I just told the funniest joke ever as Aimee begins to complain.
“Did you not hear him out there, cussing up a storm because I told him you didn’t want to see anyone?”
“And yet here he is,” I murmur, trying to absorb the information in front of me because this morning I decided I was done with letting Fee dictate the terms of this relationship breakup. I decided I respect her opinion but not her pussy-assed way of doing things. She can be disgusted, ashamed for and because of me, but she will listen to what I have to say before she decides she wants nothing more to do with me.
Which is obviously not the outcome I’m counting on.
She found out. I should have told her. But it’s right that there’s no more lies between us. And sure, love is supposed be selfless, but the way I’ve decided to look at it is if I allow her to walk away, then I’m doing her a disservice because no man will ever love her the way that I can.
Conceited? She’d better fucking believe it.
“I’m your assistant, not your guard dog,” Aimee snaps the minute before the door slams again. This time, closed.
“Why, Carson. Could it be your winning streak with women is over?” Tucker retorts with an amused glance behind him. “They normally come running into the rooms you’re in, not the other way around.”
I scan the remains of the email from Ed Martinez which finishes with the pronouncement that he’s uncomfortable spying for me. What a joke. If anyone is spying on my behalf, it would be Sophia, as it would be inappropriate for me to contact the girl directly, Ed is our intermediary. But fuck it, if spying is a wish to keep the people you love safe, then I’m the guilty one. Not them.
I jot down the name of the bar his daughter says Fee will be working in next week and close my laptop before sitting back in my seat.
Pretty bar tenders attract all kinds of assholes.
Maybe I’ll add myself to that list.
“What do you want?” I settle a little deeper into my chair, steepling my fingers under my chin.
“Well first, I guess I want you to stop with that cold superior fucking look. That shit doesn’t wash with me.”
“Tucker, I don’t have time for this.”
“Brother, the way I see it, you got nothing but time.”
“And you discern that how?” Screw superior looks; how about a superior tone, asshole?
“You’re not answering your phone, your emails, and your personal assistant out there has been giving me the run-around for days.”
“Not nearly well enough,” I retort, gesturing to his presence with a flick of my hand.
“You look like shit, Hayes.”
“Is that what you’ve been trying to get hold of me for?”
“Actually, if shit took a shit, it would look like you.” Ignoring me, he drops into the chair on the other side of my desk. “I’m guessing by your sorry assed expression that the thing with the girl fell through.”
I don’t answer. I’m pretty sure I don’t move.
“You know if you tap that finger any harder, the fucker will snap off,” he asserts with a smirk.
I curl my hand into a first.
“If there’s a point to you being here, I’d love to hear it. You know, right before you leave.”
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“I don’t know why. We can go weeks without speaking.”
“Days, asshole. And only when you’re travelling. Which you’re clearly not,” he adds, suddenly pissy.
“Spit it the fuck out, whatever it is you feel like you need to say.”
“That look you’re wearing? I know it. And I know the feeling behind it. She’s gone, right? The love of your life, whoever she is, because you didn’t think to introduce her to me. The person who isn’t supposed to forsake you, forsook.”
“Did someone buy you a dictionary?”
“Let me put it to you like that Hallmark card you think I should write.” He holds out his hands as though envisaging his words up in neon lights. “This. Too. Will. Pass.” Lowering his arms again, the asshole adds nothing else. Not a smile of encouragement. Not a look of sympathy. Nothing.
I fold my arms across my chest. “I thank you for your concern, but I’d thank you more sincerely if you’d leave.”
“I forgot to mention that the reason you look like you do is because it passes like a motherfucking kidney stone.”
If you’ve been deployed to a desert theatre, you know first-hand that kidney stones are no joke. But that’s not