Man Handler (Man Cave - A Standalone Collection Book 3)

by Shari J. Ryan

  “No, Teak, I want to be a woman who isn’t under someone’s control. I’m at college where I should be allowed to “find myself” and work toward a career so that, if and when, I get married and have kids, I’m equally able to contribute. That’s what I want. I don’t see what’s so weird or confusing about wanting this normal kind of life?”

  “Okay, well, I’m obviously not following whatever is going through your head right now, so I guess I’ll just let you be until you’re feeling more like yourself.”

  “That sounds good,” I tell him. No, no it doesn’t sound good. I don’t want to see him again. I don’t want to try to avoid looking at that mole under his eyebrow anymore and wonder why I can still see it even though he has black eyebrows. Plus, that scar on his forehead looks like a heart, and that creeps me out too. I know my thoughts are mean, and he can’t control the features of his face, but I don’t want to look at him. I’m done. Every single girl in our high school wanted him, and yet, he wanted me. I thought I was lucky for like a month, but now, no. I don’t want to be wanted by him anymore.

  He kisses me and holds me tightly against his body, making an embarrassingly public display of affection. I try to push away, but he doesn’t release me until I use force. I feel like I’m being suffocated. “Teak, relax. I’m just going to my dorm.” I point behind me to the tall building that’s less than a hundred feet from his dorm.

  “I’ll miss you,” he says.

  That’s it. It happens.

  Something snaps in my head. Like, there’s literally a snapping sound. I thought that was a figure of speech, but there is definite snapage.

  I scream. I scream extremely loud—loud enough that campus security is running toward us.

  “What are you doing? Are you okay?” Teak asks. “Scarlett?” I feel his hands pawing at me, but I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want anyone to touch me.

  “Stop, stop, stop, stop!” I shout.

  “Oh my God, are you having a nervous breakdown or something? I’ll call 9-1-1. Hang in there, babe.”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Is this man hurting you, miss?” a security guard asks.

  “No, no, I just need some air,” I tell them.

  “You’re outside,” the guard says.

  “I need more air.” There isn’t enough air on this freaking planet right now to keep me from suffocating as long as Teak is within my sight.

  The guard grabs Teak by the arm and pulls him away. “I’ll call you, babe.” I’m changing my phone number. “I love you!” I love me more. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” I won’t be okay until I’m far away from here. From him. From control. From anyone who thinks they know how I feel. From anyone like Dad.

  With the coast clear of Teak and the security guards, I run toward the street. There’s a city bus pulling up, and I don’t know where the hell it’s going, but I’m out of here. I toss my cell phone into the grass before stepping off the curb and climbing onto the bus that will take me to where I’m meant to be.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Scarlett

  Friday - Current Day

  Shoes, shoes, shoes, where are you? I’m going to be so freaking late today, and I can’t be late. Not again today. No, no, no. “Brenny? Sweetie, have you seen my Jimmy’s?”

  I’m storming down the hundred-year-old oak floors that are colder than an exposed pair of balls hanging out in the middle of the snow. I peek into the spare room, but there’s nothing except a perfectly tidy room with an overly priced futon and a side table, complete with healthy, living flowers—no thanks to me.

  I make my way to the small galley kitchen, finding Brendan poking at a bowl full of fresh fruit while thumbing through this week’s edition of US Weekly. “Shoes? Have you seen my Jimmy’s? I’m going to be—”

  “Are you aware that you are running late every single morning? I’m only mentioning it to save you from the act of saying it out loud every day. I know you’re late. It’s five minutes to seven, and you can’t remember that you left your shoes by the front door where you dropped them last night as you limped in, complaining about the pain in your feet.”

  I curl my lip into a snarling pout. “What crawled up your butt this morning?” I ask.

  “I’m just trying to meditate for a bit before my shift starts, and your crankiness offsets my mood.”

  “I’m not cranky,” I argue.

