Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Ebert pulled a face, shrugging. “I have a relatively full plate when it comes to my reading diet. I don’t really have the time or interest to read gossip pieces.” He held up his palm. “I don’t mean to offend, but you strike me as a businessman. I’m sure you understand you’re not exactly publishing respectable literature at that place.”
“You really have no idea how talented your daughter is, do you?” I asked.
Everybody slowly lifted their heads to stare at me. Darcy’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
“You think I don’t know my own daughter?” Ebert asked.
“I think you wouldn’t dismiss her career if you’d bothered to read her work for the magazine.”
“Dominic, it’s okay,” Darcy said, touching my forearm. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t,” I agreed. “But I took over The Squawker with full intentions of replacing the entire staff within six months. Only a handful of existing employees have proven too valuable to replace, much to my annoyance, and your daughter is one of them. Come on, Darcy,” I said, standing. My chair screeched and Ebert said nothing. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes as he stared down at his plate.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if Darcy stayed glued to her seat, but she got up and followed me out to my SUV. Nobody tried to stop us as we left.
“Well, that was kind of a disaster,” she said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I was expecting a romantic dessert. Looks like I ruined that.”
She seemed to think for a few moments, then tilted her head and bit her lip. “There’s an ice cream place I used to go to as a kid. Would getting some ice cream in you loosen you up for the interview, part two?”
“If they have strawberry flavor, possibly.”
She laughed, and fuck, she looked beautiful when she smiled. It was rare for those smiles of hers to be visible anywhere in my vicinity. “I didn’t take you for a strawberry kind of guy.”
“Little known fact. I have a sweet tooth.” My eyes lingered on Darcy a little longer than intended, and by the time I looked away, my words had taken on entirely new meaning. “You navigate, I drive?” I suggested.
“Okay.”
I opened the door and Darcy slid into my car. And just like that, I was once again taking things in a direction I knew I damn well shouldn’t. But there was no denying I felt good around her–at least when I wasn’t thinking about how guilty and ashamed of myself I was for letting her distract me so much.
I sighed once her door was closed and headed around to the driver’s side of the car. Maybe there really was a difference between this and what my father did. I mean, sure, he did eventually destroy his relationship with my mom by sleeping with an employee. But that was after he’d already taken his first steps down the road to corruption. That was after all the bribes and the vicious business moves. It was long past when he left his integrity behind.
Maybe letting myself have a little fun with Darcy wouldn’t be the same thing. But I wasn’t sure I could sell that story to myself. I’d watched dad sabotage himself time and time again while swearing I’d never be like him. I wanted to prove you could make a business great without playing dirty–that it wasn’t about “greasing palms” and “tipping the scales with your thumb” as dad liked to say. I desperately wanted to make The Squawker into something amazing with nothing but hard work and good ideas. So what happened to that dream if I let myself start going down this path with Darcy?
I really didn’t know, and that scared the shit out of me.
15
DARCY
Music played from the fuzzy speakers of the ice cream shop in a jolting, carnival-like tune. The place was decorated in 80’s era teal, purple, and yellow with obligatory lightning bolts on the backs of every booth. The teenage girls working the counter all wore paper hats and striped uniforms that completed the time warp effect the place had.
Dominic asked if they had strawberry, and the girl behind the counter gave a big smile.
“We don’t just have strawberry. We have four flavors of it.”
I couldn’t help grinning while I watched Dominic sample each flavor with a tiny little plastic spoon. He spent so long frowning between the four containers of ice cream behind the glass that I thought he was making a life-or-death decision.
“Strawberry Cookie Monster,” he said seriously.
“Bowl or a cone?”
“Cone,” he said flatly, as if she was an idiot for even asking.
His ice cream was strawberry with chunks of real strawberry and vanilla wafers mixed in. The whole thing was topped off with whipped cream and graham cracker crumbles. I took a more normal amount of time deciding between two flavors and ultimately landed on “Blueberry Crush”, which was a neon blue ice cream with chunks of brownies drizzled with caramel syrup.