by Amy Sparling
Nearly an hour and loads of paranoia later, I’ve set up every possible whore-prevention I can think of. I even posted to my business Facebook page that all appointments should be made with me personally or they aren’t guaranteed.
When the main door to the office building opens and closes, I sit up in my chair, preparing to see Mr. Fisher give me one of his world-class lectures on responsibility in business. But the light knock on my office door frame doesn’t come from my boss.
It’s Bayleigh, Jett perched on her hip.
“Hey, guys,” I say with a smile. My whole body seems to float as I rise and head over to meet them. “What are you doing here?”
Bayleigh holds up a bag from Dickie’s Burgers down the street. “Figured you were hungry.”
“Ugh, you’re best,” I say grabbing the bag. I pull a chair off the wall and slide it over to my side of the desk. “Sit down. I’m starving.”
Bay wears a simple black tank top and a pair of jean shorts with silver flip flops. She’s not wearing any makeup and her hair is pulled back and probably in need of shampoo, but damn if she isn’t completely gorgeous. I watch her as I dig into my fries and she bounces Jett on her knee, eating her burger one-handed.
All these women who hang out at motocross tracks try so damn hard to be attractive, with their fake hair and fake makeup and fake personalities. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen some girl bust her ass in the mud because she was wearing high heels at a freaking dirt bike track. And here I am, the guy with the girl who is gorgeous without even trying. I can’t stand those prissy types of women, but I love my woman.
“You’re really hot,” I tell her between bites of food.
She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re weird.”
I shrug. “I’m just saying.”
“So what happened with the appointment?” she asks, quickly changing the subject, but I see the red rise in her cheeks so I know I’ve done my part.
It’s shitty how my first instinct is to lie to her—if only to prevent her from being upset about Natalie again. But I draw in a deep breath and shake my head, knowing that she deserves the truth, no matter how much I hate talking about it.
“As far as I can tell, Natalie made the appointment when I wasn’t in my office and she conveniently didn’t tell me about it.”
“She didn’t write it down?” Bayleigh asks.
I shake my head and slide the planner across the desk, showing her my marked out day for today. “Aww,” she says, touching the blue highlighter as if it’s some precious artifact. “You’re so sweet, babe.”
I give her the best smile I can manage, but it’s more like a frown. “I’m sorry our day got screwed up. I’m booked solid for the next two weeks.”
Her head tilts to the side as she smiles at me. “It’s okay. I love you.”
I grab a French fry and dunk it in ketchup. “I love you more.”
Another knock on my office door startles me and I’m instantly annoyed that Mr. Fisher would interrupt me now during lunch with my wife. I look up and instantly, immediately and passionately wish it was Mr. Fisher standing in my office.
Natalie’s hair has been slicked straight, her makeup is straight out of some kind of fashion magazine and she’s wearing a skimpy hot pink mini-dress that plunges so far down her cleavage I’m surprised her nipples aren’t sticking out. “So sorry to interrupt you, boss,” she begins in her fake sweet voice.
I stand, almost knocking over my office chair. Beside me, I can feel all the tension in Bayleigh’s heart as she takes in the sight of the woman in front of us. “I’m not your boss anymore,” I say, happy to say the words but annoyed that I didn’t have more time to make her firing more of an epic event. “You’re fired and you need to leave.”
She glances down at Bay and then looks up at me, lifting an intensely arched brow. “Honey you can’t fire me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You made an appointment for today and didn’t tell me. And you’re fired, so leave.”
She takes a step forward and I can practically imagine the exact way my wife would punch her if she wasn’t holding our baby. Natalie giggles and runs her hands down the front of her dress. “I did tell you, Jace. I guess you just don’t remember.”
She looks at Bay, smiling as if they’re old friends. “Don’t you just hate when our Jacey can’t remember what we tell him?”
Uh oh.
Bayleigh’s eyes glare daggers. Her jaw is rigid. Jett stops what he’s doing to look up at his momma, his tiny face suddenly fearful. She opens her mouth. “Get the fuck out.”
Natalie’s face puckers into sympathy. “Oh, honey,” she says, her voice slow and precise. “That’s not a way to talk in front of your baby. Please tell me you’re a better mom than that.”
“Yeah?” Bay says, rising to her feet. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here, my son is about to watch me kick your ass.”
I reach over and grab the baby, knowing that Bayleigh wouldn’t do anything stupid, but not trusting Natalie with the same regard. “You heard her,” I say, taking my phone off the desk. “You are legit fired and you need to leave and I’m calling the police right now to report that you’re trespassing.”
“Damn,” Natalie says with a roll of her eyes. I hate—absolutely hate—how she’s so unfazed by all of this. Only narcissists of the highest magnitude get off on this kind of drama. “Fine, I’ll go, but Mr. Fisher will probably fire you for treating me this way, Jacey.”
“You can take your skank ass out of here now and stop talking to my husband,” Bayleigh snaps. She points a finger toward the door. “Shoo.”
Natalie smiles. “Oh sweetie. Don’t worry, you’ll be in a better mood once you lose the baby weight.”
