Page 7 of Unconventionally, Elle
Don Landry
Branch Manager, McKinney and Smith Inc.
I shot up to a seated position in the cabana and felt the tequila start to rise in my throat. I couldn't breathe and my chest was getting tighter. My heart was pounding and my mind went blank. There was no way I'd read that correctly. There was no fucking way I'd lost the account to Chris Johnson.
I reread the email just to be certain. No, I'd read it correctly. My account was being stolen from me. Given to that son of a bitch who hadn't known a single detail of the account in ourmeeting. Everything went blurry, and rage consumed me. Fire and fury pulsed through my body. A shrill shriek escaped from my lungs, and everyone at the pool turned to stare.
"What the fuck just happened? Can they even do this?" I yelled at my phone with tears streaming down my hot face.
The short answer was yes, they could. And they had. Ethically, though? Probably not. I'd never seen this happen before, but if a customer wanted to work with a different broker, they did have that right. They would fill out a form and then move their business.
I couldn't help myself. I started bawling. Shamelessly, helplessly crying. My shrieks scared the couple next to me, and a manager was walking toward me. Somewhere deep down, I'd known things were too good to be true. How could I be on vacation and taking time off when I had things to take care of at work? I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't be here.
Rachel and Sarah heard me scream, because the next thing I knew, my two best friends were right next to me, hugging my shoulders and rubbing my back. I could feel the pool water dripping from them onto my arms and legs, but I couldn't care less. I was starting to go numb, and my breaths were becoming rapid and uncontrollable.
"Elle, oh my God, Elle, what happened?" Rach had a tight grip on my arms now, and she was trying to get me to speak. My voice was momentarily caught, trapped, just like me.
I snapped out of my rage-filled trance and felt the anger radiate down my arm to my fingers holding on to my phone. One more tight squeeze, and before I could change my mind, I slammed my iPhone onto the ground by their feet. I felt my shoulder start to throb the second I released it. I'm not certain, but it sounded like my screen had shattered upon impact. I didn't care.
Sarah picked it up and stood next to Rachel so they could both read the email through the cracked glass.
"That bastard!" Rach growled and hugged me tight to her.
I think I was in shock. Nothing made sense. I knew Rachel was holding me, but I hardly felt her. I could only feel my heart hammering against my rib cage. I could only hear each rapid beat keeping tempo with my chaotic thoughts. How did this happen?
"Can they do this, Elle?" Sarah was trying to analyze it, to make sense of it all. Typical Sarah.
All I could squeak out was a weak, "Yes." As the realization truly took root, I collapsed against Rachel's shoulder and convulsed in wrenching sobs.
Sarah went into mommy mode and rubbed my back again, murmuring soft, encouraging words. "It's all right, honey. It's going to be okay, Ellz. We're here," she hummed over and over.
Rachel stood up, face flushed with anger. She knew corporate America; she knew corporate politics. "What can I do? What do you need? Who do you need me to call?" She was pacing along the edge of the pool holding her elbows, knowing that there wasn't really anything to do. "I can call a lawyer. Elle, do you want a lawyer?" She held up her phone and scrolled. "I have the perfect guy, Elle. Just tell me and I'll make the call."
I stared at her, devastated, and let my tears fall.
5
Twelve years ago
I never expected to see him again--my mystery dance partner. Nashville had thousands of people, and I was subletting an apartment in Murfreesboro, about an hour away on a good day. I despised myself for not getting his number or even his name.Way to go, Elle.I felt like there was a connection, some kind of spark, but maybe he was only meant to be my dance partner for one night and one night only. It wasn't love or anything--you don't fall in love with a stranger dancing in the middle of the street. That doesn't happen in real life.
My neighbor for the summer, Katie, was a student at Middle Tennessee State University, and her boyfriend, Harrison, was throwing a house party for the Fourth of July at his parents' house. I was excited to leave the office behind and have some fun. Katie and I arrived early with our overnight bags and trays of Chick-fil-A, because there's nothing drunk people love more than fried chicken. Harrison specifically requested the nugget trays and, in his words, "a shit ton of Chick-fil-A sauce."
Eventually, the front yard was full of lifted trucks, Solo cups, and college kids celebrating America. I knew Harrison's familywas wealthy, but the house left me speechless. It was all that was left of a historic plantation estate--a grand white-brick mansion with Greek columns and oversized moldings on the insideandoutside. The home radiated grandeur from the second you laid eyes on it. His parents were out of town, so the house was fair game for a celebration. Since we were staying the night, Katie placed her things in Harrison's room, and I was given a guest room upstairs past the grand staircase.
In a matter of hours, I had to squeeze by crowds of people to get anywhere. I knew before coming that a ton of people would be at the party because Harrison was in a fraternity. But what I didn't know was that on July 4, 2010, I'd find the other half to my heart.
The noise started to overwhelm me, and my throat began to tighten. Bodies were packed throughout the house, and sweat trickled down my chest thanks to the intense heat radiating throughout the rooms, as well as the humid Tennessee summer night. At this point, I was thankful for only wearing a bikini top and cutoff denim shorts. My American flag bandana was damp against my forehead, and the little hairs that fell out of my messy bun were stuck to the back of my neck. I looked for Katie, but she was nowhere to be seen among the ocean of people. I saw Harrison and hoped Katie was nearby. I pushed through the crowd and spotted an empty lounge chair by the pool. Some people I didn't recognize were playing chicken in the water, and a few others had a pool float holding a cooler full of ice and beer. After a deep breath of warm air tinged with a hint of firework smoke, I relaxed back into the chair's cushion. Finally, a little bit of space to myself. I opened my fresh beer and slowly lifted it to my lips, anticipating the refreshing liquid rolling down my throat. Before I shut my eyes to savor my beer, I noticed him. My eyes widened and my hand froze before the can could touch my lips.
He stood across the pool in front of a row of loungers. A girl with a short red skirt and a white bikini top was kneeling on the chair with a strong hold on his arm. Was she flirting with him? Were they together? He lifted his beer to his lips and took a quick sip. I squeezed my thighs together as I watched his throat bob. I would never forget this man. His smile once made my knees shake. His voice once made my soul vibrate with need. God, I still had dreams of that night.
I knew that smile. He didn't see me at first, but I'd like to think he felt my stare, because after only a few moments he looked over and his eyes found mine. There they were, those amber eyes I dreamt about.
I noticed him excuse himself from the girl and peel her hands from his body. She sat back with her girlfriends, and as he walked away, another boy sat at the end of her chair.Popular lady, I thought. The corner of his mouth lifted. He knew who I was, and he didn't break my gaze as he walked over to my lounge chair. My heart squeezed tighter, and my brain left the building entirely. I didn't think I'd ever see him again. The butterflies in my stomach forced me to catch my breath. My pulse quickened and warmth spread throughout my lower body. I watched his every step. His every breath. I noticed the dimple on his left cheek and the way the American flag T-shirt stuck to his broad chest. As he got closer, I felt a subtle electricity in the air.
"Look who it is." His voice dipped low and sultry as he stopped in front of my chair. I lifted my head slightly to meet his sparkling gaze. "It's my mystery girl."
Um, excuse me, he said, "my mystery girl." Oh my God, I'm going to pass out.I held his stare and leaned up in the chair one slow vertebra at a time. I brought my legs onto the chair, crossed them, and angled my body toward him, neck arched delicately. His eyes dipped to my exposed throat--and possibly alittle lower. Inside, I was freaking out, but on the outside, I kept my expression trained and coy.
