by Landra Graf
His friend pushed himself to a standing position and nodded in agreement.
Victoria headed for the door. She looked determined and resolute. “Fine, I’ll help wherever you need me to, but don’t think for one minute you’re going to escape confessing your love for Kat. In the meantime, I’ll be gathering all the information on our consultants.”
“Love is for saps; we wouldn’t have to give up our Sunday if someone had kept his dick in his pants.”
The comment, another offensive bullshit sentence, pushed Dev over the small edge he’d been skirting. He did love Kat; the need to shout it from the rooftops was not required, though. Protecting her and supporting her were the greatest expressions of love in his opinion. The dick in his pants even knew that, obviously, since he’d split from her yesterday.
Splitting from her, losing the chance to be with her because of this mess… He wanted to take this out on someone, and his friend gave him the perfect excuse. Dev stood, walked around the desk, and sized up his buddy, who’d been a star of the wrestling team in high school as well as a football player, like him, for all four years. Except Mark had given up working out on a regular basis; he’d started to look a little soft, especially in the middle.
So he gave him what the bastard seemed to be wanting, a sucker punch right to the gut. Dev enjoyed watching Mark drop to his knees, and Victoria chuckled as she walked out the door. She’d leave them alone to finish their business, and he doubted she cared what happened to his friend, a friend who could be partially blamed for this fiasco.
“What the hell was that for?” Mark groaned
“I think you know.”
“I don’t deserve a punch if it’s true. You didn’t keep it in your pants, and we are stuck with the repercussions of it, love not being a factor at all.”
This time, he punched Mark in the face; the moan of pain the punch elicited made Dev feel a tiny bit guilty. But if it resorted in blood being produced to get this asshole to stop saying derogatory comments, even admit to being in the wrong, then fine by Dev.
Except Mark decided not to take this punishment without giving a bit of his own. He pulled himself onto the chair and then kicked Dev square on his thigh before delivering his own punch to Dev’s jaw.
The reverberating pain was cathartic to his already bruised heart and ego. It reminded him he was still alive and able to combat the problems ahead. Yes, the physical contact improved his mood. So he punched Mark again, square in the center of his pretty-boy face.
Hands flew up to cover the nose he’d just hit. “Sonuvabitch. I think you broke my nose.”
“Let’s see.”
Mark removed his hands, and the pointed beak had no blood, only red skin. Dev touched it, and Mark let out a yell. “Ow, don’t do that.”
“You wanted me to see if it’s broken; it’s not. Do you want me to fix it?”
“No thanks, get away from me.” He pushed Dev away and sat back in the chair, grabbing the rest of the scotch as he went. “Again, what the fuck?”
“Your negative attitude and derogatory comments have no place here. I told you the other day.”
“Fuck that, you’re lucky you’re a friend. Nobody else would be able to get away with what you did.” Mark took a swig. “And it’s not like I lied, so screw you.”
Dev wanted to grab the bottle and smash it across Mark’s face, but he’d never been a violent man. His thoughts about physical displays continued to change the more he heard Mark speak. The crazy part was that his own partner really thought he hadn’t helped contribute to this situation. “This is partially your fault too. You know that, right? You told Pru who Kat was, and though you haven’t admitted it, you told her about the money.”
No response. None at all, just more scotch-swigging like a pro.
“Refusing to confess, even now? You’re caught, red-handed, and guilty. You fucked over your cousin and your own business. Pretty impressive for a week of hard work. I want to know your side of the story before I tell you to get the hell out of here.”
Head shaking, Mark looked defeated. He also looked a bit like Kat; they had similar cheekbones and eyes, for all the dumb fuck didn’t want to be compared to her. Damn, Dev missed her so much. He wanted to call her to regale her with how he’d punched her cousin. He’d never told her the depth of his feelings, never told her he loved her, but it was too little and most likely too late.
“Pru lied to me, like she lied to you. The plan didn’t involve articles or getting rid of you, none of this nonsense with the board either.” He paused to touch his nose, wincing as he did.
Dev lost any chance at remorse with those sentences. “Don’t stop there. For what it’s worth, you may as well deliver the whole, sad tale.”
“It’s worth a lot. I messed up. But I wanted things to be right here at the office. Pru turned into a damn monster after the breakup, and I thought maybe you both needed to work things out. I told her about the deal with Kat. Especially because of the Beautification project, I felt obligated to keep our big investor informed, whatever. Anyway, she promised this would be the perfect thing to get you back on track and liked the idea of the makeover. I told her the night of the dinner this was Kat’s last night; that’s why she came to your place the next day. She said she wanted to rekindle things and get back to where you both started, except she found Kat there, which had the opposite effect. Now everything sucks.”
“No, what sucked was your attempt at matchmaking. You know what she did, how she tried to take me places and make me a circus performing monkey. Then she’d contradict everything I said, demeaning my advice. I was like a one trick pony to her and her friends. She got jealous about my other clients, made snide remarks about them. It had to stop. She took over my life, was needy and abusive. I was just too dumb to see it; I believed she’d been misguided, and somehow if I loved her enough, I’d heal her. Once I finally saw the light and ripped myself free of the abuse and issues, you came along trying to helping us fix something not meant to be fixed.”
