by T. K. Rapp
“Well, that’s a shame. Neither does Grayson. Guess that leaves you and me, Ms. Young,” Cavette announces with a smile.
Her lips turn up when she sees his hopeful expression. “Sounds perfect.”
The Jeep comes to a stop at the campsite and everyone files out and heads to the tents. I trail behind, mulling over what I’m going to do. I’d love nothing more than to lay down and nap, but a shower sounds pretty good, too. Hell, I doubt there’s time for a nap.
Faith and Cavette take a seat in the lounge chairs that are set up in the middle of our tents, and she begins talking animatedly, her hands flailing in different directions. He appears to be enjoying whatever it is she’s saying as they both laugh. I knew she would get her chance to pitch at some point, and maybe this is it. I’m inclined to give her the moment, but then again, this is business, and I’m on a mission. I stalk over, pretending to be unaware they are talking and pull up a chair to relax.
“So Cal, do you carry those kayaks in your Cave stores?” I ask, interrupting their conversation.
He turns to me and a toothy smile spreads across his face. “I sure do. Pretty nice, huh?”
“They were great. Much better than the clunky one I have back home. That one seemed lighter and easier to maneuver. Mine was a good starter, but I might need to look into something else, after giving those a try today.”
“Do you know we carry over thirty different types of kayaks?”
“Yes. And what’s more impressive are the manufacturers. What made you decide to carry those as opposed to some of the others out on the market in your competitor’s stores?” I am interested in his reasoning, but I’m also trying to show him I know his company and his competition.
“Grayson and I did a lot of research and took several for a test run. When it boiled down to it, there were five company brands we felt fit in with what we wanted to offer.”
“I agree,” Faith chimes in, waiting for Cavette to look at her. “And most of your customers probably already know what they want. I would imagine the first place they go to is the manufacturer’s website to see who carries what they want. I think it would be great if you could coordinate with the makers to be listed as a preferred vendor.”
Damn.
He shakes a finger at her and smiles. “You might be on to something with that.”
We shoot a few more things around, but I realize the time, and if we’re really going to this bar tonight, I need to clean up. The conversation is starting to stall, and it feels like the right time to go.
“Alright, well, I’m going to head up to the showers.” Cavette looks to me and nods, but Faith keeps her eyes trained on nothing in the distance in front of her. I’m sure she’s doing her best to avoid me, although I don’t understand why.
The duffle bag inside my tent contains the small bag with everything I need to clean up, so I grab the whole thing and head over to the communal showers. They’re not close to our site, but right now, I could use the distance. The ten-minute walk gives me time to think and clear my head, but the only thing - person - who comes to mind is Faith and her hot and cold attitude toward me.
Sounds of water running catch my attention and I notice the showers only have a few people there. The one on the end is empty so I toss my bag on the ground outside the stall and grab the things I need. I wait for the water to warm, but I have a feeling I’m not so lucky. If I needed a cold shower, these would be the solution, but I’m not in need of one.
Cold shower it is.
It’s interesting how painful cold water can feel against your skin, especially when you’re not expecting it. I’m determined to make quick time of washing myself and getting out. This might be the worst shower or at the very least, the shortest. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve washed well enough, so I turn the water off thankful to be clean.
I reach for my towel hanging on the hook outside and wrap it around my waist so I can step out to get my clothes from my bag.
There are footsteps behind me, and I turn to see Faith stopping a few feet away. I hear a faint gasp escape as her cheeks redden, and she deflects her eyes, causing me to laugh. My timing is perfect, because in the few minutes it took me to clean up, the other stalls have filled and she is left waiting with her bag on her shoulder for a shower to become free.
“I wasn’t staring,” she stammers before her eyes lock on mine. “I was coming to shower.”
I remain in place, holding the towel with one hand and step toward her. I watch as her breathing increases, and I know I’m getting to her. “That’s what I figured,” I whisper before flicking my finger at her backpack.
She pushes me away and laughs. “Can you just hurry up?”
I raise a brow and smirk. “I like to go slow.”
Faith steps forward and brings her body right next to mine and places her hand on my shoulder. “So do I.”
I swallow hard around the lump that’s formed in my throat, and she smiles with satisfaction when she sees how she affects me. I bend down and grab my clothes so I can retreat to the shower. “I’ll be done in a sec.”
The shower water is still cold when I run it again and step under to let it cool me down. This time, I don’t need to wash. I stand there for a moment trying to think of the least sexy things I can think of.
Grandma Jo.
Foot fungus.
The video of Abby giving birth - that I accidentally walked in on.
That one does it.
For a moment, I forget Faith is outside, but then she speaks up, “I thought you already had a showe -” She stops herself and laughs before clearing her throat. “You could have at least taken your bag in there with you.” Her tone sounds irritated, and I’m glad she can’t see me roll my eyes.
Once again, I think - WWJS - What Would Jett Say?
“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask as I shut the water off for a second time.
I dry off another time before I pull on my boxers and cargo shorts. She’s standing outside when I reach around to grab my t-shirt that is resting on top of the bag, but I stand still with it in hand. Faith doesn’t want to give me the time of day, so I remain still until she has to acknowledge me again.
