“We need to figure out a way to put an end to this bullshit plan. If we keep sinking this money into their new feel-good project, we’re going to hurt our numbers for investors. Not to mention this crazy fucking idea of providing child care for the single-parent employees and the ones making less than $32K.”
As far as I could tell, both of those things could be done without much issue, but why was this guy talking business right now? I just kept my mouth shut and nodded, it was my job to listen to Phil, and I had a feeling him thinking we were on the same page was a good thing.
“Those two.” His lips pursed like he’d bitten a lemon when he looked over at the twins, who were holding court by the pool. “Want to make this company into some sort of socialist commune.”
I turned my head to the side, trying once again to not snap at him, because I’d seen the payroll and knew his salary was very close to half a million dollars and the bonus check he got each year had six figures. Greedy little fucker.
I worked for him though. At least I did while I was here. My boss at Davidson’s had been very clear, I answered to the board, and the liaison to the board was Phil. I had to assess the state of the company and make an objective recommendation regarding the IPO. I had no business championing the foundation’s programs. Except that now I knew what those programs did for the families, the way Sturm’s took care of their employees, of their community. Those were big reasons why Sturm’s was so special. Take all that away and you lost the magic. Not everything was always about the bottom line.
The more I learned about this company and their culture, how they achieved their success, the more I understood that going public and trying to compete to keep investors happy was going to kill the values that built their brand. They would almost certainly take off. I’d be surprised if the company wasn’t bought up by a bigger conglomerate within the year. Strong brands with a solid customer base like Sturm’s would get scooped up in a hot second. It would sell big too. Sturm’s was an institution in the fashion world, and acquiring it would be a coup. But then it would no longer be the Sturm’s that I’d gotten to know.
I was trapped, because saying that the IPO would be a success but would destroy the things that make Sturm’s special would mean fucking with Phil’s plan and very likely getting fired from this project on the spot. It might not cost me my job, but it would certainly be a big hit for my upward trajectory with the firm.
“Rocco.” Phil’s sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts and back to the not-so-pleasant reality that if I wanted that house in the suburbs for Sofia and Blue, I’d have to be this fucker’s errand boy until this project was over.
“I’ll see you Monday; we can talk about how to proceed then.”
He huffed, seemingly unhappy with my lack of enthusiasm for his plan to take money from children, but he walked away, finally leaving me in peace. I almost went back to hide in the backyard until it was a good time to leave when I remembered I’d come to the tent to get a beer.
I knew the stakes of not going along with Phil. I had to get my shit together and do what I’d come here to do. Which was why messing with Julia and thirsting after her was only one more way that I was sabotaging myself.
My father always told me I was my own worst enemy. And I worked hard to prove him wrong. But I was not just fucking myself over on this. I had to stop looking for ways to mess with my and my sister’s future.
I lifted my head and saw the twins spotted me and were waving me over to them. I held my hand up, indicating I would head there once I had a drink.
I got to the front of the line and ordered my beer, still feeling in a funk. I felt caged in by my situation, and unsure of what I wanted. Uncertainty was not a good place for me. The path to perdition had always been when I let my feelings for others cloud my decisions. The first thing I needed to do was quit this thing with Julia. She clearly wasn’t interested, and pursuing it could potentially cost us both dearly.
I walked over to the twins, who were now talking with Caroline, and there was an older woman there with them.
When Caroline saw me, she smiled wide and made space for me to join the conversation.
“Ladies.”
“Rocco, have you met Caroline?”
I dipped my head, smiling back at her, but feeling like my entire body had turned to stone.
“Hello again.”
Her smile was suggestive and flirty, and I wished to God I had the energy to oblige. Because maybe this was what I needed. Something, someone, to get me off this ill-advised obsession.
Thankfully the twins demanded my attention again. “And this young lady is our mother, Consuelo Garcia-Sturm.” I tried to hide my surprise at their mother’s name. I had no idea the twins had Latinx ancestry.
“So nice to meet you, ma’am.” I practically curtsied like a tool. Consuelo had to be in her mid to late seventies, but she looked great. Stupidly, I thought she’d probably get along with Julia’s grandmother.
“Nice to meet you, Rocco. I’ve heard a lot about you. Sounds like that ass-kissing cabrón at least got a consultant that’s not trying to destroy my husband’s legacy to make a buck.”
I sputtered, almost choking on my beer while Mitzy and Muffy did a terrible job of looking scandalized at their very dignified mother cursing out of one of their executives. I cleared my throat looking for a response, but Ms. Consuelo had more to say. “He’s handsome too, niñas.” I did grin at hearing Mitzy and Muffy—two high-powered women in their fifties—being called girls by their mom. “You need to find a way to steal him away from those New Yorkers and keep him here in the South.” I again was at a loss for words, and as I tried to come up with something, noticed that Caroline had joined our foursome.
“I certainly would be glad for more tall, dark, and handsome New Yorkers at the gym.” Caroline—who was still eyeing me like she was trying to give me time before pouncing—added. “You go to the Dallas Sports Club in the Palomar building, right?”
That’s where I’d seen her.
“I do,” I said. “You do the 6:00 a.m. spinning class.”
