Game Changer

by Stewart, Sylvie

  Mac’s hand winds around my waist and settles on my belly at Bobby Lee’s endearment. And I know I was the one to use Mac as my buffer with Bobby Lee in the first place, but I’ve got a better handle on it now. So I gently move Mac’s hand and, in a minor miracle, he lets me.

  “Okay. Well…” It’s not like I can ask Bobby Lee to come hang out for the day. I have work and two meetings scheduled. But, like it or not, Bobby Lee is family, and you don’t kick family out unless they do something unforgivable like not replacing the toilet paper roll. Last I checked, caring about somebody is not a crime worthy of being cast out.

  I take a few steps closer and Bobby Lee is watching my face. “Listen, I’ve got a few meetings scheduled, but I’m sure I can get away for lunch or something. What do you say?”

  One side of his mouth turns up, but it’s a poor excuse for a smile. His eyes dart to Mac where I know he’s still standing there like a sentry behind me.

  “That’s all right. You go do your thing. I’m gonna head on home.”

  “Already?” It’s a weak protest, but there it is.

  “Yeah, I reckon I finished what I came for.”

  Oh, Bobby Lee. Dammit.

  “Walk me out?” He bends and picks up his leather satchel I didn’t notice at the leg of the table.

  “Of course.” I turn and walk to the door, biting my lip as I go and not daring to look at Mac.

  The two men exchange polite farewells behind me but I just keep on walking until I’m back out on the sidewalk.

  I hear Bobby Lee’s shoes scuffing the concrete behind me. “You’re happy.” His words take me by surprise, but my response comes easily.

  “Yeah, I am.” I turn to face him and I have to look up because he’s still on the steps.

  “And he makes you happy?” Bobby Lee’s eyes shift up toward my apartment.

  I nod since answering that question with words would take approximately thirty-two years and nobody’s got time for that.

  He sighs and drops down the rest of the steps until we’re toe to toe. “Well, I reckon that’s all that’s really important, then.”

  Dammit, Bobby Lee. “Are you trying to make me cry?”

  He coughs out a laugh. “No, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t do my heart some good to know you shed a tear or two over me.”

  “Bobby Lee.” I don’t say anything else. I just hug him and hold on tight for a few seconds.

  “You just make sure he knows the minute he does something to hurt you, I’m coming right back up to show him how us Southern boys throw down.”

  It takes everything in me not to laugh at the mental picture he’s painting, not to mention the fact that the phrase “throw down” just came out of his preppy proper mouth. So I nod, not letting myself consider his words too carefully or I might admit that Mac hurting me is probably a foregone conclusion.

  But I shove that down, and as soon as I lose sight of Bobby Lee’s cab, I run back up to my apartment to get ready for work and take advantage of any time I can get with Mac.

  * * *

  “Well, this is it.” Athena brings her hands together on the conference table before her. The surface is littered with printouts, photographs, and probably a dozen empty coffee cups.

  “How in the hell are we supposed to enjoy Labor Day weekend with this looming over our heads?” Kate’s brows are drawn together and she’s got a pencil stuck in her hair.

  “That’s easy,” Natalie, another of the executives, chimes in. “Lots and lots of wine.”

  This makes us all smile and eases some of the tension in the air. It’s the end of the day on Friday and the next time we see each other after the long weekend, the presentation will be over. Athena is pitching the new WHL to the board of directors Tuesday morning and there’s nothing left we can do.

  Everybody has worked their asses off, so there’s no room for regret, but it’s still scary when jobs are essentially on the line. Well, at least mine is.

  And it’s been impossible to ignore the whispers in the hallway and the sidelong glances that have come our way as the presentation draws nearer. But we’ll show them all.

  I take a deep breath. “We’ve got nothing to worry about. Our vision is fresh, the look is clean, and our team is the best out there.” If I say it enough times, it has to be true, right? “They’d be crazy to turn us down.”

  “Absolutely,” Kate affirms.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Natalie raises a pretend glass to me.

