Shark's Edge

by Angel Payne, Victoria Blue

  “No, that won’t be necessary. Just send the message to Ms. Chancellor, please.”

  “Your wish is my command, Mr. Shark.”

  That was why I preferred Siri to my living, breathing office assistant. She was much more agreeable, for one thing. And setting up appointments with LuLu via Terryn gave Terryn more information than she needed to have. There were certain parts of my private life I preferred to keep . . . private.

  As the office came to life with people, I shrank into my usual solitude.

  I never interacted with others.

  Even less so since the experience with Abbigail.

  I’d found an excuse every day to be out of the office before she arrived with the lunch deliveries and returned after she was sure to be gone. Even if that meant circling the block three or seven times until her delivery van had cleared from the curb out front. But no one would know that beyond my driver. And, like everyone else on my payroll, he’d signed an ironclad NDA, so one word about my comings and goings to anyone and he’d lose his very well-paying job.

  Grant stopped in for the morning report, as he liked to call it. I got the reference from watching The Lion King with Vela a few hundred times when she went through her Disney phase. Thankfully, that didn’t last long. The girl was on to the next thing before the old thing ever had a chance to grow roots.

  Pia assured me it was typical childhood behavior when I worried that nothing held her interest. Frankly, I worried about everything where Vela was concerned. I was like an overbearing second-string helicopter parent my sister didn’t ask for or need. But despite my best efforts to rein it in, I couldn’t help myself. I merely wanted the absolute best for my niece. It wasn’t like her father was around to make the same claim.

  “What do we have on the agenda today, boss man?” my COO asked, strolling through my office.

  “I seriously despise that nickname,” I grumbled from behind the monitors on my desk.

  “I know you do, man. I know you do,” he said with a smirk. “Do you want some coffee?” He stopped in front of the Keurig, picking through the pods for the one he liked best.

  “No, I’m amped up enough. I finally slept well last night, but I know it won’t last. I need to burn off some steam.” I held up my hand to stop him before he even suggested what I knew would come next. “I emailed LuLu this morning. Do you want to come?”

  “Yeah, see if Shawna’s available, if you don’t mind.” A wide smile split his face. “I had an exceptional time with her last visit.”

  “Actually, I think I’ll have them come out to the house. Are you good with that? I’m not a fan of going to LuLu’s place anymore. She’s going to get raided soon. I can feel it in my bones. Too many people know about her now.”

  Grant stood silently while his coffee brewed and then replied, “Good call, Bas. I bet you’re right. You usually have a good sixth sense on this sort of thing.” He stirred cream into his coffee and sat down on the leather sofa closest to my desk. “So, what happened to the sandwich girl? She turn you down?”

  “Other way around.” I forced a laugh. “When’s the last time you saw me get rejected? By anyone?” I shook my head at the ridiculousness of the notion.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point. Still, I thought you were into her. The way you looked at her.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know, something seemed different.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. Plus, she’s involved with Blake somehow. I don’t know the extent of it, but he called her the other night when we were having dinner, and she all but came in her panties while talking to him. Total deal killer.” Fury burned in my gut just thinking about it, but I kept my face expressionless.

  “Oh, so there’s the real story.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why you’re rejecting her. Or whatever.” Grant waved his hand dismissively.

  “Well, yeah. I don’t play seconds to anyone. Especially not Viktor fucking Blake.”

  Grant knew the history between Viktor and me. Every sordid detail of it, from childhood on. Of all people, I would expect he would understand why I wouldn’t want to associate with Abbigail after discovering she was with Blake. Regardless of the extent of their relationship.

  “Dude.” He waited for me to meet his stare before he continued. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting? For all you know, she could be his lunch lady just like she is yours.”

  “So what?” Finally, my veneer was beginning to crack, and a bit of ire seeped out.

  “So that’s enough to cast her out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bas.”

  “Grant. There. We both know each other’s name.”

  “Be serious. You like that girl. Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?” I finally gave up on what I had been working on and stood up behind my desk. Grant wasn’t going to let this go, apparently.

  “Like an eight-year-old! No, wait, Vela acts more mature than you. Like a five-year-old. Pull your head out of your ass.”

  “I’m not acting like a child.” I came around my desk and leaned against the edge, stretching my legs out in front of me. I remembered taking a similar pose when Ms. Gibson was in my office the week before.

  “Are you sure?” Grant challenged.

  “Did you come in here to talk about the day’s schedule or my social life?”

  “At this rate, you’re never going to have a social life. And paying call girls doesn’t count as a social life. How nice would it be to fuck a woman and not have to pay her beforehand?” He raised his brow in question while sipping his coffee. I had a dark fantasy of him burning his lips and tongue on the brew.

  At least then he’d shut up.

  I just stared at him. What was I supposed to say to that? I mean, really? I didn’t relish the fact that this was what my social life consisted of right now. I didn’t expect this was where it would stay forever, though, either. It was a moment in time. A necessary phase—like Vela and the Disney movies—a place I was but wouldn’t grow roots before I moved on to the next phase.

  There would come a time when I would find a woman to settle down with. Share my life with.

