by JA Huss
“That won’t be necessary,” the man says. “Are you Ms. Ryan?”
“Yes, I’m Oaklee Ryan.”
“And you own this Bronco Brews?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Did you call our corporate offices on Saturday morning?” the second woman asks.
“I’m sorry, who are all you people?”
“I’m Mike Brown,” the man says. “Executive Producer at Home TV. I oversee all the new show concepts. This is my assistant, Jake Slocum. And this is Michaela’s assistant, Lisa Stevens. We’re here because somehow you knew we were coming to town to talk to Lawton Ayers about his mountain show, and you wanted to pitch us an idea about dueling local breweries before we decided to commit to him.”
My stomach sinks. “Let me guess,” I say. “Would these two breweries be Bronco Brews and Buffalo Brews?”
“Yes!” Michaela says. She’s excited now that I seem to be on the same page. “We love, love, love this idea, don’t we Mike?”
“I was intrigued enough to get on a jet at five AM this morning to fly in for your meeting, but I have to say, this was not the reception I was expecting.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper. “This isn’t happening. Look, there’s been—”
But that’s as far as I get in the way of an explanation. Because the elevator doors ding and then the doors open and Lawton appears.
Face all beaten up.
Raging mad expression on his face.
And yelling, “What the fuck are you two doing to each other?” Before I can tell him that Home TV is in the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - LAWTON
I regret my outburst as the words are leaving my mouth for three reasons.
One. Oaklee didn’t do this to me, Hanna did.
Two. She’s in the middle of a business meeting and I just yelled the word fuck.
And three. I look like I just got in a street fight. Because I did. So the two women actually look afraid of me and the two men just angry.
“Uh…” I say, in the ensuing silence. Four unknown well-dressed people stare at me with wide eyes. “Um…” I force a smile. “I’m sorry.” Then look at Oaklee, who is shaking her head at me on the sly. “I didn’t realize you had people up here.”
“Lawton,” Oaklee says. “You’re bleeding! What the hell happened to you?”
I look at her… acquaintances, then back at her and say, “Um… I can come back later.”
“Wait,” a tall man in a very expensive suit says. “You’re Lawton Ayers?”
“Uh…” And for some reason I know the right answer to this question is no.
But Oaklee says, “Yes. This is Lawton. He’s the one you have a meeting with, not me.”
“Meeting?” I say. “No. I have no clue what you all are doing, or talking about, or… anything. So I’m gonna go.” I point at the elevator as I look at Oaklee. “Over to Jordan’s office and have a little conversation with him about the contract we signed. I’ll come back later, see ya.”
But Oaklee runs over to me and grabs my arm, tugging me back into the fray. “Lawton,” she whispers. “These are the Home TV people. They’re here for your meeting. I don’t know how they got my name—did you mention me?—anyway, doesn’t matter. They’re here about the show.”
“We can hear you,” one woman says. “And we’ve already explained. We’re not here for Lawton Ayers. We’re here for you.”
I spin around because I recognize her voice. “Michaela?” I say. “Michaela Cummings?”
She purses her lips and nods. “Yes. I’m sorry for the confusion, Lawton. And I don’t know why you’re here. But this isn’t your meeting. We’re here because Oaklee Ryan contacted us about a show based on her brewery.”
“That’s not true!” Oaklee says, grabbing my arm tighter. “I did not! I don’t know what’s happening but I never called these people! I wouldn’t even know where to start the process of getting a TV show!”
The other woman opens up the cover to her tablet, shaking her head. She stabs the screen a few times with her fingers and then holds it up so we can see. “Oaklee, we have emails from you. An entire pitch for dueling craft breweries in Denver. You even said you knew we’d be in town this week and set up this morning’s appointment.”
“But I didn’t!” Oaklee says, looking up at me. “I swear! That wasn’t me!”
“Then who was it?” the man asks.
“They came from [email protected],” the tablet woman says. “Is that your email?”
I look at Oaklee.
“Lawton—”
“Is that your email?” I ask her.
“Yes, but—”
“Jesus fucking—”
“OK,” the man says. “Ms. Ryan, we’re very interested in hearing more about this show. We’ve been looking for something like this for a while now. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. So are you going to pitch us or not?”
“It’s Lawton’s show!” she says. “It’s not my show. You guys want Lawton.”
“No,” Michaela says. “Look, Lawton.” She turns to me. “We appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into this concept of yours, and to be honest, we’re only taking your meeting tomorrow because we were coming to hear Oaklee’s pitch. We were going to cancel on you. Sorry, but we’re not looking for another million-dollar-home show at the moment.”
“The deal is off?” I ask. Stunned. Unable to believe this whole fucking scene is happening.
“There was no deal, son,” the man says. “OK? It was just a pitch and while it started out interesting, we’re just not moving forward. And to be quite frank, Mr. Ayers, you’re really not the kind of personality we’re looking for.”
I look at Oaklee, that last bit echoing in my mind.
She’s shaking her head. “It wasn’t me,” she says. “This was Hanna, Law. This has Hanna written all over it. She did this! She ruined your—”
“Enough,” I say, stopping Oaklee before she can say anything else. “You know what, Oaklee. I came over here to tell you one thing and that’s all I’m going to say and then I’m going to leave. Game. Over.”
