“And goddamn it—even his voice is sexy!” she says with frustration.
“What else did he say?”
“He asked me if this week’s plant survived, or if it will meet its demise next week.”
I can’t help but laugh at this. “Very observant, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he knows I’m a plant killer. Everyone knows! If a plant last two weeks with me, it’s a miracle!” she says and heads over to water her latest to-be victim.
“Just so you know, I do expect a weekly report on this matter. The Viking, not the plants.” I pull a barrette out of my purse, walk up to her, and clip those goddamn bangs out of her face.
“Thanks,” she says with relief. “These bangs are driving me nuckin’ futs.” She hugs me. “Yes, I will give you a report if there is anything to report.”
“I’m sure there will be.” I pat her back and head out the door.
9:35 p.m.
I stare at the screen of my laptop. Yup, it’s still there—$478,533.22. In two more weeks that number will jump by a quarter of a million. I grab my cell to text CiCi.
Mitch has confirmed.
My pussy is platinum.
My laptop starts singing to me. Crap. I ignore the incoming Skype call. After a few minutes, my phone pings. I shouldn’t look, but I do.
Get to your laptop, baby.
I want to see you!
No.
Why?
I don’t bother with a reply because, well, when you have nothing nice to say ...
Please :|
My Skype starts going off again.
Answer it!
I get offline.
I’ll see you in two weeks, Mitch.
And with that, I turn my phone off. But then my house phone rings. Of course. Why wouldn’t it? I sigh audibly and pick up.
“Charlotte?”
I can hear him clench his teeth, and I wonder how that’s even possible.
“Mitchell,” I reply coolly.
“So, you want to play a game now?”
I can tell he’s straining terribly to keep his voice level.
“Sure, let’s play phone Monopoly!” I unleash my inner smartass.
“What?”
“Yeah, it’s real simple! You monopolize our phone conversation, and I pretend to listen while painting my nails.” I can’t be too sure, but it sounds like I hit the steam-release button on Mitch.
“Charlotte,” he says after a moment or two. Damn him and his sexy voice! “Be careful, baby. You don’t have a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
“Don’t I?” I challenge him.
“No. You don’t.” His calm and sexy voice is now actually freaking me out a bit. “Now get on your computer so I can see your pretty face.”
“Mitch, I’m hanging up now. If you call back tonight, I will just turn all the ringers off, so don’t bother. I will see you in two weeks,” I say with strength and confidence.
“Charlotte, you are about to make a very bad decision. I’m giving you one last chance to do as I say like you’re supposed to, or there will be consequences,” he states clearly and slowly, like he’s talking me off a ledge.
“Good night.” I sigh and hang up. I can’t believe him! He honestly thinks that after everything that’s happened, he can go back to the way he behaved our first night. Hell no! He can try it all he wants, but it’s not going to work. Our relationship has morphed into something completely different than what we planned on that first night.
I wait a few minutes. Sure that he’s accepted my threat regarding the ringers, I finally settle into bed. Not that I’ll sleep or anything!
Three days later…
“What are you talking about?” I snap at the guy on the phone.
“Your card has been declined,” the guy from the mortgage company repeats.
“No way!” I yell and pull up my bank account. $1,118.55. My heart sinks. “I’ll have to call you back,” I say.
“Okay, ma’am,” he says, and I hang up.
I scroll down. Transfer $475,000.00 July 1, 2013. Gone. He took everything but the first month’s originally agreed-upon payment.
Deep breath.
Exhale.
Deep breath.
Exh ... oh, fuck this shit!
My fingers fly across my phone’s keyboard.
Sometimes I really hate being right!
You owe me half a month!
So ... back to work!!
Thanks for “breaking me in,” Mitch! :) Have a nice life!
I hit “send” then proceed to wipe the snot away from my nose.
Ugly cry.
Ugly, messy, disgusting cry.
Fuck you, Mitch!
