Page 14 of Pierced

“That’s, well… that’s gonna cost you.”

I plunk down my platinum American Express corporate card and say, “Make it happen.”

Outside it’s even colder than when I came in. And that perky community center lady is still doing her thing.

“Think about it!” she calls as I briskly pass her by. “I could totally see you bossing around some lucky man! You’d make a great mistress!”

I stop in my tracks, consider this, then turn to her beaming face. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

“So great!” she says, her words blowing out in a puff of steam.

“And that would be the whole point, right? To boss a man.”

“Yup. It’s perfect. All the subs would get their hubs to take it! You’d sell out too!”

I think about it. Picture it in my head.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to discuss my qualifications. Legal restrictions. So if you need that in order for me to sign up as an instructor—”

“No, no! We don’t. This is a community center. If you have a lesson plan and can commit to the time, you’re in.”

I take a moment to formulate what might turn out to be the diabolical plan I was looking for. And then I smile and say, “I’ll be in later with my course syllabus.” Because I just came up with a delicious way to get back at Pierce. Something that will drive him so much crazier than Eden’s cupcake fiasco this past summer.

CHAPTER FOUR - PIERCE

“Monsieur Chevalier, your Vichyssoise,” the server says, as she places my soup in front of me. I only like to eat Vichyssoise in colder temperatures. I don’t know why. Normally, one would prefer to eat a cold soup in the summer, I suppose. But for me, there’s something inversely comforting about cold and cold. I’ve never been comfortable being too comfortable. Not sure what that’s about. I just like Vichyssoise in the cold.

Colette is the server’s name. She’s been working here almost as long as I’ve been coming here. And I’ve been coming here since it opened. I feel a little like they should have a plaque with my name on it somewhere around. I’m not an official investor, but it was struggling a bit when it first opened its doors and I made sure I ate here every day. Sometimes twice a day. And I’d have business meetings here, and tell people about it, and essentially just stamped it with my imprimatur. And, slowly but surely, it became the spot in the TDH.

I know who I am.

Which is to say, I know the influence I have. I have a fair amount of influence everywhere because of who my father is, but here, in this little corner of the world—the TDH neighborhood of Denver, Colorado—I have an exceptional amount.

I try not to abuse it. I really do. I know Andrew thinks that I have a monarch complex, but I don’t. Or, at least, I don’t think I do.

And even if I do, I’m a beneficent ruler. I’m more like Louis XIV and less like Marie Antoinette. I would never dismissively tell someone to eat cake.

I would have Eden’s dad bake everyone a cake and then I would deliver it to them personally.

Okay, so maybe I do have a monarch complex. But whatever. It’s not easy being the boss and I’m a very generous ruler.

“Anything else, monsieur?” Colette asks it with bedroom eyes. I know she’s coming onto me. She’s been coming onto me since the first time we met.

It’s also possible she just has bedroomy eyes. She always kind of licks her lips when she asks if I need anything else, so I have to assume that the combo of the two is her making a pass.

“No, thanks, Colette. I’m good.”

Suddenly, her bedroom eyes turn dark. They’re still bedroomy, but now they’re bedroomy and angry. She takes a step back. “Gabrielle.”

“Sorry?”

“Gabrielle, Monsieur Chevalier. C’est mon nom. Pas Colette.”

Really? Her name is Gabrielle? I wasn’t even close.

I start to say, “Je suis désolé,” but she walks off in a very Parisian huff before I get a chance. I have to say, that is one of the things about this place I like best. Its authenticity.