His Town

by Ellie Danes

  She glanced at her cell phone to check the time. “It’s getting late.”

  “You’re the one who invited me here.”

  I was so sick of BioResearch trying to strong arm me — and using my ex-girlfriend against me was just making it worse. But I couldn’t really blame them for her — I could blame them for a lot of things, but not for her.

  I wondered why the hell she had to call me for the meeting in the first place instead of my lawyer. Sure, I thought that it might have to do with the fact that we’d had a personal relationship once upon a time, and I thought it was possible she might try and use it for leverage. But I had no idea she was going to use it to try to tempt, seduce, and then weasel her way out of a lawsuit.

  She looked around the room, running a hand through her hair. It was probably the closest I’d ever seen to her losing her composure.

  I couldn’t believe that there had ever been a time when I thought that the woman sitting in front of me was sweet. Since we’d broken up, I wasn’t sure she had a sweet bone in her entire body.

  Someone next to us must have been celebrating a birthday because the room erupted into clapping and cheering and singing. I was almost irritated until I realized it had completely filtered out Amelia’s voice. Perfect.

  She looked extremely pissed off about the noise. In fact, I could have sworn daggers flew out of her eyes as she glared at the partiers through her snake-like slits. It looked like she was honing in on some sort of voodoo magic or something as she looked at the group, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she had always been so bitchy and high strung.

  Sure, the singing was annoying. But it was only a short-lived nuisance; it wasn’t worth being so upset about.

  She rolled her eyes as soon as all the waiters and waitresses left the table. “Remember when this place used to be nice?” she said, her gaze falling to the birthday group, loud enough for them to hear.

  “It still is,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

  “What’s your problem?” she snapped. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are,” she said. “It’s like you’ve changed.”

  Finally, something worth celebrating. With a grin, I said, “I have.”

  She frowned, and I almost felt bad.

  “Well, I’m dating someone new.” Her tone sounded like she was trying to rub it in my face.

  I laughed. Did she really think it would bother me?

  “Oh, really?” I leaned forward, almost mockingly, and held my head up in my palms.

  She nodded. “And unlike you, he’s actually the man he promises to be.”

  I had no idea what she even meant by that. I really just wanted to finish eating my brunch and leave now that I knew what she wanted.

  “I mean, to sum him up in two words,” she said, “he’s fit and fuckable.”

  I rolled my eyes. Was this her attempt at making me jealous? “Thank God!” I laughed. “I mean if you were dating an uggo, I might have been a little embarrassed.”

  She kept on, clearly unable to detect sarcasm — or a hint.

  She talked about his “sexual prowess.” I stopped paying attention right about the time that she started talking about his apparently huge prick.

  Before this unfortunate turn in the conversation, I had been babying my mimosa from fear of getting sick. Now, I changed my mind and tossed it back.

  I just wanted to stop listening to her.

  “God, Amelia, would you shut up?” I snapped.

  I’d actually wanted the lunch to go well just so I could stay on her good side for the sake of professionalism and for the sake of that damned lawsuit. But enough was enough.

  “Would you like to see a picture?” she asked, completely ignoring my plea to shut the fuck up.

  “Sure,” I said, almost exasperated. This meal was wearing me out. I’d look at the picture and make my excuses. “Why not.”

  She held out her phone. I tried to focus on the jingly bracelet on her wrist as I gave the image a cursory glance. “Great job.”

  To me, the dude looked like a child. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I didn’t want her to think that I really cared who she dated.

  "Thanks. Well, anyway, just thought I would tell you he’s a really great guy.…”

  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to shut her up. I glanced at my fork. I really wanted to grab it and jam it right in my eye. Anything so that I wouldn’t have to listen to another one of these crazy mind games. Just let her talk, I told myself. Just let her talk for two more minutes, then make something up and go. Come on Ian, you can get through this.

  “He’s smart.”

  Then he’d definitely run for the hills as soon as possible.

  “He’s funny.”

  Good for him.

  “He’s attractive.”

  Double good for him.

  “He’s successful.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I get it, Amelia.”

  She sighed in return. “Are you sure there’s nothing that we can do about this lawsuit?” she said out of nowhere.

  Flirting. Lawsuit. Boyfriend. Lawsuit.

  “I’m really not budging on this. No one can make me budge.”

  “You remember how we used to play?” she asked in a seductive tone. It was the tone that said she meant a lot more than just “play.” This wasn’t a video or board games talk—this was about sex.

  I almost laughed in her face. It wasn’t because I was amused; it was because this was awkward as hell. She was acting psychotic. Part of me hoped it was some sort of ploy to lower my composure and strike me down when I least expected it.

  Maybe when we’d broken up, it had done a number on her. I hadn’t thought she really had feelings for me, but maybe the fact that I wasn’t groveling to get back in her pants was confusing to her somehow. Was I really the first person to turn her down? To show her that her sex appeal wasn’t enough, that she had to get some new material?

  “We played teacher and student, and I was your teacher,” she whispered, clearly still thinking that I was interested. “I put you in detention when you were a bad boy…”

  Did people really talk like this? Was this really something that happened in real life? She could tell I wasn’t interested, couldn’t she?

