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I was a morning person, an afternoon person, and a night person, so I went about my routine with a pep in my step. Feed the animals, play with them, get in a little exercise, shower, make some calls for work, then decide if it’s a “go into the office” kind of day or a “work on myself” kind of day.
My phone buzzed just after lunch, and I saw Adrian Terranova’s handsome, grumpy ass face on my screen. I’d set his ringtone to “I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie” because I was a sophisticated and mature man. I picked up the phone, briefly considering ignoring the call. But Adrian Terranova thought of himself as my boss, so when he called, I usually answered to avoid ruffling his ego.
“Need something?” I asked.
“You haven’t been in the office all week. The Mercer account is on the line. I need you to make a personal appearance to get Mr. Mercer locked in.”
My partners and I did all sorts of work. For years, we’d been in pursuit of a single-minded goal to get revenge on Adrian’s behalf. Sabotage the Coleton business empire by secretly rising the ranks from within until we had our fingers on enough important buttons to bring the whole thing down. It was fun, and I’d mostly enjoyed my stint as a saboteur.
Now things were simpler. Adrian drifted around our many businesses as the great delegator. One month he’d have me recruiting investors. The next I was playing golf in Cabo and sweet-talking a CEO into selling us his company. I didn’t need the money, but I found the work stimulating. I was damn good at people, and I enjoyed practicing my craft. Plus, every week was something new, and that deeply appealed to my short attention span.
That short attention span of mine was probably the reason all my relationships were so short-lived. I just never quite understood the concept of settling down. It was like having a great steak at dinner one night and suddenly declaring you never wanted macaroni and cheese again. Or that you’d never even look at an ice cream cone with fiery, sexual lust anymore. Why would you put yourself in one box like that? I made a mental note to ask Adrian why he’d taken his vows, but figured he’d give some stupid answer like “love.”
Love wasn’t an answer. I loved steak. I loved ice cream. I loved milkshakes. My love for any one food group wasn’t about to eclipse my desire to enjoy the whole field of options. And yes, I could imagine someone angrily making the argument that food and women are two totally different topics, but the convenient thing about being in my own brain was not having to acknowledge counterarguments.
“Something came up,” I said. My mind went straight downstairs to the uptight little blonde and those pursed lips. To keep with the food theme, I wondered if she would be like one of those old Warhead candies. They were painfully sour and bitter for the first few minutes you sucked on them. But if you and your palette survived, you got rewarded with a little ball of delicious sweetness at the end.
“I need you here,” Adrian said.
“Tell you what. I’ll handle this little hiccup here today and try to be in the office by the end of the week. Fair?”
There was a long pause. Adrian was the type of man who got what he wanted the first time he asked from anyone else. But we’d known each other since middle school, and he had more than a decade of getting used to the price he paid for my considerable talents.
“Fine,” he snapped. “But if you’re not here by Friday, I’m coming there personally to drag your ass to the office. Are we clear?”
“Yep. Talk to you later.” I hung up and headed for the elevator. A moment later, I was in front of Elizabeth’s door and knocking out a cheerful little tune for her. Maybe she’d be in a better mood today.
It took almost two full minutes before she opened the door. It was almost like she was hoping I’d just go away, but if she thought I was simply going to leave, she was really in for a rude awakening. My attention span may be short, but my determination was legendary.
“What do you want?” she asked when she finally opened the door. Today she was wearing a pair of pleasantly tight slacks and another flowy, modest style top with black and white accents.
“Do you always dress so nice to stay in all day?” I asked.
“What I wear is none of your business.”
“Let’s not fight, Lizz.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected.
“Lizz suits you, though. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No. Because most people have the manners to accept the name I asked to be called by. What. Do. You. Want?”