  “Okay, well you’re full of tar-like stress. It’s sticking to me.”

  I slouch my shoulders and sigh as I eyeball my shoes by the door. “Well, I apologize for disturbing your meditation.” I race to the door and slip my shoes on. “By the way, you do know what meditation is, right?”

  “It’s the act of becoming one with your soul while releasing negativity to allow space for an abundance of positive vibes.”

  “And you do that by reading a trash mag?” I ask.

  He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Um … yeah?”

  “Well, whatever flips your switch.” I prance over in my heels and give a peck on the cheek. “Love you, schnookums. Have a fabulous day.”

  “Love you, more, babykins. Remember what I said yesterday, don’t look Dick in the eye when you get to work, and everything will be okay. I’m sure no one will notice you’re twenty minutes late again.”

  I blow Brendan another kiss and fly out the door. Just as I make it to the bottom step, I hear the bus rumbling along. Shit, I can’t miss this one.

  Somehow, by the luck of whatever is up in heaven and still watching over me, I make the bus, and settle into a free corner where I can wedge my body between a seat and a handrail.

  Don’t look Dick in the eye … I just realized what he said. That should be a meme or something. It’s a good rule for life. Nothing good could ever come out of looking a dick in the eye. Although, I’ve been there, done that, and learned the hard way.

  There are five stops between Matthewson Street and Firebank Avenue, but at least my stop is just a block from the hotel, even though it feels more like three blocks in these heels.

  Oh look, I’m only seven minutes late today. So, that’s something. Maybe Dick will notice my improvement?

  Crap, Dick is behind the desk, which means Devin left on time, which means it was brought to Dick’s attention that I wasn’t here on time, again. Devin hates me. I’d probably hate me too after an overnight shift, but I’ve never been rude to him. On the contrary, I try to kiss his ass. It doesn’t work, though.

  I drop off my coat in the back room on one of the four hooks along the wall that’s covered in employee reminders and laws, including a memo about cleaning our hands after we use the bathroom. That flyer continues to concern me. Every day since it has been posted, I wonder who complained. Who realized this was an issue, and how many people forget to wash their hands after using the bathroom? My thoughts return to the present moment as I remember Dick is out front waiting for me.

  I should not look him in the eye, but it’s hard to avoid when he’s staring at me with arms folded over his chest. I’ll just punch into the computer and pretend like he’s not there. All will be well, and he can go on his merry little way, checking up on housekeeping.

  “Scarlett,” he says in his purposeful, unnaturally deep voice. “You’re late again.”

  “Sorry, the bus—”

  “Nope, the buses can’t be blamed for tardiness. May I remind you how imperative it is for you arrive at work on time? We have guests who need to check in, and it’s unfair to the other employees that have worked overnight shifts to cover for you when you can’t manage to arrive here when you’re supposed to.” He only notices the negative attributes of my work ethic. I have been here for years and know everything about this hotel like the back of my hand. The guests love me. I’ve even received the Employee of the Month award many times, no thanks to Dick and his tardy guard.

  Yikes. He’s seriously pissed today. Dick tends to be stiff around his employees, but apparently, we’re
beyond that. “I’m so sorry, I won’t let it happen again.” What else am I supposed to say? It’s hard getting up at six in the morning to get here by seven. I feel like a zombie before the caffeine settles, and I skipped coffee this morning just so I could be here close to on time. This world just needs fewer expectations. Or maybe, Dick just needs to find a VaJane.

  “‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it anymore, Scarlett. Management and I had a meeting last night and—”

  Crap. “No, I swear I’ll show up early from now on. I need this job, Dick. Richard, I mean. Richard.” Come on, don’t be a dick for once. Please.

  “A management position recently became available in our Blytheville location in South Carolina. They have been interviewing candidates, but as of yesterday, they decided to hire from within the corporation. Seeing as some people think you have a good work ethic and have been promoted several times for this supposed work ethic, management, who overlooks your time sheets, thinks you would be a good fit for this position.”

