by Vivien Vale
When I get home, I walk to the wet bar in the corner of my living room and pour myself three fingers of whiskey. I don’t like drinking as a rule, but this is a special occasion. I throw the amber liquid back, and it burns down my throat. I pour another three fingers, but this time I sip it, slowly.
The alcohol makes me feel light and airy, but the sick feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. Why would it?
I close my eyes and flash on Kylie’s face. She looked so hurt when she heard she was fired, so broken. The look on her face was such a stark contrast from the other expressions I’ve seen her have – lust, orgasms, shyness, smiles, bliss. I don’t like that I was partly the cause of that look on her face. Of course, she was to blame for what happened, too. I didn’t hold a gun to her head and tell her to fuck me.
Still, I know I was a lot more comfortable than she was, and she was the one that was right to be so cautious.
Damn hindsight.
When my second glass of whiskey is finished, I pick up my phone and look for Charles Hendrick’s number in my contacts list. I take a deep breath, ignore the knot in my stomach that didn’t get any smaller with the addition of the alcohol in my system, and ring the number.
It takes a long time for Hendricks to answer, so long I expect to be sent to his voicemail when he answers gruffly.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Hendricks, it’s Wes Wagner speaking.”
“Yes, son, what is it?” he asks. He sounds like he’s in a hurry.
“I won’t talk long, I hear you’re busy. Could I meet with you? There are a few things I would like to discuss.”
Hendricks sighs heavily. “I’m in the middle of a media frenzy now, Wesley. When something happens within the company, it comes right back to me, and I have to deal with it.”
I swallow hard. Of course, he knows everything that’s happening. I don’t know how he feels about it. He sounds blunt, but it could be that he’s busy just as much as it could mean that I’m his least favorite person right now.
“Let me get this sorted out,” he says again. “I’ll give you a call later in the week, and we can make some time to talk.”
When he hangs up, I’m a little more positive. Hendricks is a tough old man with business savvy, and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. The combination makes him invincible. If he’s willing to see me – no matter how upset he is with what I’ve done and what’s happening to his company – it can’t be that bad, can it? Besides, he’s one to talk about fraternizing.
Maybe I will be able to make things right, get Kylie her job back, do something good for a change. I don’t know if Hendricks will remember to call me back or if he will be in the mood to do so once the media frenzy, as he calls it, dies down. I honestly hope so.
I really need to be able to call in all the favors I have access to because of my position and my class.
Kylie was right when she said I had money to fall back on and I will use it to my advantage in this situation if I can.
When I walk back to the bar to pour more whiskey my stomach turns, and I feel even sicker than before. I’m worried Hendricks won’t be able to help me. I know that I might not be able to get my own job back. I don’t even want to know what my dad will say to me when he catches wind of this.
Wesley Wagner Senior is a piece of work. He’s hard as nails, and I’ve had a tough time stepping up to his expectation of me. I know I’m going to get more than an earful about all of this when I see him again.
Honestly, I don’t care. All I care about is making everything right for Kylie again. Even if she decides that she doesn’t want to see me again, I want her to be okay. She means something to me. In the short time, I’ve gotten to know her a little bit, and we’ve gotten as close as we were because of us fucking so often, I’ve become attached to her.
I want her to succeed. I want her to be happy. And I feel terrible that she’s not getting either of those things because of me. I don’t want that for her. I want her to have a good life. So, I will do anything I can to make this right.
I realize I miss her. I just saw her and not nearly enough time has passed to make it rational, but I miss her. I want to see her again. I want to be with her again. She’s the kind of woman I want to spend my time with, even if we don’t end up in bed together.
She’s the kind of woman that would make a man very happy. And I want that. I don’t want someone else to have her. I want her to myself.
But that doesn’t make sense, does it? I can’t be the one to walk this road again, to feel like this about a woman. After what Marisa did.
But Kylie isn’t Marisa. And she’s isn’t any other women, either. She’s Kylie, and that’s all she needs to be for me to… I pause mid-pour. For me to what? For me to be in love with her?
When the realization hits me, I nearly stagger.
I’m in love with her.
Oh, my God.
Kylie
I feel miserable. I have done nothing the whole week but lie in bed feeling sorry for myself. By Thursday I smell because I haven’t been in the shower for three days. My hair is a tangled mess, and I have no trace of makeup left because I’ve cried so much it’s been more cleansing than any makeup remover.
What am I crying about? My job, mostly. My job, and Wes. That I’m crying this much over a man I shouldn’t care about tells me how far I’ve fallen.
I haven’t told my mom about what happened. I can’t bring myself to admit to her what a failure I am, how badly I messed up. When I got the scholarship, she was so proud of me.
“You’re going to make something fantastic of yourself,” she kept saying. I got the student loan to study for my MBA, and she was just as proud of me, then. “You fight the right battles to get where you need to be.” Her words of encouragement were what got me through my degree, through my MBA.
