Page 17 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
My mind wanders again and I see her standing in front of me in her green florist’s apron that perfectly shows off her gorgeous curves and...
"Damn," I mutter, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I’m probably chronically sex-deprived. But that’s not the point right now. What’s dawning on me is that the whole thing with the shop just got a lot more complicated. Or maybe a lot simpler, because...
RING RING RING
The ringing of my phone cuts off my train of thought. My display flashes my assistant Eric’s name in all caps. Either he has a question, or he wants to put someone through.
"Eric, what’s up?" I ask, skipping the niceties. That’s the great thing about male assistants. Working together is so much more relaxed. Then again, maybe it’s the same with women you don’t want to fuck or haven’t fucked. Point is: Eric was a good choice.
"Did you have any luck, boss? Any progress with the shop?" he asks, and I instantly hear the nervous undertone in his voice.
"Help me out here, Eric," I say with a grin. "Is my assistant calling me to ask about the progress of my work? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?"
"Sorry, boss, I just wanted to..."
"Just kidding, Eric. It’s fine. What’s going on?" I cut him off and start to worry a little. He usually gets those kinds of jabs. Why not now? What does he want to tell me? He doesn’t have someone on the line—he would’ve said that first.
"Jake’s company. They want the shop and..."
"I know, Eric. We talked about that at the office earlier—that’s why I drove out here. What’s the matter?" I ask.
"Yeah, sorry, boss. I know. I mean, they don’t just want the shop." He hesitates again. "Remember our shopping mall plans for Manhattan?"
"Yeah, what about them?" I ask, a bad feeling creeping in. I’d developed the idea to build a shopping mall in Manhattan and put one of my stores in it. The plan had just cleared the city council. It was going to be a smash; all the experts involved were sure.
"I just found out. It’s only part of a bigger plan. They want to buy the entire block and put a mall on it."
For a moment, there’s silence on the line. I have to let the words sink in to grasp what they mean. That bastard Jake copies everything he can get his hands on.
"That’s..." I begin, but this time it’s Eric who cuts me off.
"...brilliant," he adds.
"I wouldn’t call it that. But did you check how far away the nearest malls are?"
"Of course, that’s why I’m calling. The location is perfect. It’s going to be a smash. Visitors will pour in, and I don’t have to tell you what that means for traffic at his burger place." He pauses to let it land.
"And we can guess three times which burger franchise won’t get a license for a spot in there. That bastard."
"What are you going to do now, boss?"
"As it happens, I know where the fancy Jake Ruddell always eats lunch." I check the time. "And as it happens, I’m right nearby."
We end the call; I signal, change lanes, and hit the gas, feeling my hands tighten around the steering wheel.
Jake can’t get Beth’s shop. Ever.
Then another voice pipes up in my head. A strange voice I’ve never heard before, asking me:Are you any better if you take the shop away from her?
I shove the thought aside, convincing myself my intentions are better and she’ll understand. But will she really?
******
"So, enjoying the chicken nuggets off the kids’ menu?" I call out when I find Jake—of course with my ex-assistant Dilara—at a table in one of the best restaurants around, not too proud to shout it across the entire place so investment bankers, brokers, and other suits turn their heads in confusion.
"Bro, what a nice surprise," he says after almost choking on a bit of—oh my God, is he eating caviar for lunch? How pretentious is this guy?—caviar. "Right, Dilara?" he asks his assistant.
"Not so much," she says, shoots me a disapproving look, folds her arms, and looks away.