  “They’ll be eating out of my hand.” Athena’s confident smirk settles over us all.

  And that’s all we can do. Hope for the best.

  Suffice it to say, I’m more than ready for a drink by the time I pack up my things and leave the office. I heard Kate on the phone with Zach, so I don’t want to butt into her date night, but there’s no way I’m hanging out at my apartment alone tonight.

  My stomach, my heart, and my hoo-ha want to pick up the phone and call Mac, but after last night, the last thing I want to do is come off as too needy. I didn’t force him to take me to his place and ravish me, but my claiming him in front of Bobby Lee was kind of ballsy, so maybe it’s best to leave the ball in his court for now.

  So I call Iris instead.

  “Please tell me you’ve sealed the deal with Mac by now!”

  Why bother with a polite greeting when you can be obnoxious instead?

  “Hello, Iris. How are you?” I pick my way past a gaggle of prep-school girls in plaid uniforms who are using the sidewalk as their own personal catwalk.

  “Same old, same old. Manny is a dick and Mama wants me to go stay at the house the rest of the time she and Daddy are gone because she heard burglars have been casing the neighborhood. I feel so loved and cherished that she wants to offer me up as human bait.”

  I can’t stop my snicker. Manny, her boss, is indeed a dick, and it’s good to know that not much has changed at home, even if our parents are still away on their marathon vacation.

  “Now tell me, have we proven once and for all the truth of the old saying about the size of a man’s feet?”

  “Ummmm.”

  “I knew it! He’s got to be a size sixteen. Can you even walk after that?”

  “Rissy!” I snort laugh. “Oh my God.”

  “I notice you haven’t answered.”

  I turn the corner at a noodle joint. “It’s not like I whipped out a tape measure. Jeez, woman.”

  I’m pretty sure she’s dancing at this point. “Yeah, but at least give me an approximation.”

  “I’m not giving you a damn thing. This is not why I called.”

  I can hear her pout over the line. “Fine, then what did you call about if it’s not to gossip about Mac and his enormous penis.”

  I almost trip over my heels. “Please tell me you’re not at work with that mouth.”

  “Relax. I’m at Mama and Daddy’s making sure no ax murderers are hiding in the closets.”

  “Thank God.” The fact that she hasn’t mentioned Bobby Lee tells me the gossip train is still parked at the station—or Bobby Lee missed his flight. Either way, I’m not bringing it up. “So, I’m really just calling to say hi. And because I have to talk to someone or I’m gonna go nuts. The presentation is all ready and it’s pretty much in the board’s hands now. I’ll know next week if I’m going to be Poppy James, creative director of the fabulous WHL, or Poppy James, staff designer and coffee wench for a random publication out of someone’s creepy basement.”

  “No way! Nuh uh. You guys are gonna get the go-ahead. I just know it.”

  “You really think so?” I know it’s silly to look to Iris for reassurance on something she’s never even laid eyes on, but it still helps.

  “I know so.”

  “Well, I can always come home if it crashes and burns, I guess.” I’m waiting at a cross walk with half of Manhattan, so I refuse to let the lump in my throat have its way.

  “Popps, as much as I miss you, it ain’t your time. Ma
ybe one day you’ll come home to stay, but not until you’ve kicked ass all over New York.”

  I smile at that, the lump shrinking a little. “Thanks, Rissy.”

  “And besides, they don’t grow men like Mac down here.”

  Seeing as I’ve said this exact thing a time or seven, this doesn’t require a response so I ignore it. “Man, what I really need is a drink and a dance club.”

  “Since you’re obviously ignoring my attempts to talk about your red-hot stallion, you should go out with Kate and have some girl time.”

  “Eh, she’s got a date. It might just be me, Netflix, and a bottle of wine.”

  “No! You’re in New York City! Call Naveed. I’m pretty sure it’s a rule that every single girl in New York needs a gay best friend.”

