Love Emerged (10 page)

I shake my head. “Never. I would never choose a girl over my own life goals.” Just as the words leave my mouth, I stare up to find Bea at the receptionist desk.

She looks at me with disappointment and hurt filling those beautiful hazel eyes. I regret abandoning her that night. I should never have left, but I’m not the type to sleep around and not care about the person. And if I care about Bea, then my heart will break. So, it’s better this way with both of us acting like we don’t care.

“Well, well, well . . . we meet again.” Brad closes the distance with lightning speed, pulling Bea into his chest. He lifts her and swings her around.

“Put me down!” She hits his shoulders.

I’m happy to see she’s back in her stilettos and short skirts. If I can’t touch, I like to look.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” Brad looks over her shoulder at me, raising his eyebrows a few times.

I know he’s trying to ignite a rise out of me, and I wish I hadn’t questioned him last night, asking if they had slept together.

“Still looking for Sigma Kappa Lame. Oh, whoops, I mean your ex?” she asks.

I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for the fireworks. If I thought Brad’s eyes pinned at me were shooting darts, they’re shooting damn nuclear weapons at Bea.

“No, and don’t make me put you in a headlock and give you a noogie,” Brad threatens.

Bea laughs. “A wedgie, too? How about you throw me across your knee and spank me?”

“Too many before me,” Brad says.

Bea steps back, showing how much that insult affected her.

“You can spank me.” Samantha stands and rests her arms on the desk, giving him a nice view of her cleavage.

Bea holds up a hand to her. “Calm down, little one. He’s still pining over his ex whom”—she coughs—“he cheated on.”

That wounded puppy I thought she was has just turned into a ferocious junkyard dog.

“Isn’t that right, Brad? Now, you want to get her back? Good luck to you on that.” She saunters by him.

He clenches his teeth while his face turns red. “It’s better than sleeping with half of the Michigan swim team. Wasn’t it only Tanner and me—oh, wait.” Brad acts like he’s looking up, remembering in his head.

He’s alluding that either himself or Tanner might have slept with Bea. If that’s the case, that would mean, she’s had two of us.

Fuck me.

She spins on her stilettos with fury filled in her eyes. “Go to hell, Brad.” She looks directly at me, as though she can hear my thoughts. “Never.” She spins back around and goes to her office.

“Nice, asshole,” I say to him. “Way to make a great impression on your first day.”

Brad shrugs—uncaring, like always, about anyone but himself.

“How about we grab a drink tonight?” Samantha asks him.

I stare blankly at her,
Does she have no standards?

“She started it.” Brad sounds like the preschooler he’s acting like when he answers my question.

“Let me show you to your office.” I breeze by him and walk him to the accounting department.

By the time I reach my desk, I spot a reflection of pink under my keyboard. Lifting it, I glance back at Yasmin, seeing that she’s concentrating on whatever she’s working on.

I never slept with your brother or Brad. Relax.

I crumple it up in my hand and throw it away in the trash can next to my desk.
Was my face that transparent that she thinks I cared?

Trying to push Bea out of my mind, I turn on my laptop. The screen finally boots up, so I type in my username and password. Lo and behold, there’s an email from my Nike contact. That tension that has been resting on my shoulders for the last few days lifts when I read that she’s willing to hear a new pitch. It’s a break—a monstrous break, but mostly, an opportunity. If I land it, I’ll be a senior account exec or maybe higher. But, if I fail, then I’ll be done. I need the most talented people in this office to work with.

Sliding my desk chair out, I decide I’d better go ask Tim for some recommendations as to who to take with me on the promotion train.

His office door is slightly ajar, and I overhear Bea in his office, so I walk a few steps away and wait. Her voice carries out of the door as she’s asking for some time off.

“I just can’t do it, Bea. We’re on crunch time here, and we have too many accounts, so we can’t afford for you to be gone,” Tim says, denying her request.

