I flop down on the couch and release a huge sigh. My life feels so out of control. Everything that’s happening is so not me. What in the world is going on between Rick and me?
I don’t know what I’m going to do, about any of this. Where does everything go from here?
Rick Lawrence
Decker has been droning on and on about Wells Covington in my office for twenty minutes, and I couldn’t tell you one thing he’s said. I think he’s telling me shit I already know about Pacific Imports or something. He likes to talk to everyone like they’re children and he’s the only one with brain cells. It happens with his type. He’s a controlling micromanager, so naturally I tune out.
All I can think about is all the shit that happened with Mary last night. I haven’t seen her all day and I have these Jesus of Nazareth tickets still burning a hole in my pocket.
“Do you think he’s aware of the behavior of these subsidiary companies? Found anything that would give definitive proof to it?” Decker stares at me waiting for a response.
I glance up at him. “Sorry, what?” What is it with Covington? I think he’s more obsessed than I am with Mary. There are a few unusual things, but this fucker owns pieces of thousands of companies.
“Are you even fucking listening to me? This shit’s important.”
My eyes widen, and I try to fully wake up. I haven’t felt present all morning. I was up all night long with a damn adrenaline rush from all the shit that went down. “Been a rough couple days. Just trying to focus.”
Decker glares for a long two seconds, then finally, his face softens a little. “You need to take the day off or something? Get your mind right? I need you at a hundred percent around here.”
I think anyone else he’d rip their damn head off, but usually I’m one step ahead of everything and it’s throwing him off as well.
I’m not sure he even knows how to respond to this situation.
I shake my head at him. “No, I’m fine, just email me whatever you want, and I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
That’s good. Maybe he’ll get the hell out of here so I can focus on my real problem… How to make Mary at least tolerate me enough to go on a date with me. It’s the only thing I can think about.
Decker turns on a dime and heads out. He’s always in a hurry to be somewhere. Without looking back, he says, “You’ll get an email soon. Figure your shit out.” At the last second, he adds, “Please,” before he turns the corner.
I have to laugh at that. He never says please to anyone. This whole Wells Covington thing is so weird. He has plenty of clients into far more nefarious shit, especially on the criminal side with Donavan. I wonder if it’s some weird jealousy thing because Dexter brought Covington to the firm. I don’t know. It’s not my job to decipher their brotherly politics.
I inhale, finally able to breathe again once he’s gone. My mind immediately goes back to Mary. Before everything happened last night, today was going to be the big day. The moment where I finally bust out the tickets and ride off with her into the sunset. I’ve been wearing her down, slowly, over goddamn half a year, inching my way into her life, slowly and methodically. I can’t believe that dumb fuck pulled a knife on her. Is this even real life?
Today’s supposed to be special. Well, I say that about every day I plan to ask her to the play. I’ve built up to this moment and then I just fucking snapped last night when I saw that guy. I’m surprised I was able to stop myself from bludgeoning that fucker into a bloody pulp. I think I kind of did, actually. Don’t give a shit. You don’t pull knives on people and try to rob them, especially not Mary. She’s mine, and I will fuck anyone up who even thinks about harming her.
Relax, concentrate. Focus on the goal.
As usual, the logical part of my brain is right.
The tickets.
I can still do this. I can still get Mary to go on a date with me. I’m Rick fucking Lawrence, the master of this shit. I want to say I’m going through with all this because I’ve come too far, put in too much work. But I can’t. There’s something about this woman, and I’ve known it since day one. She’s the one for me. The only one for me. The universe spoke the first time I saw her.
I think about her when I wake up. I think about her at work. I think about her when she’s around and when she’s not around. She’s kind and sweet and caring and good. She’s not corrupt and selfish, like every other asshole on this planet. She’s pure. She’s not, me. She’s a little package of good in this shitty world and it draws me to her.
I reach into my drawer. Fuck it. I’m doing it. There’s no going back now. I pull out the cupcakes I ordered from Sugar Bliss. Pried that information out of Quinn a long time ago without her even knowing what I was doing. That woman is a wealth of information about office gossip and who’s doing what. She told me Mary doesn’t talk about much, but she raved about the cupcakes the firm had from there for someone’s birthday.
In my experience observing the human race, you can get a lot of what you want with food. The shit that matters to a woman is less about what you’re giving them, and more about the amount of time you spent thinking about what you’re giving them. Hence, these tickets and these cupcakes.
Mad at me or not, she’ll appreciate the lengths I went through, which means she’s going on this fucking date.
I believe, therefore it will happen. It’s the only logical conclusion.
I start down the hallway, toward the bullpen of cubicles where Mary and the paralegals work. I need to surprise her, a kamikaze-style approach where she doesn’t see me coming. If she notices me, she’ll bolt. I have to trap her and make her hear me out, control the situation from all angles.
My stomach tightens with each step I take. I’ve never had a woman make me nervous before, but it’s Mary. It’s Mary fucking Patrick. This is what she does to me, and I welcome it. I love feeling this way, even if it sometimes turns me into a blubbering mess.
A few people stop and just stare as I walk by. Yes, I’m aware it probably seems odd, watching me carry cupcakes toward the paralegals, but I don’t give a fuck. I have tunnel vision. All I’m worried about is accomplishing my goal. Being denied is not an option.
Just as I’m about to reach the bullpen, where I can block Mary’s escape route, her head pops up.
“Motherfucker,” I mumble as I leap out of the way so she can’t see me. I duck down a hall and flatten up against the wall, holding my breath as she struts past without seeing me.
Goddamn it.
Now, I have to sit here holding a box of cupcakes and wait for her to return.
Worth it.
As long as nobody comes up and tries to talk to me.
As soon as I think it, Dexter walks by. At first, he goes past, and I don’t think he sees me. I hold my breath, hoping he keeps going.
No such luck.
He stops mid-stride, and I can practically feel the smirk form on his face as he realizes what he just saw. He slowly turns and takes a step toward me.
“Sup?” I try to hide the cupcakes behind me with a sleight of hand, but the damn box is too big and I damn near drop them. They bobble around in my hand and I have to adjust to keep them balanced.