Page 15 of The Renter
But instead of leaving, he grabs my arm—hard. Too hard. Way too hard. “Tell your friend to show some respect,” he growls, his eyes locked on me.
A flood of emotions surfaces, and I freeze. It triggers too many memories, especially hazy recollections of moments like this.
12
My chief operating officer and closest friend, Greg, is in town with his family for the weekend and suggested we meet at Starbucks. I know he’s trying to get a sense of where my head’s at—and if he needs to start looking for another job.
We shake hands outside and make small talk as we walk in. Immediately, I spot Dani, and though I try to act unfazed, I can’t ignore the fact that something’s wrong. She looks scared, and some guy is hovering over her.
“One sec, Greg,” I mumble and head straight for Dani.
“Dani, it’s great to see you.” I smile, but my attention quickly shifts to the guy beside her. He’s about my age but much more weathered.
“Of course, you found yourself some boring JP Morgan guy,” the guy sneers at her. Her friend looks scared, too.
“Let me take you both home.” Dani’s friend immediately gets up, but Dani stays frozen in her seat. “Dani …” I begin, but the guy steps between us.
“Dude, why are you interrupting? We’re catching up.” That’s when I piece it together—the guy with the faint trace of white under his nose is part of the story Dani casually glossed over yesterday.
“You need to back away from my …” I hesitate. “My friend.”
The douche smirks. “She’s got you in the friend zone?” He bites his lip. “You’re missing out.”
Before I know what’s happening, I punch him.
Dani jumps up, moving behind her friend and me, and the coffee shop goes dead silent. I hear a barista shout, “Sorin deserved that one, right?”
Dani’s friend yells back, “Sure fucking did!” The place seems to return to normal, except for the guy—Sorin—now bleeding from the nose onto the floor.
“You’re still breathing because I’m on probation,” he snarls, holding his nose, glaring at me. “Have fun with that whore, “ Sorin spits out.
Fury flares again, and I shove him, sending him sprawling backward. I notice people with their phones out. Are they recording? Are they calling the cops?
Dani and Greg both have the same look on their faces. They are stark white and looking at me like I’m a stranger.
“We have to go now, “ Greg says urgently, shepherding the girls and me out of the shop and into his car.
“I-I’m sorry about that guy, “ Dani stammers from the back seat. I glance back at her and her friend. “He … he is—” Dani starts, but her friend cuts in.
“The biggest fucking prick and the worst thing that ever happened to us,” she finishes.
“Adam, I’m sorry,” Dani says softly, her hands trembling in the SUV.
Who was that guy?Why is she reacting like this? And why did I react the way I did? I can’t believe I punched someone.
“I know this could be really bad PR for you,” she says quietly.
Bad PR for me!My heart sinks. “Do you know who I am?” I ask, equally confused and annoyed.
Greg lets out a loud huff. He’s been disappointed in me a lot lately, and this situation isn’t helping. This is exactly why he sent me to the cottage for the summer. He’s probably piecing it all together now—that I’m sleeping with this girl, and we barely know each other.
“Let me call my dad,” her friend says. “He can make sure the cops know Sorin started it. They won’t care what happened. Sorin’s known scum around here.”
That’s more than a little reassuring. Rubbing the back of my neck, I take a deep breath, trying to channel my crisis management experience.
“I apologize for my overreaction,” I say as calmly as I can. “What’s your name?” I ask her friend.
“Kelsey.”
