For some reason, though, I loved the asshole, so I buttoned up my jacket and stood as I waited for this hot reporter to come in.
When she did, I was underwhelmed. Red hair tumbled past her shoulders and her lips matched the color. Dramatic makeup on her eyes made them seem smaller and almost beady.
I sighed internally. Seriously, Drew?
“Mr. Gaines,” she said as she stepped onto the laminate flooring that covered the expanse that was my corner office. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I wish I could say the same. “Have a seat. Ms. Maxwell, was it?”
“Yes.” She flashed me a toothy smile that was way too flirtatious for a woman who’d agreed to a date with another man to get this interview. “Call me Hannah please.”
“Hannah.” I gestured toward the chair on the other side of my glass-topped desk.
She teetered over to me in heels she seemed to be struggling to walk in, pausing before she sat down to sweep her gaze across the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up two walls of my office. “This is quite a view you have here.”
“Yes. Nothing like downtown to keep the motivation levels up.” I sat down and wheeled my chair in before inclining my head. “Shall we get started?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, allowing me to see that they were a shade of brown that might have been relatively alluring if it hadn’t been overpowered by all that paint on her face.
A frisson of exasperation tightened my gut at her expression. “Did you want something to drink before we get into it?”
She beamed at me as she set her satchel down and finally lowered her skinny ass into the chair I’d offered her. “Water would be great. Thank you.”
“Sure.” I put in a quick call to my secretary and straightened my arms in front of me to adjust my jacket before folding them on the desk. “I’m sure my secretary told you, but I only have twenty minutes for this, so you might want to get started.”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat as a pink flush spread on her cheeks. She hid her face behind a curtain of hair as she looked down to extract a tablet from the satchel.
Holding a button to power up the sleek device, she seemed to have pulled herself together by the time her gaze met mine again. “Do you mind if I record the interview? Purely for the purposes of making sure I can refer back to your answers while I write my article.”
I ground my teeth but nodded. “If that’s what you need to do.”
“I would also like to take a few pictures of you once we’re done. We need one for the feature.”
For fuck’s sake. “I’ll have my secretary send you a few options from a recent photoshoot we did for use on occasions such as this.”
I glanced down at the thick charcoal-colored hunk of metal on my wrist and, more specifically, the broad face of the watch it secured there. “You have seventeen minutes remaining, Ms. Maxwell. I assure you, the twenty-minute slot you have really is only twenty minutes long. It wasn’t an estimation or a guideline about how much time I have for you this morning.”
God, my mother would shove a pineapple up my ass if she heard me speaking to a woman this way. Thankfully, Mommy Dearest was all the way in Woodstock, Illinois and never came out here, so the chances of her finding out were slim.
Also, this fucking reporter was getting on my nerves.
At least she had the decency to look a little flustered. At least the rude words seemed to kick that bony butt into gear. She cleared her throat again and looked down at the lit screen of the tablet before setting her jaw, annoyance flashing in her eyes when they met mine.
“Of course, Mr. Gaines.” She’d obviously picked up on the fact that I was sticking to being formal and she was following my lead. Usually, I wasn’t a stickler for formality, but this woman wasn’t my friend and she never would be.
Until I saw the article she wrote, I wasn’t even sure what her real goal with it was. The publication had claimed it was for an industry feature when I’d had my secretary call them, but I wouldn’t know for sure until it was published.
The last one was also supposed to have been a professional profile but it had turned out more like a dating profile than anything else. Fucking reporters.
“The Times is currently running a series of articles on the most influential and successful men and women in the city,” she said, seemingly having found her professionalism somewhere deep down inside. “We’re trying to include people from a variety of professions and industries, and you have been chosen for real estate.”
“Go me,” I muttered under my breath.
If she’d heard my sarcastic remark, she chose to ignore it. “There’s surprisingly little known about you for a man of your stature. It’s like one day your firm just popped up out of nowhere and now you’re the biggest name in commercial real estate in Texas. How did that happen?”
“The firm didn’t pop up out of nowhere. I can assure you of that much.” My lips curved into a smirk. “I started this company and it took me years to build it up from nothing into what it is today.”
“Okay, but that’s still a vague answer.” Her tone had changed and was now as sharp as the edge of a blade. “How did you do it?”
So, she has some spunk after all? This was more like a woman I could imagine Andrew going out with, even if it wouldn’t last. The man was allergic to commitment, but it wasn’t like I was one to talk.
I shrugged as I relaxed back into my padded chair. “Blood, sweat, and tears, Ms. Maxwell. It’s the only way to make something of yourself, wouldn’t you agree?”
She gave me a smirk of her own. “I would, which is why I’m not letting you get away with your vagueness. I had to run to make it here on time, so I’ve had my fair share of sweat for today. How about you give me something to make it worthwhile?”
