Page 24 of Resting Grump Face
No, I say out loud to make sure I hear it myself.We will not go out there and we will definitely not repeat the same mistake. Only fools repeat their mistakes.
I finish stowing away all the groceries and think about what to do next. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t have any meetings scheduled. Maybe I should hit a bar and pick up some girl for some noncommittal intercourse.
Noncommittal intercourse, yes, that’s the best way to describe it. It wouldn’t be sex, there would be no passion, no heat, no nothing. Just taking care of some fundamental physical cravings.
My empty stomach pipes up and reminds me that I should probably take care of some even more fundamental cravings first. So I open the fridge back up, grab the butter, pancetta, parmesan, and some eggs.
Sienna is still sitting in the hot tub, her undeniably beautiful hair bouncing in the air as she bobs along to the beat of whatever music she is listening to. It’s probably Death Metal. She seems like someone who enjoys music that makes you want to smash things.
I put a pot of water salted like the ocean on the stove.
The sun is about to set behind the skyscrapers in the distance, giving Sienna’s skin a golden shine to it as she lifts her arms out of the water and rests them on the edge of the tub.
I fry the pancetta and garlic in a pan before adding some butter.
Olivia’s cat must have smelled what I’m up to and has started sneaking around my feet, making sure I feel his tail smack against my leg every once in a while. Committing probably several health-code violations, I pick him up, give him a kiss and some pancetta for good measure. When my eyes inadvertentlylook out through the window, they meet Sienna’s annoyed stare. Only she isn’t staring at me, she is staring at the cat and mouths something to the tune of ‘traitor’ or possibly ‘waiter’, though I doubt she is expecting him to serve her food. I scratch him behind his ears, give him another piece of pork, let him know that he’s a very good traitor, and put him back down. When the pasta is done, I incorporate the parmesan, eggs and noodles and some starchy water into a creamy pan of deliciousness.
As I am forking the noodles onto two plates, my phone rings in my pocket. So much for ‘no more meetings today’ and ‘don’t forward any calls unless it’s an emergency’.
My brother’s name appears on the screen. Sometimes I wish I could, but ignoring not only your brother, but your brother with whom you are running one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, is not something I can do.Duty first.
He skips any greetings. “Did you return my jet safely?”
“Sans whiskey, that is,” I answer and take a bite of the pasta.
“You don’t even like whiskey.”
“I’m also not the biggest fan of pink pajama pants,” I say with a full mouth.
“But you looked so good.”
“What can I do for you, Bruce?”
“You can’t do anything for me, but I’m doing something for you. I’m calling to let you know that I have been approached by a few members of the board. They are worried.”
I swallow the food and put the fork down. “Worried about what? Business is going fine. Revenue is up, dividends are being paid, each quarter has been better than the last one.”
“It’s not about the performance of the company, Ryker.”
Right, of course it isn’t.“Well, can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”
“Yeah, have you seen today’s headline yet? Hold on.” There are clicking sounds in the background. “Here it is: ‘GropeyGrayson — Now Touching Himself In Public’.” Bruce laughs. “I guess that’s better than groping other people in public.”
I let out an annoyed groan. “News cycle still hasn’t moved on yet?”
“They just love you too much. What are we going to do about it?”
“Two options. One: we buy all the media so they’ll stop publishing bullshit like this.”
“I am afraid we might be short a few billion to buyallthe media.”
“Which leaves us with option number two.” I turn back towards the window. Steam rises from the water and veils Sienna in a magical-looking mist that is illuminated by the setting sun. It looks like a scene from a fantasy movie (and, despite her lack of clothing, definitely nothing likemediocreporn). She averts her gaze as soon as I turn, but I am sure she was staring at me. Probably plotting something nefarious again. Now she is looking up into the dimming afternoon sky, her breath vaporizing in the cold air.
“Ryker? Still there?” Bruce asks. “When you say stuff like that, you have to elaborate, you know? What’s option number two?”
“I’ll hire a PR consultant. Let them take care of my image. It’ll send the right message to the board. Proactively solving the issue, yadda, yadda…”
“I have been saying that for months now! I thought you were against hiring outside people to work on your image?”
