Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance

by Samantha Westlake

  Still, I'd made it outside. I took in a deep breath of the cooler afternoon air, the sun dropping down towards the tops of the buildings at the horizon. Just get out of here, go send off those pictures, I told myself. Then I could relax.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse as I headed back over to where I'd parked my truck, near the gallery. "Portia, it's me," I said, as soon as my best friend answered her phone. "You up for some wine tonight? I've got to tell you about what just happened to me."

  I smiled as Portia enthusiastically assured me that she was free, that she'd head right over to Vini. "No, it's not about the money - although yes, I do have news on that front too, maybe," I told her. "It's a guy thing."

  I winced and held the phone another inch further away from my ear, trying to not blow out my eardrum from her squeal. "I just have to send some pictures by email, and then I'll meet you there and tell you everything," I promised. "But I'm keeping you in suspense until then."

  I hung up on her before she could wheedle the truth out of me and grinned, remembering the warmth and passion of Onyx's lips on mine. The man might work with stone, but he most definitely wasn't made of the same stuff! I remembered how he'd pulled me up against him, his thigh parting my legs, and bit my lip.

  I needed to get this divorce fully resolved, pronto, I told myself, or else I was likely to die any minute of unsatisfied sexual frustration!

  Chapter Nineteen

  *

  "Oh my god! Becca, you lucky bitch!"

  Several other patrons at Vini glanced around in annoyance as Portia shouted out, but my best friend didn't even notice their glares. She slapped one hand on the table, and I hurriedly scooped up my glass of wine to avoid a spill.

  "How the hell did you pull this off?" she demanded. "You've got not one, but two guys both after you, both of them sexy and promising to do all sorts of amazing things to your body? And why haven't you slept with at least one of them yet?"

  "Because I have some self-control?" I managed, holding my glass up in case she slapped the table again. "Just because I want to get past Barry, that doesn't mean that I'm going to throw myself into the bed of the first guy to show some interest-"

  Portia made sure that I saw her roll her eyes at me. "You need to take a break from that high horse of yours, maybe get onto a different thing to ride," she said, ignoring how I blushed and hit her with the back of my hand on her shoulder at this crude comment.

  "It's always weird to hear something like that come out of your mouth, you know that?" I told her.

  "What? Why?"

  "You know, because you look all classy and sophisticated, sitting there in your expensive outfit with your perfect hair and sipping at wine, and then you just casually throw out something about how I need to get laid. It's jarring."

  Instead of looking embarrassed, Portia leaned in towards me, waggling her eyebrows. "Want to hear me talk about the last guy I brought back home, then?" she asked, grinning. "You know, I wasn't expecting it at all, but the curve of his-"

  "Nope, nope, nope!" I yelped, cutting her off and holding my hands up over my ears.

  "Oh, relax," she said after a minute, when I showed no sign of wanting to hear her sordid tale. "But really, you need to see this as a good thing! You've got two men, and this means two different ways for you to get past Barry!"

  "I'm not going to be past Barry until I've gotten him out of my life," I stated firmly. "And that means that I need to sell this stupid statue. So right now, the only man that holds a special place in my life is Richard Albrecht - what?"

  I stopped and frowned at Portia, whose eyes had widened at this last sentence.

  "What was that name again?" she asked, brushing back her hair.

  "Who, Richard Albrecht?"

  "How in the world do you know Albrecht?" Clearly, the name meant something to her, although I couldn't quite read her reaction, couldn't tell if it was positive or negative.

  I shrugged. "He just wandered into the gallery and started looking at the Onyx pieces. I mentioned that there was another one, a larger one-of-a-kind piece back in the man's studio, and he sounded interested. He gave me his card and I promised that I would send him some pictures."

  "How did he look?" Portia pressed.

  I gave another shrug, trying to think back. "I don't know - he wore faded tweed, kind of threadbare. I didn't actually peg him as someone who would be able to afford most of the art in the gallery, honestly, much less have the wealth to buy a big piece like the one back in Onyx's studio. But I went back and looked through the old purchase orders, and he's bought some stuff - expensive stuff - from the gallery before."

