She nods, and her eyes roam around my desk. I’ve been adding little bits and pieces to my cubicle, like to-do lists, pictures of my friends, Louise, and a framed picture of Grey and me. She picks up the photo of Grey and me and grins, then turns it around to face me.
“This is cute. Who’s he?” she says, tapping Grey’s face.
I smile. Grey has his arm wrapped around my waist and is staring at me with clear adoration and emotion in his black eyes, while I am laughing like he just told the funniest joke, which he probably did, while we walk on the beach. He tried to take it, but he made the mistake of leaving the flash on. So I had it printed and framed it.
But now I have a picture of him shirtless and making us breakfast one morning. Only he is mid-curse as he notices he’s burned the bacon. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when he doesn’t burn our meals. He can be such a cutie, even off-guard. I just had to snap a picture and make it the first thing I see every time I open my phone. I laugh every single time I see it, making my heart feel too full to function.
“Hello?” she sing-songs. “The cutie looking fruity. Who is he?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I smile small as my cheeks warm; I rub my neck to relieve the slight tension. “He’s my boyfriend, Grey.”
“Seriously?” Her eyes widen as she looks at the picture. “He’s like…wow.”
I laugh and nod. “Yeah, we met at Penn State almost a year ago…” I trail.
Wow. Has it really almost been almost a year…? Time sure does fly.
“I’ve always wanted to go to a university. I just used online college.” She sighs and gently sets the picture frame down. My eyes linger on it, and I rub my chest because of the tension that’s migrated there. Is this a medical thing, or is it because Grey makes me naturally tense up? “Couldn’t afford it,” she says sadly.
“At least you got it over with,” I point out.
She grins widely and points a finger at me. “Very true. Now I can just focus on Max.”
“Who’s Max?” I ask, lips pursed.
“My son. He’s five, six in February.”
“Can I see a picture?” I’m a little taken aback since she looks so young, but I don’t want to judge. Lord knows she can reciprocate, starting with how I am with someone as attractive and, well, bad-ass as Grey. His tattoos are evident in the picture, and I saw the shock on her face. But I’m glad she didn’t point out our obvious contrast to each other. Sometimes, I honestly forget how he and I must look together—unconventional but surprisingly compatible.
“Aw, he’s adorable,” I squeal quietly, gazing into the huge green eyes of the little blond, curly-haired boy on her phone screen.
“Cute, isn’t he?” she gushes.
“Yes.” I laugh. “Very.”
“Hush, I’m trying to work!” a deep British voice snaps from the cubicle on my right.
“Piss off, William!” Lily hisses. She glances at me and rolls her eyes. “Lucky you weren’t here last week and got the amazing chance of acquainting yourself with that prick.”
“We are here for a reason—” he begins, peering over the transparent glass.
“I was here for a reason, but you were obviously an accident,” she seethes, and he gasps.
I slap my hand over my mouth to keep myself from bursting into laughter.
“Ms. Westerfield?” a smooth female voice says behind me.
I turn and peer up at a young woman dressed in a sleek pencil skirt and white blouse with Marilyn Monroe0-styled short platinum hair curved behind cute little ears.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Garrett would like to see you,” she informs me, a smile playing on her heart-shaped pink-painted lips.
The boss of the Pennsylvania branch. Why does he want to see me?
“Okay.” I nod and stand up, glancing at Lily. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll hold down the fort.” She saluted me like a soldier.
“That’s disrespectful to the real soldiers fighting for this country,” William berates.
Lily mocks him, and they begin to bicker.
I stifle my laughter at the two butting heads as the woman begins walking, me following closely behind.
“I am Delilah, Garrett’s assistant,” she informs me as we make twists and turns in the massive building.
“Olivia,” I introduce, and we shake hands briefly.
“Lovely to meet you,” she says, and I reciprocate.
“Is Garrett his last name?” I ask curiously.
