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Brent got out of the car near the docks and saw Carl and Allen already out there chatting. He took a deep breath and headed over to them.
“Morning, fellows.” Brent strolled up to them both and slipped his hands into his pockets. “How was your weekend?”
“Binge-watched terrible shows with the wife,” Carl said. It was his standard answer. If pressed, he would tell them it was his prerogative as an old married man to be fat and boring.
Allen shook his head. “I did some paperwork. I think you’ve got us beat.”
“You get laid?” Carl asked.
“I did not. Allen knows. I went to the zoo with my daughter and Jessica. It was a good time.” Brent shrugged. “The girls loved the animals. Jessica made a contact there. And I got to tag along.”
Carl raised a brow and looked skeptically at Brent before shooting a look at Allen.
“Don’t look at me,” Allen said.
“You know his bullshit better than anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean I can convince him not to do it.”
Carl crossed his arms and pursed his lips.
“Can we get to work before traffic back to the office turns into a quagmire?” Brent strolled past them and looked out onto the ocean. He could see Jessica tasting the Chardonnay, opening wide for a bite of mignon, groaning obscenely deep in her throat when she’d tasted the chocolate.
There were a few dessert places in the city he was definitely going to have to take her to.
“And this guy says he wasn’t with a woman this weekend.” Carl scoffed.
“Liar.” Allen shook his head. “You two visionaries figure out if you even want this place. I’m going to go talk to the harbormaster and discuss budgets.”
Brent exhaled and tried to focus his mind on business. Their company had a lot of critical traction, but like any small independent production studio, they were always working to reduce costs and keep the ledgers balanced. He couldn’t do that if he were thinking of the way Jessica moaned while sipping rich red wine or about the look of ecstasy on her face when she’d come in the back of the limo.
Carl frowned at him. “Man, are you alright?” He ran a hand through his short, graying hair and rubbed the dark skin of his forehead. “Seriously, you’ve been off the last week at least.”
“It’s nothing,” Brent replied.
Then his phone dinged.
He pulled it out instantly in case it was Cara. She had a cell that she kept hidden in her backpack ever since the first hair incident. She was under instructions to text or call him if those hellions attacked her again. He was keeping in-depth records for his coming meeting at the school between himself, the administration, and the head monster’s senator father. Proof was his ally in all of this.
He couldn’t help smiling when he saw that the text was from Jessica, something sweet and simple: Had a great time this weekend. Can’t wait to do it again. J.
“Are you shitting me?”
Brent almost dropped his phone but managed to keep his grip on it despite being startled. Not that his slip wasn’t obvious enough. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he shoved the phone back into his trousers.
Carl looked over his shoulder – to where Allen had followed the harbormaster into a building less than one hundred yards away. “Dude, I’m going to say this while Allen’s not here and still distracted. You need to knock this crap off. Jessica is his daughter, and she’s not even half your age! That’s too young, man!”
Brent narrowed his gaze at Carl. He was a great COO and friend as well, but he was an employee. There were lines. Him busting Brent’s balls about Jessica was a huge dash across them. “I don’t answer to you.”
“No, but we’re working hard to keep our projects together and everything afloat. We have a good shot this year to not just go to the Oscars but win one. Besides, you and Allen have been close friends for almost a decade. You’re going to ruin that all for a woman?”
“She’s not just any woman.”
Carl sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’m sure it’s special and magical, and the angels sing…”
Brent shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. Nothing since LeeAnne died. I don’t know what it all means, but I’m not giving what we have up so easily. Jessica isn’t a child; she’s twenty-one, and if she’s old enough to drink, then she’s old enough to make her own decisions in life.”
“You say that now, but I don’t think Allen will see it that way at all if he figures out what you’re doing with his daughter. You can’t do this, man. You have to end it.”
