Bereft (Seven Year Itch #2)(9)
That next afternoon Grayson began calling my cell phone. The mere sight of his number flashing on the screen made me cringe. When I closed my eyes to look away I saw him touching her in my mind. The excruciating truth was too new to fathom it ever going away.
By three p.m. I felt like death. I hadn’t checked the slew of messages I was sure he’d left me, nor had I contacted work about further instructions. For all I knew I was supposed to report as if nothing was going on. I’m almost certain they wanted to stretch out the help for as long as they were able. I didn’t have the energy or determination to leave the house, especially to travel so far for what was only going to frustrate me more.
When someone rang my doorbell I considered pretending I wasn’t home. I waited a few minutes in hopes whoever it was would leave. I almost jumped when the doorbell rang a second time, right when I was about to peek out a window to see who it was.
Standing on the stoop was someone I never expected to see in my neck of the woods. I opened the door paying no mind to the fact that I probably looked like death. Chad gave me a once over and smiled. I went to close the door on his face, but he spoke quickly to change my mind. “Hold on, Rach. I come in peace. Please. My grandfather has been trying to reach you. From the look on your face, I can tell you’ve had a hell of a night.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I whispered under my breath while leaning against my door for support. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I need your help, and since you packed up your things from the office, I figured you’d written us off.”
I cackled in an annoyed manner. “You need my help? You’re the last person on earth I’d want to help.”
He motioned toward the foyer. “Are you going to invite me in?”
I cocked my eyebrow. “Why should I?” Was I glutton for punishment? Did I really want more reasons to hate my life?
He stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled some change around. I was surprised he was in a pair of jeans and a shirt with designs and skulls on it. The tight sleeves made his muscles look huge. It was rare, but I’d seen him dressed down before. He seemed more comfortable this way, instead of in business attire. “Hear me out. If you want me to leave afterwards, you never have to see me again.”
The idea of that was intriguing. I tipped the door to imply he was welcome, even though I had immediate doubt. “The house is a wreck. I probably don’t have anything to drink either, well not unless you want some bourbon.”
“Actually,” he walked inside and looked around. “That sounds perfect.”
When he passed by I got a whiff of his cologne. He smelled magnificent. For a second I closed my eyes and took in the musk, pretending it wasn’t coming from someone I despised.
I headed over to the liquor cabinet and located a newly purchased bottle. I’d picked it up for Grayson a week before, because I knew how much he liked to have a glass before bed. He wouldn’t be needing it anymore, since he certainly wasn’t going to be coming home to me. “Why are you here, Chad? I don’t have the time or energy to deal with bullshit.” I’d never talk to his grandfather that way, but Chad was another ballgame. I didn’t care about disrespecting this little dickhead.
I spun around and noticed he’d sat down on the brown leather couch. He clapped his hands together and leaned back to get more comfortable. I don’t know why, because he wasn’t staying long. “You’ve got a nice place here, Rach.”
“Stop calling me that,” I requested, while handing him the glass.
“You look like shit. It wouldn’t have been so bad for you if you’d just stuck around yesterday.”
“You have no idea,” I sarcastically added.
“After yesterday I wondered if you’d even want to be a part of the business.”
“What business?”
“My new business. You see, Rach, I respect my grandfather, but he’s an old man who can’t see the future. I was born to be a leader, and that’s why were closing the Leviathan Agency, per se. We’re going into this with a new approach.”
“I’m not following you, and again, stop calling me Rach.”
“Aren’t you sick of catering to a bunch of snobby *s?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m used to being around *s.”
He let out a chuckle but continued. “Yeah, maybe you are. That’s why I know this new venture will be right up your alley. How do you feel about commercials?”
“What?” I shook my head, not understanding this at all. “People hate commercials. Most fast forward through them.”
The shit-eating grin was back. He nodded, but replied to my opinionated comment. “True. Some people do hate them, but what about the one person needing an extra push for his or her business?” He wiped the stubble on his chin and continued. “The clients we’ve been catering to for years need a firm they can trust. I’m talking commercials, music videos, video blogs, magazine articles, and billboards. I want to stop being the company who only gets a cut – a mere percentage of the profit.”
“So, you want to sell off our clients to be able to open a video production company? Wait!” I thought to myself for a second and then it hit me. “You majored in what in college?”