Page 5 of Takeover

“Tara Taylor.” She sounds out of breath. I can hear her breathing hard on the other line as she waits for me to speak. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Taylor.” The breathing on the other line stops. She does not respond to my greeting.

“Ms. Taylor?” I say again, smiling for the first time today.

“Mr. Bradford.” I can feel the rage brewing just underneath the surface of her polite response. “What can I do for you?”

If only she knew what I wanted her to do for me. And to me. If she knew, she’d probably come to my office just to slap me. I put both feet on my desk and lean back in my chair. I can picture her now, and I bet she’s rolling her eyes.

“I want to take my son to the flagship store in Harlem on Saturday. I need the store opened an hour early for us to shop. There will be no other customers inside while we’re there. Your father told me you’d make the arrangements. You can email all the information to my personal assistant by the end of business today.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the call was dropped. She doesn’t respond for almost a full minute. Despite having a meeting in ten minutes that I need to prepare for, I wait, grateful that she can’t see the wide smile on my face as I imagine the outrage on hers.

“The store opens at eight, Mr. Bradford,” she finally says. From the sound of it, I know the words were through her clenched teeth.

“I’m aware, Ms. Taylor, but you will arrange to have it opened an hour earlier for me and my son.” And because I never ask anyone for permission, I don’t bother to say please.

“No.”

“Excuse me?” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I plant my feet back on the ground and stand up, no longer amused by this conversation.

“No. The store opens at eight. If you and your son want to shop, you will have to do so with the masses. You are not too good to shop among us common folks, Mr. Bradford. You don’t take over until the first of the year, and as such, I deny your request.”

“It wasn’t a request,” I remind her.

“Whatever it was, the answer is no!”

“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re—” The dial tone in my ear tells me the little brat hung up on me.

I have half a mind to show up there and cause a huge scene, but I don’t have the time. I have meetings, and if I’m going to take the last two weeks of the year off so my son and I can go visit my sister in London, I don’t have time to play around with Little Miss Spoiled Brat. But I do have time to make one more phone call.

5

“Girl, your daddy is fit to be tied. I don’t know what you said to that fine as fuck Mr. Bradford, but your daddy just finished apologizing on your behalf. Again. And he just stormed out of his office. If I were you, I’d hide.” Bernice hangs up before I can ask her a single question about what she heard.

I can’t believe that asshole went and snitched on me to my daddy. I’d laugh if I wasn’t dreading my father’s reaction. I don’t have much time to think about it because my door bursts open.

“Hi, Daddy,” I say, a smile on my face.

“That won’t work, Tara Marie!” He steps inside my office and slams the door. “I didn’t realize I raised such a shortsighted individual or one who could be so unprofessional at our family business.” I open my mouth to defend myself, but he holds a hand up, silencing me. Dad is hardly ever angry with me. Hell, he’s hardly ever angry at all. He wasn’t even angry when my mother walked out on us, leaving him with an eleven-year-old girl, and nine-year-old twins. Even now, he’s friendly with my mother, but he’s been upset with me twice in two weeks all because of that asshole.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he says after I open my mouth to speak. “You’ve said enough. I know you’re upset about Michael, but that is no reason to behave with this level of unprofessionalism. Anyone else would be fired.” He leans over my desk and says, “You will arrange to have the store open for him and his son on Saturday, and you will be there to personally escort them. You will do so happily, and you better damn well have a smile on your face the entire time. Do. You. Understand?”

By the time he’s done, he has both hands on my desk and his dark brown eyes are looking directly at me. I shrink under his gaze, embarrassed at my lack of self-control when it comes to Ethan Bradford.

“Yes, Dad. I’m sorry.” Unable to take the look of disappointment any longer, I break our gaze and look down at my desk.

“You can apologize to Ethan in person on Saturday. Until then, I don’t want to see you.” He walks out of my office, slamming the door behind him and leaving me feeling about two feet tall.

Me: He runs a billion-dollar conglomerate, and he goes to our father because I was mean to him. Who does that? Jerk!

Vickie: SMH. Total jerk.

Alan: Are you two serious? I get girl power or whatever, but…

Me:But what?

Alan: You were out of line.

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