigh. “The fuck were you saying again?”
“Road trip. You and me.” I pop a cherry from a bowl into my mouth, chewing slowly as I wait for her response.
Her brows furrow. “Why not go with your girlfriend?”
I swallow harshly. “I’m going in spite of her.”
“What’d she do? Fake the big O? Wouldn’t be surprised.” She shrugs nonchalantly.
“You are such a bitch.” I shake my head playfully.
She shrugs again. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun,” I croon, bouncing my eyebrows.
She rolls her eyes and stares at the counter. “Will we be passing through Washington?”
What the fuck is in Washington she wants to visit?
“Sure.”
She sucks on her lower lip for a few seconds, deep in thought. Finally, she gives in and shrugs. “Why not? My shift’s over in an hour. Wait for me.” She pops a cherry in her mouth, then walks over to a customer.
My throat tightens at the thought of Liv finding out about my little trip. I won’t do anything with Red or anything. Bleh. The girl’s too bitchy and mean for me to even wanna think about betraying Liv. I’ll just be clearing my mind and giving what my girl deserves and I can give—space from me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Liv
“Olivia?” Delilah’s soft-like-butter voice yanks me out of deep thought I’d been in for about five minutes. I look up from the photo of Grey and me, set it down, and refocus my attention onto the assistant. Her baby-blue eyes rake my face, searching for what held my attention so adamantly.
“Wha—yes?” I clear the surprise in my voice. I didn’t hear her knock or see her in general, and she’s the type of woman that grabs all of your attention. The girl’s like a beam of light, the most attractive kind you could think of, actually. So how long had she been standing there without me knowing?
“Garrett would like to speak to you,” she says, and I nod and stand up from the desk. I walk around it and walk toward her, noticing her eyes doing a little scan of my body and face, still searching for an answer I’ll never give her. “I’ve been calling your name for a few minutes,” she adds, and I blush with embarrassment.
I must have looked so foolish, deep in a daze, daydreaming like a child, when, in reality, I was wondering if my boyfriend’s in the middle of a mental breakdown.
“Sorry, I was thinking about something…with the work,” I lie and gesture to the computer behind me as I exit the office. I feel a little unstable since I’ve been glued to my seat, trying to saddle the work and keep myself from starting up the Train of Thought. But to no avail, I’d been caught red-handed. Well, Grey-handed if we want to be technical with the photo.
“Right.” She smiles a small smile, obviously not believing me, but too nice to call it out.
She guides us to Garrett’s office, leaving us with one final concerned scan. Garrett almost immediately pounces on me with his wide grin and booming personality, informing me of projects coming up for the rest of the team who hadn’t chosen the NY deal, which is practically the entire small few he’d picked.
Between Lily and me, we were the only ones who were still thinking about it. I don’t know why she hasn’t jumped at the chance. Maybe she doesn’t have the funds to move and to deal with longer hours and more experience of a huge, bustling city with a five year old? But me? I can easily say yes right then and there and buy a cake to celebrate.
The only thing stopping me from doing so was Grey, who just packed a bag and left without any notice or any real reason. He said he was going to do some “fighting.” Then how do you explain the crime scene of a breakdown in the bathroom? And he hasn’t contacted me back, hasn’t answered any of my concerned text messages. Something is wrong, but he won’t let me in. It has me frustrated and makes me want to rip my heart out.
It’s like when I first met him. He was closed off, cold, reserved, and filled with so many emotions, but he wouldn’t let me in. He had built a steel wall and, despite my attempts to burn it down the closer I got to him, he kept me on the other side of the wall. Leaving him by himself in the cold, dark nothing. I had enough light for us both, and I still do. But he’d rather wallow in the empty space by himself instead of letting me in to help him.
He can be so…ugh! So damn irritating. Getting him to open up is like pulling out gray hair. I tug and pluck the pesky hair out, but another one pops up, never giving me enough time to revel in my accomplishment. It’s the same with his emotions. I can never subside one before getting hit with another, just in time for me to backtrack to where I started.
I know I sound like a bitch, but I just wish he’d be normal. Not in the sense of him not having Bipolar Disorder, but in the sense of him being straight with me regarding his feelings. I want to feel excited about the NY deal. I want to rush home and jump into his arms and tell him all about it, down to every last detail. I want us to go to New York this weekend like we planned and dream of waking up to honking taxi cabs, complain while riding the subways, fight over where we go for a date night. I just want a nice, normal, uncomplicated relationship. Too bad I can’t get anything as simple with Grey.
I sigh heavily.
“Sorry, am I boring you?” Garrett says, sounding offended and pissed off.
I jolt up in the leather chair, staring wide-eyed at his narrowed blue-steel eyes and bouncing right knee. “N-no, I am sorry. I just…I’m a little distracted up here.” I tap my temple shyly, voice small and throat tight. How smart of me to doze off as my boss talks to me about important topics. Very intelligent, Olivia!
He sighs and shrugs. “What has you so wrapped up in your thoughts that you zone me out completely?”
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.
