I check my phone, praying I have somebody else who wants to interview me in case LocalGro doesn’t work out.
–Nicholas: What do you want for dinner? Go out? Eat in? Whatever you prefer.
I smile. He truly has a magical ability to make me happy. He could text, “Boo,” and I’d still smile.
–Me: I’m going to be a little late. So maybe we can go out at around 7 or 8.
–Nicholas: What’s going on? Jack making you work overtime?
–Me: No. I need to exercise.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nicholas
I need to exercise…?
I stare at my phone. Molly doesn’t enjoy working out. She’s never expressed any interest in the gym at the mansion, and Georgia mentioned once that the free Get Jacked membership is wasted on Molly.
So what’s up with this sudden desire to work out? I have five minutes before the next meeting, so I call her.
“What’s going on?” I say when she answers.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d call. Um, it isn’t a big deal.” She laughs a little. “I just feel like I should. Something I just want to do. We’re dating, and I just want to do my part and be, you know, better girlfriend material.”
Better girlfriend material?Who filled her head with this garbage? “I don’t need you to be ‘better girlfriend material.’ You’re already a great girlfriend. Perfect.”
“Thank you.” The warmth in her voice overlays a sliver of skepticism running underneath. She either doesn’t believe she’s a great girlfriend or she thinks I’m just saying it. Neither of which is good. “Anyway, I’ll be fine. I’m not going to hurt myself or anything. The gym’s full of trainers.”
And Jack Peterson.That cheating, opportunistic asshole. And Arturo.
“You don’t have any clothes to exercise in,” I say, hoping to talk to her in person about this later this evening. If she wants to exercise for herself, I’m in full support. But if she’s doing this for me—God forbid—or because somebody told her some weird shit, I’m going to ask her to stop. It’s only going to be torturous, and she’ll end up resenting and dreading it.
“I got some from the store here. Jack gave them to me for free.”
Oh, he did, huh?Wrong move.Ipay for things for my girl. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
“See you soon.” She hangs up.
I step outside the office. Cody stands from his desk, holding some notes and documents. Today his hair is gelled to the max, sticking up in angry black spikes. Dark circles around his hazel eyes make him look like he got into a bar fight last night, but they’re from lack of sleep. I told him to hire an assistant, but he hasn’t done it yet.
“Cancel all my meetings for the afternoon. I’m not available.”
He places his notes neatly on the desk. “Reschedule or cancel the entire acquisition?”
I almost forgot. This afternoon’s meetings are about a cement manufacturer acquisition. The company’s been struggling under poor management, and I plan to fix it and turn it profitable. “Reschedule.”
I drive to the original Get Jacked Gym. I know it well—Mom trained with Jack there before she decided to fall for his charms. Smarmy shit. He has a pattern. He flatters his female clients and constantly touches them to “spot” them and “prevent injuries.” Once his clients become comfortable with his seemingly innocent touches, he escalates until he gets into their pants. What he didn’t know was Mom wasn’t his usual bimbo. She was quite annoyed when she found out he was seeing somebody else long-term, and also getting his rocks off on the side with an assortment of short-term flings. The dictionary has Mom’s picture underneath “capricious,” but there’s one thing she absolutely insists on—faithfulness from her partner.
Molly isn’t the type to fall for that sort of thing, either. She’s too honest to betray me with Jack, no matter how charming he is. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with that piece of shit putting his hands on her.
I park my car and walk into the gym. A female trainer with a bright smile comes over. “Hi! Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Molly. If you’ll just point me to her office…”
She checks out my bespoke suit and hand-stitched leather shoes, then tilts her head. Naked curiosity blooms on her face. “What’s this about?”
“I’m her boyfriend.”
