by Josie Kerr
A Bad Bit Nice
by
Josie Kerr
This is a work of fiction and does not in any way advocate irresponsible behavior. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, products, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and ownership of any location names or products mentioned in this book. The author received no compensation for any mention of said trademark.
Cover image:
Stock photography licensed through iStock and Shutterstock.
Copyright 2015 Josie Kerr
Published by Hot Words and Cold Coffee, LLC
All rights reserved.
Digital Edition
eBook ISBN 978-0-9968285-0-5
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Chapter 1
August
Ermengarde Davidson had always believed in signs. The facts that the networking lunch happened to be only two blocks away, that it was at her favorite restaurant, and that she actually had some free time to attend the event—well, she couldn’t ignore that.
She wasn’t really looking for a new job, not really, but she was bored and discontented at the Holbrook Firm, so she put a few résumés in her satchel and off she went.
Now she found herself face-to-face with Rory Doyle, founder of Tara Security Systems, a bleeding-edge internet security firm that was garnering a lot of well-deserved attention in the Atlanta business community.
Oh boy. Maybe I’m not as ready to interact with people as I thought.
Em blinked and swallowed and stuck out her hand. When Rory clasped her in a firm shake, she looked at his hand, then back at his face, then back at his hand again.
God, his manicure probably cost more than mine did.
He grinned at her. “So, Ermengarde,” he said with a glance at her name tag (or maybe her bosom, she couldn’t quite tell) “ask me one question.”
Her mind blanked. Oh, fuckity.
His grin faltered and Em could see his eyes narrow a bit in frustration.
“An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?” she blurted.
It was Rory’s turn to blink. Why the hell is she asking me if I have the Irish?
Rory chuckled. “I have a wee bit,” he answered in English. “Do you?”
“Oh, God,” Em groaned. “Yes, I do. I have a master’s degree in Irish Studies.”
“But you’re an internet security professional?”
“Yes—well, no. I’m officially technical support, but I’ve been doing all the system analyses and setting up parameters and security tests and protocols at my current job for a few years now,” she babbled.
“And your current position is at…” Rory coaxed.
“Oh, at the Holbrook Firm.” Em shifted her weight from foot to foot and clenched and opened the hand that wasn’t desperately gripping the handle of her satchel.
“Oh, how’s Ed doing?” Rory said, hoping to put this very nervous woman at ease. Something about her had piqued his interest.
She seemed to relax while talking about Ed Holbrook and Rory was able to sneak in a few questions about actual internet security during their conversation.
He was definitely intrigued.
“Well, I don’t mean to monopolize your time. I’m sure there are a lot of people you need to speak with,” she said. She put her hand out again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doyle.”
Rory chuckled at her formality. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ermengarde. This has been very interesting.” He handed her a business card, gave her hand a squeeze, and excused himself.
“Oh, God,” she breathed as he walked away. Em, you’re an idiot.
Deciding that one extemporaneous meeting was quite enough, Em fled the restaurant without talking to anyone else.
She was back in her shared office for less than five minutes when Tom stuck his head in the room.
“Clean up on aisle 15,” he grinned.
Em groaned. Fucking Robertson. “What’s he done now?” Em asked.
“Said he’s getting ‘those pop-up things’ and he can’t get rid of them,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes. “You know what that means….”
Em did. Since it was Robertson, it meant that his visits to sketchy porn sites had most likely resulted in yet another computer virus infection. Anyone else would have been canned a long time ago, but his partner status rendered him bulletproof. And to make matters worse, he was a lecherous douchebag.
“Can’t one of y’all handle this? You know how he is,” Em begged.
“He specifically requested you, Em,” Tom said. “I’m sorry. I tried to handle it earlier, but he wouldn’t let me near the computer. It’s probably really raunchy stuff.”
Em groaned.
*****
Rory slid onto a barstool next to his best friend, Mick Brennan, and signaled Meghan, the pretty bartender, for his usual.
“How was the networking recruitment thing today?” Mick asked as he moved his ashtray away from Rory. “You find any potential victims?”
“Dear God, Mickey. I am royally, royally fucked. I’m sure that there were some qualified candidates there, but I don’t know if I could stand to work with any of them.”
Rory pinched the bridge of his nose. He absolutely had to find a new analyst before this next round of contracts started.
Mick huffed a laugh as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “There weren’t any 25-year-old co-eds, you mean?” he joked.
Rory laughed mockingly and showed his best friend his middle finger. “You know I don’t shit where I eat, Mickeyboy. But in all seriousness, within five minutes I was either bored to tears or wanted to throttle every mug I met, with the exception of one. Sweet Janey Mac.”
“Well, what about that one that you didn’t hate? Was he worth looking further into?”