  My eyes were wide in disbelief, and my mouth had opened in horror. I wasn’t sure I could even look at her. A blush rose to my cheeks, but it wasn’t because I was embarrassed by the stupid sex game we used to play—it was because I was embarrassed for her. I was embarrassed that she had brought it up, and that she thought I would somehow get turned on.

  I scooted my chair back, still moving my gaze everywhere except for her. I really didn’t know what to do. I ran my hands through my hair. What the hell was I supposed to say to this?

  She must have thought her snatch was made of gold. And hell, if the lame sexual advances weren’t already bad enough, she had to throw in talk about her boyfriend’s dick.

  I was no longer just embarrassed for her — now I just felt insulted.

  “Well, teacher,” I said, “detention is over.” I tossed my napkin down, really glad that I had actually finished my meal.

  “You’re such an asshole. I don’t even know why I came here,” she spat, standing up.

  She hesitated, though, instead of immediately storming off. It was like she half-expected me to beg her to stay, to apologize for being such a jerk. But I only smiled and took a slow, deliberate sip of my mimosa.

  She growled, and without any other word, barreled passed me. Her feet thudded hard against the floor of the restaurant, and she had to be drawing every single eye in the room toward us — but I really didn’t care.

  In fact, I grinned as I glanced over my shoulder to watch her leave. “Finally.”

  I didn’t even mind that she’d left me with the bill. I was happy to pay it just to get rid of her. I was smiling — ear to ear. And it was probably beca
use her craziness was out of my life for good.

  I still remembered the time, just after we had broken up, that I’d come home and found my down pillows completely slashed. Feathers were everywhere.

  I wasn’t scared of her, though. Besides the fact that my penthouse apartment had looked like a chicken serial killer had attacked, Amelia wasn’t dangerous. Just a little too emotional about rejection, it seemed.

  Chapter 15

  Kate

  My breath was heavy, and my feet bounced with ease as I kept up with the pace of the quick-moving treadmill. I hadn’t felt so free since before I moved back in with my family. My heart was beating hard against my chest, and it was only a matter of time before my alarm was going to go off. The workout was almost over.

  I breathed hard and decreased the speed.

  It felt so good to actually be able to work out — and it felt even better to feel so alive, especially on a Monday morning.

  I felt amazing.

  Hell, I had even woken up with a smile. One hundred percent on the right side of the bed. I felt phenomenal, especially for how early I had gotten up. It wasn’t even six a.m., and I had already run for forty-five minutes on my dad’s treadmill.

  I scoffed. Dad’s treadmill. I wondered if he had ever actually used it. It was pretty much just a large decoration in his office as far as he was concerned.

  I breathed heavily, and sweat dripped down my brow. I needed to shower — and then I’d head over to Starbucks.

  I smiled.

  Starbucks.

  For once I wasn’t going as an escape. I was going just because it was my new morning routine. I was going because I wanted the taste of a hot and sweet mocha latte, warming me from the inside out. It was a feeling and a taste that I seemed to have been growing more and more attached to by the day. Coffee addiction…or Ian addiction?

  It was nice having some semblance of a routine, or at the very least, just a place to go — a place to be. Because the truth was, I was going crazy with my dad breathing down my neck when he was here at home.

  Luckily, he worked most of the time. His schedule was especially busy on Mondays. Mondays meant even more meetings and conference calls than usual. And the more meetings and calls he had, the less I had to deal with him.

  "You had no right!" I heard Claire scream, and I wondered who in the hell she was talking to. Wasn’t Dad already heading out to the office?

  Confused and curious, I rounded the corner only to see Claire snarling at Dad in the middle of the hallway.

  I watched as Dad’s eyes narrowed at her. I couldn’t believe he was still home. And not only that but harassing Claire?

  “Go back to your room!” he ordered.

  “No!” Claire replied as she stepped squarely, defiantly even, up to him. “That was my journal! You don’t have a right to look in it!”

  She poked his chest, her face clenched, and red as a tomato. A very, very, angry tomato.

  He slapped her hands away, and she stood there, almost taken aback, and honestly I was too. Not at the fact that he was slapping her hands away. I probably would have smacked her in the face had she been poking at me like she’d done to him, whether I was in the wrong or not. I was more taken aback by the fact that it was so early, and they were already fighting.

  Not to mention, what the hell was he doing looking in her journal?

  “Asshole!” she screamed, punching him in his chest.

  I stood there, eyes wide, feet basically glued to the floor. I didn’t know what to do in the situation. Yeah, I was pissed off at my dad, and Claire was definitely pissed off at him, but being pissed off was no reason to be disrespectful or hurt someone. He was our dad, and she was hitting him.

  “Claire!” I warned.

  “He was looking through my things!” she pressed, her arms flailing angrily in the air.

  I looked at her, my feet planted firmly in place. “Go to your room,” I hissed, trying to defuse the situation the best way that I could.

  “Will you do something?” Dad growled over his shoulder, looking back at me.

  “Are you kidding?!” I blurted, not really knowing how to keep quiet. Was he really insinuating that it was my job to keep her in line when he was the parent? I didn’t know what the hell to do more than I’d already done. Besides, he was the one in the wrong in the first place!