  I get pushed along with the throng when the signal turns green. “I don’t have nearly enough eyerolls to respond to that comment.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Her response is flat. “I’m only trying to help, and Naveed is fun.”

  “I know.” I pull on my hair in frustration. “But if I have drinks with Naveed, I’m bound to slip up and say something about Mac and me, and I can’t have anyone at work knowing about… whatever it is between us. Not yet.” And, besides, it would be just like me to get drunk and gush about Mac only to have him never call me again.

  “I still don’t understand why not. It’s not like it’s some kind of HR issue. Mac doesn’t even work there.”

  “I know, I know, but just trust me. Nepotism, friendly favors, mixing business with pleasure… it’s all fine and good back home, but it’s a different world up here. I can’t even begin to tell you the shit I hear in the office bathroom. You should see how fast they can tear you down up here.

  “I saw the security guard walking someone out last week for stealing binder clips, Iris. Binder clips! Not to mention yesterday when some woman in twelve-inch heels asked me to get her coffee just because I happened to be standing beside her outside the elevators. She assumed I was the receptionist. My God, with the look she gave me, I was two seconds away from saying, ‘Yes, ma’am, how many sugars?’

  “I’m not gonna be that green young thing who can’t take her job seriously enough to keep it in her panties. My first assignment and I go hopping into bed with the subject of an interview? Please. Besides, you’re the one who told me to dress for the job I want and you were right.” I’m out of breath by the time I finish.

  “Okay, okay. Point taken. But just remember, even that boss of yours you admire so much, that Athena woman? I’ll bet my ass she’s got a sex life and doesn’t apologize for it. Just sayin’.”

  “And when I’m established here and have a laundry list of successful projects under my belt—and don’t get mistaken for a college student—I’ll gladly shout about my sex life and maybe even do it with my full-on accent and my cowboy boots. But until then, I’m keeping a low profile.”

  “Whatever you say, Poppy.”

  I realize I’ve been all but stalking down the sidewalk when my toes cry out in protest. Damn, that was stupid. I look around, but it’s rush hour and there is no hope of catching a cab. I’ll just have to walk the rest of the way home or grab the subway. Even the thought of that has me feeling slightly ill, though. My mind immediately goes to the last time I was on an overcrowded subway car with Mac surrounding me and calling me honey. My limbs get rubbery at the memory.

  I sigh and slow my steps. “Sorry to dump all that on you.”

  “Hey, I’m your sister. It’s in the job description.”

  “Well, you’re an excellent employee. Make sure you tell Manny I said so.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

  “I guess I should go. I need to figure out a way home during rush hour.”

  “Well, if you’re not going out with Kate or Naveed, you should just give in and call Mac. I’m sure you two could think of something to do that won’t involve going out in public and risking your career.”

  Smartass.

  “I don’t know. He’s a little hot and cold.” Although, last night was definitely hot. “I’m leaving the ball in his court right now.”

  “Because you seduced him and then ran away? Please don’t tell me that’s what happened.”

  “I didn’t seduce him and I didn’t run away.”

  “Thank God for small favors.”

  I close one eye and get it over with. “But Bobby Lee might have shown up at my doorstep at the same time as Mac and I might have stroked Mac like a pony and pretended he was my boyfriend so Bobby Lee would get off my back. And it might have ended up with Mac taking me home with him so I wouldn’t have to deal with the whole disaster that is Bobby Lee but I would have to deal with a very naked and very hot Mac McKinley.” I suck in a breath while the line goes completely silent.

  “Iris?” I eek out in a whisper.

  But all I get back is a giant whoop of laughter I can hear echoing off the walls of my folks’ house back in Savannah.

  Twenty-Two

  “When you don’t know where you stand, sometimes it helps to just take a seat and wait.”

