Brian doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He’s about to betray me to my face. The image of Brutus killing Julius Caesar springs to mind. It was a bad idea to push him into that cab.
“The original idea was simple. We needed a new push. Think nostalgic,” he says.
“Like the eighties?” she asks.
My eyes are facing Jim as he maneuvers through a rambunctiously dense crowd. “Eighties are chic,” I say. “Sixties inspire a sense of freedom. Revolution, a change. Yada-yada. We wanted something that conveyed something that reflects the times.”
“I like it,” she says.
My mouth is drier than the time I smoked pot before Biology 101 in college. I didn’t smoke anything in years, so it must be stress. Regardless, Jim is getting closer, and I need an excuse. The outside bar is perfect. There’s a crowd of people that part like the Red Sea to Moses. I can only hope they’ll close the gap behind us.
“Brian, it was delightful,” I say. “Now, I’d like to get drunk.”
He holds up his vodka-soda. “Cheers, old friend.”
Sandra is gone. Brian’s ego is satisfied. I’ve soared through every conversation with flying colors, but there’s still one mega-boss left: Big Jim.
“I’m really not that thirsty,” Ali says.
“I know, but I can’t stand and talk about business for this long. It turns my brain into Jell-O,” I say.
She shrugs and pushes her smile to the side. “I don’t know – I think it’s kind of exciting.”
“I’m acting picky again, aren’t I?” I ask.
“I mean, I get your point. It’s boring for you. But I’ve never been to an event like this. Everything is so important, so bright, and flashy.”
“Yeah, you know how when you go camping the moths fly directly into the fire?” I ask.
She touches my arm. “Oh, stop it. This isn’t that bad.”
Goosebumps rise across my skin. My dick is firm and pushing against my pants. I want her so fucking bad, it hurts.
I pull her toward the alcohol and flash two fingers at the bartender. They’ve been trained to know what drink I order, but when he hands me two old fashioned’s made with Jim Beam, I frown. Without making a scene, I tip the guy a hundred, and hand Ali her drink.
She takes one sip before setting it down. “You okay?” she asks.
Jim has spotted me again. It’s unclear whether or not he ever lost me in the first place.
“Me? I’m fine,” I say.
She rubs my arm. It feels so good, but I can tell she knows something is up. “You sure? You were pretty worked up earlier.”
“Maybe it was our talk with Sandra,” I say. “The talk with Brian was nice.”
“Well, cheer up. We don’t have to stay very much longer,” she says.
That steals my attention away from Jim’s body pushing through the forest of people. “You sure?”
She bites her bottom lip and lays her hands on my chest, rubbing the whole way down. “I’d like to try out your photo room again,” she says.
My lips curl into a smile. “What did you have in mind?”
She slowly forms her mouth around mine. It melts through my fear and anxiety like Xanax. “Something raw and tantric,” she says. “Something just for us.”
I try to swallow, but I end up just coughing up my whiskey. “Yes, please. Let’s go. Now.”
But I sense what’s coming. The storm. Everything always gets quiet, calm, and sexy before a storm.
With fire in his eyes, Jim kicks the door open. As if it were instinct, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigar. He doesn’t even light it. It just sits, bent between two crowns. “Marc!”
I look away, knowing it’s a futile move.
“Don’t think you can avoid me now,” he shouts.
Ali steps forward. “Who is that?”
“A shareholder I’d rather not talk to,” I say.
She squints her eyes. “He looks really familiar.”
“That’s because he’s got the face of an asshole,” I say. “It’s really common in America.”
Sticking out her tongue and making a goofy face to me, she says, “Ha-ha. But he really does. Jeeze. It’s like right on the back of my mind.”
My heart starts pounding again. I hear the driving rhythm in my ears. “I’m going to go deal with him for a second. You good to wait here?”
She shakes her head. “I’d rather be with you, to be honest.”
My throat closes. “Trust me. You don’t want to meet this guy.”
She looks at me sharply. “I can handle myself, Marc Wylan,” she says.
There’s no getting out of this now. Jim’s going to lay it on me, and I’m going to lose the only woman I’ve ever loved. I never wanted to save this stupid magazine. It was a job I needed to take on, thrust upon me by the leaders of my staff. What a cruel world.
Jim’s scratchy voice pokes through his massive mustache. “Marc fucking Wylan, man of mystery. What gives me the honor?”
I suck in my cheeks, trying not to get mad or panic. First thing’s first, I change the subject by introducing Ali. I’m hoping he’s taken in by her beauty enough to not dwell on business affairs. “This is Ali Greenwald,” I say. “My girlfriend.”
I feel Ali’s eyes turn toward mine. She nudges my chin. “Girlfriend?”
It’s a little embarrassing litigating this whole thing at an office party. Nevertheless, it’s something that gets Jim’s attention.
He cries out with laughter. “You mean, you didn’t know?”
“This is a first for Marc,” she says. “Usually, he asks for permission.”
My cheeks are hot, but I’d rather this be at my expense than hers.
I pat his arm and give him the usual bullshit line every CEO gives at the unveiling events. “Anyway, I’m glad we talked. The future is always bright when we can think and act boldly,” I say.
He grabs my suit jacket. “Not so fast.”
I gulp.
Ali’s looking at me curiously. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jim’s starting to win. The goal posts are turning on me. But then Jim does something very
