Dating You / Hating You
Page 64
Taking his hand, I pull him toward my car. “Let’s go to the office and figure this out.”
It’s nearly eight by the time we get to the fifth floor, but all the lights are on, and I can hear Brad’s voice barking from his office all the way down by the elevator bank.
Carter blanches, glancing at me before heading straight down there.
I follow, and although I’m only a few steps behind him, I stay in the hall. I have no role in this crisis but to be Carter’s support and his colleague, making whatever damage control calls he needs.
Brad’s voice is a terrifying thunder. “What the fuck is this, Aaron? What the fuck is going on? Have you seen this fucking Variety article?”
“I spoke to Dave,” Carter says, managing to sound calm. “This wasn’t me. This wasn’t us. This was an outside leak.”
“The fuck it was!” Brad yells. “You pissed all over this article. You wrote your fucking name in loopy fucking letters all over this love note to Variety. P&D is barely fucking mentioned here. Do you work here? Are you in my department?”
“Of course, Brad.”
“Well, not according to this, you’re not! We get a line at the bottom. No one fucking reads the last line!”
Carter wisely doesn’t point out that everyone at Lorimac will read the last line.
“I’m supposed to meet my wife tonight at an event where she’s getting an award,” Brad yells, “but instead I’m here—trying to make sense of this fuckup. Jesus, Carter, this is a huge shit storm.”
I know I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I step in, feeling my heart grow into a solid ball of pissed-off. “It wasn’t Carter, Brad. I’ve been with him since he came back from his lunch with Dan.”
“ ‘Lunch with Dan’?” Brad says, turning back to Carter. “So he did sign?”
“Legal is still writing up the contracts,” Carter says, trying to calm Brad down. “Brad, it’s Tuesday. He confirmed over the phone three days ago. He did a verbal and a handshake today. I know better than to run to Variety—or anyone—with a handshake . . .”
Carter’s voice trails off, because Brad isn’t listening to him anymore. He’s staring at me, and with a cold rush down my body, I realize why.
My heart, my lungs, my stomach are packed into a tight ball of fury.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, struggling to stay calm.
“I told you this today,” he says through gritted teeth. “I told you about Dan Printz today, Abbey, and this is what you do? You’re so jealous you gotta go screw Dave, Dan, Carter, and P&D in one blow?”
Carter takes a step back like he’s been punched. I am shaking. At my side, my hand forms a fist, and I have to consciously unclench it or else I know it will be flying toward Brad.
“Brad, there is no way—” Carter starts.
“You need to take a deep breath, Brad,” I interrupt, anger making my voice nearly inaudible. “It wasn’t Carter, and it wasn’t me.”
He lifts his chin in a fuck you gesture and scoffs. “This is low, even for you.”
What the hell does that mean?
I turn, walking on shaking legs to the door. “You’re out of your damn mind, Brad. Go home. Sleep it off. I’ll accept your apology in the morning.”
Chapter twenty-four
Carter
After leaving Brad’s office, Evie walked calmly back to her own, disappeared inside for a moment, and then slammed the door so hard the pictures in the hallway rattled against the walls.
I knock on her door and peek in. Her head is down, but she looks up at my entrance, cheeks tear-streaked. “This is bullshit, Carter.”
Stepping in, I close the door behind me. “Of course it is. It’s unconscionable.”
She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You have your own mess to clean up,” she says, voice nasal from crying. “I just need to get my shit together so I can walk out of here and go home.”
I always thought Evie and I were two complementary halves of a whole, different strengths, a perfect team. But now I realize that in most ways, we’re the same. Of course she doesn’t want to lick her wounds with witnesses around.
“Call me later?” I say.
She nods, wiping her face. “And tell me if you need me to do anything. I’ll get over this crying shit in a minute and be back in action.”
I kiss her clammy cheek. “I know you will.”
On my way home, I make some calls. Dan doesn’t answer his phone, Caleb either. I text Evie my address, then I pace, and pace, and pace until the doorman sends her up. Stepping out into the hall, I find her loaded up with bags of takeout.
