Leo's Chance

by Mia Sheridan

"Billy!" Christine greets. It’s her nickname for me. Once the rest of the board started calling me "The Kid," she told me she was going to put a badass spin on it and at least add "Billy" to it. "He was a cunning and deadly outlaw," she had whispered, making me laugh. "We’ll hear the tremor in their voices when they call you ‘The Kid’ and we’ll know why." Then she had whistled that Wild West Showdown tune and winked. Truthfully, I hadn’t really minded the nickname, though. "The Kid" is a helluva lot better than "Incompetent Idiot," plus I think it has more to do with age than leadership ability and so I live with it. They all show me respect in the boardroom and I know I’m gaining more of it by the day, even with Gwen’s father, Richard. I don’t want anything I don’t earn.

  "Morning, Christine. How are you?" I ask, smiling.

  "Great. The team is heading into the conference room right now. Coffee and bagels are already out. Your presentation is loaded on the laptop and the screen is down. Reports are at everyone’s places."

  "Thanks, Christine. We’d all be worthless without you."

  "Tell me something I don’t already know," she snorts and I grin at her.

  I drop my stuff off in my office and shoot Evie a text in reply to her thanks.

  Anything for you. Headed in to a meeting. Have a good day/night at work. Can I call you tomorrow?

  What if I say no?

  I grin.

  I'll call you anyway. ;) Have a good day, Evie.

  I’m glad to know that Evie is working tonight. Going to the benefit with Gwen is going to be bad enough as it is. If I knew I could potentially be with Evie instead, it’d be even worse.

  **********

  It’s a pretty uneventful day at the office and I’m able to start getting ready to leave by five o'clock. As I’m heading out, Christine says, "See you in your monkey suit later!" She’s going to the benefit, too. It’ll be nice to have someone there to chat with that I actually like. "Yeah, I’m taking Gwen," I say, grimacing.

  "Why?!" She asks with a look of horror on her face. She’s not exactly Gwen’s number one fan. Gwen has been as much of a rude bitch to her as she is to everyone who she considers "beneath" her. For the tenth time today, I consider suddenly coming down with the stomach flu. I sigh. My loyalty to Seth wins out though and I resign myself, vowing to make it a quick evening, write a big check and be back at home before eleven o'clock. "Because I was trying to make nice and I ended up shooting myself in my own foot," I run my hand down my face, shaking my head.

  "Jake, you don’t need to try to be nice to that girl. I tried for years, every time she’d come by to visit her father, or during the time she had an internship here. She’s just straight nasty, though. You can only be nice to someone for so long before your kindness starts making you feel like a doormat. I sure don’t go out of my way to be her friend anymore. You shouldn’t either. Plus, she doesn’t want to be your friend. You trying just gives her more of an opportunity to get her claws in you."

  I laugh a humorless laugh. "You’re right. On all points." I smile at her. "Your kids are lucky to have a mom like you, you know that? I bet you give them great advice all the time."

  "I give anyone great advice who will listen to it." She winks. "That includes you."

  I grin at her. "Thanks, Christine. I’m glad you’ll be there tonight."

  "Me too, and if you need a break from Phony Baloney, scratch the back of your neck and I’ll pry her off you." She grins.

  I laugh as I gather my stuff up and start walking toward the elevator. "Why am I afraid I’m going to have to take you up on that?"

  **********

  I pull up in front of Gwen’s father’s home in Indian Hill and force myself out of the car. I’d rather be eating a Coney at Skyline alone than going to a catered, black tie dinner with Gwen. No contest. But here I am. Let’s get this over with.

  Even though I’m in a tux, I take the steps that lead up to their home two at a time and knock on the door with the gold, lion head knocker. It makes me think of Evie and I smile. I can’t wait to call her tomorrow and –

  The door swings open and Gwen catches me smiling to myself. Damn it! I do not want to give her the impression this is too pleasant for me. I go serious and say, "Hi, Gwen. You look nice." She looks like Christmas Barbie, swathed in tight, red velvet, adorned in gold jewelry and her hair in a big, blond, swirly up-do.

