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My jaw gapes wide. Holy fuck, Shane was getting a blow job? That puts him into the lucky column versus the loner one, but either way, he’s a loser. He has a multimillion-dollar company with huge growth potential at his fingertips—and he can’t think past his cock.
Shane clears his throat. “Nothing else for now, Karly. Check in with me before you leave today. I might need more…dictation.”
Eww.
“Of course,” the woman eagerly agrees.
I hear the faint click of a door opening, then closing.
Does Shane think this shit is cute? Or that I’m an idiot? Whatever. “Rawson? Who should I be talking to?”
“Um, try my brother, Brady.”
The fitness model and Instagram influencer? What the hell does he know about data storage solutions? “When did he join the organization?”
And if he has, will it make a difference?
Brady is twenty-nine. He ran track, swam, and wrestled through high school. He got an athletic scholarship to some little school in Mississippi. He graduated with a physical education degree and no job offers. But he was already posting pics of himself in the gym, drinking protein shakes, posing half-naked in bed, and smiling for his growing legion of adoring fans. Now with a couple million followers, he’s picked up endorsement deals, modeling gigs, and even an acting role or two. As far as I know, he’s never stepped foot in Reservoir’s offices.
This ought to be a shit show.
“He’s volunteered to help out while…” Shane stops himself. “Well, temporarily. Um, he’s getting himself acclimated and isn’t bogged down in other projects yet. I’ll give you his number.” He rattles off the digits. “I’m sure he’ll have a lot more time to give you. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
Then Shane hangs up.
Good riddance. If I never have to hear the guy get sucked off again—which I’m betting is a regular occurrence—I’ll count myself lucky.
Immediately, I dial Brady’s number. My hopes aren’t high.
He doesn’t return my call until Friday. It’s eleven p.m. in New York City, where he’s currently planning a fan meet-and-greet over the weekend. But it’s five o’clock in Hawaii, where I was hoping to get the hell out of my office on time for once this week. When I see his number on my display, I sigh and drop back into my office chair.
“Thanks for returning my call, Mr. Rawson. Your older brother said I could count on you to help me with this reorganization Reservoir, Inc. paid me to oversee. I need some documents Shane couldn’t put his hands on—”
“Fuck. You’re not the Jeremy from Men’s Health?” I hear a shuffling of papers and what sounds like a party in the background, complete with loud music and laughing women.
“No. I’m Jeremy McBride of—”
“Shit. I need Jeremy Collins. He wants to talk to me about a shoot for the mag.”
“Congrats, but I called to discuss your father’s company. I’ve been hired to consult about your structure and practices, make recommendations, and—”
“That’s not my bag. Talk to Shane.”
I grit my teeth. “I did, and he said to talk to you because you’re joining the firm to help out.”
“The hell I am! I told him I’d pitch in when I got back to Dallas, but that’s not happening anytime soon. I’ll be in New York for a few weeks, then I’m jetting to Milan for a fashion show before heading to San Diego for a private photo shoot. I’m fielding a lot of offers this summer. I don’t have time to grow my fitness empire and do his job, too, especially when he’s too lazy to work, too stupid to understand his role, and too absorbed by getting his dick sucked to care.”
Brady might be irritable and crude, but I can’t fault his insight. No, he can’t help my cause, but I have more respect for him than Shane. So I feel compelled to say something. “You realize that, in your brother’s hands, Reservoir—and your inheritance—will be down the toilet?”
He scoffs. “I don’t care. I’m making six figures a month right now with plans to expand. I’m opening an online fitness platform next year.”
It’s clearly a big deal to him. “Awesome. If you’re not interested in—”
“Can I hook you up with a trial membership? It’s really an honor since, right now, the service is by invitation only.”
“Thanks, but you’re into your online fitness platform as much as I’m into my job. You know how it is, owning your own kingdom and all.”
“I get it. You’re cool, man. If you want something, maybe you should talk to Rogan. He’s way smarter than Shane.”
