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I’m not sure what to tell him, Kings can either agree with you a hundred percent or obliterate you in two and a half seconds with the harsh lash of his vicious tongue.
“You know that Evan guy? The one that’s supposed to help invest in the girls’s store?”
“Yeah, that stuck-up cocksucker. He looked at Lana’s ass the other day, and I about ripped his dick off.” He and I both, only difference is, Evan wants to have a special piece of me—my fucking woman.
“Anyway, I was irritated when I first met him, because he fucking looked at her the way a guy looks at a chick he wants to fuck.”
“Not shocked, and that dick-shit better keep his grimy hands off both my girls.”
“Exactly and while he acts innocent, his little touches and his mouth haven’t been. Well, I let that shit get to me and as you know, Shay and I fucking fought. Remember at the store before we left for Park City?” I ask, turning my chair toward him, looking back at the band—they’re halfway through their practice set, giving me enough time to explain everything.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Well, I promised her I wouldn’t act up around him. Well, in PC he fucking texted her, Kings.”
“So, he’s doing business with them. How many times do we text the bands we’re working with?” That’s what he thinks, which he has a point, but how many of them do we call pretty and offer dinner to?
“I’m not done. I was fine with it, as fine as I could be, but then he sent her a text and it wasn’t strictly business. He called her beautiful and asked her to not miss him too much.” Standing up, I push my chair back, the blood coursing through my veins making it impossible to sit still. I roll up the sleeves of my Henley, my veins bulging, pumping my thick blood through them. Obviously, just talking about this shit makes me angry, not only affecting my mindset but also my body.
“Really? What’d you say to him, or better yet, what did Shayla say?” he questions, leaning back in his chair.
“Nothing, she didn’t say anything to me about it, and I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t want to fight or piss her off on our vacation. Plus w
e just had sex, so we both were on a high.”
“Bro, that’s my sister. I’m not going to tell you two what to do, but spare the goddamn details.” He’s right, that wasn’t needed. But the imagery helped calm me a fraction. “Where are you going with this story anyway, dude?”
“I’m going to his office tonight to talk to him, man to man.”
His expression is hesitant, knowing that I don’t have it in me to stay calm if that smug fucker says the wrong thing, he knows me too well.
“Trey, I don’t know, man. Fuck.” We both stay quiet and I debate what to say next.
“It needs to be done, he needs to be put in his place. Besides, Shayla isn’t the problem. She’s sweet and can be easily manipulated.” Tilting his head to the side in contemplation, he agrees.
“Yeah, but she’s also very hotheaded and doesn’t take shit, T.” He’s right; she’s a feisty woman when she feels controlled or threatened.
“You don’t think I’ve thought about this? That’s my girl, and no fucking rich dude with pearly white teeth is gonna come in and take advantage of her by using the boutique to get at her.”
“You really think he would?”
Really? I look at him in disbelief.
“We’re dudes, and I would do the same thing if I were him. Especially if Shayla was involved.”
“You’re right. Well, I guess you just need to make sure you don’t snap on him, because if you do Shayla may not forgive you.”
Very true, she wouldn’t let that go.
“Yeah, trust me, I know.”
By the time we finish up, it’s almost five, and I rush out the door and head downtown to Evan’s office. Walking into the swanky, upscale building, I take notice of the white marbled floors, which look untouched and brand new. The dark wood columns match the front desk and elevator hall. I walk up to the receptionist, hoping I didn’t miss him.
“Hello, sweetie. I’m Trey Adams, and I’m here to see Evan Thompson. Is he available?” She smiles sweetly, taking the bait, I’m using my charm to get in there, knowing she probably has a rehearsed, “He’s in a meeting, can I help you,” line on standby.
“Let me call up to his floor and see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
