“There he is,” Rafe bellowed from across the empty club when Mason walked in. “Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Jesus, not you, too. Jedrek already chewed my ass out for being M.I.A.” Mason lightly punched Rafe’s shoulder when he reached him. Thank God he had the club. No matter how fucked up things got at the firm, he could seek solace here.
Rafe chuckled. “Doubt that, man. Jedrek doesn’t know how to get riled up. He’s the silent, brooding type.” He reached behind the bar and grabbed a beer. “Wanna drink?”
Mason shook his head. “I’m doing a scene with Shelby again tonight.”
Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “So she’s coming back for more?” he asked as he popped open his beer. He took a swig while Mason watched and mentally gauged if he had enough time to drink one, too. He deserved one after the shitty day he’d had.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Mr. Brooding himself is going to assist me tonight.”
Rafe’s grumbling sound wasn’t missed. “You gonna let him have some fun? I got cock blocked.”
“Get me a beer,” he muttered as he sat at the edge of the bar. Fuck it. He had time for one. Rafe grabbed a cold one, popped the top, and handed it to Mason. He stared before replying, “No. It’s her rule, man, not mine.” Though he was thrilled with her self-imposed guidelines. He took a long pull from his beer and relished the burn. If he didn’t have the scene tonight, he’d be partaking in a lot more than just one.
“And as her practicing Dom, you get to decide what’s best for her.” It felt like a challenge, and Mason wasn’t up for playing games. Not this kind of game anyway.
He glared at Rafe. “And as her Dom, I respect her boundaries, as I would with any sub. So would you. You know the drill, man. Quit trying to bait me.”
Rafe swore under his breath before taking another drink. “Sorry. You’re right. Been a helluva week. The alcohol shipment was short. On Tuesday, Nick knocked over a whole rack of beer mugs, breaking half of them, so I had to order more and get one of the other partners to sign since you weren’t around to approve the expense. Plus, one of the bouncers got knocked out last night by a jealous ex. Thank God he’s okay and not the suing type. I need a vacation.”
Mason groaned. “Damn. I’m sorry. You should’ve called me. I’d have been here anyway if my boss hadn’t put me on something that needed to be dealt with. But I’d have come running if you needed me.”
“Don’t sweat it. We all know that prick has been shitting on you.” He leaned over and tapped his bottle against Mason’s. “It’s all good.”
If only Rafe knew how wrong he was. Nothing was good, but Mason didn’t have the time to dwell on it right now. Tonight, he had Shelby to focus on. Tomorrow, he could go back to accepting his impending doom. He stood and grabbed his bottle. “C’mon. I’ve got a couple of hours before Shelby will be here. You can fill me in on the mugs and everything else you’ve spent money on this week, so I can update the accounting system.”
Rafe chuckled as he walked around the bar. “Told you we didn’t need to hire an accountant. You know just how an auditor thinks.”
“How many times do I have to keep telling you it’s not the same thing?” he asked incredulously.
“Quit your bitching and come use those Ivy League skills to balance our accounts.”
Mason followed him toward the closed-off area where their offices were, all the while thinking it was good thing he paid attention to his accounting classes in college. After the debacle at Fieldstein and Baxter, he just might need those damn skills to fall back on after all.
God, I hate accounting.
God, I hate accounting. Shelby shoved the mouse away from her, rolled her chair away from her desk, and laced her fingers above her head as she exhaled slowly while staring at the computer screen. How any person in his right mind would seek out a career crunching numbers was beyond her. She did her best to remember not throwing away receipts, so she could give them to her tax preparer every year, and half the time failed miserably at that. At least she could print out her checking and credit card statements. If it wasn’t for online banking she’d be totally screwed, and that was just dealing with personal finances. She’d rather stab her eyes out than look at business finances.
There was never an eye-poking-out device when she needed one.
Staring at F and B’s quarterly and annual financial reports was seriously making her brain hurt. Generally Accepted Accounting Principles might as well be Greek. Strike that, it’d probably make more sense to her if it was in a different language. At least then she’d be in her own element. Business reporting was a beast in and of itself. A big scary, scaly beast with bloody fangs. She was a letters person, not numbers. Just one more example that her intellectual contribution hadn’t been priority when selecting her for this assignment.
She released her hands and shook them, trying to release the tension from her fingers. She had to be missing something. She’d logged onto the SEC’s website and pulled several years’ worth of statements. From what she could see, everything seemed to be in order, but she was no expert. Heck, she wasn’t even a novice. After she nudged back toward her desk, she picked up her phone and dialed Darrell’s extension.
“Tobin,” he answered.
“Hey, Darrell. It’s me.”
“I know,” he said with
