a little something extra.”
I roll my eyes for what has to be the fiftieth time in the last twenty minutes—it’s hard not to with this group—but in the end, I somehow manage to leave Billionaire Book Club with something to consider.
Always know how to apologize.
Ruby
The streets are packed with the end of the week rush, and the bars and restaurants all spill their contents of people out onto the sidewalk.
People are eager to blow off steam, to settle into the weekend, and to answer to themselves instead of their bosses.
My week has been interesting, to say the least, as I’ve had to learn to juggle school, recording, and my hot-but-cocky boss and his special brand of humor.
I haven’t slept all that much, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to serve as Cap’s assistant with complete efficiency, but all in all, I’ve survived.
Plus, after getting a real feel for my schedule, Cap’s entrusted me with the authority to find a secondary assistant—someone to fill in the hours I can’t and concentrate on the more menial tasks of the office while I learn actual skills that will help me become a good lawyer. I’m not saying I’m awesome, but, I mean, it is like getting a promotion in the first week.
A cool breeze whips my hair up and over my shoulders as I round the final corner on my way to Suds, one of our favorite pub-style restaurants in the city.
I clench my arms tighter around my body and tuck my chin to my chest to make myself as aerodynamic as possible.
During the daytime hours, New York is wonderful in the fall.
But at night, after the sun has gone down, all of those concrete structures seem to serve only as a conduit for the cold.
And, unfortunately for me, my phone starts to ring just as I’m settling into the perfect position.
“Ah, fracking hell,” I groan, maneuvering one arm down and around to dig in the pocket of my coat.
When I see that it’s my mother, I seriously consider the ramifications of both answering the call and/or not. And honestly, I’ll save myself a lot of heartache if I just take the call now.
I risk a numb, half-dead hand by the time I get inside the bar, but that’s just the sacrifice I have to make for my mental health.
“Hey, Mom,” I greet, putting the phone to my ear and slowing my walk to a speed I can maintain without her thinking I’m strapped to the wing of a sexual predator’s aircraft.
“Ruby! Thank God! I left you a message last night, and you never called back. If you didn’t answer the phone now, I was going to hang up and dial the FBI.”
“I didn’t have a voice mail,” I say, ignoring the crazy part of her commentary and focusing on the facts. “Are you sure you left a message?”
“Yes, I’m sure! Your father had the dang PBR on, and I could barely hear a thing, but I waited for the beep and left you explicit instructions to call me back.”
“Well, I didn’t get it.”
“Maybe your phone is defective.”
I sigh heavily. “I’m talking to you on it now, Mom.”
“Well, maybe—”
“Does it really matter?” I interrupt. “Can we just talk now? I’m on my way to Kevin and Julie’s engagement party, so I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Ooh, give them kisses from me!”
I laugh a little. “You want me to give kisses to Kevin and Julie? My friends you’ve never actually met?”
“Yes! They’re young and in love, and I’m sending my congratulations, Ruby. Don’t make fun of your mother.”
“I’m not making fun,” I argue. “Just commenting.”
“Snidely,” she corrects. “You’re just commenting snidely.”
“Sorry,” I apologize as I come to a stop in front of Suds. The inside looks warm and inviting, and I frown longingly at its respite. I’d better work on wrapping up this conversation, or I’m going to be out here all night.
“You don’t sound sorry. But you will be one day when you get kidnapped and I’m not around to start a search party.”
“I’m hoping to avoid getting kidnapped altogether.”
“Then you’re going to have to start being more careful.”
I roll my eyes and shiver before switching hands, so I can tuck the numb one into my pocket.
“I’ll try.”
“Good. If you make it a month, your father and I will be there to visit.”
“I feel like you’re very pessimistic about my chances for survival. Did you buy refundable tickets?”
“No! Your father said it was an unnecessary expense.”
I bite back my laugh.