“I have no idea why I brought food,” she says, and hands me a bag of what smells like Indian. She inhales deeply. “That’s not true. I’m going to eat it all.”
I set it on the table and pull her to me, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Feeling better?”
She sinks into me, her cheek pressed to my chest and arms wrapped around my waist. “I feel gross. You?”
“Waiting to hear back from Dan or Caleb.” I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Brad?” I ask. “Eat our feelings? Watch a movie? Fuck like teenagers who don’t have to worry about things like jobs or food or rent?”
She looks up at me with a smile, the first one I’ve seen since the Variety article went live. “My default answer is always going to be food, but now that I’m having sex with someone besides myself, I might have to reorganize my priorities.”
I take her hand and lead us both to the kitchen. “How about if we talk a little first, and then we can eat while we have sex?”
“If we could have the TV on at the same time I might never leave this apartment.” She eyes me while I get down a couple of plates. “Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of hunkered-in-for-sex commitment?”
Evie dishes up our food and I grab two beers from the fridge. I remember she doesn’t love beer, and grab her a glass for water instead.
“I’ve never been to your place before.” She looks around. “It’s a lot cleaner than your office.”
“I think outside of Michael Christopher and Steph, you might be the only person who’s been here.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Let’s just say that up until recently my social life was decidedly less active.”
She takes a deep breath and smiles, like it was exactly what she needed to hear. “Well, I like it.”
“I have my own parking spot. Oh, and granite countertops.” I rap my knuckle on the surface in front of me. “Stainless steel appliances, one bedroom, recently updated floors, and a six-setting showerhead in the modern-yet-sizable bathroom. I tell you all this not to brag, but as a warning that you may have to take over my lease if I lose my job.”
Evie frowns, pushing her food around on her plate. “I don’t think you’re the one who needs to worry. Brad is having a hard time letting Field Day go.”
“I gathered that,” I say simply. “It just seems so . . .”
“Petty?” she finishes for me.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like P&D lost money. Obviously we made our commission. So why is Brad so obsessed with it? That’s what I don’t get.”
It’s nearly eight by the time we get to the fifth floor, but all the lights are on, and I can hear Brad’s voice barking from his office all the way down by the elevator bank.
Carter blanches, glancing at me before heading straight down there.
I follow, and although I’m only a few steps behind him, I stay in the hall. I have no role in this crisis but to be Carter’s support and his colleague, making whatever damage control calls he needs.
Brad’s voice is a terrifying thunder. “What the fuck is this, Aaron? What the fuck is going on? Have you seen this fucking Variety article?”
“I spoke to Dave,” Carter says, managing to sound calm. “This wasn’t me. This wasn’t us. This was an outside leak.”
“The fuck it was!” Brad yells. “You pissed all over this article. You wrote your fucking name in loopy fucking letters all over this love note to Variety. P&D is barely fucking mentioned here. Do you work here? Are you in my department?”
“Of course, Brad.”
“Well, not according to this, you’re not! We get a line at the bottom. No one fucking reads the last line!”
Carter wisely doesn’t point out that everyone at Lorimac will read the last line.
“I’m supposed to meet my wife tonight at an event where she’s getting an award,” Brad yells, “but instead I’m here—trying to make sense of this fuckup. Jesus, Carter, this is a huge shit storm.”
I know I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I step in, feeling my heart grow into a solid ball of pissed-off. “It wasn’t Carter, Brad. I’ve been with him since he came back from his lunch with Dan.”
“ ‘Lunch with Dan’?” Brad says, turning back to Carter. “So he did sign?”
“Legal is still writing up the contracts,” Carter says, trying to calm Brad down. “Brad, it’s Tuesday. He confirmed over the phone three days ago. He did a verbal and a handshake today. I know better than to run to Variety—or anyone—with a handshake . . .”
Carter’s voice trails off, because Brad isn’t listening to him anymore. He’s staring at me, and with a cold rush down my body, I realize why.
My heart, my lungs, my stomach are packed into a tight ball of fury.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, struggling to stay calm.
