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“I didn’t ‘blow him off.’ He knows damn well what the rules are.”
“You’ve been moping around here for days because he hasn’t called you, and when he finally does, you refuse to see him.”
“First of all, he didn’t call. Miriam did. And second, he can’t just snap his fingers and expect me to come running. I’m not his slave.” I smile at Sam. “Besides, I already made plans to go out with you.”
Sam’s brows lift. “Oh…okay. So tomorrow then. Seven o’clock?”
“Sounds good. I can’t wait.”
She leaves not long after, and with new exhilaration, I go about the rest of my evening. I get a few more texts from friends congratulating me on my good news once I post it on Instagram. I invite Keith and some of his friends along on our bender. It’s shaping up to be a fun night out—one that will be well-earned. I’ve got a lot of steam to blow off, much of which is due to the maddening behavior of Mr. Kohl.
I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was curious how he’d react to my pushback. Just the thought of it brought a little thrill.
But I tucked that aside and went about my day. I didn’t have time to obsess over him. And this good news was enough to remind me that I was a strong and intelligent woman. And if he didn’t appreciate that, well too bad for him.
Chapter 22
Playing with Fire
The next day, I’m running errands, such as buying my books for the next term, doing my laundry and getting the place straightened up for the cleaning lady when my phone chirps with a text from Kohl.
I heard you are busy tonight.
His annoyance is unmistakable, which is exactly what I was counting on. Kohl is a man who gets what he wants when he wants it. Most people don’t have the balls to tell him no. I’m a little surprised that I do, actually. But if I don’t make a stand now, then he’ll walk all over me later.
I wait a half hour—while I fold my whites—formulating a reply that should sufficiently express my level of irritation with him. Part of me wants to not reply at all—like he’d done with me. But my snarky self gets over that pretty quickly.
Oh, I see that you do actually remember how to use the texting app on your phone. I’d thought you may have forgotten.
His reply comes less than a minute later:
I had a v. busy week. I want to see you tonight. Pick you up at 7.
Much as I would like to wait another half an hour, I can’t let that stand.
Sorry. I made plans & your scheduler called me too late. It’s 48 hrs notice, as agreed upon in the contract.
Not two seconds later, his reply lights up my phone.
Touché, Miss Swanson. You’ve made your point, now stop being insolent or I may have to punish you.
I smile at his text, but I’m still annoyed. Maybe a little bit turned on, if I’d care to admit that to myself.
Guess I’ll just have to take my chances.
As soon as I hit “reply” I turn my phone off and toss it into the laundry basket. Already, I’m tempted to turn it back on and see if he’s replied, but I resist. He needs to know he’s not the only one calling the shots. He can’t just trample all over that contract. He signed it, too.
“Another lemon drop, please!” I wave my hand at the bartender, and he acknowledges me with a nod. It’s my third drink of the night, and I’m feeling a nice, warm buzz.
“Maddy, come on. You haven’t had anything to eat,” Sam scolds.
“Hey, if I want to get shift-aced…I mean shit-faced then I’m allowed! We are celebrating.”
Keith, on the other side of me, grins. “We sure are. Welcome to the program, Maddy. It’s going to be an awesome year.” As the bartender sets the pretty yellow martini down in front of me, Keith holds out a bill. “This one’s on me.”
“Awww. Thank you,” I say, tilting my head to rest it on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet.” Greedily, I snatch up my drink and sip at it.
One of my favorite songs comes on, and people start flocking to the tiny dance floor.