She looks over her shoulder and shakes her head. “No, his last name is Woolridge, but he likes everyone to call him by his first name.” I frown, confused. That’s…unique. She chuckles. “He feels more comfortable with everyone calling him Garrett.”
“He sounds like a cool boss,” I tease a little, and she scoffs.
“Don’t let him hear that or he won’t be able to get any work done.” We stop in front of translucent double doors. “Good luck.” She winks at me before sauntering down the hallway.
I smile as I watch her walk away with a little pep in her step. She’s nice. So far, I’m loving the positive, friendly atmosphere in the office. Well, excluding William. He seems a little…dark, just a tad. But Lily, oh, she’s a fresh burst of light.
I knock gently and call out, “Mr.—I mean, Garrett? It’s me, Olivia Westerfield.”
“Ah, come in, Ms. Westerfield,” a husky voice answers.
I push the door open and close it gently behind me. I turn around and nervously smooth my hands against my skirt. Garrett is smiling widely at me, bluish slate eyes shining. He has his arms spread out as he gestures for me to sit in one of the leather chairs facing his glass desk. I smile and look around his massive office and sleek layout: huge desk, high-tech computer, glass surrounding the corner office, leather couches, and a coffee table on the other side of the office. It’s very impressive and scrubbed clean.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I smile politely and hold out my hand.
He takes my hand and shakes firmly, flashing me his white-white teeth. “The pleasure is all mine. And please, call me Garrett.” When he pulls back, he clears his throat, his eyes and smile never leaving my face as he clasps his hands on his lap and sits up.
“You have a very nice office, Garrett.” I flick my eyes around to make conversation, unsure of why he wants me here.
He looks around and shrugs dismissively. “I have a bigger, better one in China. The designers there are mind-blowing.” He gestures his “mind blowing up” with his hand, and I laugh a little. “But we aren’t here to discuss my office space. We’re here to talk about how your time has been here at TPC.”
“Wonderful, so far,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve gotten to speak to a lot of children and helped many. It’s amazing and really opens my eyes to how many have been misdiagnosed or treated horribly because of something they couldn’t help.”
He nods, hands balled up under his chin. “You sound very passionate. Has this always been your mission: helping those with mental disorders?”
I nod. “Ever since I was eight.”
His lips twitch into a smile. “Did your family’s accident inspire you to become a psychologist?”
My throat tightens, and I grasp for words. “E-excuse me?” I shift uncomfortably. How does he know about that?
His brows furrow and he shakes his head. “I don’t mean to make you upset. I’m just trying to understand…Background checks were done on everyone,” he assures me, but it doesn’t diminish my racing heart now. “I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s just…” I clear my throat and plaster on a smile. “The…accident did inspire me somewhat. I always knew I wanted to help people.”
“And helping people you are.” He looks down at a file, then back at me with a small smile. “Successful calls throughout the week, no unsuccessful call or anything. That is quite extraordinary for an intern.”
I heat up and refrain from fiddling with my lip, a habit that is ex
tremely hard to stop. Damn you, Grey. “Thank you, sir.”
His steel eyes narrow just a tad, and he leans forward on his elbows, staring me straight in the eyes. I maintain my nervous smile, twisting Grey’s charm, my hands in my lap.
“I see a lot of potential in you,” he says, finally sitting back.
“Thank you si—Garrett.” It’s going to be hard calling him by his first name; I can already tell. I was taught to be mannered and call those above me by their respective last names. So this is a first. But it does fit Garrett’s clearly eccentric aura.
I am so caught up in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear him saying my name.
“Yes, move everything of hers from the cubicle into room 554.” His eyes are smoldering into mine, and my smile turns into a slight frown. “Thank you, Delilah.” He hangs up his office phone, and I tilt my head.
“What’s happening?” I glance at the phone, then at his grin.
“You’re being promoted,” he says casually, shrugging in his expensive apparel.
“Excuse me?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head.
He laughs a chilling laugh that makes me re-adjust my shoulders. “Like I said, I see a lot of potential in you. Plus there’s a bit of a seating issue with the cubicles, and there’s an empty office. Lily Carver will be taking your spot.”
