Page 32 of Resting Grump Face
Get a fucking grip, Sienna.
And, yes, I would definitely be a lot safer with the local axe murderer because it’s highly unlikely I’d be tempted to make out with him as well.
What is it with this jerk that my brain immediately goes into primal-mode when he’s around?
When I take the stairs down into the subway, I can feel his eyes on me. Ryker’s, I mean, not the axe murderer’s. Or maybe I’m just getting paranoid. Being the curious, and apparently slightly masochistic, person I am, I turn around and see him leaning against a street lamp with his arms crossed. Not paranoid then. I take care not to trip and fall down the stairs because the last thing I need right now would be for him to resuscitate me.
I’d like to think he followed me to make sure I’d get to the station safe, but he probably just did it because he knows it annoys me. He annoys me. I even annoy myself right now.
While I wait for the subway, I get out my phone and look at Earnest’s message again:
Shark didn’t bite. Dicky has announced separation from wife. Soft core porn with now former mistress already on social media.
That certainly puts a damper on our Save-Robyn-Banks-Campaign. Figures that someone who has no qualms evicting old ladies, also has no qualms divorcing the mother of his children when it’s more convenient for him.
That means plan A failed spectacularly, which leaves us high and dry, so taking Ryker on as my client makes sense, unfortunately. He was willing to pay me $5000 a week, and if I survive working for him for two or three weeks, I could probably pay off Robyn’s debt and then some. Like they say, sometimes when one door closes, you just have to open another one. Sure, that door might lead to a torture chamber, but if that’s what it takes to keep my friend from getting evicted, then so be it. What’s the worst he can do, anyway? If anything, he should be afraid of me!
It’s okay, I’ve got a pla. Are you home right now? I need your help.
Do you mean ‘plan’?
Well, it’s not fully developed yet. More of a pla than a plan.
Bring prune juice.
Okay. I’ll be there in 40.
After I get to his apartment, Earnest and I spend a couple of hours turning my pla into a plan over a glass of juice. Then we let the others know to meet us the next morning for another riveting stake-out get-together.
Robyn isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of getting up at 7 AM, but the next day she still looks as flawless as ever when she arrives (fashionably 10 minutes late) in an elegant, slightly over the top, faux fur coat and her red high heels to the parking lot. Guy, being his usual chipper self, was the first to meet me at the car, along with Paige, who was busy trying to commit suicide by reading the newspaper while walking down the stairs. Earnest had arrived shortly after with the keys to the van that he borrowed from Paul at reception.
On our way, we make a quick stop at Olivia’s place to pick up the Chairman, and some breakfast at a bakery across the street, before we eventually reach our destination: the headquarters of Grayson Holdings. We park with a clear line of sight to the entrance.
Today, instead of candy, Guy has brought an assortment of jams for the croissants that he bought earlier, and while everyone digs into their breakfast, I am busy chewing my nails.I wonder if I will survive working for him. I also wonder what Ryker is having for breakfast right now. If he even eats breakfast. Realistically, it’s probably not babies, but maybe he does have a personal chef who prepares the most intricate dishes which Ryker then throws into a blender so he can consume his nutrients while grouchily muttering something about efficiency. That’s probably what he’s doing up there on the top floor right now.
“Does no one want to know what we’re doing here?” I ask, a little confused when my friends run out of obituaries to discuss.
“Breakfast!” Guy exclaims with glee and ceremoniously raises his jam dipped pastry into the air. “Or as they say: the most important meal of the day.” He takes a bite and continues mumbling, “Though personally, I think it's the most confusing meal of the day. I mean, do I crave eggs or pancakes? Bacon or sausage? Cereal or oatmeal? It's like trying to solve the crossword puzzle before I even had my coffee.”
Everyone nods in unison except for my cat, who is licking some cherry jam right out of a glass that is wedged between two bags.
“And don't even get me started on the wholebreakfast for dinnercrime you young people commit these days,” Guy takes off his sunglasses, while I stare out the window. “I mean, I get it. It's rebellious, it's exciting, it's breaking all the rules, and breaking things is literally in the name ‘breakfast’, but let's be frank here: who actually enjoys eating waffles at 6 PM? It just feels wrong, like I'm betraying my digestive system.”
More silent nodding ensues with some acknowledging grunts and slurps.
“Right,” I answer, not sure what to say to that. I just watch Guy dip his croissant into a yellow jar. When he bites into it, his face cycles through several expressions before settling on a not-so-bad-nod.
“Guy, did you just dip your croissant in mustard?”
“It’s surprisingly good,” he mumbles again with a grin and holds it out for me to try, which I politely decline.
“Okay, anyway,” I begin. “Earnest and I have gathered you here because we have a new plan to save Robyn and hopefully Haven as a whole. Instead of blackmail, we are going to try it the legal way.”
“But we already did that,” Paige interjects. “We don’t have the funds to afford a lawyer, much less a drawn-out legal battle with a multi-million-dollar company.”
“Well, I might have a way,” I explain. “The only drawback is that it involves me selling myself to the devil.”Which will be fine,I tell myself. “We are here to gather information on said devil, my new boss. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”
“When you say devil, you mean the guy you have a thing for, correct?” Robyn butts in and takes a sip from her steaming cup of coffee. “And when you say you want to know everything there is to know about him, it’s because you want to determine whether you want to carry his babies, yes? Is it the same guy you had amorous relations with at the wedding?”