“Because I was just talking about how much I’ve been praising you to the guys over in New York. Not the others, but you. About how you are so bright you appear to be the next valedictorian in school.” He leans forward, the leather of his rolling chair and expensive pantsuit scraping against filling the air like static. “Should I retract what I said?”
“N-no. You shouldn’t. I am so very sorry, Garrett,” I stutter softly, cheeks red and skin prickled with goosebumps. I don’t feel comfortable. He notices because his almond eyes glance at my hand rubbing my arm, and he backs up to sit in his chair, covering his mouth with his large hand. The air crackles like live wires hang from the twenty-foot ceiling. The arms of the clock behind me tick-tick, causing the hair on the back of my neck rise like the back of a spooked cat.
His hand falls, revealing the crooked and wide smile of a villain, blue-gray eyes shining like quarters under the sun. “Just keep focused and we won’t have any problems.”
I internally shudder at the simmering meaning beyond his words, and I rise to my fee
t, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “I promise to keep concentrated on the work.”
He rises to his feet and leans forward on his hands, eyes searing through me. “Do that, Miss Westerfield.” I hate the way he says my name.
I just smile before deftly exiting the massive office and his Cheshire-like smile. I catch Delilah by the elevator, clicking a pen while reading over a file in a folder. Unable to rid myself of the bumps coating my skin, I walk over to her and ask her in a low voice, “He is a good boss…right?” I know I sound insane and paranoid—I asked her this before—but I have a strange feeling about that man. Something is not right in his head.
She looks up from her folder, and her baby-blues shine for a second before she asks, “What do you mean?”
“Garrett.” I glance over my shoulder just to make sure he isn’t there, watching or over-hearing. I clear my throat and add in a very hushed tone, “He doesn’t strike you as…weird or anything?”
She lets out a little bubble laugh and strings her brows together. “Are you sure you’re cleared to come back to work, because you’re sounding a tad bit looney.” Her tone is playful, but I’m not playing around. She seems like a sweet girl. I wouldn’t want her to be involved in something heinous, as my mind is conjuring up nasty, worrisome thoughts.
“I’m being serious, Delilah,” I breathe. “Has Garrett done anything…?” I let the sentence hang, letting her draw her own conclusion.
“Garrett? He’s harmless.” She rolls her eyes dismissively.
I hum, doing my own soul-searching using my eyes. Light freckles, long lashes, powder blue eyes, and a set of curved full lips. No signs of someone being victimized. Her brows raise, and I back off. Mortified I’d assumed Garrett was…doing things to her, I mumble a quick, “Sorry,” and dash off to my office.
Once locked safely inside, I plop myself in my chair and drop my head on the desk.
“What is wrong with me?” I utter.
A sudden vibration under me stops my heart for a second. I sit up like I’ve been shocked with electricity and pick up my phone. I swipe open the screen and feel my heart do a little dance. A text from Grey! I haven’t gotten in touch with him ever since he left, which was two days ago. The little fucker! When he gets back from doing God knows what, I will rip his balls off and freeze them…then I’ll kiss his face and be happy he’s safe.
I’m happy to be hearing from him until I actually read the text.
Grey: I’m getting your fucking Sun Chips, Red. Stop fucking asking!!!
“Red?” I question.
Red is with him? Ice slowly runs through my veins, and then boiling hot water splashes on me. All at once, I am pissed from the heavens to hell, and the trip doesn’t clear my head one bit. You’re telling me he took some girl he barely knows, I barely know, and is touring the fucking US as far as I know? Are you serious? Enraged and hurt, I throw my phone across the room.
It almost hits Lily as she walks in.
“Whoa.” She runs behind her, grabs my phone, and enters. “Drop something?” she jokes lightly.
I just groan and drop my head onto the desk.
“What’s up, girl? That time of the month?”
I grumble as a response.
She rubs my hair soothingly. “Having a chocolate craving? I get them at least once a day.” I peek through my arms and look up at her. She reaches inside her velvet dress, fishing out a chocolate bar. “If I don’t get my fill, I go berserk. Remember that time I knocked out William?”
“Yeah.” I perk up and let out a deep breath, pursing my mouth. “I thought he stole something of yours.”
“Yes.” She leans over to me, holding the exposed bar. “My patience,” she whispers.
I laugh a little and break off a piece of the bar. I chew sadly, thinking of that text. I know he didn’t mean to send it to me, and that alone hurts like a bitch. But he’s alone with a girl I don’t know, doing God knows what. I know he’d never cheat on me, but still. A girl!
“Here you go, girl. I got you.” She holds out some more chocolate, and I mouth a “thank you” and eat some more.
We do this for a few minutes, her feeding me chocolate and me accepting like the pathetic girl I am. I just don’t know what else to do but sulk and keep the anger down to avoid bursting into red hot flames like Lily did with William. I’m afraid if I let my Hulk go, I’ll never to get her back in her cage. She’s reserved for special, rare occasions. But this might be one of those times.
