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Running into Bree two weeks ago was the greatest shock of my life, and the depth of her animosity toward me tells me she hasn't forgiven me for what happened. I can understand it, because neither can I forgive myself for the part I played.
That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell. Our encounter has left me unbearably hungry for her, but also desperate for answers about that horrible night. Why? The Bree I know would never do something like that. Ever.
“If you have something to say, go on. I need to work out." I take off my shoes and pants, leaving on just my briefs.
“Naked, apparently. Jesus Jordan, you’ve finally gone around a bender.”
I head to the closet on the far side of the sprawling corner office, grabbing my gym shorts and running shoes.
“Why do you need to hold your calls and work out in the middle of the day? Can't you wait until later, after work like normal people do?”
“Yeah, I do that already.”
“Twice a day! Are you mad?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. I'm so fucking stressed man.”
"How?" He throws out his arms. "I'm the one who gets twisted up and it's not even the time of the year yet."
Ethan is something of a perfectionist and he can get really wound up with big events like the launching of a new product, while I'm usually disgustingly chill about such things, according to him.
I get on the treadmill on the far side of the office, looking out onto the Manhattan skyline.
“Jordan.”
“Yes?”
“Look, I don’t have time to dance around the issue so I’ll just come out and ask.”
“That would be splendid,” I increase my jogging pace.
“What’s the deal with Sabrina Wells? Because that’s what this weirdness is all about isn’t it?”
I don’t bother to deny it. “Yes, but now’s not a good time to get into that.”
“Well my friend, I suggest you lay all your cards on the table and soon, because if you are this bent out of shape after one evening of meeting her, you’re likely going to need to be put on life support by the time we’re done.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean get used to her. She’s going to do an exhibition for Grant and a few other artists in Manhattan very soon.
“And when is all this likely to happen?”
“I spoke to her earlier in the week. She'll give us the green light as soon as she can work it around her schedule. As it happens you also draw do you not? You could throw a few of those in as well, for charity, do your bit for company PR.”
Ethan sounds excited by the whole thing. I don't blame him. I would be over the moon too. Ethan's brother is an artist and Bree is fucking awesome curator. Probably one of the best I've seen. She understands her target market and knows how to grab their attention and have them focus on nothing else but the art. Finding someone like her is like striking gold for Grant and Ethan.
“She’s not going to give you the green light anytime soon though,” I say, already feeling like an ass for bursting his bubble.
“And you know this because?”
I sigh. My heart is racing fast. Too fast for the speed I’m currently doing. It’s the thought of Bree that’s spiking my heart rate. I slow my pace before I give myself a coronary.
“Because she can’t stand me.”
Ethan laughs in disbelief.
“I didn’t know there was a woman under eighty who couldn’t stand you. Or me for that matter.”