“Wait! Lawton! Let me explain!”
I whirl around. “Explain?” Then I laugh. “Ya know, I believed you, Oaklee. But the things Hanna told me last night have me questioning everything. And you know what? I don’t think I even care who’s telling the truth.” I shake my head. “No, that’s not right. I don’t care. I don’t care at all. I’m getting out of this contract right now. Good luck with everything. And I hope you and Hanna can work your bullshit out. Because the two of you are toxic. To yourselves, to each other, and to everyone around you.”
“Lawton!” she calls.
But I just walk to the elevator, push the call button, and get inside without saying another word.
I’m done with this girl.
I’m done with the TV show.
And I’m done with this game.
The drive over to Jordan’s office near Capitol Hill only takes a few minutes, and that’s not nearly enough time to calm me down after the shitstorm morning I’ve just had.
I take the elevator up to his floor and stop at the receptionist. “I’m here to see Jordan Wells.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks.
“No,” I say curtly. “But he’s going to see me. Tell him Lawton Ayers is here and I want to talk. Right. Now.”
“Um…” She stares at me, and I don’t know if I’m scaring her because I look like a thug who just got in a fight, or if I’m kinda pissing her off because I’m being overly aggressive. “OK.” she says. “Let me just check with his assistant and see if he’s available.”
She gets up, walks through the glass doors that separate the offices from reception, and disappears off to the right.
I pace back and forth in front of the desk, gaze wandering to where the girl just disappeared. She returns, followed by another woman a little bit older than her, comes back through the glass doors, and says, “Eileen can help yo
u, Mr. Ayers.”
“Why don’t we go back here,” she says, waving her hand at the glass doors, “and I’ll check his schedule.”
I’m about to say something snarky back, but decide to take a deep breath instead. “Fine. But I need to talk to him immediately.”
I open the door for her, let her lead the way, and follow her back to another reception area where she takes a seat at her desk and punches a button on her desk phone. “Jordan?”
“Jesus Christ, Eileen. What the fuck is it?” Which tells me either he’s either having a very bad day, or Oaklee is already bending his ear about what just happened.
Eileen shoots me a pained expression. “Lawton Ayers is here to see you.”
I know Oaklee is filling Jordan’s head with lies right this moment. So I just take off down the hall in search of Jordan’s office.
“Hey!” Eileen yells. “You can’t go back there!”
“The fuck I can’t,” I mumble under my breath. I peek into offices as I walk, looking for—
There he is! The door opens for me and a tall guy blocks my way. There’s two other men in the office with Jordan, all of whom look like they’re in the middle of a serious conversation.
“Dude,” I say, walking forward towards Jordan’s desk. “Duuuuuuude.”
“I’m sorry! He got past me!” Eileen says from the doorway.
Then one of the guys gets up and says, “And I’m out of here.” And he is, because he leaves.
“What the fuck is going on, Lawton? Oaklee Ryan just called me, seemingly distressed. And why the fuck are you dressed up like a… a…”
“A thug?” I finish for him.
But he just smiles at me. “No. Like a hot dude. Is that a… did you get a tattoo?”
“Oh, that’s funny. Real fuckin’ funny, Jordan. Do you have any idea what kind of game this chick wants me to play with her?”
“Uh, yeah.” He looks over at one of the other guys. The one in the suit who may have had a gun out when I came into the office, but maybe I just imagined that, because I don’t see it now. Jordan laughs, like this is actually funny. “Little bit of wine, little bit of food, send her flowers at work, maybe a little bit of dancing, and then cap it all off by taking her to her sister’s wedding or something, right?”
Sister’s wedding. That’s almost funny. “Uh, no,” I say.
“Class reunion?” Jordan asks.
“No,” I say. “And when I say no, I mean no to all of that shit. Do you have any idea what she thinks the job of a boyfriend really is?”
“Tell me,” he says, laughing. “Because I’ve been wondering what her real reason was for this game since I took the contract.”
Every stupid thing I’ve done for her in the past four days comes tumbling out of my mouth. Her crazy nemesis. Her idea to change the way I dress. The fucking tattoo. The break-in. And how she just cost me the goddamned TV show.
“I’ve had it,” I say once I’m done with my rant. “I want out of this contract right the fuck now.”
And that’s when Oaklee opens the door, Eileen protesting behind her, and yells, “He’s lying!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - JORDAN
“OK,” I say. “Let’s all just calm—”
“Lying?” Law rages. “Lying?” He looks at me and growls, “Get me out of this contract, Jordan. I’m done.”
I look at Oaklee, who is now pouting. But she says nothing.
“Oaklee?” I say. “What’s going on?”
She shrugs and it’s clear she’s holding back tears. “I—” But she just starts shaking her head.
“You what?” I ask, trying to be gentle so I don’t push her into actually breaking down.
“She just ruined my fucking TV deal.”
Oaklee is still shaking her head. She whispers, “I had nothing to do with that.”
