Arrogant Bastard - Julie Capulet Page 0,33
him, which I try to tone down. It’s just that … I wasn’t expecting him to say that. Or at least say it in a way that seems like he actually means it. “I think you made her millennium.”
“Even better.”
“I wouldn’t have picked you for a guy who likes to make someone else’s day.”
“Why not?” he asks softly. I wish his ocean-blue eyes didn’t feel like they were capable of seeing right into my soul. It’s unnerving, like he can read me in ways most people never could or would even want to.
“You seem like you’re more interested in making your own day.” Oops. I wish I hadn’t said that. I’m way too honest sometimes. And I didn’t really mean to sound bitchy. So I backtrack and attempt to do some damage control. “I mean … what I meant was that you seem like a guy who looks after his own interests first.”
Gage’s eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles. “I guess that’s accurate enough.”
He opens the gate for me and I walk through it, out onto the sidewalk, where an enormous white limo is parked in front of the restaurant.
“What jerk parked a limo here? It’s blocking the entire entrance.”
“Um … this one.” His smile lingers.
“Oh. This is yours?”
“It’s ours. To take us to the gig.”
Wow. I’m so used to scrimping and saving, the extravagance of it seems wildly unnecessary. “We don’t need a limo. Think of all the gas this thing will guzzle. Not to mention the impact on the environment.”
“We’re driving two miles, if that. The environment will be fine.”
I’ll admit I’m overreacting slightly. But he’s so high-handed. I feel the perverse desire to cut him down a notch, so I can at least be on even ground. “It’s exactly that kind of attitude that’s caused irreversible damage to the environment in the first place. No one ever thinks it’s them personally, but it’s the accumulation of seven billion carbon footprints—”
“I gave two million dollars last month to a bio-fuel company that’s offsetting the effects of my own personal carbon footprint plus those of around four million other people, for exactly that reason: so I can take a limo when the occasion calls for one.”
He did? I guess that’s sort of impressive. Still, it’s wasteful. “But we can walk to Duval Street from here. It only takes ten minutes.”
“The show’s not on Duval Street. It’s at a secret venue. And I was going to offer you a glass of champagne on the way.” He pauses before he says it. “You seem like you could use one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You seem a little … wound up.”
I realize my fists are actually balled and resting on my hips in a sort of pissed-off stance. It’s him. He has an absolute knack for ruffling me! And the crazy edge to my emotions is having its way with me again. “I guess I am just the tiniest bit ‘wound up’, now that you mention it, yes.” I say it using air quotes, sort of bitchily, yes—because he deserves it! First he thinks he’s God’s gift, then he forces through his ownership of my bar and now he’s insulting me? That’s just great. “Let’s see if I can think of why I might be wound up. Hmm, maybe because my best friend is about to go through the hardest thing that’s ever happened to her and I won’t be there for her, like we’ve been there for each other every day, through everything—which at times has been a lot—for the past fourteen years. It means something to me that I won’t be there to make sure she’s okay. Maybe you don’t get that. And even though her family is awesome and they’ll do the best they can, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s alone in the most profound way it’s possible to even be alone because the father of her babies was never in the picture and never will be. And some days that’s going to be really, really hard for her.” Not that Gage would ever understand loyalty. “And, oh yeah, let’s not forget the part about how I’m now professionally and financially chained to a perfect stranger who’s in total control of my money, my business—which is the only thing in the world that’s ever felt like mine, but no longer does—and basically my entire life. So please forgive me if I seem wound up.” He’s absolutely right, I am wound up. Very. I don’t even care