Mark frowned, scooting around in his seat, no doubt trying to get comfortable with an uncomfortable conversation. “We never talked about the breakup in a lot of detail. I knew some of that, but not everything. Jeez, she came to me Dev. You have to believe me, she told me you’d been hesitating to commit. I got her jealous tendencies and being a bit of a bully, which was clear every time she came to the office during work hours. But she’d told me she was getting help for it, seeing a counselor or something. I wanted to help you. Are you really in love with my cousin?”
“You made a small thing, huge. Moon huge. No, Jupiter huge. I’m going to lose my job. I could lose my position with the shelter. This is one of the worst days of my life. And I told you in detail what happened with Pru, but per your usual M.O. you didn’t listen to a word I said.”
Dev went back and sat down; laying his forehead against the desk so he could stare down at his sneakers. They looked foreign on his feet, in the office. He always wore polished, business black shoes to the office. These were the opposite, his running shoes, designed to allow him to carry himself anywhere, away. Except this time he couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go, and the future involved things he didn’t want.
Mark cleared his throat. “You never answered my question.”
“I don’t want to answer your question.”
“Then I guess I’ll get started on those numbers. I want us back in here in an hour or so.”
“Fine.” His single word response was rude but effective because Mark left without rebuttal.
A true friend, indeed. Bereft and lost, calling his family to talk to them would open up topics he’d rather not get into, even if they meant well. He had no one to turn to. Kat wasn’t an option for him. No, he’d need to figure this out. Solve the situation before asking for help. Too bad the person he’d once relied on for those types of things had become the type of person he hated. Mark was self-absorbed and only worried about himself. The business piece had his attention b
ecause it affected his paycheck. Deep down Dev got the impression his friend cared for little else anymore.
Before he could play knight in shining armor to the woman he loved, he’d need to battle his war and survive.
21
In the few days since she’d broken up with Dev, she’d gotten drunk at Louie’s, fine-line detailed the contract from Pru, started preparing her presentation for the board and suffered the remnants of a nasty hangover. The ideas she’d produced were not ideal, including renegotiating the renovation contract or asking for additional time on the code inspection due to the fall weather. If she got the extension, her friends promised to pitch in any Christmas bonus they received, even Betty, who normally spent her extras on an additional payment toward her mortgage. She truly surrounded herself with some amazing people. Things were looking up, except she missed Dev.
She missed talking to him, even his stupid assignments, and the ability to text him randomly. So far he’d stuck with the respect thing. No calls, texts, or surprise appearances at her house. It wasn’t like he’d done any of those things before, but still, there had existed the possibility. She’d refrained from doing the same. There would be no crazy girl syndrome or attempts to fix the ache in her heart. Somehow he’d propped up a little home inside there. Maybe when he’d staunchly defended her, or made love to her—or all the things they’d done together. Ridiculous how one guy had become so ingrained in her life, her mess. She wanted him back.
The risks were too great, and being hidden away until PR issues with his job blew over was something she refused to go along with. All her friends agreed. She needed to focus on securing her situation; he had to focus on his. After she won the house, then she could start searching for a good man, someone who didn’t have a crazy ex or a fancy company to worry about. No point in dwelling on something she couldn’t affect right now.
As it stood, she had two days left before the meeting. Her focus needed to be how she’d save her house by making counteroffers and all the horrible things she didn’t really want to do. Saving her house involved a lot of sacrifices, and she hated it. Everything was coming together thanks to help from Betty and a couple of other friends, too. They’d read and re-read bits and pieces for her, giving near immediate feedback via email. If she focused hard enough, she didn’t have time to miss Dev. Nor his smile or the way he’d call her hermosa.
Natalie, the HR coordinator at Ying Yang, and another friend had phoned her about the article. Natalie’s husband, Marshall, had mentioned he knew Dev and read the whole thing shocked. Then it got worse when the article got double the coverage, moving from digital to print. All the implications and references to the possibility of Dev being a player and scam artist, plus the inferences to Bona Fide offering escort services, made for salacious news so exciting even local television stations were mentioning it. Kat’s name so far had been kept out of things. To Dev’s point she was safe, but hiding in the shadows frustrated her. The idea she’d been a dirty little secret hurt.
The rude informant who started the mess, likely fearing for her own reputation, chose to remain anonymous, of course. Kat could count on two fingers the people capable of doing such a thing, Pru being the most likely choice because Kat didn’t believe her cousin had the balls.
She heard a car outside and looked out the window out of habit. The devil himself parked in her driveway and got out of his car in dressed-down attire. It looked odd to see her cousin in jeans and a T-shirt. He always dressed the consummate professional at family dinners. Surprise propelled her from the couch to the front door. She opened it to greet him, but stopped short when she saw the bruising near the bridge of his nose and around his eyes.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear. Did someone decide you were enough of an asshole that you needed a lesson?”
“Hardy-har. A bundle of jokes and smart ass comments. Your lover did the damage you see here.” He pointed to his face, and she tried not to smile or get curious. She wanted to ask how, to know the details—anything to hear something about Dev and how he was holding up with the additional coverage of the article.
