Page 52 of Resting Grump Face
“Well, jokes aside,” Ryker switches into serious-mode, “what happened was a series of very unfortunate misunderstandings, Jess.”
“That host is a very unfortunate misunderstanding,” the woman to my left mumbles and crosses her arms.
“She certainly does want to see him without his pants again,” I add, and our eyes meet. “Hey, I’m Sienna,” I introduce myself and extend my hand.
The woman releases a long drawn ‘Ohhh’ as we shake. “Sienna de la Vega? We talked on the phone the other day. I am Barbara Dwyer, Mr. Grayson’s secretary, personal assistant, and anything else he might require.”
“Right, I remember. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Barbara frowns and then continues in a slightly questioning tone, “So I guess you accepted the job?”
My laugh causes the camera man right in front of Barbara to shush me. I silently apologize and find Ryker staring at me. His eyes narrow for a second, then go back to all-serious while he tells some made-up story about what happened to him at the airport.
“So you, too, think that working with him is a bad idea, hm? I agree.”
Barbara smiles politely. “Oh, no. That’s not what I meant. Mr. Grayson is of the opinion you’ll be a valuable addition, and he’s rarely wrong, so it’s good to have you on our team,” she whispers.
Together we watch as Ryker keeps flirting his way out of the scandal for a few more minutes. Eventually, Jessica has undone not one, but two buttons on the blouse she is wearing.
“We are nearing the end of the show,” she explains cheerfully, “and you know what that means! All our guests donate one personal item, which we then auction off by the end of the month to raise money for a good cause. This month it will support our local public schools.”
“Right,” Ryker says with a smile and gets up from his chair. The camera follows him. “In light of recent events, there was only one item that seemed appropriate to donate,” he explains, and begins unbuckling his belt. “But truthfully, I don’t know why anyone would bid on this,” his pants fall to the ground, he picks them up, then hands them to Jess whose eyes are glued to his crotch, “which is why I pledge to donate ten million dollars on top of whatever these will make.”
“Wow,” Jess lets out until she realizes that she’s still on air and shamelessly ogling her guest’s junk. “If that isn’t the biggest… donation we have ever received, then I don’t know what is.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Barbara says under her breath and roughly echoes my own thoughts.
Luckily, the interview is pretty much done by now and after a longer than necessary hug from the show’s host and her slipping him her business card, we are on our way out again. Barbara left before Ryker could see her and told me to keep quiet about her being there, since Ryker doesn’t want her to work too much on weekends. I do as requested and silently accompany him back to the parking lot when his phone rings.
“Barb, what do you want?”
I overhear some of what she is saying, something about checking in about the interview.
“Yeah, yeah, it was fine. Now take the rest of the day off, Barbara,” he says in his best bossy tone. “I’m not asking. You’re working too much already. Enjoy the weekend. Eat some…”
“Ice cream,” I finish his sentence when he starts stammering.
“Yes, ice cream and go…”
“To the movies or on a hot date.”
“That. Movies, hot date,” he repeats while looking at me. “Do all of that.”
I look around the parking lot to see if she is still watching us, but can’t discover her. Ryker hangs up the phone a second later and, still in his boxer briefs, walks over to his limousine. His butt is like an accident, if that accident involved a truck full of underwear models tipping over and landing right in your bed. It makes you all warm and fuzzy on the inside (possibly even a little horny) and you simply can’t look away.
A new pair of pants is already waiting for him in his seat. Except they’re not fancy dress pants, they are gray sweatpants.
I try to do better than Jess and not watch as Ryker puts them on. I also try not to look for potential outlines and shadows once he is wearing them. It’s hard. Not looking, I mean.
“I guess you’re done with work today then?” I ask as the car begins to move.
“I run one of the biggest companies in this country. I am never done with work. Besides, there’s a personal project I’m dealing with at the moment,” he answers mysteriously.
I want to know what that project is, but I refrain from asking any more questions, afraid he might get the wrong idea about my interest in him. I don’t care about his personal projects; they are of no consequence to me as long as they won’t reflect poorly on his public image. All that matters is my paycheck. A big and juicy— Ryker bends over to the bar and forces me look at his ass, making me lose my train of thought. Heat is flaring up in my core and I get the sudden urge to bite him in his butt. I lookaround, trying to find the controls for the temperature.Why does it always have to be this hot in here?
It takes another 30 minutes of suffering until the car stops and Ryker steps out. The cold creeps in through the door, giving me some instant relief. When I don’t follow immediately, he sticks his head back into the car.
“What are you waiting for?”
