by Piper Rayne
“You better.” He stands up, throws his coffee cup in the trash and sits down at his desk.
I follow waiting for instructions.
“What?” He looks up. “Go and do some work now.” He shoos me away. “And I don’t want some temp. Get me someone that’s not going to leave me high and dry next month.”
I nod, exiting his office and taking a deep breath before calling Human Resources to officially put in my resignation.
Jagger’s right though, I need to tell Pete.
Chapter 2 - Clean Slate
Bonus Material
I take a seat at the empty table in the restaurant Pete insisted we go to since we both love Mexican food. While I’m waiting for him I take in the décor and contemplate if we’re even compatible in our food choices anymore. The white linen napkins and plush seating doesn’t hold any resemblance to the street tacos we’d devour back in college.
“Tequila?” the waitress holds out the bottle for my viewing.
“Not tonight, thank you.” I shake my head and she takes the shot glass away.
I pull my phone out, annoyed by Pete’s tardiness. I guess in the past couple of years since we’ve been divorced, the part of me that was accustomed to his lateness shed like snake’s skin.
I pull up Facebook and see that a few of my friends have posted some new pictures of their babies and their husbands—all smiling faces and adoring words.
“Crock of shit,” I mutter, shutting down my phone before I hammer a post back about how many people lie on there. It’s basically the highlight reel of anyone’s life. And only the good parts. No one posts about how their spouse leaves his dirty socks laying around or how he eats chips in bed.
“You talking about this place?” Pete asks, sliding into the chair across from me.
His suit jacket is gone, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows.
“You didn’t come from work?”
He takes the napkin, lays it on his lap and raises his hand to signal the waitress. “I did.”
I remind myself that it’s none of my business why he looks so relaxed.
“Oh.”
The waitress comes over, holding the same bottle of tequila.
“Please,” Pete says and then eyes me.
“None for me.”
He nods and focuses his attention on the cute blonde ready to serve him. “She’s in AA.”
I don’t even justify his lame joke with a response or an argument that I’m not. I also fail to mention I don’t drink because I’m the one going home to our daughter tonight.
The waitress pours his tequila shot, he downs one and she pours another.
“What are we in college again?” I ask.
He downs the second one just for good measure, his eyes never leaving mine the entire time. He can stop with the ‘you can’t control me’ act. I was never so grateful as to be fired from that job two years ago.
The waitress goes to pour a third, but he covers the glass with his hand.
“That’s good, thanks.”
“Turning into a light weight in your older years?” I smirk.
“Don’t want us waking up in the morning together.” He winks.
I pretend choke like I’m going to vomit. “Sober or drunk that’s not going to happen. Go ahead and have a third.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He removes his hand from the shot glass. “You heard the lady,” he says to the waitress with a charming smile and she pours one more before walking away. I’m sure she’s wondering why table seventeen is so weird.
He sips his drink this time, then places it down. “So, why have you summoned me here tonight? Jade and I stayed in last weekend and watched movies. I brought no women home and other than overdosing on pixie sticks, I was a good boy.” His lips tick up in that playful smile that once drew me to him.
“She came home raving about the fort you made. You actually slept on the floor?” I pretend to peruse the menu, even though I figured out what I wanted half an hour ago since Pete can’t tell time.
“In the middle of the night I snuck up onto the couch and before she woke up, I moved back down to the floor, but that’s our secret. I made a pact with her.”
“Go figure you not keeping good on a pact.”
The playfulness drops from his face and his gaze holds mine. “Below the belt, Clarke.”
I nod. He’s right. “I’m sorry.”
The cocky smile that gets him more pussy than I care to know about snaps back into place. “So?” he picks up his menu, glancing over it.
I twist the cloth napkin in my fingers. “Remember how I went to Chicago?”
He puts the menu down and focuses in on me. The lawyer in him tipping him off that what I have to say is pertinent and it’s almost ingrained in him to listen.
“Yes.”
“My mom…the diagnosis came back, and she has Multiple Sclerosis.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry.”
Pete and my mom have never gotten along, but I know he understands what it took for me to move from Chicago to L.A. with him in the beginning of our marriage. And since he can still read me, I don’t even have to broach the subject we’re here to discuss.
“You want to move back?” he asks, his hand sliding across the table to his glass. He downs it and then raises his hand as the waitress is walking by. “Whiskey neat.”
Once she leaves to fill his order, he starts playing with the fork, flipping and turning it over.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” His voice has lost the boisterous tone it usually bears.
“I hate to ask, but with your hours…”
His palm goes up to stop me, which I do. “I know I can’t keep her here. That week you were gone proved that. Until I find my next wife, which will be never, I can’t have Jade full-time and have my career.”
If someone other than me were sitting across from him, they’d probably think that was a horrible statement for a father to say, but truth is, Pete knows who he is, and he doesn’t apologize for it. He’s a workaholic defense attorney who works unhealthy hours. His only true time off is during the two weekends a month when he has Jade.