Yup, looking down at my phone in the middle of this meeting was a big mistake. The very same meeting in which we’re having a tough time closing the deal.
Her entire message silently screams at me, and my stomach twists. If I don’t leave this room now, I may lose my lunch—followed by my reputation.
“Kyle!” I stand up. Everyone gives me their undivided attention. “Pack it up,” I say. He stares at me, dumbfounded. “Gentlemen, we’re not going to waste any more of our time, or yours.” I look around at the five of them. “We have gone over this line several times. No one else has what we are offering. Mentioning these other companies in comparison is a great tactic. That is, of course, if a single one of them was worth comparing to us, which none is. They do not have anything similar to our product, nor our commercial standing. They most certainly are not in the position to walk out the door when a meeting is clearly wasting their time and money. However, we are, gentlemen.” I throw my stuff into my briefcase. “You have twenty-four hours to decide, or the deal comes off the table.” I close my briefcase. “Kyle.” I nod.
“You have our number,” he says. “Have a good day.” He follows my lead out the door. “What the fuck?” he asks, following it up with a surprised laugh when we get to the elevator.
“Get the jet ready,” I say before I connect to Mr. Wilson.
“Where are we going?” He pulls his phone up to his ear.
“Home. I just lost Charlotte. I, uh ... fucked up big time.” Man, did I fuck up! “Wilson!” I snap before he finishes his name.
“Mr. Colton!” He greets me in his creepy-enthusiastic way and I suddenly feel like I’ve dropped my bar of soap in the jail shower.
“I need you to transfer that money back, please. Immediately!” I try to keep my voice down, but am not too successful.
“Uh ... um ... Mr. Colton,” he stammers.
“Now, Wilson, or I will pull every cent from your bank!”
“Uh, yes, sir ... it’s ... it’s done,” he says nervously.
“Good.” I say and hang up.
“So ... what happened?” Kyle smirks. Him and his fucking smirking!
“I tried to rule her with an iron fist.” I pace. It worked in the bedroom ...
“And?”
“She beat me over the head with it.” I lean back against the elevator wall and close my eyes.
“You are going to make me best man, right?” He laughs.
“If she doesn’t make you a pallbearer first.” I open an eye. “Faaaaccck!” I yell and pound my fist against the wall.
The doors open and my phone hits my ear again. This time, my assistant is on the other end. “Erica, gather all of our things and meet us at the airport. We’re flying home.”
“But, Mr. Colton—” she starts.
“Cancel all of it. I have a family emergency. Kyle does too.”
“You both have an emergency?” she asks, sounding confused.
“Just do as I say, please.” I hang up. “Kyle, wipe that effin’ grin off your face!” I yell as we get in the car. “Should I call her? Do I text her? Do I just show up? What do I do?” I glance back and forth between him and my phone.
“Hell if I know!” He shrugs, leans back into his seat, and closes his eyes. A few moments of silence pass before a slow smirk comes across
his face. “Maybe you should pass her a note during study hall,” he practically mumbles.
“It took you that long to think of that, asshole?” I fight the urge to whack his leg with my knee in order to not prove his point. He just chuckles ... him and that smirk. I’d like to wipe it off his face.
I hop out of the limo as soon as we hit the airport. Erica jumps off the courtesy golf cart that has our luggage piled high in the back.
“I want a goddamn raise!” she snaps, walking past me.
“Done.” I nod, a little shocked at her aggressiveness. I turn to Kyle. “So, did everyone in the company gain a new set of balls this past month?”
“Apparently,” he answers, just as awestruck. We all climb onto the plane and settle in. I give Charlotte a quick text before the wheels go up.
I fixed it, baby.
And ...
I’m going to fix us, too!
With that, I turn my phone off and begin working on my game plan. I hope I come up with a solid one in the next several hours.
Crap! In five ... four ... three ... two ... one.
