A Not So Meet Cute(69)
“A natural feeling.”
“Yes, perhaps. Mom was so right. She once said something that hits me more now than it did at the time. ‘She’s treated you with disdain and relentless cruelty as a friend throughout your whole friendship, Lottie, so how do you think she believes she can treat you in business?’”
“The same way, right?”
“Yeah. But my options were slim. I could go work somewhere that had a hint of the field I wanted to be in, or I could work for Angela, grow a business, and take charge. She offered me a low starting salary and said after a year, if I helped grow the business, she’d give me the raise I deserved. I thought it was a solid situation. My mom, Jeff, and sister all said not to do it, that Angela couldn’t be trusted. But I did it anyway and I excelled. I grew that business to where it is now. I had a huge part in bringing Angela to the forefront of everyone’s eyes. And when the time came for my raise . . .”
“She fired you.” I shake my head. “I’m pretty ruthless when it comes to business, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever do something like that. I know a good employee when I see them, and instead of cutting them out, I make sure to develop them. They would do so much better under my wing, than with a competitor. My guess is Angela felt threatened by you and she wanted to get rid of you before everyone else in the company realized how valuable you were.”
“Probably.” She glances down at her linked hands. “Either way, I was too embarrassed to tell my mom and Jeff. I didn’t want to hear the I told you so’s, and that’s how I came to be sitting here, with you. Desperation to save face.”
“I understand the need to protect a reputation. I think it’s one of the reasons I’m being so aggressive in my approach with Dave. Everyone in the business knows I’m going after the properties, and everyone knows I get what I want, but Dave is giving me a run for my money, and that puts a blemish on my reputation.”
“You can’t win them all.”
“I do,” I tell her. “I always win.”
“Glad your perspective is forgiving.”
I let out a light chuckle. “What’s your second question?”
Tilting her head to the side, studying me, she asks, “You seem so stiff all the time, it’s hard for me to imagine you actually having fun, so I guess my question is, what do you like to do for fun?”
I rub my hand over my jaw. “When I get to take a second to breathe, I enjoy going to baseball games.”
“Let me guess—you sit in the cushioned seats.”
“I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
“I know this is another question, but we’ll call it question 2a.”
“I’ll let it slide,” I answer.
“Do you have a favorite team?”
I shake my head. “Not really, actually, which seems odd. I like a few of the California teams here, I enjoy going to the different ballparks and seeing how they differ from others, and I follow my good friend from college. He’s retiring this year, on his farewell tour.”
“Ooo, question 2b, who’s your friend?”
I chuckle. “Penn Cutler. He pitches for the Chicago Bobbies, but we went to college together. He’s had a bumpy road in the majors, but he’s looking solid this last season.”
“I’m going to have to look him up. But . . . baseball, that’s it? That’s the only fun thing you like to do?”
“Nah, I like hanging with my brothers. Pool days. Simple games like ring toss, cornhole, going to the beach. I’m not a surfer, but the boys and I play football on the beach pretty often.” I shrug. “Just chilling when we get a chance.”
She blinks a few times and then chuckles as she shakes her head. “I never would’ve picked you as someone who’d play football on the beach. I figured you’re a man who likes to hang out in old smoke rooms, wearing a logoed smoking jacket, cigar in hand, talking about the stock market and how the Dow is fucking you over. You’re the kind of guy who goes to the opera and likes it. The kind of man who takes piano lessons in his spare time because he needs to be good at everything.”
“I learned to play when I was young.”
“Of course you did. But football on the beach, that’s a normal person’s activity. Next you’re going to tell me you enjoy going to concerts.”
“I do,” I say. “Has to be the right music, though. I’m not about to go to a Bruno Mars concert, but if let’s say Foreigner is in town, I’ll be sure to grab tickets.”
“Nope, no way, I don’t see that for you. I don’t see you at concerts. And if you do go to concerts, you’re probably the stiff guy, beer in hand, who doesn’t move, doesn’t sing, doesn’t crack a smile.”
“You’d be surprised.” She’s loosened me up with these questions, and I’m not really comfortable with that. I’m . . . cautious by nature, ruthless when necessary. But having two brothers as best friends, I’ve become reticent with others. And here’s Lottie, determined to know me more than I’m willing to give.
“Very interesting.” She has a smile on her face, an expression so genuine that I’m surprised this is all she needed. A conversation, something so simple. “Okay, your turn, ask your final question.”