  Maybe.

  I just hadn’t been there yet.

  So fine, it wasn’t a phase, it was a rut.

  Or a lifestyle.

  I scrubbed my hands down my face and then back up again. I hated when he called me on my shit—especially when he was right.

  “You just had about nine points of self-discovery, didn’t you?” He laughed his trademarked throaty snicker.

  “Shut the fuck up, Twombley. I don’t know why I let you in that door half the time. I don’t need this right now. You know that as well as I do. Seriously, man. You’re supposed to be my friend. I mean, you are, aren’t you?” I looked at him in utter bewilderment. He was the only person outside of Pia I showed weakness in front of. Definitely the only man.

  “You’re my best friend, Bas. That’s why I don’t want to see you screw this up.” Sincerity filled his voice, his words reaching straight into my chest and putting my heart into a full nelson.

  We were both quiet for close to a minute. Grant finally spoke first—he always did. He was more uncomfortable with silence than Vela, for Christ’s sake.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “It was the way you were looking at her. Watching her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on your face before, and I’ve known you your whole life, man. At least the part that matters, anyway. There’s something different about that girl.”

  Full nelson to a single leg takedown. The emotions referee smacked the mat. One. Two. Three. It was an easy pin, and Grant may as well have raised his arm in victory.

  “She’s so young, dude,” I finally offered in defeat. “I’ve got a dozen years on her.” I tried to come up with any sort of reason I should stay away from Abbigail Gibson.

  He grinned widely, knowing he’d just taken a cool W. I’d made it
too simple. “So what? I mean, she’s legal, right?” At least he spared my dignity and played along like we were still trying to argue about it.

  “Yeah.” I hung my head, feigning shame. If I were honest with myself, it stoked the fire hotter. “But barely,” I said, exhausted but slightly lightened by the thought of pursuing her again.

  “That might even be fun.”

  “You’re such a dog.” I knocked him in the side of the head, messing up his perfect hair before it flopped right back into its perfect place.

  “I’m just saying what you’ve already thought.” He shrugged, still grinning like the scoundrel I knew he was.

  “With my luck, she’ll tell me she’s a virgin or some shit. Jesus Christ.”

  “Oh my God. Don’t even joke about that shit,” Grant said, sobering.

  “I know, right?” With a deep, cleansing breath to banish the horrifying thought, I went back to sit at my desk. “Let’s get to work. Freight doesn’t move itself.”

  “True story. Do you ever just take a minute to appreciate how far we’ve come?” My best friend was still in the mood for the touchy-feely stuff, apparently.

  “Every single day, Grant. There will never be a day I take it for granted. I know what everyone thinks of me. I know people think I’m a giant asshole, that I sit up here in the penthouse suite, acting like the king of all things. But I will never—not for one single day—forget how much blood, sweat, and tears it took to get here. Whether it was mine or someone else’s is beside the point. Fluids were spilled. And someone paid in pain. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was another. But every day, I remind myself of that.”

  “That’s why no one will ever get the upper hand on you, man. As long as you want to stay on top of the logistics game, you will,” Grant added thoughtfully.

  “We will. You’ve been right beside me from the time we hustled to get jobs in the neighborhood in East LA, doing courier jobs on our bikes. Now we’re moving full shiploads across oceans, Grant. We did this together. That’s another thing I never lose sight of. You are my brother. My family. In all the ways that matter. You will always be taken care of like my family.” I waited for him to meet my gaze; the touchy-feely sort of talk wasn’t something we usually dealt with. “I hope you realize that,” I finally added when our eyes locked.

  “I do. Why are we getting all creepy this morning?”

  I laughed. “I have no idea. This has gotten a bit heavy though, hasn’t it? Don’t think I’m going to hug you or any of that shit, though. So, what do you have today? Aren’t you meeting with the city?”

  “Yes, finally. After two canceled appointments, I’m finally meeting our appointed Development Services Case Manager from the city’s Department of Building and Safety.”

  “Damn. Are you kidding? I really thought that happened weeks ago.”

  “Nope. I guess the guy had kidney stones or something, but he swears he’s the picture of health now and we have his undivided attention. The beauty of being accepted into this program is that they hold your hand and walk you through the phases that can get really tricky with the city, like permitting, entitlements, public improvements—especially the parking situation, which we still haven’t seen a viable solution from the architect, I might add—other public improvements the city will probably require, and utility design.”

  I held up my hand up in a full stop motion. “You’re giving me a headache, man.”

  “I know, it’s stressful. That’s why getting in with this management program with the city is golden. They liaise with all the different bureaus on our behalf. They know who to go to with what questions and problems. They cut through the red tape for us.”

  I twisted my face. “What’s in it for them?”

  “The city wants you to build your building here, Bas. Not in Houston—or Boise, for that matter. People are leaving LA faster than they can pack their two point five kids in the minivan and get the hell out of Dodge. They want to keep your business and all the future business you will bring with you right here in the City of Angels. Makes perfect sense.” He shrugged and rightfully so. It wasn’t rocket science.