“What the fuck’s going on with you?” CiCi bellows as she barges into my bedroom. “You haven’t picked up the damn phone all day and you had Mom call me to take the dogs? I sat on the fucking phone with her for a goddamn hour listening to her conjure up every goddamn ailment known to man to diagnose you with! Your fucking fingers broken—you couldn’t call me yourself?” She plops onto my bed.
I raise my left hand up in the air and flip her off. “Nope ... still workin’!” I inform her.
“Charley, what’s going on?” She pushes at my shoulder. I sigh and turn to her—better to get this over with quickly. “Hmm ... red, puffy eyes and nose, a mountain of old used tissues, favorite ugly-ass comfy pajamas, and shipping kids and dogs off to somewhere else for the night,” she says and taps her lips with her index finger. “It seems to me that you’ve come down with a case of ‘Mitch is a motherfucking dickhead who should have his balls cut off and fed to him.’ Am I right?” she asks. Her eyes are wide—ready to strike. It’s moments like these when I thank God this crazy bitch is on my side!
“Ding, ding, ding, ding—you are correct!” I shake a finger in the air (not the same one from before, of course).
“Do I need to fly to Germany to kick his ass, Sis?” She lies next to me.
“Nope, don’t bother wasting your frequent-flyer miles. We broke up, Ceese ... it’s over,” I say, trying to keep my composure and steady my quivering chin. I fail miserably at both.
“No way!” She sits up. “Who broke it off?”
“He did.”
“Why?”
“Um ... he’s been dealing with personal stuff and it’s made him act differently toward me. I don’t know, exactly. He wouldn’t talk to me for almost three weeks and then, one day, he decided he’s going to go back to the way things were with us. Apparently, I was supposed to jump on board with that!” I cry and take the tissue she hands me.
“You didn’t, and ...?”
“And that’s it—over. I had to return the funds I had left in my account.”
“Wait! He fired you from your job, too?” she yells. “That’s illegal!”
“Um ... well ...” Shit! “It was sort of under the table for now, so I have no documentation.”
“That’s a little shady.” Her eyebrows knit together.
“Well, it was a trial thing. If they felt it was working out, they would’ve provided me with a contract.” Contract ... I hate that word! “I couldn’t pay my mortgage this morning.” I sniffle.
“We’ll figure that shit out—don’t worry!” She hugs me. “This explains why I haven’t heard back from that pussy-ass motherfucker.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, he hasn’t texted me back in weeks!”
“You text Mitch?”
“All of the time. I like fucking with him.” She shrugs. “Not the way you liked fucking with him, of course,” she adds, which makes me start crying all over again. Damn, did I like “fucking” with him! “Sorry.” She winces. “Okay, well, I’ve got the dogs and Pauline dropped the kids off at Mom and Dad’s, so rest up and get yourself back together.”
“CiCi, what are you going to do?” I sit up as she walks to the door.
“Nothing—what are you talking about? I’m good.” She continues on with her calm façade. Anyone who knows CiCi knows that “Calm CiCi” is really “Psycho-Bitch CiCi.” This normalcy she’s displaying—this is the shit that tells you to run for your life!
“Ceese!” I yell as she leaves. Fuck it. He deserves the wrath of CiCi O’Brien! Good luck, dude!
I shuffle out of bed and dig out some Xanax I have remaining from my time with Josh. I’ve decided this moment requires a good night’s sleep. Popping two of them, new marketing slogans come to mind. Xanax—the little pills in a bottle that helps you with the fish that slips out of your hand! Nope. Xanax—helping you not panic through the suck pump that is life! Yes! I should’ve gone into marketing!
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle ... plop.
“My pajamas are not fucking ugly!” I mumble before drifting off.
6:00 p.m.
“Where’s the key, Pauline?” I talk low into the phone.
“In the hanging plant there.”
“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later,” I say before hanging up. Slowly, I unlock the door and walk in.
Silence. Dead silence.
