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"You're going to have to feel his hands on you, Reagan," I told her, being brutal because she responded to it, because the situation called for it. "Those same hands that touched your sister. You're going to feel his body on yours. That same body that forced Sammy."
Her face paled, her throat working as she swallowed hard, fighting back the sick feeling rising.
"I realize that. But it's my body. It's my decision."
Lo's voice broke into what was shaping up to be an argument, rattling off a team she was going to compile, explaining what their roles would be, going over the list of local charitable events in the area that Michael might attend, that she would need to RSVP to, even if she just dropped in to see if he was going to show up or not, then went home.
I sat there in silence.
Seething.
But held my tongue as they worked out the kinks, as paperwork was drawn up, as an arrangement to hand over the cash was concocted.
I held it as we were led back through the building, out to our car.
I even held it as Reagan fiddled with the air and radio for a long moment before settling into her seat.
"Don't make me call Helen." Those were the first words she'd spoken directly to me since she told me it was her body and her choice.
"What?" I asked, pausing in snapping my belt into place.
"If you start getting all red-faced and yelling about me not doing this, you are going to force me to pick up my phone and call Helen. And if I call Helen, she calls Fiona. Who calls Lea, then Dusty, Autumn, Peyton, your sister, and likely the whole of this girls club I keep hearing about. And they are going to come corner you at work and scream at you until your balls shrivel and recede back into your body," she told me, voice comically light and sweet given the subject matter. "And I would really hate for you to lose the function of your manly bits. I have quite the fondness for them."
"Reagan..."
"Can we have this conversation back at the office?" she asked, reaching for her phone. "I have to do a quick conference call with the video editor for the commercial. Don't worry. No one is going to be there but us. You can do all the ranting and raving you want without being overheard."
It was right about then that I realized she wasn't going to listen to me, no matter how sound my argument might be. She had her mind made up. She wasn't going to change it. She was just stubborn enough to commit to this and see it through no matter the opposition she might get.
I was stubborn enough to want to fight her every step of the way, but I was beginning to understand that doing so wouldn't produce the results I wanted. It would just drive a wedge between us, make her feel more alone in the whole situation.
"It's fucking killing me that I can't be there," I admitted when we reached her office, idling outside for a long moment.
Lo had made it infinitely clear that she would let me nowhere near the operation. Because I'd worked for Michael. Because my presence in his life in another capacity might prove problematic. And because she didn't trust me not to fuck everything up.
Which was honestly fair.
I didn't think I could stand there and watch or listen to that bastard trying to charm her, let alone start to force himself on her. Even though I knew it wouldn't go that far before Lo's people would charge in and put an end to it.
I had no fucking idea what I was supposed to do the night she would walk into that party as bait.
But I understood that I really didn't have any say in the matter.
"That's what makes you such a good guy," Reagan assured me, giving me one of her smiles. "I know you don't like this, but I appreciate you not going all Nixon on me," she said, giving me a smirk at using a phrase my fucking family had taught her. Anytime someone got unreasonably upset about something, they called it "going all Nixon."
I probably earned that over the years.
But I had a feeling I wasn't being unreasonable about this.
It was just going to happen regardless.THIRTEENReaganI understood why he was angry with me.
It was hard not to see his side, to believe he had some valid points.
Lo, despite her firmness in the meeting, had been quick to remind me via text message that should I have any second-thoughts, she could easily slip someone else in, that they could get to work on trying to gain Michael's attention.
She made it clear that her people were trained to handle situations such as these, and that they would be able to separate themselves from the situation. But that I likely would not be able to do that. That there could be long-lasting psychological trauma I would need to deal with after all was said and done.