“I think maybe, yeah,” Rory said, a thoughtful look on his face. “She was interesting.”
“Uh-huh. And how was she interesting?”
Rory chuckled, remembering the way she burst out with the Gaelic and how nervous she was. “I’m not sure, Mickey. There was just something about her. I’m definitely going to keep her in mind.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure,” snorted Mick. He gave out a yelp when Rory punched him in the arm. “There’s no need to be violent,” he said, gripping his cigarette in his mouth
as he rubbed the spot on his bicep.
“You need to quit smoking, Mickey. It’s a filthy habit,” Rory scolded.
Mick just shrugged and took another drag off his cigarette.
“You have time for a game of video golf, mate?”
Mick looked at his watch and stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m going to pass, Rory. I’ve got a five a.m. flight to Vancouver tomorrow for a studio spec, though I’m back late tomorrow night because I’ve got people coming in to do the wiring for my studio.”
“Yeah? It’s coming together nicely, is it?”
“Yeah. I’m pleased with the progress. Can’t wait to get in there. I’ve already got three sessions booked.”
“Rory, if you want to do something, I’m off in 20,” Meghan hinted as she passed by the two men.
Mick laughed. “Well, there’re your plans, Rory. Have fun, you two.” He slapped Rory on the back and made his way out to his car.
Crap. He needed to pick up some wiring schematics from the studio. Mick looked at his watch and decided that he’d do it on the way to the airport tomorrow. What were ten more minutes when he was getting up crazy early anyway?
*****
“Fucking fucker fuck,” Em yelled to no one in particular. Hell, it was three o’clock in the morning; no one was out, period. Even the prostitutes had gone home.
She would say that she couldn’t believe that she was going into the office at this ridiculous hour, but actually, she could. That was her reward for being hyper-competent: three a.m. trips to the office.
She was smart this time, though, and brought proper work clothes with her so she wouldn’t get written up for “non-adherence to corporate dress code.” She didn’t even see clients 90 percent of the time! You’d think that dating the founder’s son for ten years would allow her some leeway, but no. Tripp had actually been the one to write her up! She got mad all over again.
They could just wait while she got a fresh Krispy Kreme and a hot coffee and made a visit to her favorite building.
Coffee and doughnut procured, Em headed to the converted warehouse. She peered out the window as she drove by slowly. She wondered what it was going to be.
She had watched the progress as the building was gutted, but the beautiful leaded glass windows and brick facade were left intact. Today, she noticed a space for signage at the entrance to the parking lot. Huh. That’s new. She could also see a few lights on at the side of the building.
She turned the corner and almost hit a dark car that idled on the corner. What the hell? She stopped and looked in the rear-view mirror to see all the windows darken. Weird. Her phone chirped.
Tripp: Em, you at the office yet?
Tripp: Robertson’s people are going ape-shit.
Em ignored the text. She’d get there when she got there. Lack of planning on their part didn’t constitute an emergency on hers.
Em took some deep breaths. Inhale, one-two, exhale, one-two. Yeah, it was way past time to look for another job.
She started moving again, dreading the scene at the office.
*****
Em stifled a yawn as she doctored up a third cup of coffee. Man, she was tired. Why did the servers always need rebooting right before they had a big deadline? Still, she’d gotten everything back up and running and was actually able to help Bailey Thomas, the administrative assistant, power through some of the last bits of information gathering. Bailey had actually thanked her, but then, she usually did.
Of course Bailey thanked me. She’s a peon, too.
Em was determined to look at job listings today even if she had to put toothpicks in her eyes to keep them open. This situation was completely unacceptable and untenable.
“I take it you got everything taken care of?” Tripp Holbrook said.
Em jumped when he spoke, spilling coffee down the front of her white shirt. She gritted her teeth and turned to glare at her boyfriend.
“Yes, I did, Tripp,” she snapped. The unasked question was, where had he been at 2 a.m. that he had had to call her to tell her to come to the office?
“Jeez, you don’t have to bite my head off, Em. You knew I was at dinner with Williams and Dad. He insisted that we go to a club afterwards to show him that ‘good ol’ southern hospitality’.”
She knew that “Southern hospitality” equaled “strip club” when Williams was involved.
“I forgot about that,” she admitted. “I know how he likes to cut loose when he’s in town. Sorry for being testy.”
“It’s okay, Em,” Tripp said, giving her a pat on the arm. He stepped back and then frowned at the spot on her shirt. “You probably need to change your blouse in case a client sees you, though.”
Em just stared at him, her bad mood flaring again. “Okay, I’m going home to change. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
It was Tripp’s turn to stare.
“But what if you’re needed for something...” he began to protest.
