Rob hands me a triple shot latte when I get into the office. I’m grateful he hasn’t asked why I want the change in my morning caffeine intake. The last thing I want to do is try and explain my sex life to my assistant. He can know about the dating catastrophes, but I’d like some privacy when it comes to the pleasure.
At least he accepts me as I am. Even after a few quick sips, the lethargy in my bones starts to lift. Since I got back from LA, Cash has basically been living at my apartment.
It’s all late night and early mornings for me—not that I’m going to complain. I haven’t had orgasms like these since…ever. Cash may work until two am, but he also doesn’t have to be at work until late afternoon. He gets to sleep in while I still have to get up and go to work. The sight of him naked in my bed every morning is something I look forward to, and the sex is beyond great.
We are getting so close, but I can’t help but feel that something isn’t right. He keeps telling me it’s the new bar, and the old bar. But he’s holding back on me. Its excuse after excuse, but whenever I try to push him to open up he becomes a steel trap, boxing himself in better than Richard The Dick when he tries to be smart.
We don’t talk about much. Since the racetrack, I’ve tried to stick with Cash’s plan for just the here and now, but I think his here and now is falling apart. Over what I can’t say, but there’s something that’s killing him, and he won’t let me in.
Rob follows me into the office and starts our normal run through for the day.
I chuck my bag onto a chair with more force than I had planned. Rob stops in his tracks, pen held above his morning checklist. I haven’t been this out of sorts since Tanner and the no good, very bad break up. Even then, it was just throwing myself into work.
“And,” Rob says coming to the close of his spiel, “I set up the event just like you wanted. Her agent was happy to help—thinks we’re getting her some great exposure—and even loaned me his assistant to help out. Also, I added something extra to tonight’s event.”
I raise an eyebrow. What were we talking about again? I’d trust Rob with my life and then some, but usually he still runs things by me first.
“For the gig tonight, for Misty Singh—I’ve got everything pretty much laid out,” he says, effortlessly filling me in without making me feel like a fool. “But I thought it was only fitting that we invite the whole office to the review. You know, let them see what they’re getting. Take that, Richard the Dick.”
It puts a smile back on my face. Los Angeles was a way for me to fix the Tanner Jakes debacle as well as set up our newest client with vital contacts. Looking at the contracts on my desk, we’ve got several offers from top labels. This is going to be big. Fuck you, Tanner Jakes. Who says I need you to make my career?
“Also, I thought—and please if this is too much I apologize—but I set aside two tickets for you and your special man friend.”
I snort—it can’t be helped. Thinking of Cash as my special man friend makes him sound like some sort of hired lover.
“Is that what we’re calling him these days?” I ask focusing entirely on my work. We’re not discussing this, we are not discussing this.
“I could work on a couple of names,” Rob says.
“Thank you, Rob.”
“Anytime, ma’am,” Rob says with laughter in his eyes.
There’s an intense urge to stick my tongue out at my assistant, but I don’t. This was always the plan, anyway. Getting Cash out of the bedroom and into different parts of my life. Maybe he’ll finally feel comfortable telling whatever is really slowly killing him.
Toasting him with my coffee, I relax back in my chair. The LA trip was all about getting Misty up on her feet. Now there are just a few loose ends to tie up. I stop Rob as he leaves the office.
“Can you get me Mathias?” I ask.
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
Less than a minute later the phone on my desk beeps and I pick it up.
“Mathias, so good to talk to you. Sorry I missed your call. I was in LA all week.”
“Well, well, well, you stupid bitch.”
Not Mathias, definitely not Mathias.
“Tanner, such varied word choice.”
“You think you’re too good for me?”
“Since we’re not being professional in this conversation. Yes. I do, you fucking prick.”
“You ruined my life—my marriage. I can’t write a damn thing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now be a good boy and put Mathias on the phone.”
“Why should I?”
“Because we’re through. You are no longer my problem, so go dip your prick in toxic waste for all I care. Just make sure to lose my number and forget my name when you do.”
With that I hang up the phone. Tanner Jakes is done. He’s out of my life.