Page 29 of Boss Me

“Today’s special. Banana daiquiri. Virgin.” They perched a tiny blue umbrella on top of it and winked at him.

“I asked for whiskey.” His voice had taken on a gravelly rumble.

I nodded at the bartender, and they scurried to the other side of the bar. I set my hand on the sleeve of Cooper’s sweater where it covered his forearm. “I need you sober. We need to talk.”

He stood. “I don’t want a goddamned virgin daiquiri, and I don’t want to talk.” A man in a straw fedora at the nearest table glanced up at Cooper’s raised tone. “I want to talk to Luis,” he called to the bartender.

They stayed where they were, twisting their finger in the knot of their tank. “Luis isn’t scheduled until four.”

Cooper glared at his Rolex, spun on his toe, and strode out of the bar and onto the shell path.

With one last, longing look at the jaunty blue umbrella, I jogged to catch up.

“I guess I can check cardio off my list,” I said when I reached his side.

Cooper grunted and continued at the same ground-eating speed. It was okay. I was used to his pace at the office. And unlike him, I had the proper footwear for speed-walking on an uneven surface.

I hesitated for only a moment. I’d rather not start the conversation out in the open, where anyone could hear us, but I needed to get his attention before he tried to shut me out again. “So, what’s up with selling your stock?”

He stared straight ahead. “You read the compliance disclosures?”

“I didn’t have much else to do when you disappeared.”

He glanced at me, his thick eyebrows furrowed. “You were supposed to take time off. Did Jackson send you here?”

“No!” I bit my lip to keep from telling him I’d come because I was worried about him. I was pretty sure he could still fire me even when we weren’t in the Synergy building.

He spoke through his clenched jaw. “Company executives buy and sell stock all the time. Weston sold some last year when he got divorced.”

“But not you.” And not Jackson, I didn’t say. I couldn’t stand to see that look again.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Is there”—suck it up, Ben—“is the company in trouble?”

He frowned. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just that…my old bosses did that. Sold off stock just before the company cratered.”

He scowled. “I hope the SEC put them in prison. No, it’s nothing like that.” His house—more a compound, really—was in sight. Instead of going straight toward the back gate, he veered left toward the path to the front door.

“Then what is it?” I ran a few steps to match his accelerated pace. “Something to do with the—”

Cooper bounded up the steps to his front porch. “Just doing a little simplifying. Cutting things out of my life I don’t need. Good-bye, Ben. Go home.”

And for the second time in less than an hour, he slammed the door in my face.

I didn’t have a key to his house, so I pounded on the door for a few minutes. He didn’t respond. I circled the house to the gate and peered through. He wasn’t on the back deck.

I hadn’t had a chance to ask him about Weston’s cuts. And I couldn’t go home until I’d asked him about what I’d heard.

It was a good thing I’d already decided to stay an extra night. Too bad I wouldn’t be getting that umbrella drink.

12

COOPER

A chime startled me from a nightmare.

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