  "Hey," she says, seductively, leaning against the doorframe. "Wanna come in for a few minutes? My father’s already left for the benefit. We can practice being... friendly–" She raises her eyebrows.

  I clench my jaw. "No, Gwen. I want to get there. As it is, we’ll barely make the end of cocktail hour."

  She doesn’t make any attempt to hide her pout. "Fine," she says on a long sigh. "I’ll just get my coat." She marches off to get it and I remain outside waiting for her.

  She locks up and I open the car door for her and she slides in, making no attempt to pull her dress down when the high slit in it rides indecently high and lets me know she’s not wearing underwear. I turn away quickly, slamming the door behind her. What the fuck? That stomach virus feels imminent.

  "So, Jake," she coos, as I pull onto the street, "where’s the after party? I haven’t seen your new condo yet." I look over at her and she bats her eyelashes, smiling coyly. Did I really go through everything I did, all the hell, all the sessions with Doc, all the surgeries, all the struggles, to be sitting in my car, dying slowly of death by cloying perfume, with this clingy, uninteresting Fembot? Gwen is not the type of person I want as a friend, guilt or no. She’s gotta be cut loose.

  I completely ignore her comment and her blatant disregard for what I told her in my office this week, deciding the best tactic is to change the subject. "So how’s your new job, Gwen?"

  "Pfft," she half hisses, half sighs. "It’s pointless." She studies her nails for a minute, a frown on her face. "Daddy wants me to ‘gain an appreciation for hard work.’ So annoying." She sighs again as if my heart should be breaking for her.

  Jesus, she got a job at a prestigious law firm handed to her on a silver platter because her dad has connections. I’m practically sobbing my eyes out for her hard lot in life. It’s not like I have much room to talk about getting handed a job, but I have the sense enough to know how fucking lucky I am in that regard.

  I think of Evie, working her ass off as a maid, and doing it with dignity. She could teach Gwen a few lessons about an appreciation for hard work. I almost laugh out loud.

  "What else would you do, Gwen? Shop all day?"

  It’s a rude thing to say, but, fuck, people like Gwen piss me off and my patience with her is wearing thin. She’s so wrapped up in herself that she doesn’t realize that the world extends beyond her own petty problems. She’s too shallow to look around and marvel at all the gifts surrounding her, not one of which she actually had to work for. And I’m not even talking about the material wealth, I’m talking about a family, a safe place to land. I would have given my right arm for that, and Gwen complains about it. Fucking clueless.

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  "It’s not a bad thing to support the economy, Jake. My shopping supports jobs. And by the way, do you think looking like this comes easily? I work at looking this amazing. It’s a full time job in itself. There’s highlighting, and waxing, and pumicing, and manicuring, and tanning and–"

  I tune her out after that. Is she for real? Now I remember why I needed to be wasted to hang out with Gwen in the past.

  I turn the music up and we ride in silence for the next five minutes, thank God. I’m fucking exhausted and I’ve only been with her for twenty minutes. We pull up in front of the Millennium Hotel and I leave my car with the valet.

  As we’re walking to the elevator, Gwen latches on to my arm. We get on the elevator and I shrug her off of me, giving her a pointed look. When I said friends, I did not mean friends with benefits. She’s still not getting that.

  We step off of the elevator and she latches back onto me. Jesus. Deep breath
. Two hours.

  I lead her over to the bar where I see a couple people from the company, including Christine, and we greet them. Christine introduces us to her husband Tom, whom I’ve never met and we all chat for a few minutes before a guy with a tray of champagne comes by. I take two and hand one to Gwen.

  "Gwen," Christine says, when we’ve all taken a drink, "that’s a lovely dress. It certainly doesn’t give us any doubt as to what a lovely figure you have, does it?" She smiles brightly.

  "Gwen runs her hands down her hips, smiling a big, fake smile. "Thank you, Christine. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right? And if you don’t... well..." She trails off, looking Christine up and down. Christine’s husband almost chokes on his drink and I clench my jaw, thoroughly humiliated.

  Christine looks like she’s holding back a laugh though, and so I take a deep breath and say, "I’m going to find some appetizers. I’m starved." I turn around and I grit my teeth as Gwen turns with me, still latched to my arm.