“Tripp, I’ve been at the office since 3:30 this morning. I’m sure you’ll handle anything that comes up. You’re competent,” she said as she walked out of the break room.
Em spent the afternoon perusing internet job boards and sending out résumés. Maybe if she and Tripp didn’t work together, things would improve. On days like today, working together was too much togetherness.
She had just logged off her computer when Tripp arrived back at their townhome.
“You’re home early,” she said with a frown. “Why are you home?”
“Because I live here,” Tripp said, exasperated. “I see you’re still in a fantastic mood. Why did it take you so long to get the office last night?”
“You mean this morning?” she asked pointedly.
Tripp rolled his eyes. “Look Em, I know you’re irritated because you had to go in, but you don’t need to be a bitch.”
“Excuse me? You’re supposed to be in charge of the network. When something goes wrong, you’re supposed to take care of it.”
“I did take care of it. I called you,” he said in a reasonable tone.
Em threw up her hands. He just didn’t get it.
Tripp continued to talk, oblivious to Em’s rising fury. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Em, but it needs to stop. Your attitude could definitely use some adjusting. You know how I don’t like to talk shop out of the office, but I’m going to right now because Robertson is pissed, and not only about the little fiasco last night. He said you gave him attitude when you provided some tech support yesterday. Your crappy attitude is affecting me, and I don’t like it one bit.”
“Well, I had to remove yet another virus from Robertson’s computer, a virus that got there because he was watching porn. Again. I don’t need to see the shit that’s in his cache. It’s nasty.”
Tripp scoffed. “For someone with such a dirty mouth, you’re an awful prude, Em.”
“If he weren’t a partner, his ass would have been gone a long, long time ago, and you know it. He’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“But he is a partner, Em. He brings in a ton of clients through referrals, and with the economy these days, that loyalty counts for a lot. You just need to deal with it.”
“You know what, Tripp? No, I don’t.” Em picked up her purse. “I’m going out for once. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I just need to clear my head for a bit.”
Em drove around the city, fuming and looking at buildings but not really seeing them, until she found herself in front of the warehouse again. She saw the sign out front: “River Driver Records” it read. A picture of a man atop a log accompanied the lettering of the sign.
She grinned. She loved that song. Interesting.
It was still early yet, so Em decided to explore the neighborhood a bit. She had grown up north of Atlanta, but not in the city proper, and anyway, the city itself was changing so rapidly that she always found something new to see.
Em cruised around the neighborhoods until the warehouse district turned residential. And that’s when
she saw the house: the most wonderful, fantastic Victorian house on a large, heavily wooded lot. She drove by very slowly, finally coming to a halt in front.
She sighed. Tripp would never go for a place like this. He was all about new, new, new! This place had character. He would say it was a dump.
She reluctantly drove away. Maybe she would ask Ashley how much a house like that would run.
When her phone rang, she pulled over to answer it. She didn’t recognize the number at all.
“Ermengarde Davidson,” she answered.
“Ms. Davidson, hello! I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a moment to speak with me?”
*****
Mick sat outside on the porch of the converted Victorian that he called home, enjoying a celebratory cigar and whiskey and watching the burnt orange Karmann Ghia creep along the road and finally stop. Hm. You don’t see that many of those on the road anymore.
Mick shrugged. Today had been a good day. This morning, he had secured a contract for a home studio that would set him up for the rest of the year, and when he arrived home, the electricians had completed all the work at his own studio. The sign had even been delivered and installed early. His dreams of River Driver Records were all coming together.
The biggest accomplishment of all was of a more personal nature: he had actually gone 12 hours without the wedding band. Of course, he wore it now—but the fact is, he hadn’t worn it for almost a whole day, the first day that he hadn’t in over 20 years.
“Oi, Mickey,” he heard Rory call.
“On the porch, b’y,” Mick answered.
“I saw the studio has a sign now,” Rory said, beaming. “It looks outstanding, Mickey.”
“Wait until you see the inside, Rory. You’ll want your own space.”
Rory sat down heavily. Mick offered his best friend a cigar, but Rory waved it off.
“I don’t know how you can smoke those things,” he said, making a face.
Mick shrugged. “A man’s got to have a vice, Rory. You’ve got women, I have tobacco.” Rory chuckled and shook his head. Oh, you’re the picture of debauchery, Mickey.
“So, how’re things, Rory? Have you solved your personnel problems yet?”
Rory scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, I haven’t. You aren’t going to believe it, but I actually hired a recruiter to vet résumés for me.” Mick made a shocked face and then grinned at his control-freak friend. “I know! It just about killed me but I just don’t have time to wade through the shite. She’s supposed to have some candidates for me in a few days.”
