Goodie for him.
As for me, I wanted answers. Not from Rango. From Jake. If he had, in fact, paid for my car, I really needed to know – not only to thank him, but also, to find some way of paying him back.
Soon, I was heading down the building's stairway, figuring it would be quicker than waiting for the elevator. I was halfway down when my cell phone rang yet again.
Damn it.
Chapter 25
Standing in the stairwell, I pulled out my phone and studied the display. Once again, I didn't recognize the number.
Surprise, surprise.
But I had to get it. If I were, by some miracle, keeping my job, I was scheduled to work tomorrow. So I couldn't exactly put this off.
With grim resignation, I hit the answer-button and placed the phone next to my ear, not bothering with the usual hello. Instead, I waited, letting the caller speak first.
If it was Rango, I had a plan. It wasn't a great one, but it was the only one I had. I'd just keep blocking all of his numbers until he finally ran out of phones – or until I crushed my own phone in a Rango-induced rage, whichever came first.
Already, I was gripping my phone so tight that my fingers ached. I was still listening, but all I heard was silence, except for the faint sounds of dance music somewhere in the background.
Yup, it was Rango, alright.
With an irritated sigh, I said, "Go ahead. Get it over with."
A male voice, and unfortunately, not Rango's, replied with, "Uh, Luna? Is that you?"
I froze. Oh, crap. It was my boss. Still clutching the phone, I wanted to kick myself. It's not like I hadn't been expecting his call. It's just that, well, I'd been expecting it like seven calls ago – from a D.J. who loved dance music.
Stupid Rango.
Stupider me.
On a cheerier note, at least I hadn't answered with a string of profanity.
Trying for a recovery, I managed to say, "Um, yeah. Sorry about that. I was just—"
"Waiting to be fired?"
I hesitated, unsure what to say. In truth, I was expecting to be fired, even as I hoped against hope for another chance.
Before I could come up with a decent response, my boss spoke again. "Forget that. Bad joke. Hey, I've got some good news."
Good news? My shoulders sagged in relief. Aside from the mind-blowing elevator sex, most of my day had been a giant crap-fest. Trying not to sound pathetic, I said, "Really? How good?"
"Let me cut to the chase." With a smile in his voice, he continued. "I worked it out with corporate, and they're gonna give you another shot."
I let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh wow, that is good news." I gave a weak laugh. "A lot better than I was expecting, actually."
"You and me, both," he said. "You know corporate."
Actually, I didn't know corporate. I'd been to the corporate offices exactly once, and that was for my orientation. It was ironic, really, because I was hoping to work there someday. I just prayed I hadn't ruined my chances.
My boss cleared his throat. "There's just one condition."
"Sure. Anything."
"You'll need to apologize."
"Oh."
Yeah, it was a lame response, but I wasn't quite following. Already, I'd apologized to the customers, several times, in fact, not that it had done much good. The guy had been a decent sport about it, but the woman had gone totally berserk.
And the more I apologized, the crazier she got. In the end, she'd told me to stick my apologies where the sun didn't shine, because in her words, "Apologies were for failures who didn't get it right the first time."
I tried to think. Who else would need an apology? My co-workers? Management? Someone at corporate? I wasn't sure, and I hated the thought of asking.
Into my silence, my boss asked, "Is that a problem?"
"No. Of course not." And then, desperate for more information, I said, "So, I'll be apologizing to…?" I let the sentence trail off, hoping he'd fill in the blank.
"The customer. Who else would it be?"
"Sorry." I winced. "I guess it was a stupid question, huh?"
"Eh, I've had stupider. Don’t worry about it."
I bit my lip, not wanting to continue. But I had to, for his sake as well as mine. "So, while I'm at it, can I ask another one?"
At this, he laughed. "Sure, why not?"
I knew I was pushing my luck, but there was something he had to know. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you absolutely sure that's a good idea?"
He was silent for a long moment before saying, "You're right."
