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“I’m not leaving,” I remind him, breaking the silence.
“And, I’m not apologizing,” he repeats.
We stay still, glaring at one another for what seems like an eternity. If he is pissed, he’s hiding it well. Me, on the other hand, I have resentment oozing from my pores and couldn’t hide it even if I wanted to. Eventually, he breaks from looking at me and rubs his hands over his face.
“You would have to be the most stubborn and annoying person I have ever met.”
“I was thinking the same damn thing about you.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Indie, enough is enough. Get out of my office and get back to work. You're being ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous.” I snort. “I wish I had recorded your little tantrum out there, so I could play it back to you right now because that was ridiculous!” I’m quite aware I am pushing him close to the edge here, but I don’t particularly care. It’s about time someone stood up to this man.
“Now, you're being immature.” He starts to walk around his desk and comes towards me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared. He’s so tall standing over me like this. It’s intimidating and has my heart racing again. Bending down brings his face within a few centimeters from mine.
“Last chance.” His voice is low, and it rumbles in my belly. “Leave my office.”
If I were smarter, I would jump from my chair and run out of his office, but I’m stupid, So, my ass stays firmly planted on the seat as I hold his stare. Before I can even register what is happening, he picks me up and flings me over his shoulder like I’m a rag doll. I kick and yell at him to put me down, but he just grips his hands around my legs tighter. My ass would be so close to his face right now, making me mortified.
“If you had just done as you were told, I would not have to do this.” We reach my desk, and he slaps my backside hard. The sting of it vibrates through my body unexpectedly. It hurts, but I’m ashamed to admit it also feels good. He places me down into my chair a lot more gently than I expected. My breathing is so heavy from trying to free myself, snot is dripping from my nose, and my hair has fallen out of its bun. I must look like a feral animal at this point. As if I was not completely humiliated enough, I think I just growled at him. I'm so utterly dumbfounded by what he just did that I’m speechless.
“I told you not to challenge me. Now, get back to work.” He turns and heads back into his office. I hear the click of the lock on his door.
What. Just. Happened?
Chapter Twenty-One
Roman
I LET INDIE THINK THAT I won. It looks like I won, but in truth, there’s a heavy regret sitting in the pit of my stomach. I lost my temper with June, and I crossed a line. Now, I’m not about to admit that to Indie. However, as I type out a message to our events co-coordinator, asking her to organize a retirement party for June, it won’t be long until she figures it out herself.
I called June to apologize and let her know about her party. She was her usual gracious self, and said I gave her the push she needed to finally leave. Yet we both know I pushed too hard. My father wasn’t overly concerned about June’s retirement. Although, I left out the part where I fired her, and she didn’t actually resign. He said he had been expecting it for some time.
Something has changed between my father and I since the Liam and Eleanor incident. There was not as much animosity in the air, and we had an actual conversation, rather than yelling insults at one another. It was unfamiliar and so evident of how far our relationship had failed over the years. I don’t despise him any less, but it’s a welcome change all the same.
The remainder of the week, Indie does everything she can to avoid me. She’s been coming into the office early and placing papers I need to sign on my desk so that she doesn’t have to bring them directly into me. She’s using the office messenger to ask me anything she needs, and every time I enter or leave the office, she pretends to be busy and will not make eye contact.
I have only myself to blame. I did smack her ass, after all.
It’s Saturday evening and the night of June’s retirement party. Indie would be expecting Pharrell to pick her up as usual. She will not, however, be expecting me. I don’t know how it will go down with her, but I need to break the ice. This tension between us makes me uncomfortable, and I don’t do uncomfortable well. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I felt nervous around a woman. It’s crazy to admit, but Indie actually intimidates me. When I am around her, I lose my self-control. I act in ways I wouldn’t normally act. She intrigues me as much as she infuriates me. I admire her as much as I despise her. None of it makes sense.
Knocking on her front door, I smile, hearing the blaring rap music coming from inside. I imagine her dancing around her apartment singing and carefree. But that’s not Indie, she is anything but carefree. Her choice in music is a little peculiar and not what I had envisioned her liking. I knock again, louder this time.
A moment later, the door swings open. Austin stares at me for the longest time. It’s like he knows my face but can’t quite put his finger on it. I know the moment he figures it out as his face crunches up and he takes a step back.
“What do you want?” he says, animosity clear in his tone as he looks me over head to toe. I’m in a tuxedo, and I’m certain in a place like this, it’s not attire he sees often.
“I’m here to pick up your sister.”
He stares at me and then starts to close the door. I extend my left foot forward and jam it in the way, so it doesn’t close.
“What the fuck, man.” Austin scowls at me but doesn’t attempt to close the door again. I know that attitude all too well. I see it in his sister every single day.
“Turn the fucking music down, and go let your sister know I’m here.” I take a step inside and stand over him. I’m much taller than he and a hell of a lot more dangerous. He knows it, so he backs away and heads off down a hallway and into a room without further argument.
The apartment is small. It’s tidy, and the decor dates back to the seventies. Everything is old and worn. I step inside the lounge room area that is also the dining room; it has a tiny kitchen off it. A few photographs of Indie and Austin as children in old frames sit on the TV cabinet, and some old trinkets hint of memories gone cold. I feel sad just standing here.
On my left, is a small nook with a table. I walk over, curious at the scattered photographs that fill it. Sifting through them, I quickly realize this is Indie’s work. They’re good. They’re really good. Most of the photographs are of unknowing participants going about their day in Boston, but she somehow captures their personality and their emotion in one single shot.