She shrugs her shoulders at me, clearly annoyed before speaking. “Are you done?”
“What’s your problem?” I ask, tugging the shirt over my head.
“I don’t have a problem. I’m gross and sweaty. It’s been a really long day, and I want to get cleaned up. Is that okay?”
When she finally looks at me, I let out an exasperated huff, “By all means.” I step aside, giving her entrance to the shower. “Enjoy.”
I start making my way back to our site, and I hear her start the water, followed by a shrill scream. I continue walking and laugh because she has received the same chilly wake up I did, and she deserved it.
* * *
The dive bar the locals choose to celebrate the end of the season leaves much to be desired. I can’t help but wonder what someone like Faith thinks of a place like this. The look on her face says enough for her, but then she recovers, and resigns herself to the fact that this is the place we will be spending our evening at. The gravel crunches beneath our shoes as we walk to the entrance making light conversation.
Cavette holds the door open for Faith, and she soon leads the way, followed closely by the rest of us. The small bar is crowded with old rustic tables that are covered with too many things to figure out. By the looks of it, we’ll be lucky if we find a place to stand, let alone somewhere to sit.
We make our way to someplace unknown, bumping random strangers and stepping on feet along the way. Faith, for her part, garners a few turns of the head, and she knows it. She smiles flirtatiously when she makes her way toward the back, making eye contact with two older men. They stand up and offer her their table, which she takes without hesitation.
“Well played,” Grayson says as he takes a seat on one of the stools.
“Sometimes it pays to be a girl.” She smiles a cocky
grin until her eyes reach mine. I’m disappointed to see it fade and can’t help but wonder what it is about me she disapproves of so much, aside from the fact I’m the competition - and Jett’s brother.
“How y’all doin’ tonight? I’m Lily, what can I get everyone to drink?” We all turn to the petite woman placing cocktail napkins on the table. She has a raspy voice that indicates she’s a smoker and lines around her mouth to prove it. If I had to guess, she might be in her fifties, but it’s hard to tell from her overly tanned skin. Grayson waves his hand at Faith, allowing her to go first.
“White Star,” she answers without skipping a beat. I think everyone gives her the same shocked expression, including the waitress. Only she’s the one to question why.
“Darlin’ are you sure that’s what you want? We have plenty of other good choices.” She eyes her skeptically, no doubt wondering if she’ll change her mind.
“I’m in Texas. You know what they say, ‘when in Rome…’”
Lily shakes her head and writes it down on a napkin. “Honey, not even us Texans drink that.”
Faith doesn’t let it deter her and everyone decides to follow suit and orders a White Star for the sake of camaraderie, I suppose. Lily disappears, and we all look in different directions, taking in the atmosphere. The walls are covered with old Texas license plates, black and white pictures of the area and of course mounted animal heads. There’s a jukebox near a door that leads to an outside patio, and in front of it is a small dance floor, at least that’s what people are using it for.
I notice a small stage being erected outside on the dimly lit patio when Lily returns with our drinks. “Welcome to Rome,” she says as she places them in front of us, eliciting a small laugh from me.
“To Rome,” Faith toasts, raising her beer to the center.
She waits for us to touch our bottles to hers agreeing, “Rome!”
I raise the bottle to my lips to take a swig and notice her lips pucker with her first gulp. It reminds me of those commercials I saw when I was a kid of someone drinking bad beer. Her eyes meet mine, but she averts them before anyone sees it, quickly downing another gulp. The beer isn’t terrible, maybe a little watered down, but it’s no worse than some other cheap beers I’ve had. Seeing Faith try to continue drinking, when she so clearly hates it, is entertaining.
“Alright, enough of that. Next round’s on me,” I offer, pointing to see what everyone wants before I make my way to the bar. Everyone laughs, even Faith.
“I’ll have a Roman Coke,” she coughs as she pushes the bottle away wrinkling her nose.
“Did you say ‘Roman Coke’?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“No,” she coughs and shields her face.
“I think you did,” Grayson chimes in and outright laughs.
“Alright, fine, yes I did.” She throws her hands up in defeat.
“Leave the lady alone you two,” Cavette commands and winks at her for good measure.
The men order another beer, different brand of course, and I disappear into the crowd.
It’s almost impossible to push through the growing number of people filling the small bar, but most of them are heading outside. Whoever is playing out there must be pretty popular because everyone is chattering about how exciting it is that he’s in town. The bartender looks over at me and nods, asking my order. When he brings the drinks over I hand him the twenty and ask who’s playing.
“Jamie Ray Jones,” he says, as if I should know who that is.
“Local?”
“Local, as in, Texas.” He tilts his head and nods it in the direction of the patio. “Y’all should head out there and have a listen.”
Cavette, Grayson, and Faith are engaged in a conversation, laughing and carrying on, when I arrive with our drinks. It isn’t long before Lily comes by to check on us. She looks at the bottles in their suspicious congregation at the center of the table and laughs as she takes them away.
“Rome isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”
“Not at all. I don’t think I’ll ever go to Rome again.” Faith laughs before taking a sip of the drink I bought for her.
