(Not) The Boss of Me - Kenzie Reed Page 0,9

yes. Nice…I’m afraid not. I mean, two out of three isn’t bad, right?

Harry rolls his eyes at me. Hardly a dignified look for a sixty-five-year-old man, but I’ve earned it. “The driver just called me. He got rear-ended. He’s fine, but he’s had to pull over to wait for the cops.”

“Son of a bitch.” I toss the driver’s coffee cup into the open dumpster at the edge of the construction site.

My sister Alice and my niece Tamara will be arriving at LaGuardia in forty-five minutes. I have a personal rule; when they come to town, no matter what’s going on with work, I pick them up myself. It helps soothe a little bit of my guilt over my crazy work schedule.

“Oh, wait. Good news!” Henry says. He points down the block. A cab is headed straight towards us.

I lower my arm and give him the coffee, which he takes with an expression of mild reproach. If I’d tried that with Sexy Red, I have a feeling she’d have smacked the coffee out of my hand. Probably in a crotchward direction.

I really shouldn’t be thinking about her and my crotch at the same time. It does strange things to my powers of concentration.

As if she’s not messing with my head enough already. I actually had a dream about her the other night. She was standing next to my four poster bed, slowly peeling off…her rainbow unicorn pajamas.

I woke up hard as a rock.

I don’t know what it is about her. I’m surrounded by gorgeous women. Models, designers, photographers, socialites…all jostling and competing for me like I’m a prize bass to mount on their mantelpiece. Somehow, though, she’s the one who’s snagged my attention like a fish-hook.

She’s a disturbance in the force, a sunbeam on a chilly day. She’s impossible to ignore, with the way she walks down the street saying hi to strangers, always smiling at everyone in a way that makes it clear she’s not a native. I don’t even have to hear her Southern accent to know that. And yet I don’t think she’ll ever change. I’m good at reading people, and that cheery demeanor isn’t a front. A waste of energy? Yes. But not a front. It’s stamped on her DNA. I’d bet good money that ten years from now, twenty years from now, the feisty redhead will still be sharing the warmth of her smile with everyone who crosses her path.

I quickly drain the rest of my coffee, toss the cup into a garbage can, and pull out my wallet. As Henry and I jog over to the front of Winona’s building, I grab some cash and wave it at the doorman who’s standing under the awning.

“Can you hail me that cab?” I say to him, pointing.

As if on cue, Winona shrieks in fury from half a block away. “That's my cab!”

Of course it is.

“Don't you dare take my cab!”

I can't decide if I should groan or smirk. Instead, I pull out more cash and shove it into the doorman’s hand.

“Keep a hundred for yourself, give her the rest.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir.” There’s five hundred dollars in there – that should soften the sting.

She barrels towards us, but Henry’s already holding the cab door open for me. I slide in, and Henry plops down next to me. She skids to a stop in the street right next to us. “Hey! You!” Her screech could shatter glass, and her eyes are blazing orbs of fury.

“Sorry, I'm late to pick up my sister,” I call out, and I reach past Henry to slam the door in her face.

“You could have shut that door,” I inform him.

“Yes, sir.” He smiles politely. “I’m sure I could have, but you seemed to have it well in hand.”

“You’re lucky you’re grandfathered in. Anyone else would have been fired for insubordination long ago,” I grumble.

He just nods, placid and unflappable. I’d give my left nut to see Henry flap. Just once. “I’m sure they would have.”

My watch beeps before I can answer, and I sigh and glance down at it. A little reminder scrolls on the watch’s screen, telling me to reply to an email from our stationary department’s head of purchasing.

The cab pulls away, easing into traffic, and I lean back in my seat. Okay, taking the cab was a dick move, even for me, but I’m desperate to get to my sister on time.

I glance behind me and see her walk over to a street musician and hand him something. I

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