The Beau & the Belle
Page 45
“He showed up unannounced. He told me you bought the house across the street from my parents. I saw it had sold and was wondering if you’d finally purchased it. That’s amazing.”
His eyes narrow. “Preston took a trip to see you to talk about real estate?”
“Well…he sort of twisted it, like you were buying it as some kind of social climber master plan. Obviously, I know that’s not true.”
He sneers, disgusted. “No, it’s not. I bought the house for my mom. It’s her dream to live there, not mine.”
I’ve never heard him sound so clipped.
I’m stunned, and feel even worse than I did before.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. It’s no one’s business.”
He shakes his head, still confused.
“What else did he have to say?”
He wants me to twist the knife.
I look down at my feet. “I guess he kinda warned me to stay away from you?” I cringe at how it sounds. “He thinks you’re using me for my name and claimed the house is proof.” My words are rushed, as if that will help lessen the blow. “I wanted to tell him he was crazy, that he was being ridiculous, but we were alone and he was scaring me!”
It sounds so silly, even now, but there it is—the truth, all of it—but Beau doesn’t take it well. His fingers drag through his hair and he shakes his head. Maybe he thinks I’m actually going to listen to Preston, so I step forward and catch his arm with my hand, trying to turn him around to face me.
“I don’t believe him—you know that.”
“I don’t care. He’s still interested in you.”
I want to lie so badly, but I can’t. I’ve seen how mad he gets and I won’t do it again, even if it is for his own good. So, I nod, just once.
“And how many times have I told you to stay away from him? To cut him off? By my count, I started 10 years ago!”
“I know, and—”
“The funniest thing is that he’s so obviously guilty of what he’s accusing me of. He never wanted you for you,” he sneers.
“I know. It’s all so ridiculous, Beau! Don’t let him get to you.”
“You lied to protect him.”
What?!
“No! I was trying to salvage the evening.” I throw my hands up. “A lot of good that did!”
“This isn’t my fault, Lauren. The evening went to shit the second you lied to me for him.”
How is he turning this around on me? I made one tiny error in judgment. I lied, sure—Preston wasn’t at NOLA to look at the place—but who wouldn’t have done the same to keep the peace?
“What did you want me to do?! You and Preston have been at each other’s throats for weeks. Do you think it would have been smart for me to just lay it all out right then? Oh, yes, hi Beau. Preston was just talking mad shit about you. I thought you should know. Maybe then I could have pranced around with a sign that read ROUND ONE and let y’all destroy my gallery!”
He frowns harder.
“Preston put me in a shitty position showing up like that, and you’re putting me in one now. Be better than him.”
My words ring through the air as if I’ve just slapped him across the face.
Our eyes lock, and for a minute, I think he’s going to react. All bets will be off. This anger will morph into lust and we’ll be bumping into walls and clawing at one another. Teeth will bite and clothes will rip and maybe all this anger isn’t really about Preston at all—but I’ll never know, because Beau doesn’t touch me.
He steps back and shakes his head.
“Go home.”
WHEN I WALKED into NOLA and found Lauren and Preston standing a foot away from each other, I let my temper get the better of me. Lauren turned to me in shock and the first words out of her mouth were false. I overreacted. I spent the next few hours working myself up, wondering why her first instinct would be to lie to me. I contemplated the fact that she and Preston have a history together. She loved him once. As a teenager, she couldn’t get enough of him, and I convinced myself that there might still be feelings there. The thing is, there are—on his end.
I’ve never been one to let problems fester, so the morning after House of Blues, I pay Preston a visit at work. I have no idea if he’ll be in today, but I didn’t want to call ahead. I want to catch him off guard just like he caught me off guard yesterday. I want to skip the conversation altogether. I want to drag him outside and resort to violence. He’s all smiles and good to see you mans to my face then poisons Lauren’s mind against me behind my back? It’s time for him to face the harsh fucking light of day.
Preston doesn’t have a private office yet. He’s an associate with the company and he’s been relegated to a small cubicle on the first floor in front of the interior design department. I’m directed back there by the petite gray-haired office manager, who smiles at me kindly. She’s heard of me, of some of the work I’ve done around town. She read the feature the Times-Picayune did on me a few weeks ago, and she’s impressed that I’m here now.
“Are you thinking of working with us on a project?” she asks excitedly, handing me a business card.
“Not at present.” I shake my head and tell her I’m here on personal business.
I told her Preston was expecting me when I first arrived, said it would be no big deal if I waited for him at his desk. I used the term “old friends”, because it’s almost true.
“Can I get you a water or anything?” she says, smiling wide. “Preston’s project meeting won’t wrap up for another 10 minutes or so.”
“I’m all set. Thank you for your help.”