Relief washed over me. "I am?"
"Yeah. That was a stupid question."
"Oh." I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. "I know. I'm doing a horrible job of explaining it." Fearful of losing my nerve, I took a deep breath and continued. "It's just that when I apologized before, it only made things worse. That lady? She kind of flipped out, actually."
"Yeah. I saw. Remember?"
"Right. So, it's not that I'm unwilling to apologize. It's just that, well, I don't know if it will turn out so great. I mean, what if she doesn't want any more apologies?"
"Trust me. She does." He hesitated. "Listen, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she's the reason you still have a job."
I blinked. "She is?"
I couldn’t imagine how. After my failed apology attempt, she'd stormed out of the restaurant, leaving a trail of insults in her wake. It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement.
But my boss said, "Yeah. She is. Just between you and me, I went to bat for you, but my boss wasn't having it, which meant that corporate wasn't having it."
Disappointment coursed through me. The primary reason I was so desperate to keep this job was because it was a foot in the door, a way to someday use my college degree.
The steakhouse was a tiny part of a huge company. When I'd interviewed for the job, I'd heard encouraging stories about how they hired from within and made a point to promote people who worked in – as my boss had put it – the service trenches.
The bartending job, I could do without. But the job it might lead to? Well, that was something I desperately wanted.
Had I already burned those bridges?
No. I squared my shoulders. One way or another, I'd make this right.
My boss was still talking. "The way it happened, she came in a couple hours later, said she didn't want you to get fired." He paused. "But she does want that apology."
As for me, I was more than willing. Trying to plan ahead, I asked, "What about her date? Does he want another apology, too?"
"No. Just her. It's set for Monday afternoon. You'll be ready?"
This time, I didn't hesitate. "Definitely." And I meant it, too. It would be unpleasant. I had no doubt of that. From what I'd seen so far, the woman had a crazy streak a mile wide.
But maybe, I reminded myself, I wasn't being fair. If she'd taken the trouble to come back in, that was a good sign, right?
My boss said, "Great. Then it's settled. To quote her, it'll be a good learning opportunity. And I agree."
At this point, I wasn't going to argue. So I thanked my boss for the second chance, confirmed I was still working tomorrow, and ended the call on a positive note.
In three days, I'd be apologizing. But for now, I had other things to worry about, so I silenced my phone, shoved it back into my pocket, and continued down the stairway, only to pause on the final step.
I heard yelling. The way it sounded, it was coming from Jake's office. And, the yeller was Bianca.
Of course.
Chapter 26
From inside the stairwell, I couldn't understand what Bianca was saying, but her tone was unmistakable. She was throwing yet another giant hissy.
Part of me wanted to hunker down and listen undetected, but I'd been down that road before, and I was determined to be a better person.
So I took the final step and pushed through the steel gray door that led to the nineteenth floor, where Jake's of
fice suite was located. I spotted Bianca immediately, standing near the elevator with Vince on one side and Jake on the other.
She was facing Jake, who stood, looking bored more than anything, even in the face of Bianca's wrath.
She was screeching, "But I don't care! I insist something be done about it!"
"Insist all you want," Jake said, "it's not gonna happen. And stop yelling. You're gonna break something."
Bianca paused. "Like my voice box?"
"No. Like a window."
Bianca gave a little stomp of her foot. In a slightly quieter voice, she whined, "But he was rude to me."
Jake shrugged. "Not my problem."
"It is, too, your problem," she said. "You own the building. Don’t you care?"
This made me pause. Jake owned the building? Why hadn't I known that? I frowned. I should've known that.
Or, if nothing else, I should've guessed. He had the top two floors. He had secret elevator codes. And everyone in the building treated him like royalty.
All along, I'd been assuming it was for the usual reasons. He was rich, obscenely good-looking, and famous in his own kind of way.
But apparently, there was a lot more to this story.
Again, I asked myself, why hadn't I known?
