“I’m going to go. Kiss the kids good night for me.”
She nods, her face solemn.
? ? ?
On the drive home, I can’t keep my thoughts from replaying Beth’s angry words and her condescending tone. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and try to focus on the road. The sun is just beginning its descent for the evening, casting a hopeful ambient light on everything. I grab my cell and press the contact I call most often.
“Hey, dude. What’s up?” Hudson answers after a couple of rings. “You got an update on Summer’s Edge?”
We just spoke a couple of hours ago about a poorly performing apartment complex called Summer’s Edge we’re trying to offload onto another investor. It’s in a decent area of town, but the complex itself is comprised of older units that rent for cheap. There always seem to be several vacancies and unpredictable tenants, which doesn’t help when you need steady cash flow to plan your business. It’s also going to need a new roof and an overhaul to the heating and cooling system within the next two to three years. If we can sell it for the right price before then, Hudson and I won’t have to deal with the headache of owning Summer’s Edge anymore, something we’re both very much looking forward to.
“No. No updates yet,” I tell him. “I’m guessing we’ll hear back from the investor sometime tomorrow.” Without taking a breath, I add, “Beth doesn’t think I can have a female friend.”
He pauses for a few seconds, as if trying to catch up to the abrupt topic change. “That’s bullshit. You can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen it.”
Hudson, only a couple of months older than me, has always been infinitely wiser.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling the tiniest bit redeemed. “I’ve sort of struck up a friendship with the newest tenant, Emery. Beth was giving me shit about it.”
Several moments of stony silence follow, where I’m sure Hudson is trying to process what I’ve just told him.
“Well, don’t torture yourself. Just because I’ve laid down the law on not hunting in the herd doesn’t mean you can’t get laid. You can be friends with Emery. You’ll just have to go back to hitting the bar scene again to hunt for *.”
Why does that idea hold zero appeal? Standing around in a too-loud bar, buying drinks for girls who I know after one glance will let me walk them outside and fuck them in the back of my BMW. The idea just doesn’t excite me like it used to.
“Yeah, of course.” Suddenly I don’t know why I’ve called him. “Update me if you hear anything from the investor.”
“Will do, buddy. Have a good night,” Hudson says, ending the call.
As I pull into my usual parking spot, I can’t help but look up at Emery’s front window. It’s dark, and I wonder if she’s still at work. The idea depresses me on her behalf. No one should have to work that hard. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she has fun when we go out to eat this weekend.
Not too much fun, though. The kind of fun where my cock stays neatly tucked into my slacks. Oh, joy.
Chapter Eight
Emery
On Friday evening, I walk to Rico’s Taquería with a plan to scarf down dinner in twenty minutes and hightail it back to work. But as soon as I sit down with a cold beer and a hot quesadilla, the fatigue of my first week suddenly all comes crashing down on me. I must have been running on pure adrenaline for a while now. The office was almost deserted when I left, anyway, so I decide to call it an early day and head home. After polishing off the huge quesadilla and a beer, I’m more than ready for the weekend.
I’ve just taken off my shoes when someone knocks on my condo door. I open up to see Roxy. Her outfit tonight is even more memorable than the one I first saw her in. Tonight she’s wearing a skin-tight leopard-print minidress with side cutouts and matching platform stilettos.
She gives me a little wave. “Hey, girl,” she sings. “Want to hang out sometime? I meant to ask you sooner, but this past week has been nuts. Desiree got food poisoning, so Angelique and I had to take over her shifts.”
Still feeling loose and carefree from a good time with Hayden, I answer on impulse. “Is now a good time? I’m not doing anything.” The night is still young, after all. Even if I can barely translate legalese right now, I have enough energy and focus for casual chatting. A little girl talk sounds like fun.
Roxy raises her penciled eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “Awesome. Wait a sec, I’ll bring over a bottle of wine. You like red or white?”
I shrug. “Whatever is fine.”
She leaves and comes back in a few minutes with a big bottle of local Shiraz. As she sets it down on the dining table, she asks, “Mind if I smoke?”
“Um . . .” I look around my fresh-smelling, pale-carpeted place. “Let’s sit on the balcony.”