“My client came to us for rehab and restore on Saint Cosmas in Dorchester. School conversion. We discussed thatlastMonday,” I said. “After the walking the property, it was clear Saint Cosmas would be a complete teardown and not within the client’s project parameters. Walked a few more properties and Trench Mills is the best option. Floor plans drafted and approved by the client.”
They didn’t need to know the client and I discussed those floor plans in bed Sunday morning, or that she sat in my home office wearing only an old UCSD t-shirt, her legs folded beneath her and her hair tucked over her ears while I drafted them. They didn’t need to know I checked every measurement three times because those swaths of bare skin were too distracting to be safe. She asked lots of questions, her finger tracing every line on the screen before tugging my shorts down, taking me in her mouth, and demanding—fuckingdemanding—I fill her throat with my orgasm.
And after she sucked me dry, I realized there was far more to Lauren than I first thought. More than the sweetness, the softness, the naughty schoolteacher. Maybe I knew it earlier, but a certain clarity came with an orgasm that blew through me like a goddamn tsunami. She was the size of a freaking fifth grader, but she was a force of nature.
“But we do residential, right?” Riley’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes,” Patrick responded. He leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully unbuttoned his cuffs and folded his sleeves to his elbows. “But contributing to the community from time to time won’t kill anyone. We should attempt to make more friends than enemies.”
Patrick turned his attention to Sam’s projects and I unlocked my phone under the table.
07:44 Lauren:that was a statement. maybe you meant to ask me a question, caveman.
I rubbed my brow and grinned. There was something about this girl I liked. Maybe numerous somethings.
07:53 Matthew:my apologies, Miss Halsted. Would you have dinner and drinks with me tonight?
07:53 Matthew:I actually mean dinner. You’re absolutely welcome to suck my cock, but let’s eat first.
07:54 Lauren:I’m not sure about that. My day is jammed. I fly out at 7 tomorrow morning and I haven’t packed a thing, and most of my life is being held hostage at the dry cleaner
07:54 Matthew:here are the givens: you need to eat. I need to eat. We both work too fucking much.
07:54 Matthew:You’ll be with my sister a few hours this afternoon and you probably need a ride to the airport tomorrow.
07:55 Matthew:and you really like my cock in your mouth.
07:55 Matthew:as I see it, we should hang out tonight
07:55 Matthew:get dinner with me and I’ll bring you to the airport. Problems solved, cocks sucked.
“Patrick and I have been talking, and there some major things to iron out,” Shannon announced. She shuffled some papers and closed her laptop, her hands folded on the lid. “First, we need to hire some help. There’s too much for us to do with just the five of us, and two assistants. We can afford it now, and we can’t keep doing ninety-hour weeks.”
“Preach,” Riley responded.
Shannon glared at Riley for a beat before continuing. “And second, some of the architecture schools—Cornell in particular—have been hitting us hard to take apprentices or interns. Problem being that an apprenticeship requires a lot of time and attention. Those baby birds usually need lots of support before we can let them fly alone, and we can barely get out of our own ways on most days.”
“And what is your recommendation?” Sam asked.
“Patrick and I are going to work on an intern or apprentice development model before we accept anyone, but expect to start seeing candidates in the office. Obviously,” Shannon gestured to Sam while my leg bounced under the table in an attempt to distract myself from the vibrations pulsing off my phone. “We still have more demand than we can meet, even with some additional intern-level support. Thoughts on all this?”
“Why not just hire a couple architects?” Riley swirled his cup as uneasy glances darted across the table. Silence lingered, and I wondered how Riley could know so little about the firm. And it wasn’t just that—how could he know so little aboutus? Hadn’t he seen us busting our asses for years? Watching every last penny during those first years when it seemed like we weren’t going to stay above water?
“This has been a family operation for nearly seventy years,” Sam countered. “You weren’t even in high school when we decided we were telling Angus to go pound sand and taking over this place. But we made a plan to do this, and put everything into ittogetherbecause we wouldn’t let him run it into the ground. It should stay that way. Having a lot of inquiries,” he waved his call sheet, “doesn’t mean we should take every project. The money’s great but I wouldn’t trade that for the control we have over what we do and how we do it. We’re the only firm in the region doing this, and I don’t want to see us change. This is our place, and it needs to stay our place.”
Patrick nodded. “I’d rather take on less work than take on new partners, but after everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe I’m saying we should turn away business.”
“So we agree?” Shannon paused for dissent, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “We’ll look into interns and associates, but we’re not hiring partners. Family operation. Sustainable prez for the win, like we planned.”
“I agree with Sam, but what about you? If anyone needs more support, I think it’s you, Shan,” I countered. “And not interns. People who know what they’re doing. You manage all the accounting, taxes, payroll, and real estate, and probably more that I don’t even realize you do. You’re great but it’s too much.”
Patrick closed his computer and leaned forward. “We’re working on that.”
“Get me some interns. I’ll show ’em how it’s done,” Riley said.
“Speaking of which,” Patrick barked, his coffee cup pointed at Riley. “RISD is riding with you, Matt. Maybe you can teach him to add or hold a ruler.” Patrick jammed his phone into his slacks and collected his laptop and coffee before heading down the narrow stairs. Shannon and Sam followed, deep in conversation about the number of interns they could manage.
We all went through the Cornell architecture program—me and Patrick and Sam, and all the architects in my family back to my grandfather and great-uncles—everyone except Riley. I respected the hell out of the Rhode Island School of Design and their program, but I suspected his choice to head south to RISD was driven mostly by Angus’s assholery.
