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4
“This is…”Hunter shook his head and swiped his fingers over a nonexistent beard. “…more work.”
I sat in a desk chair I’d rolled up to Hunter’s table. “I know it is. Don’t you want to make a mark, though? Let’s be honest. There are very few chances at glory at our level. It’s not like we get to go to court or anything. At least this gives you a chance to show your dick is as long as the partners’.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “You’re funny.”
“You know what I mean.”
He shook his head, and I knew I was losing him.
“Maeve, listen, I get it. You and Drake used to date or whatever. I get that you want to help him out, but this is a cut-and-dried case. We only have so many hours in a day…”
“You could literally save the firm a shitload of money by asking your client a simple question and you’re not willing to do it?”
“If some of that would trickle down, I’d be more motivated.”
I’d anticipated this. Thought several steps ahead. I had a bribe prepared. “Would you be motivated for Lakers suite tickets? For the Warriors game?”
He let out a brief chuckle. It stuttered then gained momentum, forming a cynical laugh. “Who’s paying for that? Please tell me you’re at least in on this with Drake and he’s buying, because if that’s not the case, you must be making a hell of a lot more than I am. Those tickets are so expensive even God can’t buy ’em.”
Tyran had the box for that game and had two extra spaces. I didn’t even have to beg him for them when he knew they might benefit Drake. I think he’d been almost as distraught as I was when we broke up and even more destroyed when he’d heard about the lawsuit.
“Is it a yes or no?”
He picked up his phone and opened his schedule. What an absolute prick. Most people would see this grand gesture and just say yes. He had to see if he was free to make the transaction. “Yeah… okay. Do I get the whole box?”
I rolled my eyes but kept a friendly smile on my face. I hardly ever wore a friendly smile, even in everyday life, brooding was more my smile, so it was a real effort. “You’re something else, Hunter. No. You get a plus-one. But honestly, you’re getting more than you’re giving. I do want this, but don’t push your luck. Besides, if it works, you’ll have been in the suite for one of the best games of the season, and your boss will be slapping your back.”
He shrugged. “Cool. And to be frank,” he lifted my notes, “this is a good idea. Impressive stuff, Lewis.”
I stood. “Let me know what Drake says, okay?”
He pointed at me, making a gun with his hand, winked, and made a clicking sound with his mouth as if shooting me. “You got it.” Then, he took out his phone and opened Facebook.
Yeah, one day, someone, just not me, would let Hunter bury himself.
Later that afternoon,I’d wished I’d worn a better outfit and straightened my hair.
Hunter wrapped his knuckles on my desk. I snapped upright with surprise having been deep in a contract with a lot of very long Brazilian names that not only threw me off for length but also that my high school Spanish wanted them to be something else.
I shook the cedillas and acute accents from my head and searched Hunter’s face for a sign. “Hit me.”
“Yup. All roses. That was a good goddamn call, Lewis. He’s coming in to discuss a path forward.”
My ribcage rattled as my heart boomed against it. Holy shit. He was coming here. To the office. For the first time in a couple months, I’d see him, and I was both ready and not.
I knew the minute our eyes met again, I’d be able to see if he still felt the way I did or if he’d moved on. Drake didn’t mix messages, and as much as I knew one day I had to either get him back or truly let him go, I wasn’t ready today.
I wasn’t even wearing Flowerbomb. His favorite perfume. When I saw him again, I should have been wearing it. That had been the plan anyway, the few times I’d allowed myself to fantasize about our meeting. In my dreams I wore tight jeans, hell, tight everything, and seven-inch stilettos. Or that red swimsuit thing that I’d worn at Uyu and got him all hot.
In my imagination we didn’t always meet up in the office. In fact, we rarely did.
Hunter crossed his arms. “I tell you good news, but you don’t look happy.”
“I am. Yeah. Sorry. My mind is just still half on this contract. Long names.”
“Yeah. Dude, I had that Bangladeshi rapper’s stuff. The girl…” He snapped his fingers trying to jog his memory. “Yeah, Free Fall. She had a co-writer with like, I kid you not, thirty-two letters in her last name. Literally. I counted. That was a fucking ball ache. Thank God for cut and paste.”
