Diary of a Bad Boy(12)

“Really?” I ask, a little shocked. Whitney is always in charge. Ever since my dad created the camp for kids to improve their skills while creating healthy goals for a lifetime, Whitney has been in charge, expertly putting on the camp without a flaw. I’ve been to many camps and watched her create a positive atmosphere with such ease that I don’t think it’s something I could replicate, but I’ll give it my best shot.

I’m actually honored that she thinks I’m ready to take on such a big project, and all I want to do is gush and thank her, but Whitney is all business, so I listen intently instead.

“Yes, you’ll be great for the project, and it will free up my time to do some other projects your dad has in the works.”

“That’s exciting. Retirement stuff?”

Whitney kindly smiles. “Yup, you know him, his mind is always turning with the next greatest idea.”

“Used to drive my mom crazy,” I answer with a sad smile. This coming fall will be the twenty-year anniversary of her death. She left this world way too early, leaving me motherless at the age of four. They got pregnant really young, at sixteen. I was a bit of an oops, but they never let me know it. They took on the challenge, worked together with the help of family, and raised me while Dad was able to pursue his dreams. Gammy and Gramps were an integral part of raising me, but Dad was there too, he was always there, especially when Mom passed at the age of twenty. “At least that’s what Dad told me.”

“I’m sure,” Whitney says while clearing her throat. “Everything you’re going to need to know is in those files and on the server you’re familiar with. Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I think I’m pretty good. I assisted with the last two camps, so this shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Perfect, and don’t forget to sync your calendar to your phone.”

“Yup, not a problem.” I smile, even though I’m slowly dying inside. I need to get my phone back.

Today.

As I’m walking out the door, Whitney calls out, “And welcome to the team, Sutton. We’re so excited to have you on board.”

I smile over my shoulder. “I’m excited to be here.”

And with that, I close the door behind me and hustle to the janitor’s closet. It’s time to end this. He’s getting one more chance to do the right thing . . . at least that’s what I tell myself.





Sutton: Where are you? Want to grab a bite to eat?

Roark: Asking me out already? I thought it would take you a little longer. Guess I pegged you as a little too shy.

Sutton: Oh yup, that’s what I’m doing. Please go out with me. I want to date you so hard.

Roark: You know, that sounds a lot like sarcasm.

Sutton: How would you know? I didn’t use any asterisk to emphasize my actions.

Roark: Unnecessary.

Sutton: Just grab a bite with me.

Roark: I don’t know. You seem very aggressive right now, a little crazy. I don’t think I’m up for that.

Sutton: Do you want to make me cry? Is that what you’re trying to do? Because I will cry. Right here, right now, I will cry.

Roark: It’s a good thing I can’t see you then.

Sutton: I’ll blow up your phone with pictures of my tears.

Roark: Not surprised, since you’re the selfie queen.

Sutton: I am going to kick you square in the balls.

Roark: Yeah? I like things a little frisky.

Sutton: Do you always have a comeback for everything?

Roark: Depends on my mood.

Sutton: Are you in the mood to meet me?

Roark: Nah, I have meetings all day. Sorry lass. Better luck tomorrow.

Sutton: Why the heck do you want to keep my phone? This is ridiculous.





“I’m going to kill him, Maddie.”

“This again?” she groans into the phone. “When are we going to stop talking about this whole phone thing?”

“When I get my phone back.”

“Let me guess, he’s not willing to trade today.”

“No.” I lean back in my chair. “Says he has meetings all day.” I scroll through my email and click on my calendar, looking through my upcoming meetings.

“How can someone who punches another person over ketchup have that many meetings? He doesn’t seem like the business type.”

I click on the month, scrolling through everything. “I have no idea. He doesn’t se—” I pause, a giant lightbulb clicking in my head. “Oh my God, Maddie.”

“What?”

I go to the calendar app on the phone. And that’s where I see my salvation.

Bingo.

“I have his entire schedule on his phone.” I scroll through today. “He has a lunch meeting with an FG at Mirabelle’s on Seventh. It’s in thirty minutes.” A huge smile spreads across my face.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go.”





I shouldn’t be nervous. I should be furious, stomping with angry steps, letting the world know I’m taking this day by the horns and making things happen.

But instead I’m standing outside the restaurant, nervously twitching, wondering if I can simply barge through those doors, interrupt this guy’s meeting, and demand my phone back.