  "I'll bet he has," Portia said, and my remaining patience slipped.

  "Okay, you clearly know this guy. Who is he? Why did you practically jump out of your seat at his name?"

  "You really don't know him?" Portia quickly kept talking as she saw my eyes narrow. "Fine, fine. You know that big skyscraper downtown? The glass one with the fountains out front?"

  I knew exactly which building Portia was talking about; the glass-covered skyscraper was easily the tallest building in the city, with an iconic pointed top that had come to define the skyline of our little city. There had been fierce protests against it being built, several years ago, but the measure to permit the tall building passed, and it now brought in professional interest - and lots of revenue in business taxes - for the city each year.

  "What about it?" I asked.

  She sighed. "The building is owned by Richard Albrecht. The guy spent millions of dollars on lobbying the city to let him put it up, more to actually build the thing, and he's probably made it all back at least a dozen times over. He's the richest guy in the area, a total catch for any young woman if he wasn't so weird!"

  So that explained why Albrecht had the money to buy art from the gallery whenever he wanted, without batting an eye at the price! "Weird?" I echoed back, focusing on that last word.

  "You probably picked up on it from talking to him, but yes." Portia tossed her hair back. "I got to find out about it firsthand, a couple years ago. Remember when I put together the bachelor auction?"

  I just shook my head, drawing a blank on any sort of auction.

  "Right. You were still with Barry, and your little soap bubble of marital bliss hadn't yet popped." Portia finished off her wine, but didn't yet get up for a refill. "Well, a couple of years ago, my firm wanted to organize a bachelor auction for charity. Whole nine yards. We'd invite all the elites and wealthy debutantes of the city, ply them with lots of free champagne, and then we'd get a couple dozen of the city's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes and auction them off. All the money that we raised would go to charity, some sexy people would get dates, some rich people might get laid, and our firm would get a nice bit of publicity from arranging the whole thing."

  I nodded. This sounded like one of Portia's ideas - everyone benefited, including her own self-interest.

  "Well, we approached Robert Albrecht, managed to get him to sign up to be one of the bachelors that we'd auction off. After all, I'm sure a lot of girls are willing to look past a thirty year age difference if there's enough zeroes on the guy's bank account balance. I mean, I wouldn't have said no to him."

  "Eww," I said, remembering Albrecht's mostly white hair.

  She twinkled at me. "I'm sorry, am I ruining your sophisticated mental picture of your best friend?"

  "Just keep telling the story."

  "Fine. Well, auction went well up until Albrecht got up on stage for his turn to be auctioned off. We were doing well, keeping ahead of our goal, had a good turnout. But Albrecht is up there, we start the bidding, and there's this older gal really gunning for him." Portia grinned as she thought back. "I mean, this woman was a real spitfire! I'd say that she was in her fifties, rather round, hair like a big old beehive on top of her head, but she had half a dozen strings of pearls around her neck, and her bidding paddle didn't even sit still. She wanted Albrecht, and she wasn't taking no for an an
swer."

  "So what happened?"

  Portia laughed. "So Albrecht takes one look out at her, sees that she's winning, and he grabs a paddle and starts bidding on himself! Of course, that woman - Doris, I think her name was - she's not at all happy about this, and starts yelling out that Albrecht can't bid on himself. He, though, isn't going to take it - he grabs the microphone from me and yells out that he's got more money, he's going to choose who takes him home, and he'd rather go back to a bottle of scotch than to her! She's steamed, he wins, but he definitely didn't make a lot of friends that night."

  "So he's a bit strong-willed," I summarized.

  Portia nodded. "Maybe even a bit of an understatement. He goes for whatever he wants, and he's not afraid to piss off a lot of people in order to get it."

  "Well, that could work out for me," I said after a minute of consideration. "I mean, if I can get him to want this statue, he'll dig in his heels and buy it, even if someone else doesn't think that it fits with his other decor?"

