Taking Her

by Banks, R. R.

  “I'm sure he will,” I say. “For somebody else.”

  “Why must you be so difficult?” he asks. “Why must you fight me on this so hard?”

  “Why must you push me so hard to get involved with somebody I despise?”

  He runs a hand over his face and sighs. “I need this to work out, Zoe,” he says. “I need you and Bryant to work out. I just need –”

  “Why?” I ask. “Why do you need this to work out?”

  He opens his mouth as if he's going to give me an answer, but then closes it again, seeming to think better of it. He looks away from me, and I can see, plain as day, that he's hiding something. That there is some ulterior motive at play here.

  “What aren't you telling me, dad?”

  He shakes his head. “I just think having a man like Bryant in your life would be good for you, is all,” he replies softly.

  “Does what I want or what I feel count for anything in your plan?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Of course, it does,” he says. “But, you're so busy fighting me, you often don't know what's in your best interest, honey. You refuse to get to know Bryant because of your need to defy me.”

  The condescension and dismissiveness of me as a living, breathing, thinking person – as a woman who knows what she does and doesn’t want – fills me with a fury I can't even put into words. The fact that he can turn this around on me – as usual – and make it all about him, makes me want to hit him with something hard and heavy.

  My life is not about him. It's about me and what I want. What I need. Just because I'm his daughter doesn't mean he knows what's best for me. It doesn't mean he gets to interfere in every part of my life, or make every decision for me.

  I know I've lived like that to this point. I've ceded all control to him and have never once thought about what was in my own best interest. I've always let him take the lead, and I've followed behind like the obedient and submissive little girl he taught me to be.

  The depth of my disgust for my father right now is only rivaled by my disgust for myself. Suddenly, everything Izzy has said over the years – and what Connor said at lunch – hits me with the impact of a train. I finally get it. Like, really and truly get it, all the way down to my bones.

  “You'd be lucky to have a man like Bryant,” my father continues. “He's smart. Hard working. Successful –”

  “He's also a condescending, arrogant jerk,” I say. “He's sexist and –”

  “Let's not start with the name-calling,” my father threatens, his face darkening, his voice tight with anger. “He's old-fashioned, yes. But, some women would love to have a man take care of them the way he wants to do for you.”

  “I don't want to be taken care of, Dad,” I hiss. “I want to live my life the way I see fit.”

  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I would like you to apologize to him for the incident at the restaurant,” he says. “He didn't deserve that.”

  “Yes, he did,” I snap. “And no, I will not apologize. He deserved it. He deserved a lot more than that. He's lucky I only had a glass of water at hand.”

  My father shakes his head. “I just don't understand you, Zoe,” he says. “Bryant cares about you. All he wants is for you to care about him. You two are perfect for each other.”

  “We're not even close to being perfect,” I say. “We're not in the same universe as perfect and you know that –”

  My office door flies open again and Bryant walks in, shutting it behind him, his eyes fixated on mine.

  “Oh, gee, sure,” I say, “come on in without knocking or invitation. It's not like it's my private office or anything.”

  My father stares at me blankly, an aggravated look on his face. Bryant just glowers at me from the corner of the room. The weight of having both their glances trained on me is heavy. Oppressive. Their disapproval of my recent actions has almost a physical mass to it. All I want is to get out of here and be somewhere I'm not going to be judged or told what to do and how to do it. All I want is for these two assholes to leave me alone.

  “Where are we with Grigson?” my father finally asks, deciding to retreat from the conversation about Bryant and live to fight another day. “Has he accepted the settlement?”

  “Not yet,” I reply, trying to sound confident in the lie. “But, I think we may be making headway.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Bryant snipes.

  I scoff. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Bryant?”

  “Bryant,” my father says. “She says she didn't do it and I believe her. My daughter would never betray my trust in her like that.”

  “With all due respect, what I saw in the garage –”

  “Enough, Bryant,” he says.

  The note of warning in my father’s voice is the first I’ve ever heard directed towards Bryant. Bryant's face darkens and his brow furrows as he looks at me. If we were actually together, I'd probably get a beating when we got home.

  “What sort of headway have you made, Zoe?” my father asks.

  I clear my throat and realize that I've already started the lie and now, I have no choice but to go all in with it. I don't like lying and I've never been any good at it. Trying to come up with a story on the fly like this is making my stomach roil, but I don’t really have a choice in the matter. They've backed me into a corner this time.

  “He wanted all of the particulars because he said he's working on a counter-proposal with his lawyer,” I say.

  “That's crap,” Bryant says. “He's stringing us along.”

  “Zoe?”

  I shrug. “I don't know,” I say. “He seemed sincere.”

  “Right,” Bryant says, earning another stern look from my father.

  “Fine,” my father says. “I want you to wait a few days, Zoe, and then go see Mr. Grigson again. Tell him he has twenty-four hours to accept the proposal or we'll proceed to trial.”

  “Ryan, I don't think that's a good idea. I don't think we can trust Zoe with this man,” Bryant says. “We should use a courier to avoid any potential conflict.”

