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When I grab the bag with the medicine in it, the clerk says, “Have a good night,” and sits back down on his stool. I give him a smile and nod before leaving.
It’s nice to just be able to do something without having expectations thrust on me. I don’t have to smile or be happy. I don’t even have to acknowledge someone is there fully.
The attention never bothered me before. It’s not like I’d want to live in the mountains hiding away from the world. Hell, I don’t even want to leave New York. I love it here and always have, but it was different when I was a person instead of a persona.
As I climb back up the stairs to the third floor, I try to forget the thoughts that swam through my mind on my brief trip to the drugstore. They’re not helpful because I know that if I want Aspire to continue to grow and succeed, my image is the one that everyone knows. Not Dante or Noah. Emery Brooks is the man that sells Aspire to the world.
And the world loves Emery Brooks, the playboy who always has the world at his fingertips. Not Em, the guy who wishes he could spend at least one Saturday night just laying on the couch watching ‘80s movies.
I don’t knock when I get to Madison’s apartment, since she should still be in the shower. But when I walk inside, she’s wearing a towel wrapped around her chest as she sits on a pillow at their table.
There’s a fresh bottle of wine in front of her, and she takes a long drink from it when she sees me. “You know that alcohol isn’t the cure for allergies, right?”
“No, but it might be the cure for embarrassment,” she says without a second’s thought.
I chuckle as I set the bag on the table, and Madison immediately digs through it, pulling out the bottle of allergy meds. She takes one look at the instructions and pops the bottle open to take a pill.
“Might want to slow down on the drinking with those pills.” I’ve seen more than a few people have some pretty terrible reactions drinking while taking medication. I haven’t seen it happen with allergy meds, but the instinct is the same.
She glances at me and sighs. Instead of swallowing the pill with the bottle of wine in front of her, she stands up and goes to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water.
When she comes back to the table, she rubs both of her hands over her cheeks like she’s scrubbing her face. “I can’t believe this happened.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse things happen more times than you’d believe.” I can’t actually think of anything more embarrassing happening to an employee. She needs to hear it, though, and I don’t think it’s changed anything in our office relationship. If anything, maybe there’s a chance to bridge that gap now.
Maybe we can learn to work together instead of fighting with each other.
“That’s doubtful.” Her expression tells me she doesn’t believe me at all.
I chuckle, quickly coming up with a lie. “One time we were shooting a commercial for a sexual lubricant brand in one of their warehouses because it made sense for the shoot. Well, there was a lack of chairs in the warehouse, so Margery, the woman in charge of the project, sat down on one of the boxes that were everywhere. She didn’t know it was a box that held a giant bag of lube that’d been in the warehouse for months and had broken down.”
Madison’s downtrodden expression flickers and slowly turns into a smile as she sees the ending coming. “Well, when Margery sat down on the box, it collapsed under her, and the tube explodes, covering her from head-to-toe in the thickest lube you’ve ever seen.”
She chuckles as I finish the story. “She had to finish the whole shoot looking like she’d just gotten off a very weird porn set. That’s not even counting how many times she slipped on the concrete floor. I think I saw her underwear more times that day than I’ve seen yours.”
The chuckle turns to laughter, and she blushes at the same time. “There’s no way that’s a true story. No one can be that unlucky.”
I finally give in to the laughter, too. “No, that didn’t actually happen, but I’m sure it’s happened to someone. Plus, it made you laugh instead of frown, and that’s the actual point of a good story.”
Madison leans back in her chair, and her towel slips just a little lower on her breasts. I struggle to keep from looking away from her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to a pool party tonight?” she asks.
I nod. “Actually, yes. My friends are going to have to wait a little longer since I can’t leave for another hour. I’ve heard that allergic reactions are delayed sometimes, so until I’m sure that your pills have taken effect, you’re stuck with me.”
She frowns at me and taps her fingers on the table. “So, no drinking and I have to chat with you? How’d you turn my apartment into work? If you get your laptop and start talking about commercials, I’ll physically throw you out.”
I chuckle a little as I shift in my seat. The towel has slipped even more, and the bulge in my pants is getting uncomfortable. “What else would you be doing since you obviously weren’t working?”
“You caught me. I was making ChitChat videos for my personal account before I tried this hell cream. I felt like I needed to know what the product actually did before I tried to sell it.”
This shouldn’t be an awkward work conversation, so I do the one thing I’ve learned will always get a woman to talk. I ask about something they’re passionate about. And I listen.
“So, what book are you reading? Something I’d know?”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “I thought you checked out my ChitChat account? Unless you’re a fine purveyor of literary smut, I doubt it. Though if you are, then you just became a whole lot more interesting.”
I like this side of Madison. There aren’t any masks or professionalism clouding her personality. She’s just unabashedly her.
“This time, you caught me. I only looked at the numbers. There were too many videos to watch them. But that’s far less interesting than what you just told me. Do you know how many people would be pissed knowing that you’re working at Aspire because you can sell sex books?”
