Seven (4 page)

I know those two haven’t spoken in some time. When Patrick would request the paper and Thad’s case was front page news, again, Patrick would make snarky comments about how Thad says one thing but contradicts himself and his stance in his personal life. How he was thankful to have lost contact with Thad a long time ago because he creeped Patrick out. Through numerous snide remarks Patrick made, it was easy to put two and two together.

“Well, I love what I do. Some may hate answering phones and scheduling appointments, but I thrive on it. I’m an organizer.” I smile his way. “I know if I got this job that I would make ten thousand less a year, but after seeing the most recent case you have been working on, and knowing that I fully side with your position, I couldn’t help but submit my resume.” I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. Lies. I don’t agree with him. At some point, you have to let the bullshit go. Let people live their lives. Just because he loves another man; it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his children. Thad would know that, if he ever caught interest in his wife and made a child with her.

Back in high school, Thad had asked me out, but it was the year before the bet, and I figured it was because his parents made him ask me. It was to homecoming, and I didn’t have a date. His mother worked with mine, so I’m sure that had something to do with it. To say it was awkward is an understatement. He didn’t touch me—not once. Didn’t dance with me, and only hung out with some guy from the soccer team the entire night.

I’ll give him credit, though, like Casen, he never asked me out for the bet, but he never prevented it from happening. From any of it happening. He never thought to tell them what they were doing was wrong.

The interview goes well, and I hope to get the job. It would be a lot easier on me to be able to see, firsthand, if what Patrick was hinting at is true.

I stand up, Thad shaking my hand, and freeze when his eyes don’t leave mine. They stare into me like they recognize something. This is another thing I have prepared myself for: being found out. It would suck, to say the least, but again, I’m not doing anything except bringing attention to what they are hiding.

Is that wrong? Maybe.

Do I fucking care? Not one bit.

He walks me to the door and points me to the far end of the hallway when I ask to use the bathroom. “There is an exit down that way,” he tells me. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Quinn. We’ll be in touch.”

When I’ve finish, I decide to suck up to Jacob, and thank him for his help. Halfway back to the front desk, I stop short as soon as I hear heavy breathing and hushed voices behind a semi closed door. “Oh, you have to stop. I need to get back to work,” the masculine voice pleads. My eyes look through the slit in the doorway and go wide at the vision before me. My cheeks rise in a large smile when I find what might have taken me weeks to capture if I was hired here. I pull my phone out and hit video to record.

“I’m the boss,” Thad responds. “And, we’re taking a fifteen minute break before the next interview.”

Through the screen on my phone I watch as Thad unbuttons Jacob’s shirt, pushing it down off of his body. His tongue darts out, leaving a trail from Jacob’s neck to his shoulder, and I have to cover my mouth before I squeal with joy.

I
fucking
knew it.

Jacob reaches inside Thad’s still buckled pants and drags his hands up and down his boss’s length. Thad moans and commands Jacob to his knees.

That’s all I need. I stop recording and back away slowly as to not make a noise. For a married man who is so against gay people and their right to their own children, he sure looked like he was about to enjoy the benefits of having Jacob’s mouth wrap around his cock.

I hit the elevator button three times in my excitement. I guess I don’t need this job anymore. Once inside the elevator, I pull up the email address of the Chicago Tribune and log into my secure email, sending the short fifteen second video to their site. I give it an hour before it goes viral.

Getting the proof that what Patrick said there was is a big win in my book. Now, seeing it for myself, I know why Thad was always so awkward. Why he never dated anyone. Why he would have guy friends from other schools over all the time. I don’t fault him. The heart wants what it wants. But, that heart should also be caring and kind to those around him, and he let them use me and my innocence. I wasn’t a game. I wasn’t a bet. All he had to do was stick up for me. He didn’t, and now he will, most likely, lose the biggest case he’s ever had, and his credibility because he is a walking contradiction. A liar.

Patrick

Ian

Thad

Casen

Reece

Evan

Wesley

I’m sitting at Jedi’s bar, again, on a Friday night, watching the news on the TV. The day after the Tribune broke the story about Thad Morrison, every news channel got their greedy hands on the video, and it already has over three million views of the g-rated version and close to two million on the “not for kids” version. Lauren, Thad’s client, has already found a new lawyer, and Thad has gone into hiding. His poor wife, though. For her, I do feel bad.

I glance at my phone and the disappointing message that it contains. Trinity has to work late tonight, and can’t meet me here. She plans to move into her sister’s house this weekend, so I decided to come here on my own. I don’t want to lose the momentum I feel I gained with Casen last week. I left him with just a smidge of anticipation. I just hope I didn’t put him off too much.