“It’s good to see you.”
I nodded and managed to wedge out another smile.
“Same.”
The twins and Consuelo were looking at the exchange with interest and I kept talking to Caroline even though all I could think was that I wished Julia was here. That I could go to her place and squeeze into the couch next to her to watch a movie with her and her family.
Caroline must have noted my lack of enthusiasm because she decided to make up for it by excitedly discussing every fitness class she’d ever attended at our gym. I took a sip of the beer that tasted like water and focused on the twinkling lights overhead as I listened to Caroline. But every word from her about calories and burpees just made me remember the way Julia had savored the tart I’d brought over. How her ass and hips felt when I had her in my arms last night. How that had not been nearly enough and yet it was as much as I’d ever get.
“Who’s your trainer?” Caroline’s question ripped me out of my unhelpful thoughts and turned my attention back to her.
“I don’t have one,” I said, trying very hard to sound interested.
Once her shock at my lack of a trainer wore off, she began a lengthy PSA on posture and endurance. I stood there half listening and trying hard to suppress any thoughts about Julia.
No looking back. My eyes had to stay focused on my future.
Julia
It would be nice if even once, I actually followed through with what I said I would do when it came to men that are no good for me. I kept telling my friends, my family, myself that Rocco and I could never work, and now that he had finally gotten the message and left me alone, I missed him.
I was sitting in my car at the Dallas Arboretum parking lot, where I was supposed to see him and the rest of the Exiles in a few minutes, sulking. I
was nervous; I didn’t know if he’d be different with me, if he’d be cold and distant instead of his usual warm self.
I opened my phone and went to Instagram...again. I looked for the picture, and that possessive feeling, the churning in my gut that made me want to do irrational things, came roaring back.
In the photo he was at the BBQ at the twins’ house. He’d taken a selfie with them, their mom—who looked amazing—and a younger woman. A gorgeous brunette with blue eyes. She was looking at the camera, her head close to his. He seemed happy, and looking at her smug smile made me feel stabby. I didn’t want anyone touching him.
I took a breath and tried to regroup before leaving my car. I was here to see my friends. We would drink some wine and walk around a pumpkin patch that was apparently the most spectacular use of decorative gourds ever attempted. I could do this: it was only a matter of weeks, after all. Rocco was supposed to be done with this project by the end of January. He’d get his promotion, leave us all behind, and go back home to NYC.
Home.
I closed my eyes and thought about the word and what came up was a lot more complicated than before. Yes, home was my parents, and it was Alba, but so were the Exiles, my job at the Sturm Foundation, my apartment I had set up just like I wanted, and even Tacos and Margs Tuesdays. My problem was that even if I didn’t want him to be, Rocco kept popping up in a lot of those pictures.
My phone buzzed, saving me from myself and the pit of corniness I was sinking into. I looked at the screen and for a second felt disappointed when it wasn’t Rocco.
Salome: ¿Que pasa ma? You coming or what? J, Dani and Tariq are already wilding out and touching everything. You know Rocco is the only one that knows how to act and he’s not here yet. I need backup before these three get my brown ass kicked out of a fucking conuco.
I smiled at her calling the pumpkin patch the Spanish word for orchard, and tapped a quick message letting her know I was here.
I got out of the car and walked to the entrance. It was cool, but not freezing. The sun was setting and the air felt crisp in that way that it does in the fall. I walked in the direction the information desk person told me I needed to go, and took my time appreciating the surroundings. The foliage looked so vibrant against the late afternoon glow. It wasn’t Central Park in the fall, but it was beautiful in its own way. The magnolia and pecan trees scattered around the grounds felt familiar and comforting.
I came up to the entrance of the area where the rest of the exiles where waiting and spotted them right away. Dani and Tariq were standing by a tall table while José and Salome were in line for what looked like a wine and beer bar. They stood close, engrossed in conversation. They seemed like they’d been friends forever, and that’s how it felt to me too. When I looked at them, I saw people I could count on, people who knew me and liked me. Dallas was no longer a place I was stuck in. It was a place I’d been building something. Just like my dad told me.
I frowned as I walked up, noticing that I did not see Rocco anywhere. Did he cancel because of me?
I never responded to his text saying he was not going to come to the Kennedy Tour with me and my parents last Saturday. It was Wednesday now. He wouldn’t just not show; he would’ve said something in the group chat. Unless he didn’t want me to know.
Fuck. I needed to stop this shit. There was no use in agonizing about it. This was all for the best. I knew that. He knew that.
I came up to the small table where Dani and Tariq were standing and greeted them with kisses on the cheek. “Hello, hello.” I waved my hand around. “This is certainly festive.”
Dani rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass of red wine. He had forgone his usual business casual attire for well-fitting dark jeans and an oatmeal sweater. He looked like the very picture of autumnal fashion and would mostly likely have one of us take pictures of him for the Gram at some point. I turned and looked at Tariq, who must have come straight from work because he was wearing charcoal slacks and a light blue oxford shirt under a very stylish black trench coat. I was not going to ask him if he knew where Rocco was. “Well don’t you two look handsome.”