You could hear a pin drop in the second that follows. Then Bayleigh launches toward Natalie, her fist reared back and ready to pummel her to the ground. Natalie darts backward and down the hall. I grab Bay’s elbow and hold her in place, balancing Jett in my other arm.
“Baby it’s not worth it,” I say softly, holding onto my wife while her chest heaves, her eyes wide with fury.
In the distance I can hear the main office door swing shut and then the sound of Natalie’s car starting up and speeding away on the gravel road. “Screw her. She’s gone.”
Bay’s muscles loosen beneath my grip as she relaxes. She turns toward me and holds out her arms to the baby. He reaches for his momma and she cuddles him to her chest. “I’m going to kill that bitch,” she says, softly patting Jett’s dirty blonde hair.
I can’t help but laugh. My wife, the loving mother and pissed off wife.
“I told you she is insane,” I say.
Bayleigh nods. “I definitely believe you now.”
Chapter 20
I’m standing in my bathroom, frowning in the mirror as I attempt to flatten the hair on the side of my head. I knew taking a nap after my shower was probably a stupid idea, and now I have a massive case of bed head to prove it. The last two weeks have been a glorious walk in the sunshine now that the nightmare called Natalie is finally gone.
Mr. Fisher had put up a fight as I had expected, but when I straight up refused to continue working with him if he hired her back, well, I got my way in the end. Work has been amazing since she left. Even the parts of the job I normally hate seem to have gotten easier to handle. It’s not hard dealing with paperwork when you’re no longer worried about finding unwanted naked photos.
I hear the front door open, followed by the shrill squeals of two best girlfriends seeing each other for the first time in an hour. I sigh as I fumble with my hair, realizing that the only way to fix it would be to shower again and there’s no time for that. Becca and Park just got here.
We’re going out on a double date—well, a double date plus Jett since we couldn’t find a babysitter for him. Bayleigh is obsessive with who we let watch our son and so far the list is only one person long: her mother. If my parents weren’t in California then we’d have someone else,
but for now, if her mom is busy then our kid comes with us.
I don’t mind because lately I’ve been swallowed up in the guilt of being an absent father. The kid sleeps so much and I work so much and by the end of a long week, I feel like I haven’t seen him at all. So although Bayleigh is upset that we’re bringing him with us, I’m kind of psyched about it.
“Jace?” Bayleigh calls out from the living room. “They’re here!”
“Coming,” I call back, frowning at my reflection in the mirror. Finally, in a last attempt to fix the problem, I run my hand under the faucet and smooth it over my hair. Maybe it’ll dry somewhat decently.
Park and Becca are standing close to each other in our living room, both doing that awkward thing where they totally like each other but don’t know how to show it yet, or if they even should. It’s pretty pathetic. Bayleigh would say it’s cute. Jett is all dressed up in his dark blue jean shorts and a t-shirt that has a dirt bike on it, an outfit that I picked out for the occasion even though my wife thought it wasn’t dressy enough for the nice Italian restaurant we’re going to tonight.
Seriously? He’s an infant.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” I say, grabbing Park’s hand in a fist-bump handshake type thing. He gives me an inquiring look and I know he’s subliminally asking me if I’ve told Bayleigh about the business idea yet. I shake my head.
“Such a pansy,” Park says, shaking his head. He laughs. “Grow some balls man.”
Even though Bayleigh is holding Jett and she and Becca are cooing and playing with him, she still looks up, lifting an eyebrow. “Why does he need to grow balls?”
I glare at Park. “No reason. He’s just being an ass.”
“Well as my husband’s wife, I can promise you he has balls,” she says with a smirk.
Becca smiles and looks at Park, almost as if she’s embarrassed to think of anyone’s balls. Damn, she has it bad for him. I wonder if Bay and I were that annoying when we first started dating.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, desperate to change the subject away from both my balls and the business idea. I’ll tell her eventually. I know I’ve been saying that for three weeks now, but it’s a big deal and a huge amount of money and I’m worried because a million and one things could go wrong with starting my own company.
And things are good right now. I don’t want to rock the boat and bring any kind of doubt or worry into what is a really great relationship.
My mind flickers back to last night, when Bayleigh was curled up naked in my arms and the sheets were strewn all over the place and her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat.
I smile. We have a very good relationship right now.
The restaurant is almost too nice to bring a baby along, but our waitress doesn’t seem to mind. Luckily, Jett is always passed out by seven in the evening so he falls asleep in his car seat just after we are seated in a cozy booth near the back. The restaurant has this fancy device that holds his car seat up and it blows my mind how many people bring babies all over the place with them. This is all new territory for me.
Double dating with your wife and her best friend is kind of pointless if you hope to get any words into the conversation. Park and I chew on the most amazing, garlicy cheese bread appetizer I’ve ever had in my life while Bayleigh and Becca talk about all kinds of things.
I pick up a little of it—like how Becca’s doing some kind of inspirational artwork or something and how Bay is thinking of taking some college classes online so get a start on her education while Jett is still a baby.
“Dude, you’d think these two are dating each other,” Park says as he grabs another bread stick.
“Yeah and we’re the awkward gay couple on a first date.” I snort.
“Hey man, I’d be proud to call you my date.”