I am at a loss of words. “Oh, Mr.—”
He raises a brow and holds up a finger. “Garrett.”
Ugh.
“Garrett, I appreciate the offer…but anyone else can take it. I will be more than fine with taking their cubicle.”
“Modest, I like that. But that won’t do. I want you to have the opportunity to see what can be all yours with time.” His smile widens as he stands up; I follow suit, subtly pulling down my skirt. He stretches out his hand, and I take it with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, confused. “Welcome to TPC—The Psychology Center, where you will make an impact on those who need it the most…”
Holy moly…
Chapter Four
Grey
I have given up on life. I seriously want someone to go get a hammer, come back, and slam it into my head several times until I can’t remember the stupid line: Hello, this is Logistics Enterprises—blah, blah, fucking blah. The pieces of shit I work for drilled that same line when I answered the phone on my first day. I’ve memorized maybe half of it and just ask what the fucker calling wants. I am supposed to help them with technical difficulties on the company’s site. I usually end up cursing the dumbass out. I mean, what is so hard about a site that you have to call a human being to explain it to you? Like, come the fuck on, people!
A week has passed and guess what? My piece of shit manager, Cade, hasn’t booked me anything. Not one fucking thing! The asshole was supposed to get me into that ring I’ve been dreaming of since I was little, but he has not updated me since last Sunday. Asshole made me take an actual job. I’d rather be getting my knuckles broken instead of pencils when I press too hard while writing notes down in a fucking log book. This has to be the most boring job ever. It’s just not…me. Not my style and definitely not what I am supposed to do with my life. I swear to all that is right in this world if that guy doesn’t book me my next fight—it could be beating up clowns for all I care, the fuckers deserve it—I will actually kill him.
I sigh as I sit back in my squeaky desk chair. I miss Liv. She’s been so focused on her own job—sorry, Program—that I feel like I’ve barely spoken to her. I want to pick her up right now and take her back to our place and do whatever she wants. I couldn’t care less what it is as long as I’m with her. I miss her kisses, and I want to have her close to me. I almost lost her last month. I can’t take her for granted or how she makes me feel. I want to lavish her in my love and appreciation. I should really take her out. Last time I did was our first date. I’m not the most romantic guy when it comes to, well, anything, but I try my best for her, and only for her would I do the cheesiest shit. But like I said, it’s all up to her.
“Grey?” an annoying, familiar voice calls out. “Can I please speak with you in my office?”
My boss. Harvey.
“Ugh,” I groan and begrudgingly drag myself to his small office. Stained carpets and wooden panel walls. Clearly, the small, funky-smelling building hasn’t been updated since the seventies. It explains why customers call so damn often; the internet for these people are practically words carved in stone and is passed off as their website.
I plop down in one of his—of course—stained yellow chairs in front of his small desk, glaring at him through a blank expression. It usually cuts our little “meetings” short. He can’t stand pressure, naturally. So, when I give him this killer look, he always ends up sweating out of nerves, thinking I’ll probably snap and smash his fat head through one of these cheap walls. I have nothing personal against the guy. He’s just unintentionally orchestrating my suffering every day I am in this dump.
“What is it, Harvey?” I sigh, spreading my legs and narrowing my eyes at him.
He gulps loudly and fiddles with his fat thumbs. “U-um, you have been getting m-more and more complaints e-each day—”
“And?” I shrug, crossing my arms. It’s not like I’m going stay here for long at this dump. Unlike this poor sap, I’m actually going to do something about my life and live out my dreams. I just have to wait on fucking Cade. That douche.
“A-and that isn’t…good?” He says it more as a question, and I raise a brow, grinding my teeth.
“Is this what you got me in here for? To waste my time telling me shit I already know?” I sit forward, and he flinches back, pale blue eyes wide as sweat dribbles down his forehead.