When I was hired as a receptionist instead of anything noteworthy, she told me that everything starts small. Rome wasn’t built in a day. It’s her favorite saying no matter how cliché. And I held onto that hope. I got promoted to project manager and I was so proud to tell her she was right, to tell her that I was finally building the life I always dreamed of.
And now? Now, in less than a month, I’ve been fired from the job I’ve been working toward my whole life and my career is over. With a black mark on my résumé like that, I don’t know what I’m going to do, where I’m going to end up.
My phone rings, and it’s Paris. I think about not answering, but I do, and I hold the phone against my ear.
“We’re going out for lunch,” she says.
“I don’t think I’m up to it,” I say. “I feel sick.”
“It wasn’t a question. Shower and get dressed. I’m coming to your place in an hour. If you’re not out of bed and ready for me by the time I get there, I’ll drag you out of bed and put you in the shower myself.”
She hangs up. I shake my head at the phone and groan. Paris is the only person that knows what happened. She knew about Wes, so it was easy to explain, and she’s my best friend.
I get out of bed because I know she’s not joking about dragging me out of bed if I don’t do it myself. Paris might fool around a lot when it comes to big life decisions, but she’s the most loyal friend I have. If the same thing happened to her, the roles would be reversed, and I would be the one threatening her on the phone.
An hour later, I’m dressed and ready for her. My hair is still damp, but I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a cartoon print on it and ballet flats. I’m not wearing makeup – that’s pushing it – but I open the door, and she smiles.
“Come on,” she says. “You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”
I know I have dark circles under my eyes. I don’t know why, because it feels like sleeping is all I’ve been doing.
We go out to Brenda’s Meat and Three, a very casual restaurant with southern food. When we arrive, a waitress leads us to the back of the dining area, and we sit down in a booth. I slide into the blac
k leather seat. Paris sits opposite me.
“So, tell me,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “It’s such bullshit,” I say. “What did I do to deserve this?” I sigh. “I guess it’s my fault, too, because I did sleep with him and I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. But still, this can’t be the end for me. It’s not fair. And Wes, God.” I’m getting angrier as I speak. “He will just bounce back from this. It’s so typical. He’ll probably be able to shrug it off while I have nothing left.” I bury my face in my hands. “Is this what I get for conspiring against the company?”
Paris shakes her head. “So, you move on. You’ll figure something out, I know you.”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I can fix this.”
“You’ll find a way. You know what we need? Beignets.”
I laugh. “I haven’t even eaten food yet.”
“So?” Paris says. “You’re eating your emotions. Might as well make it worth your while.”
I chuckle, and Paris orders us two coffees and beignets.
“So, I’m assuming you’re not talking to him, anymore?” Paris asks when the waitress leaves. I shake my head.
“What would I talk to him for? He’s the reason I lost my job.”
Paris stays quiet and lets me speak.
“Besides, it was never going to work, anyway. It’s not like we would fit into each other’s lives. The only thing we had in common was RidgeCo, and now that’s gone. I’ll probably never see him again. He was so good to me, too, when I just started, making sure I was set. He taught me a couple of things, and he stuck up for me.”
I take a deep breath and blow it out with a shudder. “Maybe that’s what made me think he’s a nice guy. I never should have abandoned my original plan.” It doesn’t come out very convincing, even to my own ears.
Paris frowns at me. “He does sound like a nice guy,” she says.
“And hot. God, if you could see this guy. But he’s out of the picture now, and good riddance.” A little bit of the anger returns and I embrace it. I prefer it over all the other things I’m feeling. Anger makes me feel like I can handle everything.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m not going to see him again, that’s for sure.”
Paris smiles. “I meant about a job.”
I sigh and shrug my shoulders. Our coffee arrives and we stop talking while the waitress puts our cups in front of us. When she’s gone I pour sugar and milk into my coffee and stir it.
“Maybe I apply as a receptionist somewhere else.”
“With your MBA?” Paris asks. “I’m sure you deserve more than that. Hell, I don’t even have a job or a qualification or anything and I think I deserve more than that.”
I shake my head. “But I’ve been fired from a good position. If I apply to another they’re going to ask why and I’ll never get the job. I’m worried I got the job because of Wes, anyway, and no other reason. He just hired me so he could fuck me over in the first place. I guess I should congratulate him. He managed to do it, after all.”
Paris leans her elbows on the table and sips her coffee carefully.
“I can’t tell if you’re mad at him or yourself.”
“What? No. Him. Obviously. He’s the reason I’m in this mess. I mean, I am, too, but if he wasn’t so damn hot.”
I know I sound stupid so I stop talking and sip my coffee.
The beignets arrive and they look fantastic. Paris was right, I’m about to eat my emotions and I might as well do it properly.
“God, this is good,” I say, biting into the delicious, sugary dough. “Comfort food makes everything better.”
Paris nods, eating, too, and for a while we just sit together.
“You liked what you did?” Paris asks.
I look up at her. “The project managing?”
She nods.
“Yeah,” I say. “A lot. And I was good at it, too. Wes told me that my ideas were better than anything he’s seen, and that’s saying something, considering how many projects he’s overseen the last while.”