  “I’m the father, and nothing I say or do should be questioned!” he yelled, and immediately Claire and I both scoffed. I didn’t even mean to scoff. It was just too rich not to.

  “Yeah, you’re the father, but you put everything on Kate, like always!”

  She was trying to defend me, but I really did just want her to just shut up.

  “Claire!” I bellowed, in one final warning.

  “Fine!” She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m gone,” she said, and without another word stomped off toward her room.

  “Three,” I said.

  Dad looked at me questioningly.

  “Two,” I said, and then a huge slam sounded throughout the entire apartment.

  “One.” I sighed.

  Then I glared at Dad.

  “What the hell was that about?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “And why the hell are you not at work?”

  “This is my house. I can be here if I want,” he said in a huff that was pouty enough to put him straight into toddler status.

  “Wow,” I said, trying not to look too disrespectful, but feeling that way just the same. “And you were looking in her journal?”

  It didn’t make sense—why would he do that? I walked a few steps closer to him so that we could keep our volume down.

  “She didn’t have the right to yell and curse at me like that, Kate,” he said abruptly, just before shoving past me to go toward his office. “And I don't appreciate the questions.”

  "You were acting like a moron!” My eyes suddenly narrowed as my hands subconsciously formed into fists. I wasn’t sure how and why he drove me so damned crazy, but he did.

  “Watch it!” he snapped, turning his heels back at me.

  “No!” I snapped back. “You watch it!”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He was furious. I could tell by his reddened face and the giant vein that throbbed in his forehead.

  “You just upset her before she has to go to school, you jackass!” I growled. “Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is every day to get her into class?”

  “I’ll take her, just go get ready and do whatever the hell you were trying to do without me knowing.”

  I stopped, dead in my tracks, a whole new amount of anger bubbling under the surface. “Excuse me?” I asked, heat pouring from my tongue.

  But he didn’t respond; instead, he walked over the threshold of his office and slammed the door shut. I huffed and walked toward the bathroom. Trying to push whatever the hell that was out of my mind, I jumped in the shower, my mood almost completely spoiled for the morning.

  The only good thing left for the day was the possibility of seeing Ian at Starbucks. The rest had been completely ruined, and I wasn’t even sure what my Dad’s damage was this morning. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow just pissed in his own Cheerios and wanted to take it out on the world.

  Really, what was he trying to say? That I couldn’t do things without him knowing? I was a grown ass woman. I might have been living in his home, and I respected that. I always had, but that didn’t mean that I should have to check in with him every time I decided to do something for myself.

  Did it?

  “Ugh!” I groaned as I rinsed myself off. Even my shower was ruined by him. I’d known that coming back home to live with Dad and Claire wouldn’t be easy, but wow. This was horrible. “Guess I just need to get used to this.” I sighed with exasperation as I turned off the shower and headed toward my bedroom, with a towel wrapped around me.

  I knew, though, that at the very least, Claire and Dad were already gone.

  I could t
ell because as I scrambled to get ready, I noticed that all the doors were open, and when I walked through the kitchen, it was a complete disaster zone from Claire’s morning raid. Cabinets were left open, bread was left open and out of the breadbox, and juice was left on the countertop. Even the refrigerator door was open a crack.

  It was an every morning thing, cleaning up after her, but I did it.

  Every. Single. Morning.

  Even this morning, when I wanted nothing more than to soak my sorrows in caffeine and Ian’s gorgeous face and forget — for just a second — that my dad was the biggest flaming asshole I’d ever known.

  Luckily, or unluckily — I wasn’t quite sure which — my righteous anger made the cleaning go much faster than usual, and before I knew it, I was stuffing my arms into my coat and bundling it close before I began my trek outside.

  The wind cut into me as soon as I exited the lobby. It was like it reached into my lungs and yanked the air out; it felt like I’d just lost my breath.

  It was crazy, really. I had run for forty-five minutes on an intensely difficult circuit, and my lungs were perfectly fine — but take one step into the ridiculous fucking Tundra of New York City and my lungs became flat tires. Deflated and useless.

  It was still early, and that meant it was even colder than usual. No matter how good of a mood I was in, though, I still hated how damned cold it was all the time. To make it worse, there weren’t any cabs. It was wall to wall morning traffic, and no unoccupied cabs seemed to be among the slew of cars for as far as I could see.

  I’d have to walk. Shit. Quite the turn to the day.

  Seemed like I was always pissed at my dad when walking to Starbucks. “May as well make that part of this morning tradition as well,” I said to myself.

  The wind ruffled my hair, and it felt like an icicle shiv had just stabbed me from head to toe. The gusts were strong and rough. If only I could somehow teleport to Starbucks….

  I brushed strands of wind-blown hair from my face and scowled. There really was nothing like freezing cold weather to piss me off even more than I’d already been pissed off. It didn’t make it any better that no matter how thick my coat was in NYC, it couldn’t be thick enough. I didn’t think it was possible. And I was even more pissed because I didn’t have fifteen scarves on — or at least three pairs of pants.