“But, Tim, it’s my dad. He’s sick, and I’m only asking for a long weekend. Friday and Monday. Maybe Tuesday, at the most. I’m always here, working late. It’s three days,” Bea argues.

This whole thing piques my interest.

“Why are you even going? I thought I heard that you and your father didn’t have a relationship.”

Bea’s voice becomes louder now. “That’s none of your business, and I’m not sure how you know anything personal about me.”

“Come on. Your family is famous. The Vitron’s, right?”

I rack my brain for Vitron. It sounds familiar, but that doesn’t clarify much to what Tim’s saying.

Why is Bea’s last name Zanders?

Finding all this too interesting—like a soap opera drama—to pull back and not eavesdrop on the conversation, I linger by the door, closer now.

“Seriously? Listen, Tim, I have the vacation time, and I want to use it.”

“I said no, Bea. I’m sorry, but you can leave a half day early on Friday. I need you back on Monday morning though. You’re supposed to pitch to the Fraedrich company.”

“Kevin can do it.”

“You know how Mr. Fraedrich likes the women. He wants you to present.” Tim’s voice lowers.

I can’t hear what he is saying, but a second later, Bea thrusts the door open and plows out, her face red.

She doesn’t notice me because she turns left without a look around. I saunter into Tim’s office, as though I have no idea what just transpired between the two of them.

“Hey, Tim.”

He sits down, acting unfazed about what happened with Bea, but I catch his fingers continuing to flex in and out, like he’s relieving tension.

“What can I do for you, Dylan?” He takes his seat behind his mammoth desk.

I grab the vacant chair. “I have some good news. Nike is willing to hear a pitch.”

His eyes light up, and he sits a little straighter in his chair. “That’s awesome. Way to go, Dylan. You came through.”

He’s halfway to running a victory lap even though the gun never went off. We’re still training. Hell, we’re only tying our shoes.

“Tim, this is a tough one. We have one month, and if we don’t nail it, we can kiss them good-bye until another person takes my contact, Georgia’s place. I need to establish a team ASAP, and we need to be working solely on that.” I lean back, laying my ankle across my opposite knee.

He steeples his hands in front of his mouth and thinks about what I’m asking.

I’m guessing Bea’s his best.
Just give me her since she can’t take a vacation.

“Take Kevin and John.” His weight tilts his office chair, and he nods.

“Those are your best? This is Nike we’re talking about.”

“They are. Plus, Bea and Yasmin are on other campaigns right now.” He’s sitting across from me, straight up lying.

Does he not want this company to succeed?

Because I didn’t put all my eggs into a company where the execs wouldn’t want us to improve. If Deacon isn’t going to go up to bat with the major players in New York, then I might as well crawl back to AdSec and grovel.

“That’s funny. I just heard Kevin talking about the Fraedrich’s campaign in the break room. He mentioned that he’s been working on it with Bea.”

Two can play at this game of liars.

“Well,” he stutters, delaying in order to think about his answer.

Thankfully, Tim isn’t that quick with coming back on the fly.

“Technically, you’re right. Kevin’s on that account, but Bea’s primary, so you can take him. She’ll be fine.”

“Because she’s your best?”

“Yeah.”

Like taking candy from a baby. Dumb prick.

“Bea’s your best?” I clarify again.

“Oh, no. I mean, on the Fraedrich’s team.”

Don’t try to backpedal now. I have you, and I choose to demolish you.

I lean forward with my elbows on my knees, steepling my own fingers together, much like Tim. “Give me Bea, Tim.”

Our eyes hold. He’s testing me, but I’m persuasive. We both know I am, so he should give up the fight.

But he doesn’t. His eyes dig into mine, searching for an out, but he’s not smart enough to come up with one, so I play his game.

Eventually, he sits back again. “You can have her after Monday. She’s presenting to Fraedrich’s.”

