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The sweet burn of top-shelf rye whiskey in my throat has never felt so good. After the day I had today, this is medicinal whiskey I’m enjoying in the hotel bar. I’ve earned it.
After Lennox treated the press conference like it was open mic night at a standup comedy club, I dragged him to the photo session for a high-end watch manufacturer. He threatened to tell them their watches were ‘as ugly as a shaved ape on a catwalk’ unless I introduced myself to the photographer as his lovestruck fangirl stalker.
I debated whether caving was the right thing to do, or not, but it was better than him asking me to unbutton my shirt again and the press conference proved that Lennox Gibbes does not bluff. Getting fired on my first trip for the new job was not an option so I proudly marched up to the photography crew and introduced myself as one of his insane groupies.
To prove a point and take back some control of the situation, I even hammed it up and twirled my hair, spoke like a valley girl, and told them I’ve been following Lennox around the globe for years now. I’m sure they thought I was a complete idiot, especially with Lennox embellishing with more fictional details of my prowess as a stalker, as I gave them my tale.
And then he actually did as asked, kept his part of the bargain.
I got some great photos of him to post on social and I think I can spin them as a take on a luxury product for a rugged kind of man. Lennox certainly doesn’t fit the normal demographic of older rich snob, with his tattoos and bad boy persona, so I’m hoping to gain some traction on my actual job duties since I got an hour of partial cooperation out of him.
Of course, as soon as the photo session ended and I wanted to discuss his social media accounts, so I can do my job and manage his publicity, he was back in his standard form of egomaniacal asshole.
I do feel slightly accomplished that I got the photoshoot done and I have all the info I need now to tackle all of the online platforms. Come hell or high water, I am not being run out of this job by a tyrannical playboy. I have enough spite and hostility toward my family that I will put up with damn near anything to prove them wrong.
It would be nice if Lennox Gibbes didn’t make it his life’s mission to push those boundaries, but that doesn’t appear to be an option for him.
Stupid, sexy asshole.
I sip my drink and try texting David again. I sent him a photo of downtown Melbourne when I arrived and he replied, hours later, “That’s cute. Hope you’re having fun.”
Fun. Like I am on vacation.
He’s never said congratulations on my job, never even expressed that he would miss me when I left. When I tried to discuss how we’d manage a long-distance relationship given my travel schedule, he simply said he wasn’t worried about it. In my heart, I know the writing is on the wall.
I think the only reason I’ve been ignoring it is because breaking up will cause another fight with Mom and Dad and it was an easy enough relationship to tolerate. It wasn’t bad, he hasn’t cheated or treated me poorly. But it wasn’t good, either. It’s just kind of there, existing but not adding much to life, like plain white bread… technically full of calories but it doesn’t leave you satisfied.
I deserve good. I deserve earth-shattering, someone that gives me spark. And honestly, someone that supports who I am, doesn’t try to tame me or make me complacent like David who will always side with Dad over me.
“I see you’re hitting the hard stuff.” I glance up from my medicinal cocktail and Jack has pulled up a stool next to me at the bar and is flagging over the bartender.
As far as I’m concerned, Jack, Mattias, and Lennox are one and the same, the three of them some sort of band of assholes. Lennox is certainly the ring leader, but they are grown men who should know better. They’re all stupid attractive too, it’s ridiculous.
“Mmmmm,” I mumble at him. “Have you also come to ask me to portray a stalker or take my shirt off?”
I just want to drink my drink in peace without more annoyance, insults, or irritation but Jack is making himself plenty cozy on the stool next to me and orders a local draft beer.
“Nanny, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gay, so no, I don’t want you to take your shirt off. I mean, unless you want my opinion on your goods, in which case I’m happy to offer constructive feedback. I’ve seen a lot of breasts, for a gay man,” he tells me, waving at my chest with his fingers.
Jack is a good looking man, tall, fit, blue eyes and brown hair with a bit
of curl to it. He has dimples which would be attractive if only I didn’t see them when he was cackling like a schoolboy every time Lennox antagonized me. He’s decidedly less attractive then. He has the same gorgeous Scottish accent that Lennox does and I decide then that all men should have accents.
I ignore his comment about my chest and snark back at him, “isn’t it a little cliche to have a gay assistant these days?”
“Yes, definitely,” he nods. “But Lennox didn’t hire me because I’m gay so I don’t think it counts. Well,” he pauses, “no, technically he did hire me because I’m gay.”
“I’ve been drinking, Jack. You’ll need to make up your mind and be more clear if you insist on harassing me while I’m drinking.”
“Harassing? No, I’m here for gossip. Tell me all about New York, I love it there.” Jack’s beer has arrived and he downs nearly half of it in one chug. I see I’m not the only power drinker in the bar this evening.
“I’m sorry,” I crane my neck and face him, “are we friends now? What is happening here?”
A few guys from a competing team walk in and take a hightop table in the corner and Jack watches them suspiciously and lowers his volume. I’ve only just arrived but there is an awful lot to keep up within this environment and I need to figure out all the dynamics. I’m used to one player and his team goes up against one other team. Here, there are 10 different teams, each with two drivers, and they don’t seem to fraternize with each other much. It’s odd.
So I take Jack’s cue and turn my back to the other team members and keep my voice down.
“There’s no reason we can’t be friends, Nanny.”
