Page 57 of The Nice Guy
The scurrying of feet would make me laugh if I wasn’t currently weighed down with dread.
Tyler mumbles an apology as he runs away, and I stare at the machine in front of me. The last thing I need now is coffee, and I walk out of the breakroom to find Stanley standing in the doorway of his office, his eyes wide and light reflecting from the sweat on his shiny, bald head. “Rhett, I… I don’t know what to say.”
Normally, I’d pacify him and tell him it’s okay even though it’s not. I’m the type of guy who holds in my pain and anger, but not today. “You’re worse than a bunch of damn high school girls gossipin’. Assumin’ I don’t fire all of you for wastin’ company time, I’d suggest you check the breakroom before talkin’ shit about someone next time.”
Fear paralyzes him as he stares with eyes nearly bugging out of his head, and I just walk away, coffee forgotten.Let him worry about his job. And make the others worry, too, while he’s at it.
I walk out to my pickup and hop inside, pulling out my phone as I peel out of the lot.
“What kind of tire do you need now?” Carter asks.
I’ve only called him three times today, but he sounds annoyed. Normally, I’d care and ask him what’s going on, but not today. “Are you in your office?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m stoppin’ by.”
“Man, it’s not a good day—”
“I’m stoppin’ by, Carter,” I bark and turn down the road towards his tire shop.
It’s the last thing I say before I hang up, and Carter stands outside when I pull up. Whatever annoyance he had earlier changed to concern as he waits for me to get out. “What’s wrong?”
“Computer,” I say, letting him lead me into his office. Shutting the door, I lean against it. “Look up Kevin Sandoval. Owner of Sandoval Whiskey.”
He sits in his chair, and I can’t breathe. “Oh, I love that stuff. Expensive as shit, but I was plannin’ to get it for you to celebrate the bachelor party I’m sure I’ll be throwin’ soon,” he says and types on his keyboard.
“Don’t ever buy me that stuff.”
I know I could do all of this on my phone, but I’m not in a good headspace right now. Depending on what I see, I’ll probably break it.
“Why are we lookin’ him up?” he asks. “Seriously, why did you have me pull up an underwear model?”
“Do you have a picture up?”
“Yeah.”
Rushing beside him, I almost shout as I see a man at least five years younger than me with a chiseled jaw and perfect everything on the screen. “Son of a bitch.”
“Guess he has diverse interests. What’s goin’ on, Rhett?”
“This is the guy Brynlee was engaged to in Chicago.”
His jaw drops as I fall against the wall behind him. “Seriously?”
Her name catches my eye as he backs out of that screen. “Click on that next search result.”
He does, and we both stare in disbelief. He shakes his head and leans back in his chair. “There has to be some type of mistake.”
“They’re gettin’ married February fifteenth. It has a damned countdown,” I growl.
I know he wants to close out, but he knows better. Instead, he scrolls down to the comments, some of them as recent as yesterday.
So excited for the two of you! Can’t wait for the wedding. It’ll be the biggest event in years!
You two make such a perfect couple. We’re all waiting for the baby announcement following your honeymoon! You’ll make beautiful children.
“Click on the engagement announcement,” I say.
