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Steven's laughter rings through the bar. "Your old man's got some major commitment issues, dude. Buying out another company to keep his son on a leash? That's a new level of parental control!"
"You're telling me, man. I'm waiting for him to install tracking devices next."
"Here's to the latest victim of the Atwood empire. And hey, welcome to the club, bro. We've got jackets."
I stare into my drink thinking about how my dad has even brought Steven into the drama of our family. Years ago, Steve and I started a tech startup fresh out of college. We were going to revolutionize the industry. I laugh bitterly at the memory.
We were young, ambitious, and too naïve to see what was coming though. We had no idea my father had his eye on our little venture. Pretending to be supportive, he bought out our biggest competitor and merged it with our company. Next thing we knew, he was calling the shots, and our dream was another arm of the Atwood empire.
Steven reads my thoughts.
"Your father's control issues are next level, bro.”
We clink glasses, a silent toast to our shared past, and a hasty reminder of my present predicament.
Steve leans back, swirling the rest of the whiskey in his glass. "So, who do you have to answer to now?"
My laugh is bitter. "You'll never guess." I take another swig. "I thought I was finally going to break free. I thought he'd let me find my own path this time." My voice is full of frustration. "I mean, the old man always has his hooks in, but this time I thought it'd be different. You know, doing my own thing at work." I shake my head. "Instead, he's got me working under this chick named Bailey." I emphasize her name, the irritation evident in my tone. "She's so damn annoying, Steve. One of those 'know-it-all' types who always wants to show that she's in charge. As if I need another boss in my life.”
"Damn! He's got you working under a stick in the mud? That's brutal."
“That’s an understatement," I groan. "Her sole aim in life seems to be getting under my skin. She presented me a damn 'Code of Conduct' on my first day. Like we're in kindergarten or something.”
“A rule follower, huh? Sounds just like you..." Steve chuckles
"Don't even get me started," I continue, irritation seeping into my voice. "She LIVES by the fuckin' rules and it drives me insane.”
I shake my head, swirling the ice in my empty glass. "She's so uptight, Steve. Like, wound up tighter than a two-dollar watch. I swear, it's like she's got a rod up her spine. She needs to loosen up, man. Let her hair down, break some rules, live a little. The world won't end if she misses a deadline or steps out of line."
I let out a bitter chuckle, staring into my empty glass. "I mean, seriously. I can imagine her kicking back, letting loose, you know? Now that's a sight I'd pay to fuckin' see." I let out a small sigh. "Yeah, that's something I'd love to see." The words slip out before I realize what I'm saying. I clear my throat, reaching for the bottle to refill my glass. "You know, just for the hell of it," I add, trying to brush off the moment. But as I take another swig, I can't help but picture Bailey, free and laughing, and I realize it's a sight I'd very much like to see.
We come back to familiar territory, talking about football scores, the new Mustang model hitting the market, and the blonde waitress who Steve tries to convice me was giving him 'the eye.' But no matter what we talk about, my mind keeps straying back to work and Bailey. The mere thought of her name has me gritting my teeth in frustration.
Steve, mid-speech about his latest failed date, stops and grins at me. "You seem distracted, bro," he remarks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thinking about work again?"
I shake my head as I take a long swig. "More like thinking about my pain-in-the-ass ‘boss’."
"Dude, you never usually give a damn. What's different?"
"Nothing's different... it's just... she's different."
My mind drifts back to Bailey. I can almost see her there, her stern face, that annoyingly precise way she has of doing everything. I can't figure out why she's getting under my skin this much. I’ve dealt with far worse.
"I don't know, man," I confess, running a hand through my hair. "She's just... She gets to me. I can't stand it... She annoys the fuck out of me. But the worst part," I say, leaning in closer, "is that no matter how much she pisses me off, I can't deny she’s good at what she does. And it’s driving me insane.”
Steve smiles, shaking his head. "Sounds to me like someone's got a little crush," he teases, raising his glass to me.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, right. Like I'd ever fall for someone like her."
But as the words leave my mouth, I am annoyed with myself. I know I keep talking about her. And that in itself is driving me fuckin' nuts. I shake my head, pushing the thought away. It's Bailey, for God's sake. The last person on earth I'd ever fall for... Right?
Right.
Steve pushes the empty glasses to one side. "You've been ranting about her for a good hour, bro. That's a lot of energy to give someone you find 'annoying.'" His playful tone does not mask his comment.
I roll my eyes. "Don't start, Steve."
"I mean, here's this goody-goody who's got you all tied up in knots. You can't seem to stop talking about her." He leans back, a teasing grin on his face. "You sure you're not just...a little bit...into her?"
