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“Thanks, Joseph, if you can send me over the files, I’ll take care of this today.” And this is how I’m going to right the wrongs of my father. This part will be fun.
* * *
The double doorsto my office swing open and it’s almost like deja vu. In walks Timothy Braydon, but this time I summoned him, the fucker is about to get what is coming to him.
“I’m in the middle of an overseas business meeting. It’s time we get this straight. I worked for your old man. You want me, I come to you on my terms, not yours. I’m too important to this company. I’m your money maker, everything I do is what you live on, you little spoiled asshole.”
Like I had a month ago, I sit behind the desk, but this timeit’s my deskand not my father’s. “Oh, good. You made it, Mr. Braydon. But don’t worry. I don’t need you, not anymore. Especially since you don’t make me money, you seem to misappropriate it.”
The doors shut behind him like some big plot twist in the movies, and there stand two federal officers.
“What is going on?” He turns around, and I kick my feet up.
“You’re being arrested, you mother fucker. Good riddance. They’ll take it from here.”
And that’s what I do to mother fuckers who try to mess with me.
* * *
I’d receivedone text from Clark telling me he’d be in meetings all day long. At six p.m., I was done with work. I could have stayed longer, but if the run-in with my brother was any indication of my day, it continued in the fucked-up category. Between a pissing contest with three VPs and the report from my forensic consultant and the embezzlement scandal, which will bring an investigation, calling this day a shit storm is an understatement. However, the bright spot, if I can even say there’s a bright spot, was seeing the look on Timothy Braydon’s face. But that still isn’t enough to make my day much better.
I call for my driver, something I wasn’t sure I’d use in New York, and the craziness of the city, but the sooner I make it back to Clark’s, the sooner I can attempt to forget this day. As far as I’m concerned, the SEC could shut down Lynol Inc. I think this for a split second but realize it’s not what I want. I want to honor my grandfather, Marcus Roan, who I’m named after. I think of Elaine and Nina, and so many other employees who want to do their jobs to the best of their ability. I could never make my dad proud of me when he was on this earth, but I can make my grandfather’s name mean something.
I’m through the door with the key Clark left out for me. Being with Clark is everything. It’s where I want to be. But more so, the breach at Lynol Inc is my top concern, that and weeding out others like Braydon. Today tells me I’m needed the most at the New York office, and I can fly to Minnesota a couple times a month. But it’s where my heart is, too.
I dread going back tomorrow, especially when the SEC comes breathing down my back—but with Clark in my life, my cheerleader as I call him, I can get through this mess and bear the spawn of Lyle Lynol.
I pour myself a glass of Merlot that Clark has stocked for me and wait for him. I don’t assume I’ll move in with him, but knowing we’re in the same area code means I’ll always be able to fall asleep in Clark’s strong arms, and honestly, nothing makes me happier.
* * *
I nodoff after finishing my first glass of wine but wake when the cushions of the couch shift. The warmth of his fingers runs up my arm, and he quickly moves over toward my side, resting the palm of his hand on my hip. This is the only part of my day that has me smiling because it was pure shit, well except seeing Timothy Braydon’s face.
“What time is it, baby?” I ask as the apartment is dark, sans the television.
“It’s nine. I feel like the worst boyfriend. Your first day at work, in the city, and I wasn’t home to greet you to celebrate.”
I stretch out on the small loveseat, certainly not a piece of furniture I should fall asleep on often. “All I need to celebrate is you, and whatever that heavenly smell is coming from the kitchen.”
“It’s barbeque. Wanted to cook for you, but my day was shit.”
I shift my weight and sit up, bringing him to my side. “Mine, too. Let me say between the spawn of Satan I now know as my new brother and that CFO fucker being arrested for embezzlement on my first day in the New York office—it was smashing. So, there’s that.”
He lets out a laugh. “Sorry, baby, your brother turning out to be like your father and the arrest isn’t funny. Aren’t we something? But at the end of the day, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll fuck you tonight.”
“Barbeque and fucking, okay, so I guess this day isn’t a shitstorm after all, let’s eat because I need to bury myself so deep in your ass that I’m able to forget this day.”
He gives me a beer I’d missed had been in his hand. “Sounds like a plan I can sign off on.” And it’s exactly the way we spend our night.
29
CLARK
It’s Friday, and he’s been with me and in my space for seven days. Seven glorious days. Work has been a beast for the both of us, as most nights at least one of us hasn’t returned until close to ten. It’s easy how our frustration rolls off our backs as we make love to one another each night.
I’m addicted to his body, but more so, I want him in my space, if I’m cooking or lying on the couch watching a movie or basketball or hockey. It doesn’t matter what is on, only that his body is leaning next to mine.
I’ve discovered some of his less-than-desirable habits, like not rinsing out the sink after brushing his teeth or the ten million sheets of paper towels he uses throughout the day because he doesn’t like the texture of hand towels. I even found a roll on the counter in my bathroom. But it’s trivial shit and I wonder how I dealt with the harshness of life without him.