“I know it will be difficult, but I think it’ll be good for Jade to be surrounded by the rest of her family. Besides this’ll get you back in Chicago to see your parents more often and I’m sure they’ll like that.”
“Quit while you’re ahead, Vic.” He gives me a sad smile. “Have you found a job yet?”
I glance down at the table for a second. “Not yet.”
“There’s always McDonalds to fall back on.”
“You know I can’t cook.” I break the somber mood quickly overtaking our table. “Or grill.” I add, and we share a smile, both remembering our grill catching on fire on the patio of the house we shared when we were married. Needless to say, we never owned a grill again and Pete decided when people come over for dinner we cater.
The waitress sets the drink next to the shot glass. “Did you need a few minutes?”
“I think I lost my appetite.” Pete hands her the menu.
“Come on. If you’re going to drink that much.” I eye his filled glass. “Then you’re going to eat food. You brought me here, tell me what’s good.”
Okay, I admit it. I’m playing him. You don’t go through a marriage like ours, one where you practically grew up together and not know what can turn a night around. Pete suggested this restaurant to show off. He loves to order for people, watch them eat something he was certain they’d like. I tell him I’m moving his daughter over two-thousand miles away and I’m letting him do what he loves. It’s a win-win situation for both of us.
He studies me for a second and I’m double guessing my tactic before he finally speaks.
“We want all tacos.” He smiles and then orders what’s clearly more food than we’ll consume.
“How long are we going to be here?” I ask once the waitress has left to tell the kitchen table seventeen will need barf bags
included with their meals.
“Deal is if you want my daughter, you eat all the tacos.” There’s not one wrinkle of amusement on his face. Although, I’ve never really gotten the lawyer side of Pete the entire time I’ve known him, I can’t help but think this is what he looks like when he’s negotiating at work.
“Deal.”
A smile cracks his composure and he shakes his head. “I always did hate your tenacity.”
“I hate the way you turn everything into a negotiation.” I smile back at him.
He nods understanding our own secret language. Usually I’d leave it at that, but the fact that he’s allowing me to take Jade away says what kind of a man Pete really is and as much as I hate having to say the words, he deserves to hear them. “Thank you, Pete.”
He nods again. “You just better make me up a room because we’re going to have some sleepovers.”
“Done.”
Chapter 3 - Clean Slate
Bonus Material
The next day at the office, my stomach isn’t sinking to depths I didn’t know it had. I’m leisurely going through emails, flipping through some resumes that Heather from HR sent over that she kept on file. Not that I have the final say, but Jagger being Jagger has told Heather that everyone will be cleared by me before he sees them.
I swear, that man.
It’s ten o’clock and Jagger hasn’t called to tell me he’s not coming in or going to be late. I have to remember that the schedule the man used to keep has been knocked off its axis by a pretty brunette.
The elevator dings and I wait to see who rounds the corner. There’s my boss in his usual three-piece suit. I’m not going to lie, Jagger is a good-looking guy, but he reminds me way too much of Pete.
“Good morning.” He inserts his key into the lock on his office door.
“You’re being awfully polite.” I stand to follow him in, our normal routine.
“I see you didn’t bring me coffee.” He eyes my hands as he pushes the door open and flicks on the lights.
“I don’t have bad news today.” I laugh, and his nostrils flare a little as he inhales.
Not at the joking stage yet. Got it.
“Lucky for you, the love of my life says I’m being an asshole. Oh, before I forget,” he points at me, “You and Jade, my house in Malibu on Saturday. Quinn wants to have you over.”
“Um.”
He puts his hand up in the air, looking over the messages I had for him. “No excuses. Cancel whatever plans you have. We know the deal, what Quinn wants—”
“Quinn gets.” I finish his sentence and he looks up.
“I knew you were a quick learner.” He sits down at his desk, booting up his laptop. “You should be happy that’s my motto because she also insisted I reach out to someone I know in Chicago.” He nods at me to sit in the chair across from him.
“Reach out?”
“Have you found a job yet?” he asks, his forearms resting on his desk, his hands clasped together. The sunshine through the window glints off his silver wedding ring, which is still so strange to see.
“No.” I clench my hands in my lap.
He shakes his head. “Victoria, Victoria, Victoria.” He pretends to be reprimanding me. “Have I taught you nothing? Secure the job and then give your notice.” His gaze flickers to my pad of paper. “You should jot that down for future reference.”
My pen stays planted in my hand and I wait for whatever he’s going to tell me.
“Before I tell you what Quinn suggested I do—I say suggested because I want you to remember I did it.”
“Noted.”
“I want you to say thank you, Jagger.”
I stare blankly at him. “Let me know what it is and then I’ll thank you.”
The smile falls from his lips. “Disappointing. Maybe I should be happy you’re leaving. I can have an assistant who will actually treat me with respect.”
“Oh, we both know you don’t want that.”
He pretends to narrow his eyes and then faces his computer and starts typing.
“Remember Hannah Crowley?” he asks.
“The investor for Vance’s film?”
Vance is Jagger’s best friend whose script is being made into a movie.
