I can’t help but smile. If anyone can put Aaron in his place, it’s Jamie.
“Any questions?” Aaron asks as he shuts off the projector.
Bethany, a quiet girl from accounting, raises her hand. “Who was the biggest nightmare client you’ve ever had?” The room erupts in laughter.
Aaron shakes his head. “Professional decorum,” he says, pointing a finger at her. “Also, libel. I’ve got a handful of ex-clients who were nightmares, but I’m not discussing any of them.” He smirks to woo the crowd.
Everyone laughs again. I forget how charming Aaron can be. The team has taken to his energetic personality. He’s a professional storyteller, which is why he’s fucking fantastic at his job.
As the conference room clears, Aaron takes a seat at the table and disconnects his laptop from the projector cords. “Whatcha think?” he asks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“The team was fascinated, the presentation was professional, and I’m proud of you.” I don’t know why I say it, but I do. When our dad passed the company on to me, Aaron was anything but supportive. He didn’t want the company, but he also didn’t want me to have it. When I asked him to run the PR division, he all but promised to make my life a living hell…and he did, personally. He also decided to use his middle name as his last name professionally to create separation between the two of us. That’s where Maxwell came from. Aaron Maxwell McPherson is known only as Aaron Maxwell in the industry.
I always gave Aaron full rein of the public relations department. I knew if things got bad, it was a department I’d cut from the company and sever ties with Aaron for good. I didn’t count on him growing the department from five employees to over sixty, while he also manages hundreds of clients. He’s proven he’s more than capable of running the PR end of this business, and now I fear he’ll leave me and open his own business, taking his clients with him.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice contemplative. I think he’s equally as stunned by my words. He slides his laptop into his messenger bag, stands up, and clears his throat. “Do you want to grab a drink after work?”
I had planned to take Gracie to dinner, but a drink with Aaron first should be fine. “Sure. There’s a pub right around the corner. Five o’clock work?”
He smiles at me. A genuine smile I haven’t seen from him in years. “Sounds great.”
I forget how quickly it turns dark in the fall, and I glance at the corner of my computer screen, where it tells me it’s almost half past four. Gracie has been on her phone or in meetings all day. I shoot her an instant message on our company instant messaging system and it takes her nearly fifteen minutes to respond.
Me: Grabbing a drink with Aaron at five. Meet you back at the hotel for dinner by seven.
Gracie: I didn’t agree to dinner.
This woman drives me mad. But she’s right. I didn’t ask her; I told her. It’s the push and pull that works with us. I tell her, she pushes back. Something about this dynamic works and drives me insane at the same time.
Me: See you at seven. Dress casually.
There’s about a minute in between my last instant message and the one that just pops up on my screen.
Gracie: Be nice to him.
Why would she say that? Maybe because I wanted to kill him yesterday.
Me: No promises.
She doesn’t respond after that, but I see her on her phone when I leave the office with Aaron at five. She’s one of the hardest workers here, proving time and again her dedication to her clients and AM Global. I make a mental note to get her salary history from HR, along with everyone else in the office, to assess the last time there were salary increases and what their last annual review reflected.
Kevin Williams only hired the best and I know he treated his staff like family, so I’m sure he took care of them, but they’re my responsibility now and if I want AM Global to be successful, I need to treat these employees like they are the best, and that includes their salary.
“Stop being creepy,” Aaron whispers as he nudges me.
“I’m not being creepy.”
“You’re staring at her.”
“I am not.” I aggressively hit the down button on the elevator six or seven times in annoyance.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Aaron notes as the elevator doors slide open and we shoulder our way in.
“Like what?”
“So fucking pussy-whipped.” He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath.
Aaron and I used to jab at each other like this all the time. We were always joking around and trying to get under each other’s skin. Everything between us changed after Melissa, and rightfully so. I could barely stomach looking at him, so it’s uncomfortably strange to see us falling back into our old habits with so much still left unresolved between us.
We exit the elevator and Cloyd offers me a parting wave. “Goodnight, Mr. McPherson,” he calls with his deep voice.
“Night, Cloyd,” I offer back as we push our way through the glass doors and out onto the bustling Manhattan streets.
The rain has stopped, but it’s humid and grey. Reminds me of the Bay area. The sidewalks have puddles that we dodge along with the other New Yorkers, who look like they’re playing hopscotch through Midtown Manhattan.
“So, where’s this pub?” Aaron asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Just around the corner.” I point to the street corner that we’re approaching. “Little Irish pub with amazing Guinness,” I tell him, damn well knowing he hates dark beer.
“Sounds great,” he says without the sarcasm I expected.
I shake my head, wondering when Aaron changed so much.
As we step inside the pub, the hostess greets us and seats us in a small booth in the back corner. Our server arrives and Aaron orders us two pints of Guinness and a warm pretzel.
“I’m hungry.” He rubs his stomach and smiles.
“I’ve only got an hour and a half,” I tell him. “I have dinner plans with Gracie.”
He nods his head knowingly. “She told me.”
My eyes narrow angrily. “She told you?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, we grabbed a coffee this afternoon.”
Big. Fucking. Deal. My heart is thumping with rage. “What?”
“Relax,” he gripes. “I asked her to go get a coffee so I could apologize for yesterday.”
I’m going to kill him. My jaw tightens, my fists clenching. Angry heat crawls up my neck.
He rolls his eyes like he doesn’t think I’ll do it. Not here anyway. Maybe he’s right. “Look. I felt bad for saying some of the things I said, and I know she heard them.”
I’m trying to control my breathing as I think back to yesterday’s fiasco in my office.
“She’s a nice girl and I shouldn’t have said those things.” He shrugs.
“Then why did you?” I barely get out through gritted teeth.
“To get at you.”