She settled for a safer topic. “What brings you here?”
“Can we do this inside?”
Funny he’d ask that, since letting him in was the last thing she wanted. She’d decided months ago to un-invite him from anything to do with her house or anything of Gran’s, for that matter. He’d set her up for the downfall and cared next to nothing about it. But maybe if he saw the damage inside, the work still needing to be done…
“Fine, for a minute. I’ve got shit to take care of and no time for a waste of space.”
He followed her into the house, looking around like a kid walking into a fancy restaurant. “It still smells the same.”
“Yep, I use the same soap Gran did. Something about cloves and lavender makes me think of home. I’m headed to the kitchen; you want a drink?”
Shaking his head in the negative, he trailed after her. “What’s with all the pictures missing. There were holes here?”
“Renovating. It’s like you forgot I said the house had a gazillion code violations. It needs updating, hence holes and Gran’s knickknacks and photos packed up. If the Beautification Board had their way, the whole inside would be redone to their specifications and decorated in their style. No personal touches at all. I’d have to stick Gran’s stuff in a storage unit, if I can afford it.”
She grabbed the teapot and stuck it under the faucet. Once full, she set it to boil on the stove and grabbed her favorite mug. The kitchen was still in shambles, most of the innards of the outside walls exposed. No insulation installed and no sheet rock. All of that was stored out in the shed for later use.
“This looks like a wreck. What code violation is this?”
“I may have opened my big mouth about doing a kitchen renovation about six years ago, and they called me out for not having insulation in the outer walls. Something to do with fire hazards and fire code, the new stuff has special treatments to prevent burning and catching fire.”
“Crazy, just crazy.”
When she finally turned around, Mark was leaning against the back of a chair at the kitchen table, staring out the window into the backyard.
“What do you want?”
He nodded toward the backyard. “I remember the Fourth of July celebrations we’d always have here. The fire pit out back. Lighting up the sparklers and dancing around like heathens. We caught a jar full of lightning bugs that one year, remember?”
“Yes, and then you dumped them down Andrew’s pants.”
Mark laughed, “Oh, yes. Yes, I did, got in so much trouble. Good memories.”
The teakettle whistled, and she pulled it off the burner, pouring the hot water over her loose leaves in the small strainer. “Nice trip down memory lane, but get to the point.”
This time he took a seat. She joined him, tapping her fingers against the tabletop as she waited. His eyes were still focused on the outside, and then he glanced around the kitchen once more before looking at her. “Dev loves you.”
“If that were the case, he’d be here saying it instead of you and he wouldn’t have asked me to keep our relationship a secret because of a stupid article.”
“Maybe, but did you ever think he wanted to protect you? He spent so much time helping you, he’s afraid to taint your chances of saving your house with his name. Then he locked those feelings up but did a shitty job of it. Anytime I mention you, he gets all tight-lipped, if he’s not punching me.” Mark touched his jaw as if the words recalled a specific memory.
“Dev doesn’t hit people.”
“Tell that to my nose. It hurts, and he did the hurting. He’s a mess without you. Trust me, I’m getting firsthand experience. Not the first time he’s hit me either. Did the original damage about a week ago trying to pry money out of me I didn’t have. He was willing to give you some, enough to save the house, or so I heard.”
She drew her hand in the air. “See all this
? Those memories you keep reliving, they’re our history, a past I don’t want to lose. I could’ve taken the money from him, accepted it, but then he’d have been paying me off for being with him. If you think Pru wouldn’t have questioned where I got the money… she’s on your board of investors, on the board for the Beautification Board and she had to have acted as a source for the newspaper article. She’s out for Dev, gunning for him with the goal of a head-on collision. I was willing to get caught in the crossfire, but instead, he wanted to push me away, keep me quiet like some dirty little secret. Love is not hidden away; it’s brought out in the daylight for everyone to see, to acknowledge that they can’t break it with some bad words or insults.
Sorry, I got on a tangent, but bottom line is this house is all I have. If I lose it, I don’t make enough to get a place to be on my own, not with the debt I’m still trying to clear away. I refuse to let the board destroy the memories of our family because they think it would improve the rich background of the community, but I won’t accept hush money or sell myself in the process. I’m not doing it.”
He got quiet, thoughtful, which in her mind might prove scary. Mark’s silence meant plotting, and with her latest endeavors, it seemed he always plotted against her. “Fine. I get it, but you care about him right?”
“I do.”
“Would you say you love him?”
“Even if I did, what the hell is the point? Love isn’t going to do much for him or stop Pru from getting her way.” Kat took a sip of tea, letting the bitter taste linger in her mouth before swallowing. Yep, life was like a cup of tea—warm, inviting, then bitter and cold too soon.
“She doesn’t have to win. If you love him, you’ll help him out. And he’s going to need it this coming Friday. The board basically wants to put him on trial to decide whether he should remain with Bona Fide. They are talking about asking for his resignation. Dev’s plan to help is to get a new face for the company, but everyone knows the company is him. He makes Bona Fide a success. Someone else won’t cut it.”