  – Cookie Rutledge

  In all fairness, Mac didn’t say he was going to call today. By the time I said goodbye to Bobby Lee, got changed, and Mac put me in a cab to work this morning, I was running so late there wasn’t much time to say anything at all. I hate feeling like I don’t know where I stand. On the one hand, we had sex—very hot, very intimate sex. And Mac shared something personal with me. And he had both an unopened bottle of wine and an unopened box of condoms I could conceivably convince myself were purchased with me in mind. On the other hand, Elle’s ominous statements and the messy past I don’t know the first thing about throw up some pretty freaking huge red flags.

  In my limited experience, it’s normal to share things about yourself and your past with someone you’re dating. Not so much with someone you’re screwing.

  So, that might be my answer right there.

  But I can’t forget his earnest expression when he told me he didn’t want to be the one doing all the taking. That has to mean something, right?

  Gah! I can run this around in circles in my head all I want, but it will always come down to one thing: I can’t make someone feel something they don’t want to.

  The best thing I can do is figure out my own feelings about Mac and let him decide for himself what he wants from me. If he says, “Thanks for the hot sex,” and walks away, I can’t be angry at him for that.

  But I can still be sad. And I will be. Hell, just the thought of it is making me want to cry, and I hardly even know the guy.

  Guess I’ve got my feelings all figured out, so at least I can cross one thing off my list.

  I push a sweaty strand of hair off my face and limp around the corner onto my block, cursing myself for the tenth time for forgetting a change of shoes in my hurry this morning. But wine will surely dull the pain. I just hope I remembered to stock up.

  “What happened?”

  I nearly jump out of my cursed heels at the sound of Mac’s troubled voice. My head pops up to find him bearing down on me on the sidewalk and I can’t help myself. I break out into what’s probably the goofiest grin this side of Japanese anime. And I don’t give one flying frack.

  He stops in front of me but his hands stay at his sides as his eyes sweep me, assessing for injury. It makes my smile even stupider.

  “Nothing,” I reply. “Just forgot sensible shoes.”

  His chest rumbles and he bends at the waist without another word, sweeping me up in a fireman’s hold and whipping us around to head back the way he came.

  “Mac!” I achieve a pitch invented for canine ears only. “What are you doing?”

  He doesn’t respond, of course.

  I smack his back but then get distracted by the way his muscles contract when he walks. Pretty soon, the hand that was meant to be scolding him is feeling him up, stroking the muscles on either side of his spine and heading downtown to Uppe
r Assville. This was one area I didn’t get to adequately explore last night due to his habit of moving me where he wants me and always needing to have his eyes on me. But I need to bookmark this for later.

  “Ride it like you stole it, girl!” comes a shout from across the street and I can’t bring myself to look for its source. What am I doing?

  Luckily, Mac needs to set me down so I can unlock my building’s door, something that sparks a question I’ve been meaning to ask.

  “How have you been getting in my building all this time?”

  His response is a half shrug and a frown as he tilts his head to look at my throbbing feet.

  “Mac!”

  I get his eyes on mine and he just says, “I’m good with my hands.”

  And if that just doesn’t say everything…

  I shove the door open and move to the stairs but he’s on me again and, yup, I’m up and over his shoulder and he’s jogging up the stairs. Yes, I said jogging.

  I don’t bother scolding him again because we’re at my door before I know it. Mac takes the key from me, opens my door, and holds his hand out. I give him a look and take the proffered keys, but his hand doesn’t go down.

  “Shoes.”

  I roll my eyes and bend first one leg and then the other until I have both shoes in hand and hold them out to him. Mac takes them and we enter my apartment—where he proceeds to stalk over to the windows, open one, and throw my shoes out into the alley below.

  “I can’t believe you just did that!”

  “I can’t believe you wear those things,” he replies as calm as can be and then walks to my kitchen to pull two glasses down from the cabinet (without having to rummage around at all, of course). I watch, speechless, as he pretends like he didn’t just throw my hundred-dollar shoes out the window and reaches into the fridge for my pitcher of sweet tea. He fills both glasses with ice and tops that off with the tea before setting one down on the counter in front of me and taking a Mac-sized swallow from the other. A move which is immediately followed by him dumping the rest of the contents of his glass down my sink.