Paris smiles and shakes her head, looking at the food she’s eating. I frown at her.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s nothing,” she says. “You don’t want to hear it.”
I groan. “Obviously, now I do. What? Tell me.”
Paris sighs and reaches for her coffee.
“Well, you’re talking about him a lot,” she says.
I blink at her. “Of course. He’s responsible for all of this.”
Paris shakes her head. “I hear you, but you’re saying lot of good things about him, too. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“What?” I ask, lowering the beignet I was about to sink my teeth into. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Paris shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m just looking at you raving about how terrible this guy is and then finding something to redeem him, every time.”
I shake my head back and forth. There’s no way I’m in love with him. I don’t date. I don’t do relationships and love and all that. I’ve seen how it can ruin someone’s life. My mom and dad are perfect examples. Relationships never end well. If it wasn’t for my gran, I don’t think my mom and I would have gotten through it. I told myself I would never follow in her footsteps. If you don’t fall in love, your heart can’t be broken.
I focused on my studies, instead, and it was so much more rewarding than a relationship.
“I’m not in love with him,” I say again.
Paris is smiling. “Whatever you say, Ky.”
She can’t be right. I won’t accept that. It’s bad enough that Wes has been my downfall, that I was unable to resist him and that I’m in this hole in my life, now. I can’t be in love with the man, too. My life would be a lie then.
But of course, I’ve already done so many things I never thought I would do. And I liked it. I fucked him, repeatedly, and I wanted more. And now?
Now I’m sitting here, eating comfort food, talking about a man that I shouldn’t be thinking about twice if he really doesn’t mean anything to me. He’s out of my life, after all.
But Paris is right. I know she is. I hate her for it – she’s always had a knack for knowing how I feel before I do – but with this, I don’t want her to be right. I can’t afford to be in love with this man. Or any man. My life is in shambles, and he’s a spoiled, rich ass.
A very handsome, fucking-good-in-bed ass. That I admittedly wish I didn’t have to walk away from.
But this mess that I’m in because of him is exactly the reason I shouldn’t be with him or love him or even think about any of those things. Because men are nothing more than heartaches.
“I’m better off without him,” I say to Paris, but I sound so unconvincing that I don’t even believe myself.
Wes
When I leave breakfast with Hendricks, I know exactly what I need to do. He gave me back my job as CEO, but there is something more that needs to be done. If anyone asked me a week ago if I would go this route, I would have fought against it tooth and nail, but it’s amazing what a woman will do to a man.
This isn’t just about my career. It’s about Kylie Jordan, the woman who managed to change my life by being herself. I didn’t think I would ever trust a woman again, but she’s something else, and I need to make it right. I need to make it work for her, at least, even if I can’t make it happen for myself.
Hendricks is a reasonable man. When I told him how I felt about everything that happened and how it placed Kylie at a disadvantage, Hendricks didn’t seem very worried, even knowing what happened all those years ago with her mother. When I told him how I felt about her, he didn’t care all that much. When I showed him her work, he was interested. Everyone has something that tugs at their heartstrings. For Hendricks, it’s passion for your work.
Kylie is the definition of passion and dedication to her career.
I’m headed to Alamo Square Park where Hendricks’s assistant h
as gotten reporters from all the major news stations together. I have something I need to say to the masses. As the CEO for RidgeCo, I’ve appeared in public on behalf of the company often enough that this is the one place where I might be able to make a difference.
When I arrive at the podium, the microphones are set up, and a group of reporters, news readers and cameramen are clustered in front of it.
This isn’t my first rodeo, but for the first time, I’m nervous. It’s the first time I’m saying something this serious. It’s the first time I really care about how my speech is going to be received.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say when I step onto the podium. Mics and recording devices are shoved in my direction. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice. As you all know I’ve been CEO at RidgeCo for a few years, now. Recently, I was involved in allegations of a sexual nature. Whether these were true or not, it jeopardized my career and that of a woman that was involved as well.”
“Who is she?” someone asks.
“Kylie Jordan is a new project manager. I hired her to join the team, and from day one she did everything in her power to make the project run as smoothly as possible.”
“We heard about the scandal,” another reporter says, “are the allegations true?”
I take a deep breath. This is it, the moment of truth.
“Yes,” I say. “They are. But it is through no fault of Miss Jordan, and if anyone should be punished, it’s me. She insisted that it was wrong, but I’m too stubborn for my own good. The truth is…” I hesitate because I’m about to make a confession I’ve only recently admitted to myself. “I’m in love with her. When you know, you know, and it’s impossible to stay away from someone.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, and I see pens scribble on paper at a furious rate.
“Does that mean that company rules can be broken for the pursuit of love?” someone from the back asks.
I shake my head. “Absolutely, not. Which is why I’m resigning as CEO of RidgeCo.”
Chatter erupts, and I give them some time to wrap their mind around the news. Truth be told, I’m still working on accepting my decision.