“Yeah. Well, I had been talking with her a few months ago and she decided to start a foundation for…” He eyeballs the ceiling. “Women empowerment or for girls or something I don’t fully remember. Anyway, guess what she needs?”
He asks me like he’s the host of a game show.
“Who is an assistant?” I answer like I’m on Jeopardy, my tone thick with sarcasm. Though I can’t deny the fact that he’s found this out and might be able to get my foot in the door, is what makes him great.
“Ding, ding, ding. Give the woman a prize.”
He spins the laptop around and on the screen is a woman on a couch holding a German Shepherd puppy while she stares down at some paperwork.
“I think you missed your calling in theater, Jag,” she says, her smile warm and welcoming. I see the Skype symbol at the bottom of the screen.
“I’m good at everything, Hannah.” He stands from his desk. “Now excuse me you two, my assistant forgot to bring me in a coffee this morning.” He rounds his desk and I’m speechless. Number one because I wasn’t expecting nor prepared to be interviewed by a potential employer today. Number two because I spilled an apple Danish on my blouse this morning and after spending ten minutes in the woman’s washroom, I have a huge wet spot just over my breast.
Jagger closes the door behind him.
“Hi, Victoria. I’m Hannah.” She waves like we’re long-time pen pals who just got the opportunity to talk online.
“Hi. I’m sorry. I’m not prepared.”
She smiles. “I know. No worries. I told Jagger I didn’t want you prepared. I don’t like all the nervousness and formalities of interviews, not to mention all the prepared answers. I’m kind of an odd duck.” She shrugs while her hand keeps petting the dog who’s now rolled up beside her on the sleek white couch.
“I’m just thankful for this opportunity. So, you’re looking for an assistant?” I adjust the screen to try to hide the wet spot on my blouse.
“I am. I hate to say though, you’ll be more of an office manager as well. We’re starting small. Me, you and a marketing manager, but we’ll have our hands in a lot of business.”
“What is the foundation for?”
“RISE is the name and it stands for Respect, Inspire, Support, Empower. It’s for young girls. My goal is to put programs in place for girls to meet and encourage one another to succeed. To find their own voice and use their own ideas to grow into well rounded women who are true to themselves. I’m probably going to go TMI on you now, but I come from a rich family and I didn’t realize how ridiculous the values I was raised with were until I divorced recently and took a weed wacker to them. My mom taught me to marry well so I didn’t have to work. I was expected to push my own dreams and aspirations aside to boost my husband’s. Can you even believe it?”
She thumbs through her papers.
“This is our logo.” She holds the piece of paper up to the screen.
“I love the whole thing.”
I do, especially when I think of my own daughter, but I want to make sure this is secure.
“Great. So, Jagger didn’t really give me a time frame for when you’re moving here.” She straightens her back, shifting in her seat and the dog stirs next to her.
Surely, I’m not hired?
“Three weeks. I gave my two weeks here and I need a week to pack everything up.”
“You driving out?”
“No, we’re flying. A moving van will be bringing everything a few days later.” Thanks to Pete who volunteered to fly us first class because he didn’t want me to drive Jade across country with no male to protect us. Insert eyeroll, I know.
“Great. That’s perfect timing. One week to get situated in Chicago and then you can start in a month?”
/>
“Hannah, don’t you want to hear about my qualifications?”
She laughs and the dog jumps into her lap. “No. Jagger vouched for you and that’s enough for me. I’m sure working for him is no picnic.” She pushes the dog off her lap. “Lucy!” she scolds, but the dog keeps jumping, her nail snagging Hannah’s sweater. “This thing cost me more than you did!” She screams watching the thread unravel as Lucy hops off the couch, the string still attached to her.
“Before I disrobe here in front of you, I better go. I’m sure my dog is going to relieve herself in my house if I don’t let her out. Jagger mentioned that you have a daughter? I can’t imagine if a dog is this hard to care for, how a human being must be?” She shakes her head and then all I see is her waist. “I’ll get your number and email from Jagger, but welcome to RISE, Victoria.” Her voice starts fading until all that’s in the camera view is the white couch with Hannah having a stern conversation with her dog about etiquette and manners.
I shut the laptop lid and slide back into the leather office chair wondering if that was all a dream. Did he get me a job on his good word alone?
The door clicks open and he whistles on his way back to his desk.
“Done so soon?” he asks, sitting down in his chair across from me with a cup of coffee from the break room. “Why didn’t you tell me about the break room situation?”
I crinkle my forehead.
“It stinks in there. People actually use the microwave?” You’d think someone just dropped a plate of pig’s feet in front of him from the look on his face.
“Not everyone likes to eat out for lunch,” I say.
“Did you know?” He leans forward. “People use actual mugs.”
“Shame on them for caring about the environment.”
“Anyway, how did it go?” he asks, changing the subject because he just mentally scratched off the break room from a place he’ll visit again.
“She hired me,” I mumble, still lost in a daze.
“Now will you say thank you, Jagger?” He leans back in his chair, his hands steepled with an arrogant smile in place.