Page 64 of Miles Apart
I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, splitting my time between work with Zo and my own business in the evening. A handful of contracts are still active, and they require my attention—which I have less and less of since I moved to Malibu to stay with a woman who’s now radio silent.
Em wasn’t up when I got in last night. I thought about texting her to let her know where I was but brushed it off. We don’t check on each other like that, though our random messages throughout the day make it move faster. The more I learn about her, the more I like her. Emma is cool people, with a firepersonality to match the physical. She keeps me on my toes and stocking up on Icy Hot the way we go at it. I like giving her my time, which is more than I can say about any woman I’ve been with. I’m becoming more in tune with Emma, and I know when something is off.
She had an attitude this morning, giving me only short responses before she left for work. I assumed she slept on the wrong side of the bed the way she was wrangling animals with her snoring last night. I stayed up late working on research for a client and had to put my noise-canceling headphones on to drown her ass out. Not sure how that translates to a funky morning, but I’m not a mind reader.
It’s now two o’clock with no signs of life, which isn’t her—at least, not anymore.
“Mr. Walker, you have a visitor,” Michelle, the receptionist, says through the intercom.
“Send her back,” I say.
“It’s a Carter Davis,” she clarifies. Her voice is cautious, like he’s breathing down her neck just to be an ass.
I hit the button to speak. “Send Crispin in.” I chuckle at the echo of him stomping his ass up the hallway. Is this why Emma is so quiet? Can’t be. The only man she backs down from is her father. Her mother, too, but I’m not touching that.
Emma owes me nothing, even if I wanted more or thought about what more would look like. So, I stick to our arrangement. It doesn’t remove the urge to check in on her, but it is what it is.
Carter powers through the last stretch of hallway and heads for the chair at the head of the conference table. He unbuttons his tan suit jacket and sits with his eyes trained on me.
I lean back in my chair, smirking at the steam wafting from his ears. I haven’t fucked with him yet, and he’s already on one.
“When’s your birthday?” I fold my arms over my polo.
It takes a minute for Carter to unlock his jaw. “Why does it matter?”
I shrug. “I got a gift for your ankles.” My grin widens at his glare, showing all of my pearly whites. “What can I do for you, Crispin?”
He sighs. “How the hell did you get a job here?”
“Contract,” I correct. “I work for myself, but the answer to your question is, I know my shit. Now, what can I help you with so you can get back to your job?”
Carter’s nostrils flare, turning his light complexion a shade of pink. He unclenches his hands and folds them on the table. “I wanted to touch base for a bill status update. Do you have something to present to me?” He eyes my end of the table, looking for a presentation he’s not getting.
I cross my ankle over my knee. “I don’t have any appointments on my calendar with Carrillo’s team for a legislative briefing, and I have a meeting in”—I check my Rolex—“eighteen minutes. I doubt you storm into other senators’ offices unannounced, demanding people drop what they’re doing to appease you. I can assure you, Crispin—”
“Carter,” he fumes.
“—that shit don’t fly in this office. Even so, are you versed enough in scripting, network security control, or intrusion detection to follow the conversation?”
His flush deepens to crimson. “I’m Senator Douglass’s chief of staff. He’s owed an update.”
“And he will get one once it’s ready and the primary sponsors of this bill approve any changes. He might tell you how far to bend over, but this little attempt at a pissing contest will get you escorted out the door.” I stand. “Don’t come back here on bullshit. Respect the staff in this office by making an appointment, or read the bill draft Carrillo sent you three weeks ago. Either way, your time is up.”
Had it been another staff member in another office, I might’ve had a bit more patience. Maybe. But Carter can kiss the entire length of my ass. Zo doesn’t like him and would laugh him out of his office for trying what he just did. I never respect people who abuse their power, and I won’t entertain boys masking themselves as men and slithering around to get it.
Carter is the type to stab you in the back while holding a mirror. His pretentiousness makes my ass itch, but there’s something calculated about him that’s dishonest.
He stands and takes a slow stroll to meet me at the conference room door. We’re close in height, but he could be a giant and I’d still knock his ass down to size. Our builds are different. He ain’t floating with the heavyweights. He should punch in his own weight class, where it’s safe.
“Need something else?” I hold his stare and wait for him to look away.
“Actually.” He glances at his watch. “No. I’m on my way to Emma.”
Carter visiting Em shouldn’t bother me, but it does. So does the smirk he tosses back. She and I aren’t together, but if she ever wanted to get serious about someone, she could do a lot better than Carter fucking Davis. He would never treat her the way she deserves. To be worshiped. Cherished.
My tongue drags over my teeth so I can reset and not give him a visit to the nearest hospital. Boys like Carter expect people like me, from around the way, to act out of pocket. It took a while for me to learn my lesson, and, luckily for this ankles-out motherfucker, I did.
“Hope you made an appointment with her. She’s a busy woman.” I know for a fact he didn’t the way his eyes shift to the left. “Tell her I said hi, and I’ll see her at home.”