  “Blytheville?” I’ve never even heard of the place.

  “Yes, it’s a small town. The hotel is small as well—more of a bed and breakfast setup with hotel accommodations. It’s one of our first hybrids, as a matter of fact.”

  I kind of want to start laughing now because there’s no way he’s serious.

  “Di—Richard, you know I’ve lived in Boston my entire life, right? I can’t just pick up and move.” That’s unfathomable.

  “Okay, that’s your choice. Unfortunately, though, a decision has been made about your state of employment here—by me, because I have that authority.”

  He pauses, and I pause, almost as if we’re playing a head game of chicken. I stare into his menacing, downcast eyes. I should say something, but I’m not leaving Boston. Instead, my gaze falls to his small beer gut, and my thoughts wander as I try to figure out how a tall, thin man can have a beer gut like that. Wouldn’t the fat content just redistribute through the rest of his body?

  “What’s the decision?” I ask without looking back up into his cold stare.

  “Either you go to Blytheville to run the front desk, or we’re going to have to let you go. I will warn you, though, since we offered you an equally transitional opportunity, you will not be qualified for unemployment benefits if you opt out of the transfer.”

  Shit. That was my only fallback plan. No money means no apartment.

  No apartment means I go home to Mom and Dad’s. Doing that means I’ll be under Dad’s control again. It’ll be like going back eleven years into teenage-hood. No way.

  “Can you just give me another chance here? I love this location. I’m happy here. I know the guests, and—”

  “I’m sorry, Scarlett. The decision has already been made. Grab your belongings. Security will see you out.”

  He’s completely serious. I’ve been working here for five years, and they’re just going to throw me out on my ass for being a few minutes late sometimes? It’s Boston. What do they expect? Everyone has a place to be at the same exact time, and transportation isn’t trustworthy.

  Fine. Whatever. There are hundreds of hotels in this city. I’m sure I can find one that’s hiring.

  Larry, the security guard, shuffles toward me with his half-lidded eyes. He’s a scrawny old guy who can’t hear a thing. I’m not sure he’d do much if something went down in this place, but he’s been here for longer than I’ve been alive, or so I’ve been told, so he gets to keep his job. Not me, though. Nope.

  Larry slowly glances over at me and shrugs. “Ready?”

  I grunt and storm into the back room to grab my things. It doesn’t take me long since I usually take out what I bring in each day, never trusting anyone around here enough to leave anything behind.

  Larry follows me to the front doors and leans in front of me to push the door open. “Good luck, Shirley,” he says.

  “What? My name is Scar—” The door is closed. Shirley? Five years and he didn’t know my real name? I must have left quite an impression on everyone here.

  Your loss, bastards. You’ll realize what a mistake it was to let me go when you discover it was me who was keeping this place running.

  I request an Uber car because I don’t feel like taking the bus home—to the apartment I will no longer be living in if I don’t find a new job this week. Thankfully, an available car is just around the corner, so I don’t have to sit out here like the giant loser I feel like at the moment.

  The silver sedan pulls up and the driver leans down to look out the window, pointing at the back seat. It’s sign language for “Did you order this Uber?” Opening the door is my Uber answer. I slide in onto the torn leather seat with fluffed foam poking out. This guy probably makes more in a day driving this car then I do in a week at the hotel, and he doesn’t get in trouble for having a torn seat, but I get in trouble for being five minutes late.

  The driver pulls up in front of my apartment, and I hand him cash. “You have a hole in your back seat,” I tell him. “Just letting you know.”

  The guy stares at me without an ounce of care. Some days, this city makes me realize why I’m so bitter. Everyone is either bitter or over-the-top happy with their running gear and super fit bodies. I don’t think there is an in-between, gray area, so I have to fit into one category, it isn’t the runner one.

  I huff up the stairs and push the door open, finding Brendan in the same place I left him. “Are you still meditating?”