I search the rooms downstairs and finally make my way up. She must still be in bed. I open her door and creep in. Ugh ... bed. Bed and Charlotte. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m down to my underwear. Cautiously, I climb in next to her and move her hair away from her neck.
I lean down.
And ...
I sniff.
I sniff again ... long and hard. Mmm ... Charlotte. I take in the sight of her: her long wavy hair, her cute little ear, her lovely curves, and her ... ugly-ass motherfuckin’ pajamas. What the? As if the baby-shit gold wasn’t enough, there are sea turtles swimming around the circles of tie-dyed art. I can’t help my silent, shaking laughter. Charlotte gasps and turns her body in a panic.
“Mitch?” she asks, sounding completely confused by my presence. She rubs her eyes.
“Yeah, baby ... it’s me.” I lean forward and grasp her lips with mine.
“What are you doing here?” She pushes me away and turns her head.
“I’m following through on what I said.” I take her hand off my chest and plant soft kisses on each knuckle.
“What you said when?” She pulls her hand away.
“My text.”
“What text?”
I grab her cell phone off the nightstand and lie on my back. “This text.” I show her.
“So your plan to ‘fix us’ is climbing into bed with me almost completely naked and scaring the fucking shit out of me?” She makes the face that means a smartass comment is going to fly out of her mouth.
“Whoa ... wait a minute!” I cut her off. “At least I have the decency to be naked! Nothing says scary like these pajamas, baby.” I pull at them and laugh a little.
And there it is ... her sexy little smile.
“God, baby, I’ve missed you,” I whisper and lean forward to kiss her again.
And there it goes ...
“Mitch.” She sighs.
“Is there a story behind these, baby?” I tug at them again.
“They were a gift from a friend of mine.”
“Some friend.” I push her hair behind her ear.
“Well, we do this on purpose. For birthdays and holidays, we buy each other the most hideous gift we can find. It’s become quite the competition.” She laughs nervously. “I actually like these, though. They’re the most comfortable PJs I’ve ever had, and the softest. Feel.” She holds the material out to me. I give it a better feel this time. Wow ... it is crazy soft.
“You’re softer.” I lean toward her ear as my hand goes under the shirt. My knuckles
skim over her belly, and she gasps. “That sounds promising, baby.” I nip at her earlobe.
“Mitch, stop.” She pushes my hand away. I open my mouth to say something, but her phone pings in my hand. Out of habit, I look down to read the message from Jay Baby. Jay Baby?
CiCi gave me the cliff notes and she’s calm.
Cue the psycho music, please!
So listen ...
Imma be over in 10 min.
Mouth shut.
Legs open, Charley.
Imma face-plant into your pussy.
Girl—Imma do the alphabet.
Imma A, E, I, O. O. O ... U!
Imma be a plumber and plunge my tongue into that shit.
Imma hide my face in there like it’s in the Pussy Protection Program!
Imma smack it up
Flip it
Rub it down
All niiiight!
Imma make your legs shake gurrll.
Then Imma listen to you whimper as I make you accommodate my girth
And get lost in the rhythmic beat of my balls slapping that fine ass.
Love you, baby! :)
“Mitch, what’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna murder somebody,” she says as she reaches for her cell. I smack her hand away hard. “Ow! What the fuck is the matter with you?” she yells. I jump out of her bed and pace as I look at past conversations with this Jay guy. It’s one sexual comment after another.
Your ass is begging to be fucked in those jeans!
Nobody’s tits fill my hands like yours.
You know that time when I didn’t think about fucking you? Me neither!
I can’t read anymore. I go out of the text and see his picture. I tap it. He’s behind Charlotte making a “hell yeah!” face. His hands are cupping her tits and she’s laughing while kissing his cheek. I toss the phone on the bed next to her. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I grab my pants and throw them on. Charlotte looks at her phone then up at me, panic on her face.
Under Contract (The GEG Series) Page 17