“Same here,” I say. “You’re almost as hot as I am.
“Oh my god, what the hell are you two talking about?” Bay says, her eyes wide. Becca starts laughing.
“I think they’re attempting to entertain themselves while we hog all of the conversation.” She flips her brown highlighted hair over her shoulder and puts a hand on Park’s arm. “We’re sorry. What do you guys want to talk about?”
Park takes a bite of food and talks as he chews. “Oh I know what I want to talk about,” he says sarcastically. Okay even I know you’re not supposed to talk while eating if you’re on a date. Somehow, Becca doesn’t seem to mind.
“And what is that?” Bayleigh asks, leaning forward to grab a breadstick.
I eye my best friend, giving him a warning glare. I know he’s annoyed that I haven’t told her about the business idea yet, but finding out for the first time in front of her friends is not a good idea.
Park shrugs. “I think Jace should quit his job and spend more time chilling with me.”
Becca snorts. “Why would he do that? He loves his job. And you’re boring.”
Bayleigh leans over and takes a sip of my Coke. “The only reason I’ll let him quit is if he has a better job. Not to hang out with you, Park.”
Park lifts an eyebrow and gives me this not-so-subtle excited look. “You hear that, Jace?”
I roll my eyes. What the hell. “Maybe we should go into business together,” I say as if I’ve only just thought of it. “Then I’d have a job and I’d get to hang out with your clingy ass.”
“Okay, ew,” Bay says, setting her breadstick down on a little plate in front of her. “Clingy ass is a horrible phrase.”
We all laugh. Park leans forward from the opposite side of the booth, lacing his fingers together on the table. “Well, we heard the lady,” he says, gesturing to Bayleigh. “Looks like Jace and I should start our own business.”
“Then you could move down here,” Becca says, her smile filling her whole face. “That would be awesome.”
“It would be awesome,” Park says, giving her a smile.
“I’d love to see the two of you try to run a business,” Bayleigh says. It’s a little more sarcastic than I’d like, but…
“It’s settled,” I say, pressing my palms to the table. “Looks like Park and I should set up a business plan.”
Chapter 21
The next few days are a blur of excitement and anxiety and late night brainstorming sessions with Park. Not only is Bayleigh on board with our idea, she thinks it’s the smartest thing we could possibly do for our careers. Both Park and I are great motocross racers who want to settle down and have a family instead of travel the country, living the hectic life of a professional racer. Most guys have to quit motocross and get a real job if they want to do that. But we have a better idea.
Plus Bayleigh thinks it’s better to be our own bosses instead of having to work for someone else and I couldn’t agree more. Mr. Fisher is a great guy but nothing beats being your own boss. Once we start this business, I won’t have to answer to anyone or do anything I don’t want to do. The idea of creating something from the ground up with my best friend is all I can think about now.
Park and I have contacted a business planner and are getting all the information together so that we can make an offer on the land Park found for us. It’s conveniently next to a massive old Victorian home that he just bought. Park had his eye on it for a while and although I never would have imagined that he’d pack up and leave his luxury condo in LA for an old fixer-upper in the middle of nowhere Texas, now that he has, it kind of suits him. Turns out Park is more capable with a hammer and a power drill than I had thought.
Becca has offered her graphic design and art skills to design the logo for our future business, if we ever actually decide on a name for the place, and she and Bayleigh together are working on the future website for it. They both think we should have a social media presence, so I’m going to let the girls run the Twitter and Facebook accounts once the place is open.
I’m also working on a letter that I write during my downtime at work. I keep it saved to my work computer and all week when I’ve been in between c
lients, I open it back up and read over it and try to make it better. It’s a letter that announces my resignation from Mixon Motocross Park and offers a discounted rate if my clients come to the new facility.
I have to be careful because I have two types of clients—mine and Mr. Fisher’s. As per my contract with him, the clients that I personally bring in are mine and I can take them with me if I leave. But the ones he brings in are his and I’m not allowed to ask them to follow me elsewhere. That’s about fifty percent of my clients, so unfortunately once I make the move to the new facility, I’ll be earning half of my usual income until we get new clients.
That’s were Park’s ideas of summer camps and all-night ride-a-thons will come in handy. I think we can draw more people to be trained if they have the option to camp out on site. If we can get riders from all over the country to train with us, then we’ll be good.
Of course, there’s still so much planning and work to do, including buying the land and actually turning the flat piece of land into a motocross track, that I can only read over my letter and wait for the day I’ll get to send it. In the best case, we’ll be opening our business in two months. Worst case could be up to six months out. I like my job—I swear I do, but it’s getting increasingly harder to come into work each day when all I want to do is set up the new place with Park.
I lean back in my office chair on Friday morning, reviewing over my letter for the millionth time. I think it sounds professional and enticing. The new facility will have a lot to offer to our clients, including the children’s room and nursery that Bayleigh happens to think is a fantastic idea. She also pitched an idea to have a “mommy lounge” with couches and a television and cold air conditioning so that all the bored motocross moms have something to do when their kids are riding.
I hear voices chatting excitedly from the hallway and it takes a second for alarm to register in my brain. And once it does, my entire body goes cold. My jaw goes rigid.