Jake's gaze shifted in my direction, and he flashed me a grin. It was the one I loved best, the cocky one that made my breath hitch and my knees go wobbly.
I ignored my knees and tried to think. What else didn't I know?
But then, my traitorous face took over, and I felt my lips curve into a ridiculous smile, aimed straight at him.
How could I not smile? Jake was everything I'd ever wanted. And there he was, smiling at me like I was the only girl on Earth.
Bianca's voice broke the spell. "And she was rude to me, too."
I looked to see her pointing straight at me.
Sparing Bianca only half a glance, Jake said, "If she was, you probably had it coming."
"That's not true!" Bianca yelled.
Jake shrugged. "Eh, still don't care."
Bianca glared up at him. "So let me get this straight. She can abuse me all she wants, and you won't do a solitary thing about it?"
Well, that was rich. Abuse her? Seriously?
I stalked toward her and said, "Oh, so now I've 'abused' you? How?"
"Outside the building," she said, "you practically smashed that door right into my face."
Technically, this was sort of true. But oddly enough, I felt zero guilt. And I knew exactly why. "Yeah?" I said. "Well, you were so anxious to have the door opened that I was just helping out." I smiled. "So you're welcome."
She sputtered, "You're welcome? Like I'm supposed to thank you?" She whirled back to Jake. "She made me fall. You saw that, right? Don't you even care?"
I was tempted to point out the obvious. If he'd cared, he wouldn’t have literally stepped over her to get to me. He hadn't even paused. It would be funny if it weren't so cold.
I hesitated. Actually, it was still funny. Or maybe, I just had a twisted sense of humor. Something to think about later.
When Jake said nothing, Bianca whirled to Vince and said, "And what about you? Don't you care?"
Vince glanced at his watch and said to Jake, "So we have an agreement?"
Now, Bianca was glaring at him. "Are you ignoring me?"
Vince shrugged. "Looks to me like it's a battle you're not gonna win. Might want to cut your losses and move on."
Bianca made a sound of frustration. "How come nobody cares? I twisted my ankle, you know."
Unable to resist, I chirped, "Better than a broken foot."
Bianca turned to me and said, "Will you stop bringing that up? I thought it was broken. Obviously, I was mistaken. But it's not like I'm a medical doctor, so stop judging me, okay?"
I glanced down at her ankles. "Neither one looks twisted to me."
She rolled her eyes. "What do you think? It's gonna look like a pretzel or something? Tell me, have you ever had a twisted ankle?"
"No," I said, "but I do like pretzels. Does that help?"
She looked at me for a long moment, and I swear, I saw smoke coming out of her ears.
It was Vince who finally broke the silence. "So Jake, we're all set. Right?"
Jake gave him a nod, and Vince turned and walked toward the elevator. He hit the down button and waited.
As for Bianca, she was still standing in the same spot. Worse, she was staring straight at me. As I watched, her cool gaze travelled from the top of my head to the toes of my sneakers.
I could almost hear her thoughts. What exactly, does Jake see in her?
It was a good question, and one I didn't like to dwell on. It's not that I didn't see my appeal. I was reasonably good-looking, and unlike Bianca, I wasn't a screaming shrew.
Plus, love-aside, I honestly liked Jake, and cared for him in ways that Bianca would never understand.
Still, I wasn't blind to the fact that Jake was the big leagues, and I was just a girl who happened to grow up in his hometown. Was that my appeal? Our shared history?
Bianca was still staring, and I tried not to wilt under her scrutiny. She might be a shrew, but she had a certain sophistication that I'd never have, no matter how hard I tried.
When the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, I forced a cheery smile and told her, "Your ride's waiting."
"Yeah, whatever," she muttered, turning away. As I watched, she limped the short distance to the elevator, wincing as she moved.
I knew it had to be an act. After all, she'd tackled at least a few flights of stairs with no problem. And she'd been standing there just fine.
Plus, hadn't there been some foot-stomping? It was hard to stomp with a sprained ankle. Right?