“Fair enough.” I cracked a smile, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. Andrew called it a serial-killer smile, cold and cruel. “After I moved here, I got my real estate license and I worked every day to become, as you called me, the biggest name in commercial real estate in Texas.”
Hannah rolled her eyes, and I wondered if her makeup would crack from the action. Sadly, it didn’t. “Okay, let’s change it up a little. You’re rumored to be worth billions. Is that true?”
“I’ve closed some pretty large deals in my time and I was careful with my money. I invested well and wisely. Now I’m reaping the fruits of making smart decisions.”
A soft snort came from her. “Would you care to tell me more about those decisions?”
“No, I’m not a financial adviser and I don’t pretend to be. If you want my advice, find someone who really knows what they’re doing to look after your money for you.”
“Thanks,” she said curtly, sarcasm thickening her voice. “What about other kinds of investments? Is there a woman in your life you’re investing time in right now?”
“No, but that was a clever way of working that question in there.”
“Interviewing you is like pulling teeth. Do you know that? I’ve heard you have such a charismatic personality that you could sell ice to the Inuit, but you’re not being particularly forthcoming.”
“On the contrary, I’m an open book, Ms. Maxwell. Being charismatic is not the same thing as being forthcoming. Two different qualities, one of which I’ve been told I have, and the other? Well, I can be forthcoming. You’re just not asking the right questions. Everything you’ve asked me is out there already.”
She sat back and lifted her tablet, barely sparing it a glance before putting it down on the desk again. I knew she was still using it to record, but it appeared she was changing direction and leaving her pre-determined set of questions behind.
“What are the right questions?”
“You want me to write the article for you?” I arched a brow. “That’s not quite how it works. What I will tell you is this. You don’t make the amount of money I have without sacrifice, risk, and balls. Am I a billionaire? Yes. Several times over. Did I have any family m
oney backing me when I started out? No. Do I give back to the community? Every fucking day. Is there anything else on your generic list of questions, or have I covered it all?”
Her head dropped to one side. “What about your family?”
“What about them?” Over the years, I’d worked on not showing any outward signs of how much it irked me when I was asked about my family. Whenever a reporter had seen it back before I’d learned how to hide it, it basically guaranteed they would cling to that topic. I practically felt my blood pressure rise, but my expression remained stoic.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Illinois. It’s a matter of public record.” No one knew anything more than that about where I came from and I planned on keeping it that way. I liked to keep my personal life private, and so far, I’d done a pretty fucking good job of it.
“You mentioned you give back to the community, but what about your family?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business if you’re doing an article on me as a success story for the real-estate industry.”
She pursed her lips. “It helps to know where you come from to showcase how successful you’ve become.”
“My success has nothing to do with my family.” Technically, that wasn’t true. My momma had certainly helped turn me into the man I was today, but she had nothing to do with my business or real estate.
“What about your childhood?” she asked. “What was that like? Did you play a lot of Monopoly to stoke your interest in your chosen profession?”
I snorted out loud. There hadn’t been time for anything as mundane as board games on our farm. My father’s motto was that if you weren’t working, you should be.
“Again, Ms. Maxwell, I don’t see how that’s relevant to an article about my firm or the success we’ve achieved. If that’s all—”
“It’s not.” Her eyes drifted away from mine to the bright, cloudless blue sky beyond the window before she looked back at me. “Why don’t you want to talk about anything personal?”
“I prefer to focus on the future. Isn’t that what your readers would like to know as well? Where Gaines Inc. is going and how we plan on getting there?”
A soft sigh escaped her, but she nodded. “Sure. What are your plans going forward?”
The rest of the interview passed quickly as I outlined a few of the projects we had going and what our vision was for the next five years. All of it was information that was already available on our website and had been crafted by a strategic team within the firm, but Hannah seemed satisfied with getting it from the proverbial horse’s mouth.
After she left my office, I heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door she’d left ajar. She giggled and I rolled my eyes at whatever shit my best friend was pulling outside.
A few minutes later, Andrew strode into my office like he owned the place and dropped into one of the leather couches against the far wall. He put his feet up on the armrest and crossed his ankles before propping his hands behind his blond head.
“Thanks for doing that. What did you think?”
“I think you should get your fucking feet off my couch.” I got up and went to join him in the lounge area, shoving his feet off the armrest when he made no move to do it himself. “I also think you could probably have some fun with her. She’ll certainly challenge you more than some of your conquests in the past.”
“I know.” His blue eyes filled with mischief and humor when he moved them over to where I sat down on the couch across from him. Sitting up, he rubbed his hands together and chuckled. “I’m glad you agree, though. I’ve been getting bored, but it’s time for the games to begin.”
“Don’t you have something more productive to do with your time?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like maybe consider doing your job as an agent for my firm?” I suggested with a shake of my head.
Andrew pouted, but he couldn’t completely hide the grin trying to kick the corners of his mouth up. “Yeah, I guess I could do that. I’m supposed to be out looking for houses for clients right now, but I’d rather go get drunk. Interested in coming with me?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but then I changed my mind. Doing interviews pissed me off every time and a drink would help take the edge off.
