Page 17 of Protector Next Door
11
Sammy
“The best thinga girl can do is just shut the hellup.”
“I know. This one always wants totalk.”
“Last year I got her up to my room. She was talking and talking. I’m trying to fuck you, not have a conversation with you. Why don’t girls getthat?”
I roll my eyes at the comments. I know the owners of these voices. They’re my industry colleagues but it seems they both have only one thing on their minds. And that’s okay. It really is. But if I want to talk about work at an event that’s supposed to be about work, then let me do it. Right? Apparently notright.
I pop up from behind the table where I was crouching to hook my laptop up to a cable on thefloor.
“Hello, how nice of you both to stop by!” I say, pretending I didn’t hear them talking about my sex life - or, what was at the time, a lack of a sexlife.
They share a quick glance but I don’t have an opportunity to say anything more before my phone is ringing from my bag. I give them a silent smile and they skitter away. I slide my finger across the glass and slip my phone between my ear and shoulder, sitting at the folding chair behind the table and opening up mylaptop.
“Hello?” I rouse my computer from sleep and type in my password. There’s nothing on the other end of the call. I pull the phone away to see who it is. It’s an unknown number. Serves me right for being too distracted to check before answering. “Hello? Unsubscribe. Speak to a customer service representative?Hello?”
“Samantha,” the voice on the other end says, making the back of my neck prickle with heat. “I want to talk to you. We never really had a chance to getclosure.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that closure,” I say, rising to my feet while my eyes dart around. Xander has only been gone for a few seconds. Who would have thought my bad luck would dictate that Bryce would call me right in that little window of time that Xander wasn’t here? I let go of the irony when Xander appears in the big room and I wave him over with an erratic flap of my hand. He installed a tracker on my phone before we made our way down to set up my booth and if I can keep him on the phone long enough we’ll be able to trace the call. Xander arrives at my side in a flash and sits down in front of my computer, pulling up the tracking software and quickly inserting a cable into my phone and connecting it to thecomputer.
“Why not? After all I did for you, you can’t give me the courtesy of meeting me for fiveminutes?”
“No.” I stand my ground. “If you want closure, the only thing you have to do take a good look at yourself in the mirror. You know what happened. Figure this closure crap out on yourown.”
“I’m here at the convention,” he exasperates. “If you don’t want the rest of those photos to hit the inboxes of everyone here, you’ll meet me. Room1204.”
My blood goescold.
“You do know that what you’re doing is a crime, right?” I lean over Xander to open a Word document and type in the room number. His jaw tenses and I give him a nod to silently tell him what’s going on. He communicates back to me with a look of hisown.
“Let’s talk it out,” he says. “I’ll bewaiting.”
I end the call and let out a big breath. I hadn’t noticed that I was barely breathing. Xander stands and closes mylaptop.
“What are you doing?” I start to protest. “We aren’t going along with this, arewe?”
He points to my purse andnods.
“Get your shit. We’re going to handlethis.”
“But theconference…”
He gives me a look that conveys everything he wants to say. I grab my purse and followhim.
* * *
Ten minutes later,I’m standing outside Room 1204 and raising my fist to knock on the door. Xander and the manager of hotel security were able to commandeer the adjoining room, which means if I’m in trouble they’re only a heartbeat away. I’m hoping I can get Bryce to come down to the lobby with me anyway, so any trouble he may want to cause can be cut off at thesource.
This is all, apparently, standard. There was the option of letting Xander just go right after him but it’s safer to throw Xander off his game first, make him think there’s nothing standing between me and him like the photos are standing between me and my pending peace ofmind.
When the door opens I’m met with the sniveling grin of the biggest asshole jerk I’ve evermet.
“I’d feel more comfortable if we could talk in public, please,” I say, taking a step backwards. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and laughs. He’s not just an asshole. He’s a rude person, too. “Please. I agreed to talk to you. You could meet me half-way. Consider it a professionalcourtesy.”
I hate that I’m sayingpleaseso many times. It makes me sound weak. He should be the one asking me for things, groveling for me. This is low, even for him. Blackmail? And I don’t have even the firstcluewhat he wants from me. Closure? No freaking way. At least I know that as long as he needs something from me I can keep those pictures out of the hands of all the gross dudes who would probably jerk off to them. There’s a whole swath of men I’m sure would loooove to jerk off to them based on the mere fact that I didn’t know they were being taken. It’ssad.