  I hear a small gasp and when I look up, Evie is standing directly in front of me in a serving uniform, a tray of appetizers in her hand. She looks frozen. My heart feels like it lurches toward her, and I can’t help the smile that automatically spreads across my face. I want to run to her and scoop her up and kiss her all over her beautiful face. The unexpected sight of her is even more welcome after the last half an hour with Gwen. Oh shit, Gwen. Attached to my arm. Fuck!

  "Evie," I say, pointedly taking Gwen’s arm and removing it from mine. I feel her stiffen as I detach her but my eyes are glued to Evie who blinks and shoots me a fake smile. Shit.

  "Jakey, do you know her?" I hear Gwen’s bitchy voice coming up behind me, but I am physically unable to look away from Evie. Jakey? She’s never once called me that before. I see Evie glance at Gwen, a look of hurt crossing her expression. This is one of the most fucked up situations I’ve ever been in. And that’s saying something.

  Her dark eyes are pools of hurt and confusion as she looks back at me and whispers, "Hi." I feel like a fucking jackass, even though I haven’t done anything wrong. She doesn’t know that. I need to grab her and pull her off somewhere so that I can explain this. Fuck, she’s working. I don’t want to jeopardize her job. I would never do that to her. Her job is very, very important to her. I know that.

  I feel my jaw clenching as I answer Gwen, "Yes, I do know her. This is Evie Cruise." The love of my life. Evie glances over at Gwen questioningly and so I say, "This is Gwen Parker," gesturing my head toward Gwen’s general area.

  Evie nods toward her saying, "Hi," very quietly.

  "I don't need an introduction, Jakey, I was just surprised that you know her," she says like the bitch she is, and then she hooks herself back onto my arm and grips more tightly when I attempt to move away.

  The blood starts pounding through my brain and I feel my jaw ticking against my will.

  Evie’s eyes move to Gwen’s arms gripping me and she says very quietly, her brow furrowing, "Right. Well, have a nice evening." And as she’s turning away, I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and grabbing her and hauling her off to my car. I can see that her hands are shaking and as she turns, her tray tips forward and I hear a loud, wet plop as a cracker full of caviar falls directly on the top of Gwen’s foot. Bulls Eye! Score! I very, very barely contain the laugh that threatens, but that’s quickly squelched as Gwen screeches, "Oh my God! Do you know how much these shoes cost? No, of course you don't! These are fourteen hundred dollar shoes!" And, Christ, that shit is funny too and I almost laugh again until I register the look on Evie’s face. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and she’s humiliated. Fuck! My instincts roar through me and everything in me is screaming, protect! For so many, many years, that was my job, and I took it very seriously. Evie doesn’t even have any idea how many times I got my ass kicked over her, or kicked someone’s ass. I always preferred to do the ass kicking, but the outcome was somewhat irrelevant to me as long as the douchebag who insulted her, whether to her face or behind her back, learned why that was not acceptable. Mean kids always hone in on the weakest of their species, and who is weaker than a foster kid with low self-esteem and worn-ass clothes? Shit, we were like giant targets walking through school. That wasn’t going to happen to Evie though, not if I had anything to say about it.

  Before I can even react, the blond guy who brought the tray of drinks around earlier rushes up to Evie, whispers something close to her face and takes her tray, shooting me a death glare. Ouch. And who the fuck is he? I glare back at him, my jaw clenching even harder. FUCK!

  Evie bends down to meet Gwen who is swiping at her foot and muttering to herself about minimum wage workers, and says, "I'm so sorry. Please, let me help you clean it off. If you'll come with me to the ladies room, I can use a cleaning cloth on it. I bet it will come right off."

  "Fine!" Gwen hisses and I think it’s probably good that Evie is leading her away from me because telling Gwen to go fuck herself would feel so damn good right now, and I honestly don’t know if I could have helped myself.

  The blond guy approaches me again, holding out a tray of champagne and I take two, downing them both, one after the other. I stare back at him expressionless as he shoots me one last, disgusted glare. Someone else who has Evie’s back. Not surprising.

  I stand staring in the direction of the bathroom, waiting for them to emerge, needing a glimpse of Evie to make sure she’s okay.