  "Or he'll put it out at his mansion," she added.

  I frowned. "Mansion?"

  "Oh, didn't you hear about that? He's got a big house out on the edge of town. Real big place, totally overdone. Even has gardens like it was a real palace; he pays half a dozen gardeners to keep it looking perfectly groomed, even though he apparently never ventures out into them." Portia shook her head. "Weird guy, but richer than Croesus."

  "Croesus?" She'd lost me with this comment.

  "Yeah, he was this rich old king of Turkey. Really wealthy."

  I decided not to ask how Portia knew about the wealthiness of Turkish kings. "Look, the point is that Albrecht can both afford this sculpture, and he really wants it. Both of those are good for me!" A smile bloomed across my face. "Portia, I might actually pull this off after all, get Barry out of my life and this whole divorce finally finished and behind me!"

  She beamed back. "I hope so! And then, with Barry no longer around at all, you'll be free to finally pursue both of these sexy men who are interested in you, and you can come here and tell me all about how they seduced you and made you finish in ways you've never come before!"

  Instead of protesting against this foul language, I let it slide, I was so excited. "I just have to close the sale, and I'll be golden!"

  "Well, let me know if I can help," Portia promised. "Or if he ends up backing out on the sale, let me know so that I can come help you throw toilet paper all over his mansion. It will be good payback for how he acted at my charity auction."

  "You know, maybe you could help out with the guy problem, too," I said after another minute. "When's the last time that you went out with someone?"

  "For more than just getting a bit of relief from the built-up sexual pressure?" Portia sighed. "Too long, I'll admit. I wish I could just say that it was because I was too busy with work right now, but..." She toyed with her hair. "Actually, maybe I will stick with that as an excuse, because it sounds better than the truth."

  "So, I've got two guys interested in me, and you need a date - this seems perfect!"

  "Which one do I get?" Portia asked.

  I opened my mouth, but frowned and closed it after a minute. "I, um, I'm not sure."

  For some reason, Portia didn't look surprised by this. "Right. Like I said, Becca, you need to try them out, at least to just figure out which one you like the best. Once you've made up your mind, let me know."

  "Yeah, right," I said, mentally insisting once again to myself that I wasn't going to let either Onyx or Carter seduce me before I'd finished this sale. If I was going to be forced to resign in ignominy from my job as manager of Uncle Preston's art gallery, I'd at least leave without any more debts to my name.

  First, sell Onyx's giant dick statue. Then, I could start thinking about which man would win me over.

  Chapter Twenty

  *

  I woke up the next morning to more good news - a response from Albrecht sat in my email inbox.

  I opened the email as I filled my thermos with coffee, trying to keep my hand from shaking with nervousness as I poured the hot liquid into the travel container. Please be good news, I prayed silently, closing my eyes for a moment before opening them and focusing on the electronic text.

  "Dear Miss Grace," I read off. "Thank you for sending the pictures - they provide an excellent representation of the power and virility of the piece. I will admit that I am quite interested, but I would like to consider this for another day or two before I make a final decision. I would request, however, that you hold the piece for me and do not show it to other buyers - and yes, you may regard this as a sign of interest."

  Well, that sounded like fairly good news! He wasn't yet ready to commit to buying the piece quite yet - but then again, it probably took some time to work up to dropping six figures on a giant stone penis, I considered to myself. And if he wanted me to hold the sculpture for him, maybe he just wanted to figure out where it would, erm, fit in best on his property before he went ahead and placed the order.

  With a light heart, I headed out of my apartment, off to open up the gallery and get ready for the day.

  My next happy surprise strolled into the Halesford Gallery a few minutes after I'd turned on the lights and settled in behind the front desk to enjoy my coffee. "Looks like I didn't need to bring this for you," he commented, holding a cardboard container with two cups of steaming Starbucks coffee sitting nestled inside.

  "Gimme!" I exclaimed, pushing my thermos of drip-brewed home stuff aside without a second thought.