  He doesn’t seem surprised or startled that I’m here. He simply closes his magazine and spins around on the bar stool. “Did you get fired?”

  “Yes,” I groan. “I was only five—seven minutes late today.”

  “Scarlett, I warned you that was going to happen. The hospitality industry isn’t very hospitable to those who can’t be respectful of time.”

  “Well, I try to be on time. I know that doesn’t make a difference though.”

  “Maybe you need a different shift,” he suggests.

  “It won’t happen. The three o’clock shift is always taken by seniority. I never got there, evidently. Plus, that eliminates any chance of a nightlife too.”

  “Have you considered that your nightlife might be the underlying cause of your problem?” Brendan is never condescending, but typically very parental. I’m not sure how his righteous words of advice never piss me off, but he’d have to do a lot to make me mad. I love him too much.

  “Possibly,” I confirm.

  “Well, there you go. Problem solved. Stop going out every night, and you’ll have less trouble waking up in the morning.”

  “That’s great, but I still lost my job.”

  “I know, but at least you’ll receive unemployment, so that will buy you a bit of time to find a new job that you’ll be happier at, and you won’t have a dick to look in the eye. Look at this as an opportunity to better your life.” Brendan looks up at the ceiling with a smile and opens his arms. I wish I could see things in the same fluorescent light he does because I can’t understand how he is always so damn positive. How is anyone? It’s not like I’m a miserable person. Actually, I’m fairly upbeat compared to many of the black-cloaked, dispirited city dwellers in this area.

  “I’m afraid my glass is definitely half empty this time,” I tell him.

  He stands up from the stool and comes closer. “Why is that?”

  “Because they offered to transfer me to someplace in South Carolina. Obviously, I said no, so now I’m not qualified for unemployment.”

  Brendan’s hands cup around my shoulders. “Oy, Scarlett! Why would you say no to an opportunity like that?”

  “I’m not leaving Boston. Are you crazy?”

  His big, caramel eyes widen with shock. “Um, are you crazy?”

  “I’ve been living here my entire life. I can’t just pick up and leave.” My chest tightens at the thought, and I already feel myself getting worked up.

  “That’s exactly why you should go.” I feel every stupid little line in my forehead deepen i
n response to his unexpected suggestion. “Scarlett, listen, starting fresh might be good for you. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to leave me, but this place has swallowed you up whole in the past few years, and it’s holding you prisoner, which is exactly what you don’t want, right?”

  “You make it sound like we’re in the depths of hell,” I say with a forced laugh. “It’s Boston. I love it here.”

  Brendan releases his hands from my shoulders and shrugs. “Okay, I was just offering my opinion. I’ll keep you here as mine for as long as you want to be here.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the “but.” I know him better than to just end a conversation with his simply stated opinion because he rarely gives up when he has a firm opinion on a subject. “So that’s it? We’re going to drop it?”

  Brendan combs his fingers through his bronze, bed head, sexed hair (minus the sex part … I think) and closes his eyes. “I’m done,” he says, his short statement trailing off in a high-pitched tone that tells me he’s not done.

  “Mmhm,” I grumble with a raised brow. “I’ll be in my room looking for job openings.”

  The second I close myself into my room, I hear thuds and shuffling sounds coming from the open area of our apartment. Motherfucker. “Brendan! Do not get those boxes out!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Austin

  Thursday

  Why in the hell would someone think it’s a good idea to tease a damn crocodile? That’s the third animal wound this week.

  “Austin, did you finish up that file?” Clara shouts over from the main desk.

  “Yeah, just a minute.” I click submit on the report and sign out for the night.

  “Want me to walk you home?” I ask Clara. “Evidently, there are wild crocs all over the place right now.”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but Derek’s coming to pick me up. We’re heading down to movie night in the square.”

  “Ah, what are they puttin’ up on the screen tonight?” I ask her.