Page 26 of Every Broken Piece
I flinch when he says my name, like he knows me. Like we’re good friends. I’m sure I’ve never met him before, but I’ve met his kind many times over the years.
“I’m not helping her,” I say more forcefully. I’m done helping her. I’ve been done for years, but she keeps finding me. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve changed my name. I’ve moved. I’ve changed my phone number so many times and still she finds me. Still, she sends these people to me.
“Twenty grand, Theresa.”
I shake my head, knowing he can’t see me, but the words are frozen in my throat.Twenty grand?That’s more than it’s ever been before. Even if I wanted to help, which I don’t, I don’t have that kind of money.
“You still there, Theresa?”
“Y-yes.” I should hang up, but he’ll just call back. He’ll keep calling until he gets the twenty grand out of me.
Well, he can try all he wants. I don’t have it.
Twenty grand.
I rub my forehead.Damn, Sandra, this is a new low, even for you.
“I’ll call you later with the details of how to get the money to us. And Theresa? Don’t even think about running. Or changing your number.”
He disconnects the call, leaving me sitting here, shivering, clutching my phone to my ear even though he’s no longer on the other end.
Chapter fourteen
Gabe
I’m know I’m sending mixed messages to Tess. I know it, yet I can’t stop myself.
I basically ghosted her last weekend, but when Pax walked through the door it hit me how inappropriate my actions are. She’s my employee. She’s closer to Pax’s age than mine.
During the week I can refrain from texting her. I can pretend that our relationship is purely professional. But the weekends? I don’t know what it is about the weekends that make me itch to reach out to her. It’s like I have two different brains at war with one another. And no, it’s not the little brain and the big brain. I’m not attracted to her physically.
Well, not much.
All of the pictures Jack sent me show a beautiful, vibrant, woman. Yes, I went through them several times. Yes, I tried to find more but Jack’s right. Tess James doesn’t exist on any social media, or if she does, it’s not under her name. As a person whose job is virtual, I think that’s strange. As a person who shuns social media myself, I don’t think it’s that odd.
She’s a conundrum. An enigma. A puzzle. A challenge. A mystery. All wrapped up in this bright, beautiful package that goes so much deeper than physical. She’s a good person down to her core.
She wants to mother a cat, for God’s sake.
She goes out with her friends even when she doesn’t like that scene.
I can’t be the only client she wishes a good morning to every fucking morning.
She’s sweet and vulnerable and I can’t help but wonder why someone hasn’t swept her up and locked her down. Why is she single?
Why do I care?
She’s all I think about during the week. When I have to email her, I get this low hum under my skin because some connection is better than no connection. I’m constantly checking my emails for her response, but she’s following my lead and remaining professional, keeping her responses business related.
And here I am on a Friday night, sitting in my favorite recliner, staring at my phone that I left across the room, so I won’t text her, my book in my hands, turned to a page I’ve read five times and still have no idea what it says.
I need to get her out of my system but short of firing her I don’t know how. And firing her is out of the question. Not happening.
My front door opens and footsteps come down the hall toward the back of my apartment. Unlike last weekend I’m not preoccupied with texting Tess, so I hear it this time. It’s either Pax or Jack because they're the only two who have access to the apartment.
Sure enough Jack appears dressed in a dark gray suit, matching dark gray shirt and tie. Which is very not like his usual jeans and t-shirt.
“Very monochromatic,” I say as he flops onto the couch across from me with a sullen expression.