I don’t actually know what to say here, so I just wait them out. Law takes a seat in a chair, his leg bouncing up and down like he can’t control the adrenaline rush. Oaklee just looks down at her feet, and I’m sure she really is crying now. So I look over at Darrel, who simply shrugs.
Finn, who is standing guard at the door, says, “Your dad’s coming.”
“Shit,” I say. “Everyone shut up and let me handle this.”
My father always knocks, it’s the professional thing to do. But he is the boss, so that knock is just a warning that he’s coming in.
“Dad?” I say. “What’s up?”
He looks around. At Oaklee first, then Law. Because he knows Darrel and Finn. Then he says, “Everything OK in here? The whole office heard the shouting.”
“Sorry about that,” I say. And then I whisper, “It’s a very emotional divorce.”
Which makes my father’s eyebrows crinkle, because I’m not actually a divorce attorney. But hey, he goes with it because I sometimes do weird shit.
“Try to keep it down. We’re taking depositions in the conference room.”
“Sure thing, Dad. Sorry about that.”
He leaves and I say, “I’m fucking working here, Law. OK? You do not come barging into my office demanding anything. Especially when it has to do with a game.”
“Fuck you,” he says. But he keeps his voice down. “I want out of this stupid shit.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that meeting this morning,” Oaklee cries, desperate to be heard. “It was all Hanna and you know it. Why would I sabotage you, Lawton? I like you. I thought you liked me. Why on Earth would I fuck all that up over something I don’t even want? And how the hell would I even get the information to set up the meeting in the first place? You’re being unreasonable and I don’t know what Hanna told you last night, but whatever it was, it’s all lies.”
“All of it, Oaklee?” He huffs out some air.
And right now I feel more like I’m moderating a couple’s therapy session than pretending to facilitate a messy divorce.
“OK,” I say. “Oaklee, did you buy the Boyfriend Experience for someone else?”
“Yes.” She nods. “But that’s not even how it turned out! He’s my boyfriend experience! I don’t even want him to keep the game going.”
Jesus. I hope she doesn’t want her money back. I was counting on that cash for the down payment I need.
“Good,” Law says. “Because I’m out. I’m done with you two. What you and your sister are doing to each other, I don’t want any part of it.”
“My sister!” Oaklee yells.
“Shh,” I hiss. “If my dad come back in here—”
“Sorry,” Oaklee says. “Where the hell did you get the idea she was my fucking sister?” And to her credit, she whisper-yells that entire sentence.
“She told me the whole story last night. How your father cheated on your mother and then abandoned them both. And when he died she contested the will and—”
“I will fucking kill her!” And this time it’s not a whisper-yell, it’s the real deal.
We all look at the door, and yup. Two seconds later my father is knocking and entering again. “Jordan,” he hisses.
“Sorry,” Oaklee says. “I lost control. It won’t happen again.”
My father gives me one more stern look. A look that says, Do not fuck with me right now. And I’m actually kinda happy about that. So I smile when I say, “Last time, promise.”
I watch him go. Actually stare at the door even after he’s gone. And feel sad all of a sudden. Lawton and Oaklee are whisper-fighting over whether or not she has a sister called Hanna, but I let my thoughts linger on my dad for a few more moments.
Until Law says, “She sent two assholes to fucking beat me up this morning!”
“Who?” I say. “Oaklee?”
“No, fucking Hanna.”
“OK,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Run this all by me again. And this time keep your fucking voices down.” I point to Oaklee to go first and when Law interrupts, I point to him and say, “Shut up. You already had your say so just let her talk.”
>
So she does. Her tale comes spilling out as quick as Law’s did. It’s a tale of betrayal, and misplaced trust. A jealous woman taking away a life hard earned. And even though she does admit to the breaking and entering last night, I find myself… on her side.
Because sometimes one can only take so much before they run out of rational options. They map out a diplomatic course of action. They focus. They aim themselves on their road, stay in their lane, play by all the rules… and what good does it do?
I can relate to that part.
People make mistakes, but should one mistake define them forever?
I glance up at Darrel just as Oaklee gets to the part about this morning and find him watching me. He nods. A small nod that no one else sees. Not even Finn.
But I do.
And I know exactly what that nod means.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - OAKLEE
I pace back and forth in front of Jordan’s desk as I tell my side of the story. It’s a story Law already knows, because it’s the one I’ve been telling him all along. I have no idea what Hanna told him, but he must see through it. I must make him see through her lies. I’ve given up way too much of my life to this crazy bitch already.
I will not give him up too.
So when I’m done explaining things to Jordan, I take the seat next to Law, turn my body so I’m facing him, look him in the eyes, take a deep breath and say, “I’m sorry. I know this is all my fault. I was the one who wanted to play this game, but I don’t wanna play any more, Lawton. I’m sorry if you think I didn’t like you as you were. Because that’s not true. Yes, it was my idea for you to get that tattoo, and if you felt pressured… if you felt that I somehow talked you into it, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for the boots you’re wearing, and the shirt, and the jeans. I’m sorry if you feel I didn’t accept you for who you were. I do. And I had nothing to do with the TV people showing up this morning. That was not me.” I stop to catch my breath. “It has to be her.”