They both smiled and complimented my outfit. I’d done a lot more than I usually did for work, but I knew I’d be coming here after and, well, I could lie to others, but not myself. I’d wanted to look good in case I saw Rocco. Because nothing said healthy coping like getting all sexy for a guy who made you come in his hallway before you ghosted him.
I angled my head in the direction of Salome and José, who had seen me and were waving me over. “I’m going to say hi to those two. Salome said you guys were being a handful. We need to keep an eye on you two.”
Tariq gave me a cheeky smile and shook his head, feigning innocence. “Us? Never. Rocco’s the one usually causing mischief.”
Dani chuckled at that and took another sip of wine. Just hearing Rocco’s name made my stomach dip. I looked around again, hoping to see him. But he was nowhere to be found. I was literally biting my tongue to keep from asking, but for better or worse Dani opened his mouth and put me out of my misery.
“Speaking of the devil, here he comes. That’s Caroline, the ‘gym buddy.’” I looked up and saw him walking with the woman from the Insta photo, so close their arms brushed as they walked. I’d never considered myself a jealous person, and intentionally tried never to fall under the stereotype of the possessive Latinx woman, but I was vibrating with the urge to go and pry them apart. Tell her that she was too close, that those clothes, those eyes, that cologne were for me. Not hers. Mine.
I heard someone clearing their throat and realized I’d stopped in the middle of talking to Tariq and Dani to glare at Rocco and his new friend.
“Soooooo, I see you spotted him.”
I turned to see Salome and José standing by our table, drinks in hand. José, who was my favorite, handed me a glass of prosecco, and put his arms out for a hug hello. One of his eyebrows was perched high on his forehead and his eyes were zeroed in on the offending parties, who bypassed us and waved in the direction of the bar instead of coming to say hello. This was a beer and wine event. It wasn’t a personal affront to me. Rationally I knew that. It did not keep me from wanting to push tall-and-skinny off him and put my arm around his waist.
I forced myself to chill the hell out and gave José a tight squeeze. “I missed you, friend. How was New Mexico?”
“It was good. How’s you?”
I twisted my mouth to the side in answer and turned to give a kiss to Salome.
“Querida. I love this dapper fall lewk,” I said, admiring her emerald-green corduroy jacket and her gray shirt and slacks. “I’m loving it.”
See, I could be normal. Chat with friends and focus on things that were not Rocco.
José nodded appreciatively. “She got that jacket at the sample sale you wouldn’t come with us to.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t do sample sales for that designer because they have nothing bigger than a size twelve and I’d rather spend my time where they can cater to my body.”
José dipped his head in agreement. “Point taken. If they’re not smart enough to make clothes that you can show off with that luscious ass and gorgeous tits, then that’s their problem. Right, Rocco?”
What the fuck?
José winked at me like I was in on his joke as I made a full about-face to find Rocco Fucking Quinn standing behind me. He’d somehow gotten even more handsome over the past few days.
And yes, “she” was still there. I guess they decided to come and say hello before getting that drink after all. Swell.
I just stood there like a robot as he nodded, apparently in agreement with José. “Any designer who’d overlook a body like Julia’s is a fool.” He said it looking straight at me. The heat as he ran his eyes over me was so intense, it could’ve left a trail of blisters on my skin.
I didn’t answer, but I leaned
up to him and kissed his cheek. He returned the kiss and placed a hand on the small of my back, just for a moment, pressing his fingers in. When I pulled back, he was smiling, relief etched all over his face.
“It’s good to see you, Rocco.” I could be cordial, friendly. Nobody needed to get their wig snatched up in here. “How’s Ms. Pulga?”
His smile widened and he lifted his hand to show me a few scratches. “She’s giving me hell, but at least she stopped shredding my door.”
I laughed as he turned to the woman who had been watching our conversation with very curious eyes.
“Caroline, this is Julia Ortiz. The official founder of the Gotham Exiles Club.”
Caroline’s smile did not reach her eyes and her body language was giving off a vibe that let me know she was definitely competition.
“Nice to meet you, Julia.” She was sneering more than smiling, but I rolled with it. I extended my hand and gave her a real smile.
“Good to meet you. Are you here with friends too?” Okay, that sounded a little bit more pugnacious than I intended, but this girl was getting on my damn nerves.
Rocco must’ve detected the menacing vibe coming off me, and intercepted before Caroline could set me all the way off. “We just ran into each other coming in. Caroline and I go to the same gym; we met at the twins’ party on Friday.”
He gave those last two words a meaningful emphasis, but Caroline was oblivious. “Isn’t that a funny coincidence? I mean, what are the chances of us both being here on a weeknight?”
I honestly had nothing, and after a few moments of awkward-as-hell silence, Rocco finally put us all out of our misery.
“Anyone need anything?”
Caroline jumped on that shit like she hadn’t drank anything for days.
“Me, please. I’ll go with you.” She immediately hooked her arm in the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him, and that’s when it happened.
He looked at me, then at her. And without a word, he walked away.
I deserved that. I’d done nothing but give Rocco mixed signals and leave him hanging at every opportunity. Besides, it’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?
Here to Stay Page 21