“Told ya,” Lily offers before walking off with the half downed beer bottles.
“The bartender said we should head outside to listen to the music. Anyone up for it?”
“I’m fine here,” Cavette speaks up, effectively making the decision for everyone. There are so many people outside, I doubt there’s any room for us anyway. “I came to dance, and Ms. Young, you and I are gonna dance.”
Chapter 12
Faith has danced to at least three songs with the old man and now Grayson is spinning her around, and laughing every time they bump into someone. He has no moves, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and I don’t seem to mind watching her.
There is a strange fascination I have with this woman who appears annoyed with me, but flawless around others. She’s either a really good liar, or I’m an evil son of a bitch. I think it’s the former.
“Did you know Ms. Young is the most awarded member of the sales team at Rock Solid?” Cavette brags with a grin, snapping me out of my Faith-induced inner lecture.
“I didn’t,” I lie, feigning interest. Truth is, last night after talking to Jett, I did some research and discovered she has only been with the company for about a year, and in that time, she’s the youngest member to handle the volume of accounts she does.
“Sure is. Very impressive, that one.” He nods, looking at her like a proud father. I find it odd he’s so invested in her story, not that I care. He continues droning on about her, “I was referred to Rock Solid by a friend, and she came highly recommended. They say she never hears ‘no.’”
I give him a sideways glance, curious if this is his way of telling me that my being here is a formality, but he gives nothing away. The song ends, and Grayson leads Faith back to our table, putting a halt to the remainder of the conversation. Faith’s sweating and laughing; I think she’s truly enjoying herself.
Before she’s able to take her seat, I smirk at her and extend a hand. “C’mon Young, let’s dance.”
“I thought you told us you can’t dance.” For the first time since she was in my arms earlier, she seems unsure of herself.
“No, I said I don’t. Let’s go.” I incline my head toward the dance floor, and she gives me a tight nod.
The rickety floor, covered in sawdust, reminds me of something out of an old western movie. My shoes seem to sand the floor when I drag my feet as I walk. Faith follows me but keeps a safe distance; but I think it’s me that needs to keep my distance from her. I offer my hand, and she looks at it like she’s weighing her options before she places her small hand in mine.
“What’s your game here?” Her hand on my shoulder tenses momentarily as I begin to move us to the music.
Her face whips up, and she glares at me. “Excuse me?”
“The other - I mean, say you’ve got a boyfriend, then you’re flirting shamelessly with Grayson. Poor guy’s going to get the wrong idea. Unless this is all part of your ploy to win the job.”
Motherfu-
I flinch and suck in a rush of air as I try to hide the pain because she stomped hard on my foot. “How dare you!” she huffs at me, staring straight into my eyes. “You don’t know anything about me and what I do is none of your business.”
“And what about me?” I spin her away before I say something I might regret and pull her back to me with a little more force than I need to. She lands against my chest with a thud, and I hold her tight to me enjoying the familiar feel of her in my arms.
Faith decides she wants to lead and spins us together on the dance floor, until I loosen my grip. “What about you?”
“What was that earlier at the showers? Or before when you were doing everything you could to touch me somehow?”
She throws her head back and laughs a genuine laugh, but it’s at me. “Trey, you need to seriously get over yourself. You’re reading into things.”
“Am I? Because I’m pretty sure you -” I stop myself before I mention that night. “Never mind.”
“No, you were going to say something. Don’t hold back now.”
“I’m merely questioning your tactics.”
“I don’t need tactics when I’m good at my job. And make no mistake, I am good at my job.”
“Touché.”
Damn.
Confident, smart, and beautiful; she is likely the best asset Rock Solid has, and they probably don’t realize it. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know.
“By the way, good luck winning this contract. Do you really think you have what it takes to handle a company like Cave? I mean, aren’t they a little too large for you?” There is a hint of smugness in her voice, and it reminds me a little too much of her boyfriend. When I look down at her, the gleam in her eye confirms my suspicion. “Brad told me a few things about you,” she adds with a shrug.
“So you’ve been asking about me, huh?” It’s the only part of everything she divulged that I want to focus on. I find it interesting this is the way the story has been spun all this time. I don’t want to tell her what an asshole her boyfriend is. When she mentioned his name earlier, and the fact she works for Rock Solid, I had pretty much come to the conclusion it was Brad Emerson. Her confirmation causes me to question those she chooses to surround herself with.
I hated working with the guy. He was one of those brown-nosing, ass-kissing types who really didn’t know how to do his job, but his ability to bullshit and lie was an art form, at least to management.
“No,” she objects weakly and turns away so I can’t see her eyes. “It’s called research.”
“You can research all you want, or you can ask me yourself.”
“I think I know everything I need to know,” she says lamely.
“How is Brad?” My lip curls in disgust at the mention of his name.
Brad and I started at Rock Solid at the same time and were initially friends. The better I got to know him, the more I began to hate working with him. Personally, when it came to people, he was a douche. But in business, he was worse. He used questionable means to land clients, then overcharged them and then pawned them off on others to deal with. Yet, when his cutthroat and seedy ways got him promoted, I realized it wasn’t the place I needed to be. I have never looked back.
