Manwhore +1 (Manwhore, #2)(45)
“You, woman, are in debt to me,” he declares, and hangs up.
He comes out, grumbling as he gets into his car and pulls it out of the garage, and I park with care—triple-checking all my mirrors. Then do the same when I open the car doors and slide outside.
Valentine comes running back into the parking garage. He gapes. “WHA—!” He cuts himself off with a breath.
“I didn’t mean to bring this,” I promise, lifting my hands when he levels accusing eyes at me. “Otis is sick, I planned to take a cab to my interview, he said, ‘Here.’ And when I left he said, ‘Drive it like you stole it—but don’t get caught.’ I’m nervous driving it. If someone scratches it I’ll die.”
“What—I cannot—” He’s shaking his head and having a combustion. “Dude, it’s a f*cking BUGATTI! It’s worth like two-point-three million dollars!”
“Hush, it’s hard enough to drive it carefully without knowing that. It’s responsive and energetic. You touch the pedal and the bastard just goes.”
“?’Cause it’s a V-sixteen engine and like twelve hundred horsepower. You . . . Bugattis shouldn’t even be driven by women, dude, this is rude!”
“Bug off, you’re gay, Val, you’re like half woman.”
“Holy shit, let’s see it inside!”
My excitement from holding Malcolm Saint’s key in my hand comes back when I let Valentine open the car and peer inside. “Dude, holy shit! This sends a message—he’s so *-whipped, man. Did people see you take this out?”
My lips curl. “A tiger doesn’t lose sleep over the opinion of sheep. He doesn’t care what people think.”
Valentine drools and moans and rubs it for a while. Then, “Where did you interview?”
“Bluekin.” My face crumples a little as I lock Malcolm’s baby and we head to the elevators. “I can’t stay here, Valentine. Saint’s father is taking over, and my loyalty is elsewhere now.”
“I know, Rache, I can’t sleep, I tell you. I don’t even know what I’m going to do either, but I should probably start looking too. Everyone says Noel Saint’s a f*cking *. The only one who can take him on is his son and they say Saint is done with him—rightly so. A man’s got to move forward, not stay with those who want to bring him to the pits.”
Completely unlike Valentine, he suddenly looks crestfallen. He sighs. “When new owners take over it’s like everyone will be canned, they like to start fresh, bring in their new blood, take care of any little mafias inside, purge it all. If you hear of anything where you’re going . . .”
“I will,” I promise as we hit our floor. “Good luck, Valentine.”
In the newsroom—well, let’s just say it’s not called newsroom for nothing. It seems the little white Bug in the parking garage caused quite a stir.
Helen summons me to her office a few hours after I start jotting down my new piece, which I think will be called “What does your car say about him and/or you?”
“I’m kind of jealous of your position right now,” Helen tells me when I walk in.
“What?”
“You look radiant. Look at you! Everyone is talking about you and your Saint. His car downstairs. I’m becoming a bit of a Saint fan.”
“Because we’re being bought by the dad?”
She zips her mouth. She grins. “Tell me all the rumors are true. The three S’s.”
“What?”
“Size, stamina, and seduction.”
“Who said that?” I roll my eyes. “Stop talking about him.”
“Sex symbols are objectified.”
“Off-limits to discuss here from now on, Helen. That piece should be enough. Permission to go work now?”
She waves me off with a chuckle, then calls, “Rachel . . .”
“Yes?”
“Is it true? You’re looking?”
I realize she was joking with me, acting my friend and teasing, because she wants to know.
I look at her, suddenly feeling a like a complete deserter because I’m leaving Edge. Like those rats who instantly jump and leave the sinking ship, rather than staying there and manning it. But I’m so determined to work things out with Malcolm and staying here under his father’s thumb wouldn’t help my cause in the least.
“I won’t work for Malcolm’s father,” I say.
“Does your boyfriend know?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just . . .” I inhale. “Edge won’t be hurting my relationship this time around. I love it here but . . . my relationship with him now comes first. I really want to make it work, Helen. In my gut it just feels so right, if I let him go without a fight I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Her eyes soften, then she shakes her head as if angry at herself. “Enough about this speculating! Get to work.” She snaps her fingers. “But Rachel . . . I don’t think the owners are going to let you go that easy. Noel Saint wants you at Edge.”
“Well, then that’s even more of a reason to leave. He can go BLEEP himself for all I care.”
I go back to my desk and then text, People are dying at the office over my ride