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Not that Nolan showing up here unannounced is unheard of, but it’s no weekly occurrence either.
“You weren’t missing your beloved younger brother?” he asks.
“Cut the shit.” We both know he didn’t show up here just for us to bask in each other’s presence.
He frowns. “You still making an appearance on my special at the Grange tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Good.”
“Nolan.”
“Alright. I came here to tell you I got you a last-minute talk with The Reginald.”
“What?” I growl.
“C’mon, you should be psyched!” Nolan’s tone is psyched enough for the both of us. “How much shit did The Reginald get Dad out of? He’s Storm Inc.’s best lawyer!”
“What shit do we need to get out of?”
“What shit don’t we need to get out of, am I right?” Nolan chuckles, although his face goes serious after a half-second. “Seriously, Greyson. You don’t want to miss this.”
“My PR talk about the tax evasion was a big success,” I point out. “I’ve already made our first big payment of the back taxes and set up that charity. What more is there to do?”
Nolan just smiles. “Come now, Greyson.”
I glare at him.
“Can’t you just go and trust me that this is in your and Storm Inc.’s best interest?” he continues.
“Not until you tell me what the fuck this is all about. There’s no reason you wouldn’t unless you knew it would piss me off and I wouldn’t go if I knew.”
He throws up both tan hands. “Whoa, cool it.”
“Right.” I go to my fridge, rip open the door. Maybe if I find something yummy to bribe Nolan with, he’ll go away. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Nolan trails behind. “I just thought, right now, with all that’s going on, some advice…”
“Is this about Harley?”
Nolan’s grin falters. “I mean, it’s not not about Harley.”
“You fucker.”
“No. Fuck you, man.” Nolan slams the fridge door shut. “You want to date your employee when Storm Media is in a literal bad publicity shit-storm, that’s your business. But you go talk to The Reginald too, at the very fucking least. He knows his shit. You know he does.”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Do you, though? Greyson, do you even have a plan if this gets out, if your little cinematographer squeeze decides to get pissed at you for cancelling a date and goes public?”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Well?”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“You know that.”
“Yeah. I do. Now back off.”
“So, you won’t see him?”
“Will you get off my case if I do?”
Nolan takes a few steps back, lifts his hands. “Consider me off already.”
I eye him. “When is it?”
“That’s why I came here—it’s tonight. As soon as you can make it.”
“And if I have plans?”
“Dude, you don’t even have food in your fridge, let alone plans.”
I eye him for a minute. Part of me wants to make up some bullshit and send him on his way, just to screw with him. I’ve never liked people interfering in my life. But another, stronger part of me wants to send him away so I can call up Harley, see what she’s up to, maybe even set up another date.
Maybe Nolan has a point. Seeing The Reginald can’t hurt. And I can always walk out if I don’t like what I’m hearing.
“Fine,” I say. “And I assume you’ll want to come with me since you don’t trust me to be able to walk into the big scary office all by myself…”
Nolan barks out a laugh. “Actually, I have… other interests there.”
“Other interests?”
“It’s not always all about you, you know.”
Another glance at my brother and it hits me. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?” Nolan’s already making for the door, his smile unmistakable. “She’s hot.”
I head after him. “If The Reginald finds out, you’re toast.”
A flat look. “Jenny is his secretary, not the mother of his children and love of his life.”
“Let’s just get there.”
Nolan, having insisted on being the one to drive, jokes and fiddles with the radio all the way there. I resist the urge to call up Harley and call off this whole stupid thing. Instead, I shoot her a text:
Thinking of you.
A few seconds later:
—Good or bad?
Why not both?
—Ooh now I’m intrigued. How can it be good and bad at the same time ;)
Guess I’ll have to show you next time I see you.
—Why not now?
Oh, fuck me. Now I have a hard-on.
—You can tell me, if it’s easier.
Vaguely, in the background of my consciousness, I can hear Nolan humming something. A glance out the window finds us still a few blocks away from Reginald’s office. I’ve got time.
I text her: You and me. On the floor of my patio. Outside.
—Ooh I get to see your place?
I freeze. I don’t invite women to my place. We go to theirs or I get a hotel room. It does not happen.
But right now… my slip-up isn’t seeming like so much a slip-up as an actually decent idea. Why couldn’t Harley come over? Just for one time, to see how it would be. Maybe I could even find her a big sweatshirt she could take home…
