Page 45 of Just The Way You Aren't

“My reputation is fine. I have it all handled. We’re in the middle of negotiations, as you all know. You want to change up the person who’s dealing with them when it’s going so well?” I ask incredulously.

His expression sours and his minions cower a bit. “We were simply thinking about?—”

“You weren’t thinking, Alfred. And I, for one, am tired of these ‘emergency’ meetings over problems that don’t exist anywhere but in your opportunistic mind.”

Gladys sniffs. “You assured us that negotiations were going poorly. Is that not the case?”

Alfred flinches. “I didn’t exactly say?—”

Another board member, Bartholomew Rush, stands and slams his hands down on the table. “Damn it to hell, Alfred, we all know there’s no affection between you and Damien, but don’t you start wasting our time because of it. Unless there’s a real crisis, I’m not coming back here again!”

Alfred splutters. “He’s not fit! He’s going to blow the whole thing.” He waves his hand in my direction. “Just look at his attitude with all of us!”

Bartholomew looks at me. “Are you going to blow it?”

I unclench my jaw. “No.”

“See that you don’t. Or I will vote you out. I think I can speak for everyone else here as well,” Bartholomew warns. “There, Alfred. Now it’s all taken care of. Let’s go.”

The board rises together and follows Bartholomew out.

I notice Alfred’s case is stuck under the table again. “Hey, Alfred?”

His head comes up, knocking the bottom of the table as it had before. “Ouch!” he hisses, as his combover slips out of its meticulously plastered place on top of his balding head.

I lean down and mock whisper, “You might want to add a little more Brylcreem to that dead thing on your head.” Then I turn on my heel and walk out as well.

In the hall, Rhonda greets me with my iPad. “This thing keeps chirping. If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to throw it out the window soon.”

“Thank you, Rhonda,” I reply, taking it from her before she can murder it. I unlock the screen and see there’s a FaceTime request coming through from Steven Walt, the CEO of Guardian Productions.

So much for texting Willow.

I sigh and go back into my office, answering the call. “Steven, I’m sorry, I was in a board meeting. What can I do for you?”

“That’s fine. I knew I’d be interrupting something. Never enough hours in the day, right?” Steven chuckles.

“Tell me about it. All right, how can I help you today?” I repeat with as much cheerfulness as I can muster. I wished I could channel Willow’s sunny disposition.

“Well, about the San Diego facility…” he begins.

This leads to a three-hour conversation about studio plans. By the end of it, I’m ready to tear my hair out. But I leave him happy and, looking at the clock, I see I still have enough time to get to Silver Hearts for my meeting with Willow. Hell, I’ll even be early.

“No calls,” I tell Rhonda sternly. “No board meetings. Ifthey try to meet again, I want you to set off a stink bomb in the boardroom.”

“Can do, Damien,” she replies. “Have a nice time at Silver Hearts. Really. I like how going there makes you smile. You need more of that.”

I blink at her. “Smile?”

She winks at me. “Yes. But don’t keep her waiting. Go, go!”

A bit thrown by Rhonda’s observations, I nevertheless rush down to my Mercedes and tear out of the building’s parking lot. I’m not even murderously angry at traffic as I weave through the busy Washington Heights streets. It doesn’t seem as bad as usual, as though the universe itself is trying to get me to Willow.

Abby greets me at the door. “Hey, I was just leaving. Good to see you, Damien!”

“Good to see you as well,” I say, smiling. “Is Willow in her office?”

“Oh, no, she’s in the activity room. You’ve probably never been there before.” Abby sets her purse down and guides me down a hall to the left of the food storage area. We pass a prep kitchen, then, farther down, I see there’s a second entrance to the building labeled New Day Program.

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