When I’m left alone in Preston’s cubicle, I stand back and survey his space. It’s a mess, stained coffee mugs and fast food breakfast wrappers. His office phone is covered in a crusty grime. My attention snags on a photo of him and Lauren on a bulletin board behind his computer. She’s one of many: Preston with a blonde, a redhead, two brunettes. He has the photos pinned up as if to say, Look at all these friends—cough, hot women—I know. There are tacky details added to a few. Someone’s slapped on a sticky note with a penis. Crude words. I reach forward and yank the photo of Lauren off the board.
An older, mustached man passes by and observes me over the brim of his coffee cup. He sees the photo in my hand, looks away, and keeps walking. I wonder if Preston has anyone here other than security willing to stick up for him. I’d be surprised if he did. I take a seat on the edge of the desk and wait for him. The meeting wraps up quicker than anticipated. Employees filter out of a conference room and I watch Preston cross the floor with his attention on his phone. He’s tapping away with a smug smile on his face.
He doesn’t see me until he’s only feet away. He glances up, back down at his phone, and then does a double take.
I smile and stay sitting on the desk.
He picks up his pace, scanning around him to make sure no one else has seen me.
“Morning Preston. I thought we should talk.”
“You have the balls to come in here?” He lowers his voice so it doesn’t carry over to other cubicles. “This is my place of business.”
“Kinda catches you off guard, huh? Having someone show up unannounced at the place where you work,” I say, lowering my voice sarcastically. “Between you and me, it’s a bit of a dick move.”
He tosses his phone onto his desk, notices the missing picture of Lauren, and then I point to the shreds in the trash.
His face turns red. “Okay tough guy, say what you need to and then get the fuck out of my office.”
I tilt my head. “Does this count as an office? Maybe you’d prefer somewhere with walls.”
His cubicle-mate clears her throat, stands, and meets my eyes over the short partition. The tiny smile she tries to suppress before scurrying away with her coffee cup makes it clear she’s on my side. I wonder how bad it is having to work this close to such a prick.
“I’m happy to take this somewhere else,” he says with false, hushed bravado.
I stand and approach him. He steps back and glances over my shoulder. There are people watching us, no doubt. He’s embarrassed about this display, and maybe later, he’ll have to go into Mr. LeBlanc’s office with an HR representative and discuss what exactly went down. He’ll be a weasel and put the blame on me, but Mr. LeBlanc is a smart man and knows Preston’s true colors. I’m not worried.
His eyes narrow. “Preston took a trip to see you to talk about real estate?”
“Well…he sort of twisted it, like you were buying it as some kind of social climber master plan. Obviously, I know that’s not true.”
He sneers, disgusted. “No, it’s not. I bought the house for my mom. It’s her dream to live there, not mine.”
I’ve never heard him sound so clipped.
I’m stunned, and feel even worse than I did before.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. It’s no one’s business.”
He shakes his head, still confused.
“What else did he have to say?”
He wants me to twist the knife.
I look down at my feet. “I guess he kinda warned me to stay away from you?” I cringe at how it sounds. “He thinks you’re using me for my name and claimed the house is proof.” My words are rushed, as if that will help lessen the blow. “I wanted to tell him he was crazy, that he was being ridiculous, but we were alone and he was scaring me!”
It sounds so silly, even now, but there it is—the truth, all of it—but Beau doesn’t take it well. His fingers drag through his hair and he shakes his head. Maybe he thinks I’m actually going to listen to Preston, so I step forward and catch his arm with my hand, trying to turn him around to face me.
“I don’t believe him—you know that.”
“I don’t care. He’s still interested in you.”
I want to lie so badly, but I can’t. I’ve seen how mad he gets and I won’t do it again, even if it is for his own good. So, I nod, just once.
“And how many times have I told you to stay away from him? To cut him off? By my count, I started 10 years ago!”
“I know, and—”
“The funniest thing is that he’s so obviously guilty of what he’s accusing me of. He never wanted you for you,” he sneers.
“I know. It’s all so ridiculous, Beau! Don’t let him get to you.”
“You lied to protect him.”
What?!
“No! I was trying to salvage the evening.” I throw my hands up. “A lot of good that did!”
“This isn’t my fault, Lauren. The evening went to shit the second you lied to me for him.”
How is he turning this around on me? I made one tiny error in judgment. I lied, sure—Preston wasn’t at NOLA to look at the place—but who wouldn’t have done the same to keep the peace?
“What did you want me to do?! You and Preston have been at each other’s throats for weeks. Do you think it would have been smart for me to just lay it all out right then? Oh, yes, hi Beau. Preston was just talking mad shit about you. I thought you should know. Maybe then I could have pranced around with a sign that read ROUND ONE and let y’all destroy my gallery!”
