Bobby comes from money and he knows how to make it work. That’s the type of person I need by my side in business.
We share the same motto:
Only the best, and lots of it.
I also like that he doesn’t bug me.
Usually.
Today, however, I can feel his eyes on the side of my head.
“WHAT?!”
He jumps in his chair. “Oh, uh…nothing. I was just…”
We go back to silence.
About ten minutes later he grumbles, “Don’t yell at me again.”
Spinning around, I lean back in my chair and stare at him. He holds my look, but his expression is meeker, even worried. Breathing deeply through my nose, I play back time and finally nod, “You’re right. Won’t happen again.”
With a long exhale, I fly out of the chair and head down my long, dark, hallway for the kitchen.
Bobby hurries after me. “Is there something I can do for you? You need lunch now?”
He usually makes my food for me, since I can’t cook for shit and I pay him enough to scour hillsides for truffles if I wanted them.
“I need a beer.”
“In the middle of the day?” he whispers, shocked. Throwing a look over my shoulder shuts him up, and he mimes zipping his mouth closed and throwing away the key.
In the loft, sunlight streams through windows on the east side, where my front door is. I glance to it, remembering Marion staring at me on my welcome mat. I hated closing the door on her.
And I despise how much I’m thinking about her. Why is this so hard to break?
“It’s not the first time I’ve had a beer in daylight lately,” I growl as I beeline for the fridge. “You want one?”
He gasps again, eyes wide. “Uh…sure?”
“Fuckin’ hell, am I that boring?”
“Disciplined, Jack. I’d never call you boring.” He accepts the stout Marion hated. I’m sure he’d prefer wine, but the occasion is so rare, he’ll make an exception.
We don’t toast.
What’s to salute?
My blue balls?
Swigging from the bottle, I lean my ass on the counter and glare at my silent dishwasher. There are streaks on it. I hate that.
“I’ve got something on my mind,” I grunt before I realize I’ve said it.
Bobby leans on my marble kitchen island, crossing his ankles as he points the frosty bottle at me. “I’m here if you need to talk. It’ll never leave this kitchen.”
We take a couple more drinks, the air tight between us. I glance over, hold his eyes to size him up. Bobby’s been with me almost seven years, and he loves drama. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good at assisting. When a hotel or airline resists a request, he really lays into them until they’re bending over backwards to give him his every desire, all of them serving me.
Well, and him, too. He gets the perks from traveling to the best hotels and flying First Class. When people give me gifts, I usually pass them his way. I don’t need clutter in my home. My mind is packed with enough.
But there’s the other side of that drama-loving aspect about him that I don’t admire. “You have a big mouth, Bobby.”
It opens as if to show me just how huge it is. “I do not!”
I cock an eyebrow. “Think again. How many times have I heard about your boyfriends and their odd behaviors. Or how they cried when you dumped them. Or how your mother drinks too much whenever your dad and his—”
“Alright! Alright!” He raises the bottle. “I hear you. And yes, I have shared some private things with you when we travel because I’m bored. But Jack, the mere fact alone that you have never once told me a single secret about you, or anything personal about you at all, makes this a rare occasion I would treat with the utmost respect.” I stare at him until he shrugs, “Plus, I don’t want to lose my job. Those people I gossip about can’t fire me.”
This deserves a chuckle, but I’m so agitated I can only stare at him. I need someone to talk to, and I’m not the type who sits on a couch unraveling my soul to a shrink.
Who could I open up to, David?
Don’t think he’d understand.
And Troy has skin in the game.
Or he wants his skin in the game.
Either way…here goes.
“I’ve got a woman on my mind, Bobby. In a way, she belongs to someone else.”
His eyebrows rise slightly. “I can’t imagine he’d be a challenge for you, if you decided to pursue.”
“It’s her dad.”
His neck swivels back. “Who cares about her dad?! Wait, is she underage?!”
“Give me a break. Of course not.” I take a drink and admit, “But I knew her when she was.”
Bobby hits the counter. “It’s David’s dancer daughter, isn’t it?” My eyes widen slightly, but it’s enough to give me away. He hits the counter again, jubilant. “I knew it!”
“How the fuck did you know that?”
“I’ve seen her dance before. I’ve dated some dancers in my time, Jack.”
“I can imagine.”
“I ran into David at The Alliance over Christmas like three years ago. They were performing The Nutcracker. He told me his daughter was in the show.”
“I didn’t see that one,” I mutter.
“You go to the ballet?”
“No.”
Bobby blinks at me. “Anyway…I asked if she was the Sugar Plum Fairy. She wasn’t. She was a snowflake. But he pulled out his phone to show me her photo so I could recognize her when she came on. She’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah, but how did you know it was her I’m uh…interested in.”
“Because I have amazing powers of deduction. You were worried about her dad, which means you’re friends with him. If he was a work colleague, you would not care. And since you don’t have many friends, and he has a hot daughter, I deduced that it was David.”
“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.”
Scrunching up his nose, Bobby corrects me, “I prefer Bond. James Bond.”
I down the last of my beer and toss it in the recycling bin, replacing it with another before I exhale. “If you tell him, I won’t just fire you, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Understood! How er…deep do your feelings go, if you’ll excuse the pun.”
“Don’t joke about it,” I grumble, and we stand in silence before I finally admit, “I love her. But I’ve always loved her. Only now it’s changed directions.” As I stare at my floor I add, “I don’t want this.”
“Don’t you?”
I lock eyes with him. “Doesn’t matter if I do. Plan me a trip. I need to get out of here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jack
“Jack, it’s me, Troy.”
“I know who it is,” I grunt into the phone. “What’s up?”
“You back in town?”
“Just got in.”
“How were the Keys?”
“Warm.”
“Right,” he chuckles.
I spent weeks working from a beach in the Florida Keys, sand in my laptop and Marion on my mind. There were beautiful, tanned bodies everywhere and all I had to do was snap my fingers to get their attention. The only things my fingers got busy with was typing and scrolling.