  Christine, who must have watched that whole exchange go down comes up and gently touches my arm. "You okay?" she asks gently.

  "No, not so much."

  She gives me a concerned look. "I’ll make sure Gwen’s occupied if you want to go talk to that girl."

  I sigh, running my hand down my face. "I can’t, Christine. She’s working. I’d only make it worse."

  She purses her lips and heaves a big sigh. "Okay." She pauses and then, "What’s her name?"

  I glance at her quickly. "Evie."

  "Does Evie know you love her?"

  I’m quiet for several moments. "She did once. But no, not now."

  Christine is quiet too, probably wondering what that means. "Well, then, you find a way to remind her."

  I look at her fully now. "I’m trying."

  I see Evie emerge from the bathroom first, a wounded look on her face as she scurries out the door of the banquet room. Fuck! Gwen is such a bitch! I hear Christine say warningly, "Jake–" but I don’t listen. I storm off, and slam into the women’s bathroom which I should have done ten minutes ago. What was I thinking leaving Evie alone with a calculating witch like Gwen?

  She’s standing at the bathroom mirror, primping, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Well, hello," she says, turning, and leaning up against the sink.

  "What’d you say to her?" I demand, adrenaline racing through my body.

  She scoffs and turns back to the mirror. "Who cares? She’s some little serving girl, Jake. Seriously?"

  I stare at her incredulously for several beats.

  "That’s it, Gwen. I’m done making nice with you out of sheer guilt. You’re a spoiled, thoughtless bitch and so fucking boring, I can barely keep myself awake when you’re talking. Christ, you should bottle your personality and sell it as a sleep aid."

  She turns around slowly, her mouth dropping open and her eyes narrowing. She crosses her arms and hisses, "I thought you were classier than that, Jake, but I see that you can take the boy out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto–"

  I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. All the anger, all the stress of the last thirty minutes just boils over into a fit of hilarity. She’s so utterly and completely clueless, there’s nothing else to do but laugh. "Did you just say ‘ghetto,’ Gwen? Holy shit, where’d you hear that? A 50 Cent song blasting out of the satellite radio in your Lexus?" It suddenly strikes me as so fucking funny, I almost double over. Instead, I lean against the wall, forcing my laughter back. I had actually forgotten she even knew I was adopted. She had never brought it up befo
re. Probably helped her sleep better at night not to think about associating with someone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

  Gwen is still staring at me, narrow eyed and seething as my laughter dies.

  I take a step closer to her as I say, "You have no idea why this is funny Gwen, and you never will, but let me tell you a couple things. You have no idea about me. Not one. Fucking. Thing. And you don’t know anything about her either and you never will. But here’s what you do need to know. You will never come near me again, you got that? If I see you at an event, turn and walk the other way, and if I accidentally run into you on the fucking street, pretend like you never saw me. Now, unfortunately, we’re sitting at the same table tonight, but there is no need for us to say another word to each other. If you need the fucking salt, ask someone else to pass it. When dinner is over, you will get a ride home with your daddy because, frankly, another twenty-minute car ride with you sounds intolerable. We clear?"

  She stares at me for several seconds, her eyes still narrowed, before finally hissing, "You’ll regret this, Jake. Consider our friendship over."

  "Thank God." I walk out of the bathroom just as an older woman is going in.

  "Oh!" she exclaims.

  "Sorry, wrong door," I mumble.

  I walk into the men’s room and brace my hands on the counter of the sink for a minute collecting myself. Could this night have gone to any more shit? I splash some cold water on my face and as I’m grabbing a rolled up towel out of the tray on the counter, I notice the World’s Greatest Mints. I stare down at them, a smile spreading across my face. I grab one and put it in my pocket.

  CHAPTER 13

  I wake up the next morning and grimace at the memory of the night before. Sitting through dinner was torture. Every time the door to the kitchen swung open, my heart leaped into my throat. But I never saw Evie again. I gave the mint to her blond friend, who I was pretty sure was gay, after watching him swish his hips through the room. Straight men don’t walk that way. He had looked at me dubiously when I handed him the mint for Evie, but he stuck it in his pocket anyway and walked back to the kitchen.