He frowns harder.
“Preston put me in a shitty position showing up like that, and you’re putting me in one now. Be better than him.”
My words ring through the air as if I’ve just slapped him across the face.
Our eyes lock, and for a minute, I think he’s going to react. All bets will be off. This anger will morph into lust and we’ll be bumping into walls and clawing at one another. Teeth will bite and clothes will rip and maybe all this anger isn’t really about Preston at all—but I’ll never know, because Beau doesn’t touch me.
He steps back and shakes his head.
“Go home.”
WHEN I WALKED into NOLA and found Lauren and Preston standing a foot away from each other, I let my temper get the better of me. Lauren turned to me in shock and the first words out of her mouth were false. I overreacted. I spent the next few hours working myself up, wondering why her first instinct would be to lie to me. I contemplated the fact that she and Preston have a history together. She loved him once. As a teenager, she couldn’t get enough of him, and I convinced myself that there might still be feelings there. The thing is, there are—on his end.
I’ve never been one to let problems fester, so the morning after House of Blues, I pay Preston a visit at work. I have no idea if he’ll be in today, but I didn’t want to call ahead. I want to catch him off guard just like he caught me off guard yesterday. I want to skip the conversation altogether. I want to drag him outside and resort to violence. He’s all smiles and good to see you mans to my face then poisons Lauren’s mind against me behind my back? It’s time for him to face the harsh fucking light of day.
Preston doesn’t have a private office yet. He’s an associate with the company and he’s been relegated to a small cubicle on the first floor in front of the interior design department. I’m directed back there by the petite gray-haired office manager, who smiles at me kindly. She’s heard of me, of some of the work I’ve done around town. She read the feature the Times-Picayune did on me a few weeks ago, and she’s impressed that I’m here now.
“Are you thinking of working with us on a project?” she asks excitedly, handing me a business card.
“Not at present.” I shake my head and tell her I’m here on personal business.
I told her Preston was expecting me when I first arrived, said it would be no big deal if I waited for him at his desk. I used the term “old friends”, because it’s almost true.
“Can I get you a water or anything?” she says, smiling wide. “Preston’s project meeting won’t wrap up for another 10 minutes or so.”
“I’m all set. Thank you for your help.”
When I’m left alone in Preston’s cubicle, I stand back and survey his space. It’s a mess, stained coffee mugs and fast food breakfast wrappers. His office phone is covered in a crusty grime. My attention snags on a photo of him and Lauren on a bulletin board behind his computer. She’s one of many: Preston with a blonde, a redhead, two brunettes. He has the photos pinned up as if to say, Look at all these friends—cough, hot women—I know. There are tacky details added to a few. Someone’s slapped on a sticky note with a penis. Crude words. I reach forward and yank the photo of Lauren off the board.
An older, mustached man passes by and observes me over the brim of his coffee cup. He sees the photo in my hand, looks away, and keeps walking. I wonder if Preston has anyone here other than security willing to stick up for him. I’d be surprised if he did. I take a seat on the edge of the desk and wait for him. The meeting wraps up quicker than anticipated. Employees filter out of a conference room and I watch Preston cross the floor with his attention on his phone. He’s tapping away with a smug smile on his face.
He doesn’t see me until he’s only feet away. He glances up, back down at his phone, and then does a double take.
I smile and stay sitting on the desk.
He picks up his pace, scanning around him to make sure no one else has seen me.
“Morning Preston. I thought we should talk.”
“You have the balls to come in here?” He lowers his voice so it doesn’t carry over to other cubicles. “This is my place of business.”
“Kinda catches you off guard, huh? Having someone show up unannounced at the place where you work,” I say, lowering my voice sarcastically. “Between you and me, it’s a bit of a dick move.”
He tosses his phone onto his desk, notices the missing picture of Lauren, and then I point to the shreds in the trash.
His face turns red. “Okay tough guy, say what you need to and then get the fuck out of my office.”
I tilt my head. “Does this count as an office? Maybe you’d prefer somewhere with walls.”
His cubicle-mate clears her throat, stands, and meets my eyes over the short partition. The tiny smile she tries to suppress before scurrying away with her coffee cup makes it clear she’s on my side. I wonder how bad it is having to work this close to such a prick.
“I’m happy to take this somewhere else,” he says with false, hushed bravado.
I stand and approach him. He steps back and glances over my shoulder. There are people watching us, no doubt. He’s embarrassed about this display, and maybe later, he’ll have to go into Mr. LeBlanc’s office with an HR representative and discuss what exactly went down. He’ll be a weasel and put the blame on me, but Mr. LeBlanc is a smart man and knows Preston’s true colors. I’m not worried.
