Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
He’s also had zero opportunity to see or be in the same air space as Jess again. I made sure of that. He missed Thursday practice due to a blown motor on his pretentious as fuck Hummer as well, he had a serious case of the shits from a gift of gourmet brownies delivered from a secret admirer.
I’ve never been so fucking happy to make a person miserable.
And today, on his last official day on the payroll, I’ve made him come in to turn over his building keys, like a disgraced cop handing over their badge and gun.
“Keys,” I say to Markham. I tap the table like I’m asking for another card in poker. “Right now.”
He looks like a beaten man. “But Mr. Hawthorn, I never, I didn’t…”
Blah blah fucking blah. Jess doesn’t lie. That’s all I know and all that matters. He should be fucking dead but I held back my urge to un-alive him only because there was a chance that I’d be caught and convicted which would take me away from Jess and Sam. “I said, keys.”
Markham sheepishly fishes them out of his pocket. He struggles to get them off his key ring before finally handing them over. “Just tell me this. Who’s going to replace me? Who’s going to conduct them through the Schubert? Hmmm?”
He thinks he’s got me there, but he doesn’t. Time to ante up. “We’ve poached Miriam DeWitt from Duke not that it’s any of your fucking business but wanted you to know because she’s a whole fucking flight of stairs up from your sorry ass. She starts tonight. But I suppose you didn’t read that in this afternoon’s email newsletter, did you?”
He pinches up his face. “What newsletter?”
I nod, letting him see all my cocky arrogance. “The one you didn’t get. Because you’ve been permanently unsubscribed from the newsletter mailing list.”
Markham slaps his key on the table and stands up, fixing the mother of all wedgies as he does. “Fine. Fine. I know when I’m outmatched. I hereby tender my resignation.”
I laugh in his face. “You can’t resign after you’ve been fired, man. Now get the hell out of here. And good luck on finding another line of work. Because I’m going to personally guaran-fucking-tee that you never work in this business ever, ever again.”
Markham walks out mumbling some grumpy, woe-is-me shit, leaving the smell of gin thick behind him. When the door swings shut, I lean back in the big board room chair and stretch, then stand up to get a glass of water from the table by the window.
And there, down in the parking lot, is Jess.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her in a week and it sets my body on fucking fire. I get hard instantly. My focus narrows, my balls ache. She looks amazing. Her red hair is loose and long. She’s wearing dark green leggings that hug her perfect ass, and a modest, white lace top that accentuates all her tits.
One of the big upsides to being the top donor is now I get to move freely around the concert hall—they even gave me a fucking office—and I might, might, have picked the lock on her practice locker two nights ago when the orchestra was practicing Schubert on their own due to the conductor’s sudden illness and car trouble, and spent as long as I possibly could with my face buried in her little black cardigan. I figured out the scent—lilac lotion, which she keeps in her locker, and which I might have bought a bottle of for myself and used almost all of it already fucking my fist using the lotion as lube.
But it’s not just the lilacs that makes me crazy. It’s also the scent of her skin, her warmth. Fucking magic.
Once I get my fucking head out of my pants and back to reality, I realize it’s not just a happy conversation between her and her parents down in the parking lot. She’s got her hands on her hips, her violin case sitting at her feet and she’s looking furious.
Her mom is looking stern and angry as well. Her dad, Ben, my oldest buddy, is looking completely unsure how to handle whatever it is that’s going on between the two women in his life.
Like a shot, I’m booking it down the back stairs, out the side door, and around the corner. I try to look nonchalant about it, but I’m laser-focused on her. Because nobody, not even her fucking parents, has the right to make her upset. Not on my watch.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Jess roars. “I’m eighteen! Do I look like I need a nanny when you go out of town?”
And just like that, I’m right up to speed. Ben is standing off to one side, and that’s how I make my approach. Best way to deal with Janet is to flank her. “Everything okay, man?”