  Carter laughed, half-leaning, half-sitting on top of my desk and dangling the cup of coffee he'd brought for me just out of my reach. "First, tell me that you're glad to see me back from my trip."

  "I refuse to give in to torture," I insisted stubbornly, even as my mouth watered at the thought of that coffee.

  "What if I told you that I also brought you a chocolate scone?"

  "I'm so glad that you're back, I totally missed and thought about you every second that you were away," I immediately burst out, rising up from my seat so I could lean forward and finally get my fingers around the insulated paper cup of coffee. "Now, hand it over!"

  Carter laughed again, but gave up his grip on the coffee cup, letting it drop down into my hands. I immediately took a long pull, sighing at the smoother, much cleaner taste. Somehow, the already-ground beans that I used at home just didn't create nearly as satisfying of a mouthful.

  "Now, where's my scone?" I asked once I'd swallowed my gulp of coffee, holding out my hand like a child waiting for her allowance.

  Carter popped open the zipper on the messenger bag he wore slung over his shoulder and withdrew a crinkling little paper bag. I tugged the scone out from inside, loving how the pastry already began to flake apart in my fingers. My mouth watered at just the sight of the chocolate swirls that cut through the brown dough. The thing was probably horrible for me, but all that artery-clogging fat was irresistible, and I took a big bite.

  "Good?" Carter asked, watching me.

  Mouth full, I just bobbed my head. "Mmm-hmm," I managed to get out.

  He reached past me and snagged the pastry from my fingers, taking a bite himself before returning it back to me. "Yeah, that's the stuff," he nodded. "So, how have things been for the last few days?"

  I shrugged, feeling a little twinge as I thought about Onyx and his kiss, his touch on my bare skin. "Good - I got a prospective buyer interested in the big statue from Onyx," I said, deciding to stick to the relatively safe topic of work.

  "Hey, that's great!" Carter beamed at me, looking genuinely happy for me. "Who is it? Anyone I'd know?"

  "Probably - have you heard of a guy named Robert Albrecht?"

  I expected that Carter would know the name, of course - there's no way that he, as a real estate agent, wouldn't recognize the name of the guy who owned the largest skyscraper in town - but I didn't expect him to frown suddenly at me. "Wait, Albrecht is buying the sculpture?"

  "Well, he hasn't o
fficially said yes, not yet," I demurred. "But I sent him some pictures, and he said that he's interested-"

  Carter, however, was shaking his head. "Becca, I hate to say this, but you shouldn't get your hopes up too much here.".

  I felt my happy mood starting to slip. "What? Why not?"

  He sighed, and did that thing where he slid his hand through his hair, but I didn't let this distract me this time. As cute as he looked, I really, really needed this sale to happen.

  "Come on, Carter," I pressed. "Tell me."

  "Okay, but don't shoot the messenger, alright?" He took another sip of his coffee, and then set it down. "Albrecht is definitely wealthy enough, and he could probably buy the statue without even needing to check his bank account balance. But there's still a reason why most of the other businesses and places in Davis don't like working with him."

  "Oh? What's that reason?"

  "He..." Carter sighed again, and I nearly jumped over the desk to shake him until the answer came out. "He tends to waffle on decisions, to make a choice but then immediately back off from it, sometimes even backing out before the ink's dry on the paperwork. He always makes sure to include a clause that lets him get away with this, too, and he's got enough clout to get his way. But I've seen him do it more times than I can count, to the point where most agents won't work with him any longer."

  Carter's words made me think of Portia's tale, about how Albrecht ended up bidding on himself at the charity auction because he didn't want to go home with the winning lady after all. From what Carter now said, it seemed like Albrecht pulled stunts like this regularly.

  "So what, you think that he won't end up buying this statue after all?" I asked, feeling a sickening pit open up in the bottom of my stomach.

  Looking unsure, Carter shrugged. "I don't want to totally crush your optimism," he said, "but I've seen it happen before. Albrecht will walk in somewhere, ask about making a massive purchase, and then ends up backing out at the last minute. Always leaves the merchant crushed, but there's nothing that they can do about it."