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11
Randi
I had no time for Samantha’s foolishness today. I needed to finish what I was working on because I was supposed to be heading to Sam’s house to spend the weekend. But she was full of a million questions regarding the business. Normally I’d want to hear them, but I was a bit distracted right now. Of course, she had no idea what my plans were, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“Randi, I’m telling you that your website is getting so many hits and you’re not taking advantage of them. If you did, you’d have so much business you wouldn’t have time to sleep.”
“And that would be a good thing?” If I’m going to be up all night, it’s not for work.
“It means you would be growing your business. That’s always a good thing. Just think that you’d be able to keep me on full time if you did.”
That wasn’t helping her case any. I had already explained to her that family, especially us, working together would be a horrible idea. “Samantha…”
“Please just call me Sam. Maybe his name is Samuel, and you can change what you call him. Or maybe call him honey or babe or… Mr. Sexy. But I can’t stand being called by my proper name. It makes me think back to when I was in trouble and mom was yelling at me.”
I wasn’t about to give him a different name just because my sister didn’t like what I called her. He called me sweetheart a few times, and I liked it, but nothing else felt natural except for calling him Sam. Even when I cry out his name when we’re having sex.
I had to fight back the thoughts of our lovemaking. With him everything felt…right. Not sure what it was going to be like at his home, but I can’t imagine it being any different than it is at mine. Our connection, whatever it is, is almost…magical, and I didn’t want to change a thing.
“Fine. I’ll call you Sam. But I’m still not looking to expand my business. If I was twenty-five, that would be different, but I’m fifty-two. I just want to make enough money to hold me off until retirement. Even now, I’m working more than I want. You know the saying, these are supposed to be my golden years. I don’t want to spend them exhausted and in bed by eight because I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. And besides, all work and no play, isn’t really living,” I said.
She huffed. “Great, now you start to listen to what I’ve been telling you for years. Couldn’t you have told me before I did all this research? Now I feel like I’ve wasted my time.”
“Not at all. Actually, I think you should take all the research you have done and use it as an example to show your potential employers,” I suggested.
“You want me to show them what my sister is doing wrong? Aren’t they going to wonder why you won’t listen to me?” she asked.
Good point.
“Maybe you black out my name and company name and use it only as an example. And don’t bring me up at all,” I said.
“Don’t worry. If I go for the job I want, I’m not going to tell them my sister designs sex rooms. They would look at me like a human resource nightmare even before I start,” she said.
I was glad to hear that she had a company in mind. I would ask her, but I couldn’t stop looking at the clock. I’ll ask you on Monday, I promise.
“I would agree. Maybe you can use someone else’s business altogether. Or better yet, make one up,” I said.
“You’re right. Why don’t we close up early and go out for a drink?” she suggested.
“I…can’t. I told you I have a lot to do this weekend,” I said. It wasn’t a total lie. Just because I was spending the weekend with Sam didn’t mean I wouldn’t think about work at all.
“No time for even a quick drink with me?” she asked. I shook my head. “Guess you’re not joking. You have too much on your plate already. Maybe you should call Sam and tell him you can’t make it tonight,” she said.
I shot her a look. “How do you know I’m seeing him tonight?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s Friday. And you have showered and changed out of your pajamas. If you’re not going out with me, then I can only assume it’s with your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” We hadn’t even established that we are exclusive. For all I know he’s talking to other women.
That thought was like a knife to my gut. Why was I putting such thoughts in my head? Was I out to sabotage this? It is going so well. Maybe too well.
“If it were me that we’re talking about, then I would say you’re right. But you’re not a sleep around type. You two must be serious. I mean you get a text and you’re on it like a teenage girl waiting for her first love to text her. It’s…so sweet that it’s sickening.”
“Oh, look at the clock. The day is done. Time for you to go home,” I said sarcastically.
“Ignoring what I say doesn’t change anything. Maybe instead of having sex all weekend, you two could talk for a while,” she suggested.
“We do a lot of talking. And this is not all about sex. He’s…funny and interesting to talk to. We have a lot in common. Both own our companies and understand what it takes to make it work. But do you know what else we have in common?” I asked.