Still, watching her, a little voice in my head whispered, What if she really is hurt? To laugh at her pain seemed needlessly cruel.
But Jake, apparently, saw things differently. Next to me, he gave a low chuckle.
Bianca, having limped her way to the deepest part of the elevator, slowly turned around to face us. In a pathetic, choked voice, she said, "What's so funny now?"
"Ask Vince," Jake said. "He'll know."
Bianca looked to Vince and demanded, "Well?"
Vince looked down and gave a slow shake of his head. Just before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard him say, "You were limping with the wrong foot."
Chapter 27
I stared at the closed elevator doors. "The wrong foot?"
Next to me, Jake said, "Yeah. Before you came down, she was limping with the other one."
"Oh, my God," I said. "She was faking it the whole time?" I wanted to kick myself. I'd known better, and yet, she'd almost had me feeling sorry for her.
I was such a sucker.
I started to laugh. And once I started, I didn't want to stop. It wasn't even that funny, but the day had been so crazy-awful that I was beyond anxious to put it all behind me.
Still laughing, I told Jake, "Wanna hear what else she told me?"
Jake moved forward and pulled me into his arms. With a smile in his voice, he said, "What?"
"She claimed she was there last night. You know, at the convention center." I laughed against his chest. "Like I wouldn't have seen her."
Jake's arms stiffened, but he said nothing.
My laughter faded, and I pulled back to study his face. "Is something wrong?"
He looked toward the elevator doors, but made no response. His silence hung heavy between us.
"Oh, crap," I groaned. "She was there. Wasn't she?"
He was still looking toward the elevator. "Yeah. You didn't see her?"
"No. Was I supposed to?"
"Well, she did shush you."
"What?" I sputtered. "That was her?"
"Yeah. I figured you knew."
"How would I know?" I said. "I didn't see her. And if it wasn't a secret, why wasn't she sitting at our table?" Before he could answer either of those questions, I added. "She told me that
you invited her. Is that true?"
Jake raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing. On his lips, I saw the hint of a smile.
Confused, I squinted up at him. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
With a grin, he pulled me tighter against him. "Because I was waiting to see if you were done."
I couldn’t help but feel vaguely insulted. Either he was teasing me, or he was avoiding my questions. Knowing Jake, it could be both.
Pushing the issue, I said, "So you did invite her?"
"Yeah," he said. "Months ago, when she still worked for me. And she wasn't sitting at our table, because I found her a new one."
"But why?"
"You've gotta ask?"
I was mulling that over when I felt a familiar vibration against my hip. It was my cell phone, tucked into the front pocket of my jeans. Guessing who the caller might be, I hated the idea of answering.
If it was Rango, which it probably was, Jake wouldn’t like it. And neither would I. Already, I'd had more than enough of that idiot for one day.
Sooner or later, I'd need to tell Jake about those calls, but I didn't want that time to be now. So I ignored my phone and focused on what really mattered.
The person I really wanted to talk to was right here, with his arms still wrapped around my back. Through the thin cotton of his shirt, his chest felt warm and hard, and I had to remind myself that I'd come down here for a reason – to get some answers about my car.
Who, exactly, had paid for it? Sure, Rango had destroyed it, but who had reimbursed me for the destruction? Based on Rango's comments earlier, I was fairly certain that person was Jake.
"Actually," I told Jake when my phone stopped vibrating, "I'm not done."
"Yeah?" He ran a hand up into my hair. "Should I grab a pen or something?"
The implication was obvious. I was asking so many questions that soon, he'd be needing to write them down.
I didn't know whether to scream or kiss him. A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "Oh, don't worry," I teased. "I'm keeping track."
Mostly, I needed to know about the car. If Jake had paid for it, I had to know. I hated the thought of taking any more charity, but there was something else I hated more – the idea of Rango getting credit for something nice that Jake had done.
Jake Forever (Jaked Book 3) Page 13
