Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(59)

“Stay out of it, Dave.” Jimmy held out his hand to Liv and she took it. Apparently, the matter of me had been closed.

“We’ll head off,” said Ben, giving me worried looks as he passed me on the stairs.

I smiled back determinedly. “Later, guys.”

God, did everyone know about my great unrequited love?

Or no, my boss’s sweet words had gotten them worked up. Perhaps they thought I’d burst into tears. Like hell, it would take more than harsh words from Jimmy Ferris to do that. Dean now stood apart from me, concerned for his job no doubt, which was fair enough. We’d gone on one whole date, not enough to throw your career away over. When David went past, he reached out, grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I don’t know how Jimmy reacted because I followed his brother straight up the stairs without looking back. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t make him regret the put-down later, however.

Liv said something down behind me and Jimmy answered in a suitably subdued voice. I didn’t want to know what.

I’d asked for this, told Jimmy to date, pushed him into it even. But then he’d made me date too and then torn into me for daring to hold someone’s hand. Rage boiled up inside of me, an inferno’s worth. I didn’t need to fetch shit. Jimmy was going out, he didn’t really care about the interview info. Instead of doing my duty, I power walked my fine self up to the second floor. I didn’t run, because to run would insinuate I was some sort of coward making an escape. I didn’t slam my bedroom door shut either, calmly locking it instead.

Everything was fine.

I was okay.

And Jimmy Ferris could go f*ck himself.





CHAPTER TWELVE


My bedroom door handle started rattling just after five, waking me from my afternoon slumber. Three hours I’d been holed up in my room. A lesser mortal might have cried themselves to sleep, but I’d had a nap with a slight amount of tear duct drama attached to its beginning.

Whatever.

I was over letting Jimmy Ferris turn me inside out. It was time to start acting like a grown woman and put the nonsense behind me.

“Lena.” More rattling.

I raised my weary head off the pillow, rubbing at my sore eyes.

Some thumping. “Open the door.”

“Have you come to apologize?” I asked.

“What the f*ck do I have to apologize for?”

Slowly, I sat up. “Oh, I don’t know. Try being a hypocrite, yelling at me, and embarrassing me in front of other people for starters.”

A moment of silence. “Don’t be ridiculous, open the door.”

“No.”

“Open. The. Door.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow, Jimmy. Good night.” So I’d go to bed with no dinner. For once, my belly didn’t mind and my heart was too torn up to care.

At which point, Jimmy went off. “It’s my f*cking house and you work for me. It is not okay for you to be carrying on with him during business hours. Where the f*ck is the respect? You’re on my time then and you damn well know it. It’s absolute bullshit. You’re both completely out of line. I pay you, you’re my assistant, and he’s got the f*cking gall to try something with you behind my back in my house. He has no business touching you ever. I don’t want to see that shit happening again, he’s to stay away from you. The * didn’t even stand up for you, Lena. Did you notice that? I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking of having anything to do with the little dickhead.”

I gaped at the door. Clearly, the man had lost his ever-loving mind. He wasn’t making a single lick of sense, but he kept on keeping on. Apparently the fact that he’d set me up with Dean in the first place had been completely forgotten. Amazing. I had to tune out for the sake of my sanity. I crossed my legs and leaned back against the headboard, waiting him out.

*

Eventually, the silence was deafening on both sides of the door. I strained to hear something, anything.

Then the crashing began.

Boom!

The first bone-jarring noise made my whole body jump. Second time around wasn’t much better. My bedroom door smashed open and Jimmy strode on, seeming twice as tall as normal, putting most mountains to shame. Righteous indignation blazed in his eyes, red tinged his skin. Maybe I should have been afraid, but I was too busy being pissed.

“Did you just kick my door down?” I shrieked the obvious. “Are you out of your f*cking mind?”

“My door, yeah.” He marched on over to the bed, seeming ten foot tall. Then suddenly he stopped. “Have you been crying?”

”Nope. I’m all good. Thanks for asking. My door on the other hand, not so much!” I’m sure my most likely red-eyed, blotchy-skinned appearance told a different tale. But screw him. Such was the beauty of the ugly cry, its legacy lasted for hours no matter some beauty sleep. I probably looked like road-kill, slammed down by the semi-trailer that was rock ’n’ roll legend Jimmy Ferris.

He sat on the edge of my bed. His broad shoulders seemed to have fallen by half a foot at least. “You have, you’ve been f*cking crying. I don’t believe you.”

Give me strength, like it was some crime against him and I should be the one to apologize. “My eyes were allowed to do what they want, Jimmy. Nothing in the employment contract about that.”