“So you gonna tell me why you threw your phone like a crazy person?” she says, nudging my shoulder with a small smile. I like her. She’s so nice. Not with William or anyone else in the office, but with me especially.
I simply unlock my phone that now has a single crack running in the middle and stare into space with my balled-up fists under my chin.
“Oh hell motherfucking no!” she yells, jumping to her feet. She puts my phone down and storms over to the door.
“Where are you going?” I sit up.
She shoots a scowl over her shoulder as she rips the door open. “For more chocolate and a gun. One is easier to access, and you do not want to know which it is!” she replies, leaving me shocked and jaw-slacked. Is she kidding?
“Could it please be the chocolate?” I say more to myself, then, for the umpteenth time, let my head drop.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“The balls of this man. Fucking monumental. Brass fucking balls, man!” Jaimie seethes through gritted teeth while waving a butcher knife around. I duck subconsciously when it gets a little too close to me despite my being two feet away from her. “I. Will. Chop. Them. Off!” She plunges the blade through the tomato with each word. “How dare he…” She trails off her cursing through her thick Puerto Rican. She never really speaks the language that often, though, never found a reason to unless she needed to with someone who spoke it and not English. But I guess she found an exception for this moment.
I look over at Julia, unsettled by Jaimie’s eruption like she’s a great volcano. But she just nods at me and looks completely unfazed. I bet Jaimie spits curses around her more often than she does out and about and is used to it by now. She gives me a wink as if to say, “That’s my girl,” and takes a huge chunk out of her juicy red apple.
“Your boyfriend has big balls.” She clarifies what Jaimie has been ranting about for twenty minutes now as she makes dinner. I’ve offered to help her, but she says she’s too worked up and would rather work alone so she could wave her “weapon of choice” without hurting her Bambi. Her exact words, of course. But I don’t mind, looking at what’s occurring in front of me. I’d hate to stand her up on a date, wow. She’d sucker punch me with a knife.
Again, I look over at Julia. She just shrugs and whistles. Actually, looking kind of in love with the way Jaimie’s cursing like a sailor on crack, waving her knife around like a spear. Just throw a captain’s hat on her, a wooden leg, and a pipe and she’s Sailor Don’t-Fuck-With-Me Willy. The image causes me to laugh a little, and she shoots me an unstable, evil glare. My cheeks blushed, I raise my shoulders and look at the granite counters.
“This is not funny, Olivia,” she says firmly. Ooh, she said my real name. This means big business. I must be smiling, because those flirtatious dark brown eyes are on me again, and so is the knife. Well, it’s pointed at me. But I can practically feel it digging into my skin. “Dejar de reír.” (Stop laughing.)
“Sorry,” I mumble, cupping my cold tea. I bring it up to my lips and take a sip.
“You should be pissed. Why aren’t you pissed?” She sets the knife down and slides the chicken in the oven.
I shrug, avoiding their curious eyes. “I am mad, very. But more so confused and hurt.”
“Then why aren’t you out there hunting his ass down, so you can chop his brass balls off?” Julia asks, sounding genuinely confused. I glance at Jaimie, who’s nodding as if to agree.
I sigh. “I don’t—there’s nothing I can do.” I take another sip.
<
br /> “There is something you can do,” Jaimie says.
“And what is that?” I put the mug down and meet her sympathetic eyes. Her girlfriend wears the same sullen expression, sad for their poor little Bambi. “He’s not answering his calls, and I went down to the bar to find out more about Red and get her number, but the manager won’t release that information to me. So what do you want me to do other than wait until he comes back?”
“Stop being a pathetic bitch.” Julia shrugs noncommittally.
My jaw slacks at her words and cracks a little more when Jaimie begins laughing. “That isn’t—what’s that even supposed to mean? How—I am not pathetic!”
Am I…?
“You are!” they shout simultaneously.
I cower back a little, huffing out a breath of agreement. “I am.” I take another sip of the tea, my favorite, lavender. Grey makes them for me whenever I’m feeling down or ill or am just craving it. He can be the sweetest when he lets his guard down…
The tea is snatched from my hands and poured down the sink.
“Hey!” I smack the counter, cringing as the glorious beverage slurps down the drain. “What the heck?”
“You are better than this. Crying over some asshole who whisked a hot blonde off to the Bahamas,” she scolds me, pointing an accusing finger at me.
“Bahamas?” I question the same time Julia barks, “Hot?”
She rolls her eyes and fishes her phone out of her back pocket, then taps on it before shoving it in front of Julia’s face. It’s Red’s Instagram page. Thankfully, there are no compromising pictures of her or any clues where she and Grey might be. I already checked.
“Oh…hot.” Julia smirks, earning a low growl from her girlfriend. “You called her that first!”
“Not the point!” Jaimie counters.
“Ugh.” I groan and let my head drop to the counter. Red. Grey. The damn color-name duo. I wonder what they’re doing right now. Is it right that I am mentally stabbing both of their eyes out with searing hot pitch forks…?
Grey: New Beginnings (Spectrum Series Book 5) Page 24