“The Manhattan Murders Podcast.” My voice gets quieter, while I look down towards the laces of my black boots.
“You don’t say.” He bends closer with his elbows on the bar and licks the bourbon off his lower lip. If he keeps raising his eyebrows at each one of my answers, I’m going to get suspicious.
“Janice!” Jace yells in her direction.Oh, thank God.
“I believe you both have met our new supplier.” Janice’s heels clicking once again in our direction. “Janice Martinez.” She extends her hand for a professional handshake. His large tattooed hands engulf hers.Damn, I wonder how they would feel… Now is not the time, Thalia.
“Lee Reynolds,” he says, accepting her hand.Fuck. I knew he sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place his voice. Now, I know I am going to throw up. Are my eyes as wide as they feel? Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Girl. You okay?” Jace whispers in my ear. This time, in what I would call anormalwhisper volume.
“No.Fuck. I don’t know.” I am in panic mode. My body feels like I am going to fall over and pass out. Shit, I just made a fool out of myself in front of the man I listen to on a nightly basis. “That’s one of the men in my headphones.” I know I’m trying to hide it, but my face shows everything.
“Bitch, you sure? Which One?”
“I listen to him just about every night. I fucking know who Lee Reynolds is. He’s the producer. Yes, I am sure.” My tone is sharper than I intend it to be.
“This is fucking perfect.” He’s no longer whispering and it’s not helping my situation.
“What’s perfect?” Janice looks up from her conversation with Lee.My Lee. Okay, not my Lee. The Lee whose voice echoes throughout my earbuds on lonely nights. Fuck. This isn’t happening.
“Just the new business plan. Excited for the new product. Another great opportunity to see your baby grow.” Janice knows I’m lying. I’m sure they all can tell. I can feel my voice cracking again. I watch the smile on Lee’s beautiful face get wider.He just watched me fangirl over him and I think I’m going to die from complete fucking embarrassment.
“Uh-huh. Well, Lee,” she turns to face him, “I believe we have some papers to sign.”
The Plan
“You with us, Son?” My eyes move up to the man in front of me. I was daydreaming again. He must have caught me in mid-dissociation with my gaze on the black table in front of me. I focused on the painted wood as if I could make it move with the powers of my mind. Just call me Charles Xavier.
My boss's dull gray eyes stay on me while he stands at the front of the long conference table. We’re all sitting and supposed to be listening in high-back, black leather office chairs. I have a similar one in my studio. We all pretend to listen while he talks about some useless business plan. Whether I hear what he is talking about or not, it won’t stop me from taking over his law firm one day. It pays to be sleeping with his daughter, even if it’s not her I keep fucking in my mind.
I have been fantasizing about that long red hair– how it would look wrapped around my fist as she took me deeper into that pretty little mouth. I can’t stop thinking about how good her pale, tattoo-covered, thick thighs would feel wrapped around my waist or straddling my lap.
“Alan?” There it is again, his agonizing voice.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind this morning.” That’s one way to put it. I’ve not stopped thinking about my red-headed siren, Thalia Smith, since Friday night.
I scrolled through her perfectly posed photos on her Instagram page quietly, while I sat in my large bed. Sunlight peeked in through the blinds and my eyes were still glued to the phone screen, careful not to double-tap on each one. She has taught me so much from the way she presents herself to her followers. Does she have any inclination as to what a picture like that can do to a man? A man like me?She has no fucking idea.
“All right, that’s it for now.” My father-in-law’s voice jolts me back to life once again. I’m sure he could feel me jump in my large, leather office chair.
“Alan, are you doing okay?”No. I am sexually frustrated. My mind is filled with visions of a pretty redhead in a variety of positions.I’ll admit, it’s a bit concerning. A whole list of fantasies makes their appearance in the front of my mind and I would be a more than willing active participant.
“Yes, sir. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” My eyes gaze up at him through the steam flowing above the coffee cup in my hand.
“Have a busy weekend?” His question seems forced. I know he doesn’t care what his least favorite son-in-law did over the weekend. We both continue our meaningless conversation in front of the conference room.
“Just a lot of research.”It isn’t technically a lie.
“Oh, that podcast of yours. How’s that going?” His inquiry is the last thing he wants to discuss.Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.
“It’s going well, getting more attention every day.”
“How does Ashley feel about that? Are you guys spendinganytime with each other?”Who?I pause. Maybe a little too long.That’s right. My wife and his daughter.
His inclination that Ashley and I don’t spend enough time together ismyfault, is well, hilarious.Frankly, I don’t think she cares much for it either way. It keeps us separated, and she gets to have her alone time. She has her Kindle, her books and her nights out with her friends. I have my podcast and my only real friend who meets up with me every Friday night to focus on the latest episode. We have our interests, and that’s what works for us.
“Oh, she doesn’t seem to mind,” I admit bluntly. His smug smile appears on his face, as well as a condescending pat on the back.What the hell is that supposed to mean?