“I told you this today,” he says through gritted teeth. “I told you about Dan Printz today, Abbey, and this is what you do? You’re so jealous you gotta go screw Dave, Dan, Carter, and P&D in one blow?”
Carter takes a step back like he’s been punched. I am shaking. At my side, my hand forms a fist, and I have to consciously unclench it or else I know it will be flying toward Brad.
“Brad, there is no way—” Carter starts.
“You need to take a deep breath, Brad,” I interrupt, anger making my voice nearly inaudible. “It wasn’t Carter, and it wasn’t me.”
He lifts his chin in a fuck you gesture and scoffs. “This is low, even for you.”
What the hell does that mean?
I turn, walking on shaking legs to the door. “You’re out of your damn mind, Brad. Go home. Sleep it off. I’ll accept your apology in the morning.”
Chapter twenty-four
Carter
After leaving Brad’s office, Evie walked calmly back to her own, disappeared inside for a moment, and then slammed the door so hard the pictures in the hallway rattled against the walls.
I knock on her door and peek in. Her head is down, but she looks up at my entrance, cheeks tear-streaked. “This is bullshit, Carter.”
Stepping in, I close the door behind me. “Of course it is. It’s unconscionable.”
She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You have your own mess to clean up,” she says, voice nasal from crying. “I just need to get my shit together so I can walk out of here and go home.”
I always thought Evie and I were two complementary halves of a whole, different strengths, a perfect team. But now I realize that in most ways, we’re the same. Of course she doesn’t want to lick her wounds with witnesses around.
“Call me later?” I say.
She nods, wiping her face. “And tell me if you need me to do anything. I’ll get over this crying shit in a minute and be back in action.”
I kiss her clammy cheek. “I know you will.”
On my way home, I make some calls. Dan doesn’t answer his phone, Caleb either. I text Evie my address, then I pace, and pace, and pace until the doorman sends her up. Stepping out into the hall, I find her loaded up with bags of takeout.
“I have no idea why I brought food,” she says, and hands me a bag of what smells like Indian. She inhales deeply. “That’s not true. I’m going to eat it all.”
I set it on the table and pull her to me, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Feeling better?”
She sinks into me, her cheek pressed to my chest and arms wrapped around my waist. “I feel gross. You?”
“Waiting to hear back from Dan or Caleb.” I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Brad?” I ask. “Eat our feelings? Watch a movie? Fuck like teenagers who don’t have to worry about things like jobs or food or rent?”
She looks up at me with a smile, the first one I’ve seen since the Variety article went live. “My default answer is always going to be food, but now that I’m having sex with someone besides myself, I might have to reorganize my priorities.”
I take her hand and lead us both to the kitchen. “How about if we talk a little first, and then we can eat while we have sex?”
“If we could have the TV on at the same time I might never leave this apartment.” She eyes me while I get down a couple of plates. “Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of hunkered-in-for-sex commitment?”
Evie dishes up our food and I grab two beers from the fridge. I remember she doesn’t love beer, and grab her a glass for water instead.
“I’ve never been to your place before.” She looks around. “It’s a lot cleaner than your office.”
“I think outside of Michael Christopher and Steph, you might be the only person who’s been here.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Let’s just say that up until recently my social life was decidedly less active.”
She takes a deep breath and smiles, like it was exactly what she needed to hear. “Well, I like it.”
“I have my own parking spot. Oh, and granite countertops.” I rap my knuckle on the surface in front of me. “Stainless steel appliances, one bedroom, recently updated floors, and a six-setting showerhead in the modern-yet-sizable bathroom. I tell you all this not to brag, but as a warning that you may have to take over my lease if I lose my job.”
Evie frowns, pushing her food around on her plate. “I don’t think you’re the one who needs to worry. Brad is having a hard time letting Field Day go.”
“I gathered that,” I say simply. “It just seems so . . .”
“Petty?” she finishes for me.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like P&D lost money. Obviously we made our commission. So why is Brad so obsessed with it? That’s what I don’t get.”
