“You wanna know why Raymond gets under your skin?” he says, catching my gaze in the reflection. “‘Cause he gets you reactin’. So stop reactin’, Sonny, and start steerin’. That dipshit has no power over you. None.” His hand swipes the air in front of him. “When you’re talkin’? Don’t even look at him. You don’t give a fuck about him. He’s just another guy on the board.”
His gaze swings back to mine in the mirror, making sure I’m listening.
“When he starts talkin’?
“Glance at your phone.
“Check your messages.
“Look bored. This will trip him up.
“He won’t be expectin’ that from you.”
He drags a hand through his hair,
still pacing,
humor spreading across his face.
I can’t kill my smile as I put on lipstick.
“If he pulls his manipulative bullshit,
“don’t engage, don’t argue with him,
“none of that back and forth crap.
“That’s his game.
“Just let him yap.”
He smirks.
“Then glance around the room,
“exhaling loud,
“and cut him off with the ‘no.’
“Right then, move the fuck on
“like he never had a voice in the room.
“He tries to overpower you?
“pull that—” he lifts his hand,
“I’ma-stop-you-right-there bit.
“Then hit him with the ‘no’ again.
“Don’t defend yourself.
“Don’t talk too much.
“Confident people don’t over-explain.”
He stops,