“I can’t do that. See, Nike wants something by the end of the month. Thirty days. We need to come up with the campaign and then bring in graphics and a slogan. We’re already in deadline mode, and we haven’t started. So, let me pitch you an idea, and if you like it, you’ll look like a damn hero to your boss. If you don’t like it, I think you should trust me.”

“Trust you? You’re a fresh-out-of-college twenty-three-year-old baby face. You know how long I’ve been in this business?”

“Let’s see, Tim. You were hired out of Michigan State as a junior exec where you stayed for over ten years when most are out in two. When you finally got to senior exec, you single-handedly sabotaged a campaign for the highest client—whom you had been schmoozing for over six months—because you fell in love with his wife. Not knowing what to do with you, they developed some new job where you were a paper-pusher, for the most part.”

His tongue sticks in his cheek. He’s not happy that I know his whole story here at Deacon.

“Unable to get a job anywhere else, you somehow kept yours here, but I think that’s only because you’re friends with someone higher up. But, as time went by, people who knew your past began to leave, and you somehow got up to management level. You’re here, and you’re still dicking around. I’d ask the question as to why Bea is still a junior exec, but my guess is, you don’t promote women. That you’re one of those old-school guys who thinks she should be at home, making a nice happy life for her husband. Your wife does that even though you probably fuck around on her every time you’re let off your leash.”

“Go fuck yourself, McCain. I am your boss, and if you think you can talk to me like this, you’re insane.”

I stand up, placing my hands on the edge of his desk. My face is still stoic and controlled. “What are you going to do? Tell your boss who hired me that you lost the contact at Nike? Or, better yet, you lost the account by not putting your best people on the campaign?”

The fight in his eyes is transparent. He wants to challenge me, deny me Bea, and probably have my ass thrown out of not only his office, but also the company. The problem is, he can’t. We both know it. I am the damn golden boy for this fleeting moment in time. If I seal up Nike, then Tim will benefit just as much as I will. So, although he might want to stick his size twelve up my ass, he won’t.

“I’m taking Bea. I need to do some research, so Bea and I will be gone from Friday to Wednesday morning. Kevin will present to Fraedrich’s, and if you want a woman to do it, grab Yasmin. She’s fully capable to present to a small bratwurst company out of Dearborn.”

He nods. “Wednesday morning, and no later.”

“Yes. We’ll both be here with something.”

I let him have some authority while I do the math in my head. Seven days from now, I have to nail a campaign slogan for one of the largest companies in the world. This is not a simple feat.

“Fine, McCain. I just want to be clear that I’m only agreeing to this because I don’t want to answer to Mr. Knight if we don’t secure Nike. You were hired solely for your connections, and I’m glad to see you have gotten Nike, but I expect more to come through.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not a liar.” I stop at the door and turn around to face him. “If you run things right, Tim, I can make you just as successful as I will be.”

“As long as you don’t take my job,” he mutters.

I pretend that I didn’t hear him.

My pulse begins to calm down from the nerves I was hiding.

Never in my years have I talked to someone of authority like that. I’m the good kid, the quiet one in the corner who never gets yelled at. To spout those facts that I researched about Tim before joining Deacon was out of character for me, but I’d made a promise to myself when I came back to Detroit. Never again would someone walk all over me—neither a woman nor a company.

Bea

I’M ON MY WAY TO
my cubicle with the hopes to steal a chocolate from John’s stash before he returns from his two o’clock meeting when Tim calls out to me from his office.

“Bea, come in, please.”

I roll my eyes and sulk into his office, wondering what kind of bullshit he’ll throw at me this time. When I’m standing at the edge of the door, he waves me in.

“I don’t bite. Come in.”

“Au contraire mon frère,” I argue but step forward regardless.

“I’m taking you off the Fraedrich’s account.”

“What? I’ve done all the work. Who are you going to give it to?” My hands land on my hips, and my blood pressure spikes. Of all the gender-biased things he’s done, this is the worst.