  My father shakes his head. “She has a rapport with him,” he says. “I'm not going to send you. From what I gather, your encounter with him was hostile, and I know he won't like me there. And we really need him to settle this case.”

  I think back to what Bryant told me about my father's financial struggles, and it being the reason for him pushing so hard to settle this case. And again, I wonder, how he can be having financial problems. Where is the money going?

  “Ryan, I –”

  “It's imperative Grigson settles this case,” my father cuts Bryant off. “Like it or not, Zoe is the only one able to seal this deal for us.”

  “In more ways than one, I'm sure,” Bryant mutters.

  “Screw you, Bryant,” I snap.

  “Not until you wash the stink of that Irish prick off you,” he counters.

  “Please,” I say. “I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man on the planet. I'd rather shove a burning cactus in my –”

  “Enough!” my father roars. “Both of you. You sound like goddamn children. I'm sick of it.”

  We both fall silent. My dislike of Bryant has morphed into outright hatred. I've always tried to be the kind of person who doesn't hate people. I view it as a waste of emotion, time, and energy. But, when it comes to Bryant, I'm willing to make that sacrifice.

  “Fine,” Bryant says. “But, I would suggest you send someone with her.”

  “A chaperone, Bryant?” I scoff. “Seriously?”

  My father nods. “I agree,” he says. “We don't want to give the slightest hint of impropriety.”

  I shake my head and sigh. “Fine,” I say. “I'll take Jenna.”

  “Why don't you take my assistant, Leon,” Bryant says.

  Right. It'd be just as intolerable as having Bryant there himself.

  “Look,” I say. “You said you need me to close this deal. That he won't work with either one of you. So, since that's th
e case, you don't get to tell me who I take as my second. I'm drawing a goddamn line in the sand right here, right now. If you don't like it, get it done yourselves. I really don't give a shit.”

  “Zoe, language!” my father yells. “What's gotten into you?”

  “I'd say she’s got a little Irish in her recently,” Bryant sneers.

  Asshole.

  He continues, “I also still think this is a waste of time. I don't think he's actually going to take a deal.”

  “Why would Connor string this out? What would he have to gain?” my father asks.

  “Oh, well, I don't know,” he says. “Maybe so he can keep banging Zoe? Smarmy fucker.”

  “Bryant,” my father snaps. “I said that's enough. Go wait for me in my office.”

  Bryant hesitates and stands there, scowling at me.

  “Now,” my father commands.

  Looking every bit the petulant child, Bryant turns and walks out of my office, slamming the door behind him. I lean back in my chair, my heart racing. My father looks at me, his expression serious.

  “Do you think he's stringing us along?” he asks. “Do you think this is all in good faith?”

  I want to tell him that our proposal to Connor isn't being done in anything close to resembling good faith, so we really can't expect it from him. It's not like we have the moral high ground here. My father has steered us firmly away from that and over the edge into the unethical. Maybe even illegal.

  And, oh yeah, if I tell him Connor is seriously considering the proposal, that would be a lie too. I knew from the day we first met Connor that he wasn't going to take any sort of settlement. I can't really blame him. My father is trying to screw him. We all know it.

  “I really don't know, Dad,” I say. “I can only report what I've seen.”

  He nods, as close to satisfied as he's going to get. He stands and walks to the door, pausing in the open doorway. He turns back to me and gives me a small smile, and suddenly looks old to me. Like he's aged twenty years since he walked through my office door. More than that, he looks tired.

  “You'd be lucky to have a man like Bryant, honey,” he says again, making one last effort to convince me. “He'll never –”

  I raise a hand and cut him off. “I'm done talking about this, Dad.”

  He nods and closes the door behind him. I lean back in my chair and let out a long sigh of relief. I'd done it. I'd stood up to him. I'd stood up for myself. For the first time in my life, I put myself first and asserted my own wants and desires. Told him what I would not tolerate. And my father had backed off. He'd dropped it. And as a bonus, I got to tell both him and Bryant off.

  A soft smile touches my lips as I bask in my newfound courage and strength. I feel good – I feel great, actually.

  It makes the rest of the day – even my interactions with Bryant – tolerable.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Connor

  It's been a few of days since our lunch date, and I've been dying to see her again. It's like every time I see her, it only makes me want to spend more time with her. And it's not even all about the sex – although, I'm not going to lie, that is a huge bonus.

  Mostly though, it's just about being around her. She's unlike anyone I've ever met. Something about Zoe goddamn Nichols helps fill the void in me. It’s unexpected and downright terrifying, but I want to be with her. Desperately. And not just for sex. I want to be with her.

  Every time I've tried to call her at the office, she's refused to speak to me. The one time I did manage to get through, I invited her out for lunch and she said no. Flat out. And then hung up on me.

  After not being able to focus enough to work on recording a few new solo tracks, I move into my art studio and sit on the stool, staring at the blank canvas in front of me. My eyes can’t help but drift to the painting of Zoe, filling my mind with thoughts of her once more.

  My phone rings and I glance at the display screen. When I see the call is coming from Nichols and Associates, I feel my heart leap into my throat.

  I quickly stab the button and press the phone to my ear, anticipating the silky-smooth sound of Zoe's voice – and find myself sorely disappointed.