“I—I am just informing you that, if this keeps up, I’m gonna have to—”
“You’re gonna have to what?” I cut him off, knowing exactly what he was about to say. I may not like the place or what I do, but I have to keep it a while for the money. Plus, Liv would be extremely disappointed in me if I lost this job. I have to support us; we live together. Though she insists on breaking her piggy bank of a trust-fund, I told her I was insulted and that, as the man of the house, I am going to support us financially. Ugh. We aren’t even married, and I feel like a husband with responsibilities. Ughhhh.
“I—I—ummm…” He trails, tugging at his mustard-colored shirt’s collar.
Aw, I ignite fear in him. How adorable!
“Harvey, are you going to waste my time some more, or can I go take my much-deserved break?” I ask in a tone that implies he should go with the latter if he doesn’t want me to…snap. I wouldn’t, though. Not really. Like I said, I kind of need this shitty job, for Liv. Only for my girl.
“U-umm…” He’s just going to sit there and stutter, so I stand up and nod at him with a crooked smile.
“Nice chatting with you, Harv.” I wink at him, and he nods and fumbles when trying to grab his computer mouse, shifting his wide beady eyes to the dusty computer. I waltz out of his closet of an office and past all the tiny cubicles. I walk to mine, grab my jacket, and slide it on. I smirk at the engraved G on the upper left, reminding me of my girl. I wonder what she’s doing right now…
I want to call her.
I tap her contact number as I jog down the steps of the building.
“Hello?” Her sweet voice answers on the second ring.
“Hey, princess.” I grin from ear to ear and lean against a wall, pulling out my cigs. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much, just doing some work before going to lunch,” she says. “Lily, a girl I’ve kind of befriended, is taking me to a really nice restaurant across the street.”
“Mmm, fuck Lily. Let me take you.” I blow out a puff of smoke after lighting up the cigarette.
“I promised I’d go with her…” she says. I know she’s biting her lip; I can see it perfectly. She wants to go with me; she misses me too. I can tell by the tone of her voice and the little breaths she takes.
“Come on, wouldn’t you rather go with me?
Or do you not like me anymore?” I tease, curving my lips in a smirk.
She laughs a little laugh that makes me fidget around, taking long drags of my cig. “Fine. But she’ll be upset I’m letting my boyfriend take me out to a place she recommended.”
“Tell her to suck it.” I shrug. She’s my girl after all.
She laughs and groans, not wanting to laugh at something so mean about her friend. “Are you on your break?”
“Yeah.” I push off the wall, stomp out the cig, and begin hustling to my parked Mustang. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Okay. Oh, you will not believe what happened today—” she begins, and I am all ears.
My phone rings as I get into my car.
“Hold on.” I glance at the screen. Cade is calling me. “I’ll talk to you soon, bebé.”
“All right, drive safe.” She sighs, and I nearly do too.
This fucker better have the best news of the century.
I end the call with her and answer Cade’s.
“You better be telling me what I want to hear, or my first gig will be bashing your face in.” I grip the wheel as I drive.
He chuckles, voice thick from smoking way too many cigars. “Calm down, fighter boy. I want you to save those fists for someone who’s prepared for ‘em.”
“Stop speaking in puzzles, Cade.” I sigh.
“I got you the gig!” he exclaims, and I imagine him throwing up his chubby, hairy arms.
My heart stops, and I nearly crash into the car in front of me. I skid to a stop due to the red light.
“Seriously? I got it? I’m a UFC fighter?” I ask in surprise. Well, can you blame me? The fucker took so damn long making it happen.
“Yep. Better start shining your gloves. You get in the ring in one month,” he rasps. “Also got you a few underground spots. Pay really well up front, and the price skyrockets with heavy betting. Damn, I am on fire!”
“Yeah, yeah—such a great manager.” I roll my eyes, but I am ecstatic on the inside. I’m gonna be swimming in cash! Wait…“Can you continue booking me for the underground fights? Like, regularly?”
Grey: New Beginnings (Spectrum Series Book 5) Page 3
