“Every day but Saturday, I work out from six to six forty-five. Then I shower and go downstairs for breakfast at one of our restaurants.My way of assuring the Benton waitstaff is at their best every day.”
“Also,yum, breakfast.”
Cole just looked at me like the idea of eating food without an employee evaluation agenda was completely foreign to him.
"Okay, then." I shook my head. "See you at one thirty-seven this afternoon?"
"Most likely later than that," Cole answered with a clenched jaw. "I work until six on weekends."
"And on weekdays?"
"Nine."
"Wow." I knew I wasn't one to talk, but I felt compelled to point out to the CEO, who wasn't currently trying to make up for a horrible six-figure mistake, "That's a lot of work."
He rolled his neck, as if my observation was cramping it somehow. "Undoing the damage my father did required a lot of work."
"Sure, sure," I agreed, nodding. "But didn't you, like, already do that work? I only skimmed that end-of-the-year State of the Business email you sent around in December..."Instead of a holiday greeting, like a total corporate robot,I silently added. "But I'm pretty sure I recall something about record profits."
Cole regarded me for a long, hard second. Then said, “You should join me.”
"For work? I'm not sure how that would?—"
"For breakfast."
"Oh!" My heart lit up at the invitation—not to mention my tummy. But then, I winced down at my pajamas. “I don't have anything much better than this. Basically, my whole wardrobe is themed around whether I could wear it to a Benton Girls rehearsal, too, so my brunch outfit game is very Midwestern tourist. I imagine you would wear...”
"I wear a suit whenever I step out of the penthouse, unless it's for a game of golf, yes," he finished for me.“I’ll have Agnes send something up. Meanwhile, you can go downstairs to health services and get your blood drawn.”
“Thank you,” I said, wanting but sensing it would be useless to argue with him about whether poor Agnes needed to be texted before six a.m. to sort out a breakfast outfit.
Like a dutiful little ex-showgirl who had just signed a relationship contract, I went downstairs to a third floor medical concierge suite I didn't even know existed to get my blood drawn for my STD panel.
Then I checked all my messages on the way back to the penthouse on the no-longer-dead phone I'd charged overnight.
There were several text messages from Tony.
Mi amor, I won the fight! Where are you?
Did you go home? Cherenity wants to say hi. Look at us. Aren't we iconic???
I couldn't help but smile at the picture taken in the concrete hallway of the warehouse's "backstage." He had a black eye and several bruises on his upper torso, but he was grinning widely, with his arm around the waist of his much taller girlfriend—who yes, did look like the spitting image of a 1960’s version of a certain entertainment icon.
Okay, looks like you went home. You're not murdered, right? Right??? Oh, shit, now I'm scared.
His increasingly worried texts were followed up by a much cheerier one around five that morning.
Okay, texted Pru. She says you're booed up IN THE BENTON PENTHOUSE!!! Why didn't you tell me you and Cole Benton were engaged???? Bitch, ENGAGED!!! Call me! Call me! You should have led with that, even if I was crying. Anyway, Mimosa Brunch with Pru and me?
Next came a voice text from Pru, asking whether I was alright and what I was doing in North Las Vegas for approximately forty minutes in the middle of the night before returning to Cole's penthouse suite a little after one in the morning. (Pru didn't consider you a real friend unless she could lovingly stalk your location with one of her black-op phone tracking apps whenever you were apart.)
Then came another voice text, asking why did Tony think I'd been murdered and whether I wanted to do Saturday brunch.
After several mental calculations, I typed out...
Hey hey, just checking in. Already miss seeing your face most days. Everything's fine, tho. I was supporting Tony. And before you ask, he's not bearding again. He just had a fight. Sorry, can't go to Mimosa Drag Brunch with you. I already have plans with Cole.
I pressed send on the text just as I got back to the penthouse suite and keyed in the code. Hopefully, that was enough to satisfy Pru's curiosity about why I called her last night without leaving a—Holy moly!