  “Mr. Grigson?” a woman – not Zoe – asks.

  “Yes, this is Connor Grigson,” I say.

  “Good morning. My name is Jenna Kapinski, and I'm an associate of Ms. Nichols,” she says. “I'm calling to schedule an appointment with you.”

  An appointment? Not exactly a lunch date, but it would seem to mean a chance to see Zoe again. Why did she have her assistant call to schedule the appointment though?

  “Sure,” I say. “I'd love to.”

  “Does tomorrow at eleven-thirty work for you, Mr. Grigson?”

  “Sounds lovely,” I say. “I'll look forward to it.”

  “Very good, sir,” she says, her tone clipped and professional. “We'll see you then.”

  She ends the call, leaving me to stare at my phone with an excited swelling feeling in my heart. I get to see Zoe tomorrow. Finally. This pleases me greatly – and apparently has the added benefit of helping me refocus my mind. I'm able to start working on a new piece that's going to be sold at a benefit auction in a few weeks.

  After about an hour of working, I can see the canvas is beginning to take shape. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I think it's coming along well so far. I'm satisfied with the progress at this point. I wipe my hands on a rag and am about to leave and get some coffee when my phone rings again – this time the call is coming from a blocked number. Hopefully, it's not Zoe's office calling to cancel.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Grigson,” a man's voice says.

  I know this voice from somewhere. I recognize it but can't quite put my finger on it.

  “Yes?” I reply.

  “I'm going to give you some prudent advice,” the man says. “It would be in your best interest to stay away from Zoe Nichols.”

  That's when I figure out who it is – Bryant Brooks. Stupid twat.

  “And why would I want to do that?” I ask.

  “Because, she's mine,” he replies.

  A wry chuckle escapes me. “I know I'm not some fancy lawyer in a thousand-dollar suit,” I say. “But, the last time I checked, it’s illegal to own another person. Which would seem to make your claim that she's yours, ring a little hollow, don't you think, mate?”

  “I'm not fucking with you, Grigson,” he says, his voice tight with anger. “Leave her alone. She is mine.”

  The insecurity and fear I hear in his voice – which he's trying to disguise as toughness and machismo – only serves to amuse me.

  “It must be hard to be such a small man,” I say.

  “Fuck you.”

  “It's got to be even harder knowing that Zoe, beautiful woman that she is, would rather go skydiving without a parachute than being alone in the same room with you,” I say. “That's got to feel real killer, mate. I want to feel bad for you, but I just – well – don't.”

  “You’ll never be able to give her what she needs, you junkie piece of shit,” he says. “She deserves better.”

  “That’s probably true on all counts,” I admit. “But, junkie or not, I'm still twice the man you are. And Zoe knows that.”

  I step out onto the back deck with the phone pressed to my ear. I take a couple of deep breaths, enjoying the crisp, sweet morning air. The scent of the vineyards is thick on the breeze and helps settle my nerves. I'm calm and collected on the outside, but inside, I'm boiling. My blood is hot, and I want nothing more than to punch this prick in the face.

  “You're a low-class piece of shit,” he says. “A fancy house and a lot of money will never change that, Grigson.”

  “That’s also true,” I say. “Unlike you though, I've learned from my mistakes. And I strive to be a decent person and make our world a better place. I do have a question for you though – does old man Nichols know you're making this call? Or are you freelancing here? Because, I have to tell you, thi
s is a really piss-poor negotiating tactic if you're trying to get me to settle your little case with Jay Hill.”

  “Please. You and I both know you've never been serious about this settlement,” he spits. “The old man wants to give you one more chance before we take you to trial though. I told him you're just wasting our time, and that –”

  “Want to hear something interesting?” I interrupt him.

  “Nothing you can say would remotely interest me.”

  “Well, I've been doing a little research of my own,” I say. “Extortion and racketeering, in particular. And did you know, in New York some years back, a prestigious law firm got busted for trying to force people into settlements even though they knew their case was fraudulent? People went to jail, lost their licenses to practice – it was quite the big deal. Interesting, huh, mate?”

  He's silent for so long, I become worried that he’s hung up. What would be the fun in that? But, then Bryant clears his throat. I must have hit pretty close to home. I can almost hear his guts churning in his belly from here.

  “It's quite interesting,” he says. “And it would be a shame if Zoe had to go to prison because of you.”

  “Actually,” I say. “I think it would be because of you. Well, you and her old man. I'm sure you both cooked up this little scheme together. Unfortunately for Zoe, she’s collateral damage. But, that would be on your ass, as well as that piece of shit she calls a father. I can't see her willingly throwing in with a couple of tossers like you. She's better than you. Better than all three of us, actually.”

  “You are awfully judgmental for a man who used to drop fifty grand a month on heroin,” he snarls.

  “Is that really all you have against me, Bryant? That I'm an addict?” I ask. “That's years in the past, mate. I've moved on from it and so should you. There are far better reasons for you to hate me, aren't there?”

  “I'm sure there are.”

  “Like, for instance, the fact that I've gotten a taste of something you never will,” I say. “And I'm sure it really burns your ass to know that, doesn't it?”