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I know his age—28, which I thought would be hard for me, or maybe my age would be a no go for him, but we both accepted it like it was no big deal. I know he lives a state south of me. He knows I’m in Denver. He's told me very vague things about his childhood, but we’ve yet to exchange the dirty details. That’s a conversation I’m definitely not looking forward to.
He says he works in tech and does computer repair. I want to ask what he looks like, but don’t want to come across as being superficial. Surprisingly, he hasn’t brought up anything sexual or kink-related. He has, however, peppered me with Edgar Allan Poe quotes and ghost stories. Apparently, he’s as much of a horror buff as I am.
Foxbabe20: I find that adorably funny.
KillerClown4u: I find you adorable. What are your plans this weekend?
A loud screech has me practically falling out of my chair and onto the conference room floor. My phone damn near flies from my hands, shocking me from my blissed-out happiness. My eyes shoot up just as a very frazzled and pissed-off Addison marches through the door. Her eyes are frantic and wide, her face is red with anger, but what has my mouth dropping open is the state of her clothing. The normally pristine, proper Addison Hughes is covered in…is that baby powder?
My head cocks to the side as I take her in. Her purple two-piece suit is form-fitting and borderline inappropriate but clearly made to enhance her enhancements. However, right now, the expensive suit is caked in a white dusting of powder that looks as though it’s been smeared with her attempts to remove it. She plants her hands on her hips as she glowers at me and the two other staff members sitting around the table, Carly, the secretary, and Joella, Brandt’s assistant.
My lip twitches with an impending smile, but I fight with everything I have to contain it. I open my mouth to ask what happened, but Carly beats me to it.
“What the hell is that?” she squeals before blushing like crazy and slapping a hand over her mouth. I shoot her an approving grin and a subtle nod. She needs to have more confidence in herself.
You’re one to talk,my brain chides. I barely contain an eye-roll as I internally chastise myself.Shut up, bitch. We aren’t doing this today.
Addy stomps her foot indignantly and flaps her hands at her side as though that’s answer enough. When I cock a questioning brow, she huffs out a sigh. “I turned on the heater in my car on my way here andthis,” she gestures to her outfit or the substance on it. “Blew all over me.”
“Yes, butwhat is it?”Joella hisses, eyeing the powder like it's cocaine, and she’s one sniff from being arrested.
Addison cringes and slowly brings her arm up to her nose. She gives the fastest sniff I’ve ever seen before glaring at the sleeve as though it’s personally offended her. “Baby powder.” The way she grits out that one word has visions of an old-time mafia film flitting through my brain. I swear, she’s five seconds from going all Marlon Brando in the middle of the conference room.
“So,” I drawl, bringing us back to the important question at hand. “Who did you piss off so I can avoid them?” The hiss that flies from her mouth is one hundred percent feral animal and it has my eyes bugging out of my head.
“Woah, what’s got you all pissed off, Pussycat?” Roy Brandt chuckles as he steps through the doorway, a smug grin plastered across his cheeks.
Slowly, like a scene from a slasher film, Addy turns around, giving him the first glimpse of the manic, baby-powdered version of her usual put-together self. I know the second he notices the tense situation because he practically chokes on his tongue. His eyes rake over her body and instead of the usual lascivious perusal he’s known for, he tuts in distaste. I breathe out a huff of laughter.
Idiot.
When we started Attenborough Law, we were all equal partners, except for Jonah Attenborough, who had been a mentor to all of us. He held two shares of the company, while the rest of us held one. Unfortunately, when he passed two years back, Brandt, his nephew, took on the role of unofficial leader since Jonah had left him his shares. It was…unexpected, to say the least. But, with the grief of losing Jonah so suddenly, none of us had the energy or mental capacity to fight our new reality. Since then, the situation has kind of just—evolved.
The problem is, Roy Brandt is an insufferable piece of shit.
“Don’t call me that, you arrogant, pig-headed mothe—” Addison shouts, drawing my attention back to where she’s still in a heated stand-off with Brandt.
“You can’t speak to me that way!” he barks, interrupting her tirade. His face has turned a beautiful shade of red, barely concealed by the fake tan on his sun-aged skin. He’s only 38, but he looks at least 50, in my humble opinion.
Addison steps forward and opens her mouth, jutting a pointed nail into his chest, but is once again, interrupted.
“Fucking low life, wanna-be gangster, ass hole little pricks,” Jackson bellows, storming into the conference room where the rest of the crew has slowly filtered in and taken their seats to watch the showdown. Sandra Royale, another partner who I used to like but have come to hate over the years, is practically cumming all over her seat from all the drama. “Fuck Mondays. Fuck cars. Fuck rideshare apps. Fuck—”
“Jesus, Mother and Joseph, someone needs to wash your mouth out, young man,” Margie, Jackson’s elderly secretary, cries out as she sends an appalled look in the accused’s direction. Jackson has the decency to look well-chastised as he takes his seat across from her. “Now, why don’t you try telling us what the problem is like a civilized human instead of—” she tosses a wrinkled hand at him, “that.”
Jackson cringes and drops his head on the table. “Sorry, Margie,” he mumbles, sounding petulant as all fuck. Meanwhile, I’m getting dizzy from how quickly my head is volleying between everyone as I take in the shit show that used to be my quiet Monday morning. “I came out this morning to get into my car, and all of my tires were slashed.”
Margie gasps, placing the same angry hand across her chest in shock. Jackson’s head whips up, and he glowers, meeting each of our gazes as he continues. “Oh, that’s not all.”
“Did they put baby powder in your vents, too?” Carly shouts, leaning in like she’s immersed in the best telenovela she’s ever seen.
His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before his head snaps in Addy’s direction, finally noticing he’s not the only person who’s had a shitty morning. “Fuck. Did they leave a note on your car?” She shakes her head as she gingerly takes her seat, as though she’s afraid the big bad baby power will come to life and attack her if she so much as jostles it.
Jackson groans and runs a hand through his hair, messing up the slicked-back locks in a way that looks almost intentional. “They keyed the side of my car, broke in and cut up the leather seats, took what I can only assume was a bat to both my headlights, and then slashed all four of my tires.”
A bark of laughter escapes me as his words sink in. Oh, this is just too good. “Maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat.” Again, everyone turns in my direction, confusion written all over their faces. My brows hit my hairline. “What? Did no one else catch the reference?”
Carly and Joella cast long glances at each other as they try and figure out the riddle. Surprisingly, it’s Scott Harrison, the final partner in our unconventional, slightly toxic crew, that gets it first. “Holy shit. You gotCarrie’d.”