  “Well, keep me in the loop. What time is your meeting?” I asked, looking at the octagonal bezel of the Audemars Piguet on my wrist. Expensive timepieces had always been one of my personal indulgences. The one I wore today was a favorite of mine, even if on the casual side of my collection.

  “My meeting is at ten, so I need to get over to the conference room. Do you want to have lunch today? Oh wait, I forgot about LuLu’s. Message me the time on that, will you? I’ll keep my phone on silent, but I’ll sneak a look when it vibrates. It’ll give me something to look forward to so I can get through the snore-fest of a meeting.”

  “Will do, but you need to focus. Everything that goes on from this point forward is vital.”

  “Bas.” He put his hand up to stop me from launching into a full lecture. “I know. I got this.”

  As the tall man opened the door to leave, I jogged my memory for the name of the girl he wanted me to ask for at the stable. “Who did you want me to ask for? Silvia? Shanna?” I scowled, knowing I was coming up short. It was frustrating that I couldn’t remember something so simple as a name from twenty minutes before.

  “Shawna,” he called over his shoulder, grinning the way he had the first time he mentioned her name. Maybe I needed to ask for her instead. She certainly had left an impression on my buddy. While I was preoccupied with Grant, Terryn had walked up behind me and patiently waited for me to finish the conversation.

  “Good morning, Mr. Shark. Have you had a chance to review your schedule for today?”

  “Of course I have. Did you need something?” I answered without emotion in my tone or expression on my face.

  “No, sir. I was just checking if I could help with anything before the day gets going,” she said sprightly, as if she were trying to be upbeat enough for the both of us.

  I just stared at her. What was she playing here? I shifted my eyes from one side of her oval face to the other. “Have you finished the container supplier spreadsheet I asked you to create three days ago?”

  “Yes. It should be in your email. I sent it when I got in this morning. I also put a copy in the company’s Dropbox files.” She looked very pleased with herself as she gave her report.

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to remember what else I had tasked her with yesterday afternoon.

  “I need you to look at my schedule for the next two weeks and see where I can fit in a tour and thirty-minute meet-and-greet with a youth outreach group. Sometime after key business hours and school hours. You’ll have to investigate the LAUSD middle and high school release times and estimate commute time to the office. I don’t mind if I have to stay late to give the tour and presentation myself.” I paused briefly, giving that point a bit more thought. “In fact, I want to do the tour myself.”

  Terryn wrote feverishly on a notepad she always had with her and then asked a follow-up, “Do you have a contact person for the group you’d like me to call to set this up?”

  “No, I’ll handle that. Just give me two date options I can present. You can send that information to me in an email as well. I don’t want to be disturbed until I leave for lunch.” I finished the decree as I went through my office doorway and closed the door swiftly behind me.

  Of course, the moment I sat down at my desk, my plans changed. An email arrived from the legal department insisting documents needed my signature before they could be submitted to the planning commission. Two more messages back and forth, and I threw my pen across the suite so hard, it ricocheted off a chair at the conference table and into the floor-to-ceiling window on the opposite wall.

  “Jesus Christ.” I stood abruptly, my chair slinging into the low bookcase behind my desk, rattling the pictures and potted plant on the shelves. When I stormed past Terryn, I said, “I’m going down to legal.”

  My office door stood wide open, but my computer would go into sleep mode in thirty
seconds without activity, and everything else that was sensitive inside those walls was under lock and key. The lights were motion activated as well to save on energy, so they would shut off on their own after about five minutes.

  Thirty minutes later, I returned to my office, madder than a nest full of hornets. The papers that needed my signature weren’t ready when I arrived, so I stood around wasting valuable time while the intern who initially emailed me fumbled around the office, trying to load a new toner cartridge in his printer so the documents could be printed. I finally took matters into my own hands and not only fixed the printer but sent the file to the printer from his work station, signed the documents, scanned them, and emailed them back to myself from his email account.

  Talk about just doing things yourself if you wanted them done right the first time.

  As I rounded the corner from the elevator, I noticed the light was on in my office. Maybe Grant was finished with his meeting and had returned to fill me in. Terryn knew better than to let anyone else in there without me present.

  As she came rushing toward me looking like she knew her job hung by a fragile thread, I knew it wouldn’t be Grant inside my personal sanctum.

  I glared at her, and she clamped her mouth shut, taking a few steps back from the doorway.

  When I cleared the arch, I saw Abbigail Gibson standing at the windows, looking out over the city like she had every right to be doing so. I quietly closed the door behind me, not alerting her to my presence until the knob clicked into the slot that kept it closed.

  “What an unexpected surprise,” I said nonchalantly, strolling over to my desk. I didn’t couple the word pleasant with surprise in my comment because I could feel the offensive waves pulsing off her. Not defensive this time.

  No, not this visit.

  She was here to attack. Full artillery in place. And it would appear her sights were set directly on me.

  Perfect.

  Because this day wasn’t enough of a shit show already.

  “We need to talk, Mr. Shark,” she said, not turning away from the window. Her voice was cool and calm, missing its usual oozing caramel seduction or emotion-filled rasp.