Plus, what was the point of being the big boss around here if I didn’t get to blow off steam when I needed to? For years, I’d kept my nose to the grindstone and my head down.
Once I’d gotten my firm on the map, I vowed to be the kind of boss people actually wanted to work their asses off for. I needed them to, and in return, I didn’t micro-manage them. If Andrew wanted to get drunk on this fine Friday afternoon, I knew he’d either already put in the work necessary for this week or would be getting it done over the weekend.
The same could be said for my other employees. This wasn’t the nineteen-fucking-eighties. Workplace habits and dynamics had changed, and I was trying to keep up with the times.
Andrew pushed to his feet. “Well?”
“Why the fuck not?” I shrugged and walked back to my desk to tell my secretary to reschedule the rest of my meetings. “Let’s get out of here. I need a drink after all those fucking questions.”
Chapter 3
Elsie
The tinny ringing of the school bell made my head jerk up. A groan fell from my lips as my neck protested the sudden movement after being bent down, poring over feedback reports to Mrs. Carr all morning.
Reaching up to massage the sore muscles, I heard noise starting up outside my door. Children laughed and whooped, their excited chattering causing a pang in my hollow chest.
Mom had been gone for a little over a month now, and sometimes, I still felt so removed from the world that it was difficult to hear normal life carrying on when it felt like mine had ended. Nothing had been normal since that fateful day, and I struggled to accept the fact that it was because this was my new normal.
I felt empty, numb, but I knew that I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to perish in my misery, so I kept going.
Realizing that it was lunch time when my stomach grumbled and the noise outside intensified, I kicked my shoes back on and picked up my purse. Beth’s food truck had been parked nearby all month, just in case I needed her during the day. My best friend’s hotdogs did well around here anyway, but I appreciated her moving the truck to stick close to me.
She’d been an absolute godsend since that day, and honestly, I didn’t know if the whole putting one foot in front of the other thing would have been possible if it hadn’t been for her support. When she’d first asked me what she could do to help, I hadn’t had a clue. Somehow, she’d figured out exactly what I needed from her anyway—even without any help from me.
Her shoulder was always there and ready to be cried on. Her door was always open and that was only on the days when she wasn’t already in front of mine with coffee and breakfast by the time I woke up in the mornings. Since I couldn’t face large plates of food, she’d made sure to bring bites we could have on the go, and at night, she always had a chilled bottle of wine ready in both of our fridges.
She’d laughed with me, reminisced with me, and cried with me. When I’d had no strength of my own, she’d wrapped me up in hers until I had enough to face the world again.
In that blurry awful patch of darkness before the funeral, Beth had taken charge where my administration skills had failed me and had dutifully stuck close to my side before, during, and after the service.
I’d always known she was my ride-or-die girlfriend, but she’d proven to be so much more than that. She was also my sit-and-cry girlfriend, the one who was strong enough to face my grief with me without flinching. And my wonder-why girlfriend and the one who reminded me that one day, I’d be able to feel happiness again. Every girl needed a friend like her and I thanked my guardian angel for making sure I had her.
As I locked my office door on my way out for lunc
h, I heard a voice saying my name. “Ms. Landrum, have you got a minute?”
I turned around to find Claire standing behind me. I’d seen her once or twice in the last month, but that had only been in passing. She hadn’t come for another session, but I’d been keeping an eye out for her.
The transformation she’d undergone since our session was visible. Her previously stringy hair now shone like spun gold, clean and braided in an intricate plait that hung over one shoulder. There was a sparkle in her eyes and only a hint of lip gloss on her mouth.
The clothes she wore were similar to the outfit she’d had on before, but she filled them out better. Like she was back to being the size she had been when they’d been bought.
Despite the painful memories seeing her brought back of what had happened after our last session, I smiled at her. “Hey, Claire. Of course I’ve got a minute. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to thank you,” she said, even her voice sounding better now. Stronger. “I’ve been attending that after-school program and you were right. I love it there.”
“Yeah? I’m glad. I can see the difference in you. You’re looking great, kiddo.”
“Thanks,” she said shyly. “They’ve been showing me how to apply just a little bit of natural makeup and how to do my hair.”
“That’s not what I meant about you looking great, but I did notice they’ve helped you in that department as well.”
“Yes. Brandy, my group leader, says girls my age are beautiful enough without makeup or fancy hairdos, but she also says if we want to, to keep it natural.”
“I totally agree. Have you made some friends?”
She nodded enthusiastically and gripped the strap of her backpack to adjust it. “Yes. I’m actually meeting them for lunch, but I wanted to come by to see you first.”
“I’m happy that you did. Come back if there’s anything I can help you with, okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled and walked backward, giving me a wave before turning around and getting swept up by the crowds once again.
Give Me The Weekend Page 2
