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EMMETT: Gram would kill you. I’m her favorite.
EMMETT: You going to see the girl?
ME: No. What makes you think that
He ignored my last text, which annoyed me, because it left the conversation about Sara unfinished, and I was having a shit enough time as it was trying to think of something, anything besides her.
The fact that we had our next meeting with the Roths tomorrow was eating at me now too, because while I loved watching her put on a show for them, I also hated it. I hated watching their tongues hang out of their mouths as they dragged their greedy eyes all over her body, and I hated anticipating the ways they would try to touch her, get closer to her.
But I’d put myself in this position.
I’d asked for all of this, and I tried reminding myself of that as I stood in the empty hall. Of course, the attempt was in vain, because when my phone buzzed in my pocket, I picked up with a tart, “What?”
“Jesus Christ. Hello to you too, Hoult.”
I recognized Turner’s voice and exhaled.
“Sorry. I thought you were my brother.”
“Emmett? Love that guy.”
“You would,” I laughed, almost genuinely.
“Yeah, I don’t even know how you two are related,” Turner snorted, some girl’s voice in the background. “Anyway, listen, I know we said we were gonna meet tomorrow…”
“You’re not going to cancel on me.”
“Easy, Hoult. I wasn’t going to cancel, I was gonna say I know we set it for noon at your office tomorrow, but some… thing just came up for me,” he said, sounding half-assed. “I’m in Miami right now, and I’m actually going to be flying back to New York at around five tomorrow, so what do you say we all meet up around six?”
I couldn’t help suspecting that Turner was only in Miami to party, and that he preferred a late meeting tomorrow because it took us out of the conference room, and more than likely, somewhere with more distractions.
“Where do you want to meet?” I asked.
“I really liked that hotel you set me up with a couple weeks back. When I fucked that thing with the ass?”
“Cass.”
“Jesus, you really don’t forget shit. Yeah, her. They have a few rooftop bars there. A few pools. Figured we could have our meeting on a nice part of the roof with a good view – get ourselves some sun to set the mood to talk Biarritz. Right?”
“It’s going to be ninety degrees out, Turner.”
He laughed for longer than I cared to hear. “Oh, I know. Did you hear me say pools? Besides, you can just wear a T-shirt and shorts – you know I don’t give a fuck. Keep it casual for once,” he said, quickly muttering to the girl with him before coming back to me. “Matter fact, I have a surprise for Sara, so you should both bring swimsuits, actually. Or something you don’t mind getting wet.”
It was my turn to laugh. “That’s not happening at all.”
“Don’t say that to me. Also, I sent a little gift basket to your office. Should get there by tomorrow morning.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Anthrax – the fuck do you think it is? It’s surfing gear from my line. Shit that sold out in stores the week it hit, so you’re welcome,” Turner said. I held the phone away from my ear as he suddenly groaned. I didn’t know what the fuck he was doing with that girl, but I didn’t want to know.
“Jesus Christ, Turner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Six o’clock at the top of The Victorian,” I said as he chuckled, still half-groaning during his goodbye.
“See you there, buddy.”
13
SARA
