Page 3 of Made for You
Bruce
Lunches packed, water bottles filled, coffee—shoot.We were ready to walk out, but if I didn’t bring my own, I’d end up drinking the swill Kenny had been making the last few months. A shudder hit at the thought—high time to get a new admin since Sarah had been on maternity leave for a while now and it didn’t seem like she wanted to come back.
“I’m leaving! See you tonight,” Kiley hollered from the front just before the sound of said door closing reached my ears.
I jogged after her out to the driveway, knowing full well her ride would be squealing out of here before I reached the car if I didn’t move it. “Dude, you’re forgetting your stuff.”
She turned and shot me a peeved look. “Bro, you knowdudemakes you sound like an aging surfer, right?”
“Sorry,bro, I forgot the kids these days are too cool for dude.” I held out her lavender lunch box and reusable water bottle—both items she’d insisted on after reeling back in horror at my suggestion we use paper bags. Apparently, protecting the environment was all the rage and I happily complied.
She snatched them before cramming the box into her backpack and hooking the water with a finger. “I call you bro because you’re my brother, dummy.”
My mouth hitched up in a half-smile.This kid.“I know, bro, but then you call everyone else bro, so…”
Her eyes widened, her silent signal for me to shut the heck up before I embarrassed her any further.
Message received, I nodded, holding up my now-empty hands. “Have a good day, Ki.”
She scowled, tossing her bag onto the floor of the backseat while three other disaffected youths gazed out the front windshield like they weren’t listening. She pulled the door as she stepped one foot in, but before she disappeared inside, she whispered, “You, too, Boo.”
I winked, and she returned it before the door shut and she was buckling, my heart warming at her use of the old nickname. She’d called me “Boos” when we’d first met, but eventually it dropped to Boo, and I hoped I turned a hundred and still got to hear her call me that name. It only came out every so often these days.
Since I’d received a fairly stern talking to a few weeks ago after standing there watching her get carted away by the carpool driver, Jeremy, and I wasn’t about to risk that again, I turned back to the house. I’d been feeling particularly protective of her thanks to her dad calling her a few times in the last few months, but I’d tried to tamp the impulse down.
In reality, I had no time to stand here musing. I had approximately six minutes before I had to get to work, and my phone was already ringing.
“Saint, to what do I owe the pleasure of your voice before eight a.m.?”
Wilder Saint, the world’s happiest broody veteran and my best friend, never called unless a text wouldn’t cut it, so this had to be bad—or really good. Still, given the realities of life, probably bad.
An unknown vehicle over at Rosie’s sat parked at an odd angle in her driveway.Huh.Hadn’t seen it pull up yesterday, and I certainly didn’t know Rosie to have overnight guests. I could get a little overprotective of the nice older lady next door, who’d welcomed us with open arms.
“Bad news. Kenny’s got food poisoning.” Wilder’s voice had an apologetic tone already.
I pushed inside the house, knowing what this meant. Tristan was on assignment. So was Theo. Literally every other personal-security-qualified person was occupied. Eddie would do the job, but her fiancé had just gotten back from a trip and I knew she needed time with him. That only left Dorian, who was still insisting he wasn’t available to work even though he’d been showing up for monthly meetings coming up on nine months now. He didn’t take a paycheck, so he owed us nothing, especially if he wasn’t ready to work yet, but I could’ve used him.
So it fell to me, and I wasn’t about to complain. I owned half the business and had flexibility. Jogging back inside, I grabbed my stuff, then bolted to the car as I spoke. “Already on it. See if you can get Beast to come in a few hours early for his evening shift so I can get Ki settled and—”
“I’m sorry I can’t help. This is stupid,” he said, clearly in misery at causing me to scramble.
Gruff though he was, Wilder Saint didn’t want anyone doing a job he could do. I understood because I worked the same way, albeit we had our own fortes. But Wilder, his wife, and their tiny baby had all had the flu. They were coming out of it, but he still needed another few days before I’d ask him to step in like this.
“Don’t apologize, just get better. And get ahold of Beast while I get over there, okay?”
He acknowledged, and I hung up just in time to pull out of the driveway. I had to stop by the office and pick up a few things before going up to the hotel. The press junket for the upcoming movie festival would take place later today, the town already crawling with celebrities, no one more in demand than Jack McKean. We were guarding him, too, but today, we had some guy named Damon Crade on the docket. Didn’t know him by reputation nor had I reviewed the files, so I needed a quick refresher. I’d stick with this kid until afternoon, when Beast could take over. Pretty sure Kenny was guarding till midnight—I’d ask Rosie to watch out for Kiley and then I’d head back before the evening schedule began. No problem, no stress.
* * *
As a typically practical yet sanguine person, when things didn’t go my way, I handled it. I’d had a lot of practice spinning negative situations into manageable ones. Sperm donor of a father beating up on me? Join the Army and get out. Mission going to hell? Solve the problem. Teen sister wanting to date?
Shove all my feelings deep down and pretend it’s fine and I wasn’t once a teen boy myself and therefore deeply mistrusted thisMarcus, who’d been coming around more and more.
But none of those issues were the reason I found myself currently on the verge of breathing fire. Today, from the time I entered the office—no, before that—until this moment, every single thing that could go wrong had.
I’d forgotten the coffee I’d meant to get before leaving, so I had the displeasure of drinking whatever sludge Adam had left in the pot earlier this morning. Then Damon Crade? An absolute waste of space. And I really wasn’t the kind of person to judge—I genuinely didn’t find it bothersome when people were jerks or entitled. But that guy was a walking lawsuit. It only made me gladder I hadn’t asked Eddie to take the work, because she would’ve been harassed unendingly, no question. Granted, she would’ve put him in his place and made him fear for his life if he continued his crap, but still.
Beast had been fifteen minutes late and could only cover for an hour because of something I hadn’t fully absorbed at the time, much to my chagrin, and now, I had twenty minutes until I had to leave again, and I still needed to get ahold of Rosie and see if she could hang with Kiley when my sister got home from math club.