I don’t have to wait long for the answer as I turn in time to see Casen walk in, but this time he is alone, also. When he meets my stare, a smug grin appears and he starts to push is way past dozens of hopeful women. He looks like he has one goal in mind. His wide shoulders make it easy to part the crowd. With each step he takes, my body is filled with eagerness of what's to come. As he gets closer, his eyes rake over me, starting from my peep toe heels all the way up to my teal colored blouse that accentuates my breasts. My chest heaves up and down with each breath I take, and I’m purposely pushing my tits out so they appear bigger than they are. Last week, I was standoffish. That obviously didn’t deter him. This week, I will give just a little bit more.

Damien nudges my hand aside, causing me to break eye contact with Casen. He sets another drink down without a word, and I don’t hesitate to pick it up and take a long sip not only to cool my heated body but to calm my anxiety. As he nears, memories flood me. Casen was the one I crushed on throughout high school. I walked into gym class as a freshman and was immediately enamored with him. I would have to say my intentions behind going out with his friend Ian during junior year were to get Casen’s attention. Who would have guessed accepting that date was a life changing decision? One that would alter my world forever.

I feel my skin prickle and my stomach coil, alerting me to his proximity and rub my fingers along the rim of my glass. “Is this seat taken?” Casen’s deep, menacing voice asks. My breathing begins to even out as I look at the gentleman currently residing in the seat Casen is inquiring about.

He’s got balls; I’ll give him that.

Cocking my head to the side, I lift my glass up, seductively placing the straw on my tongue and taking a sip. His cool façade breaks as he swallows down the lump in his throat. Taking another taste, I secure my bottom lip before I speak, hoping to sound completely at ease. I motion to the occupied seat, “Looks like it is.”

The man, who has his arm wrapped around a woman’s shoulders, his face, red with irritation, looks at Casen as though he has lost his mind. “We just fucking sat down, bro. Piss off.”

I glance between the two men, obviously in some sort of standoff, and try not to laugh. He never wanted my attention in high school but he sure has been seeking it lately, huh?

There must be a warning in Casen’s stare because the man stands up and grabs the woman’s hand, pulling her up, and they vacate their seats. Shifting away from the cocky bastard, I continue to sip my drink slowly and not mind him any attention. I’m going to make him work for it and try not to flinch if he so much as touches me. He slips in beside me, lifting a hand to let Damien know he wants to order before turning back to me. “Am I going to get your name tonight, beautiful?”

I laugh.

Really?

“Not interested,” I state, trying not to let the seduction in his voice fool me.

“Not interested? I’ve never heard anyone with that name,” he tries to joke, but I don’t laugh.

This is the kind of shit he uses to pick up women?

“What can I getcha?” Damien asks.

I point at my glass, requesting another drink, and motion towards Casen, “On his tab.”

“Budweiser for me.” Casen tells him before returning his full attention back to me. “If I’m going to buy you a drink, then it’s only fair you tell me your name.” His leg brushes against mine, lifting my skirt and exposing more of my thigh. Goosebumps spread across my skin like wild fire and I will them down.

Stay focused, Em.

My fingers come up to play with my necklace, and I relent, “Embyr.” I pick my gaze up and stare directly into his eyes. I drag them down his body, noticing the long-sleeved, black Henley he’s wearing and faded jeans. His shoes are black, as well, and they look like they hold massive feet. I peek at his hands, seeing exactly what Trinity meant. They are huge.

A moment passes before he says, “Don’t you want to know my name?”

I already know your name. Casen Parker. Fire fighter. Lived with your friends, my other high school bullies, Ian and Reece, up until two months ago, when you all ventured off and got your own places. Homecoming King in high school and graduated with honors in fire science.

But, I don’t say all that.

“Okay, then.” I roll my eyes as if the idea is beneath me. “So, what’s your name?”

He stares for a moment before widening his smile. “Casen.”

His cockiness pulls me in and I can’t bring myself to turn away. His heated tone breaks through my barrier and a flood of emotions take over. Even though it’s been ten years, he still looks the same and I feel a spark of not only hatred but attraction. I didn’t expect that and it makes all of the high school memories come screaming back at me. They consume me. My chest tightens while I feel my face burning. I can’t control the tremble of my hands as I pick up my glass trying to keep this panic attack under control.

I haven’t had one of these since high school.

I take deep breaths, gasping for air, hoping I don’t pass out. It’s not working. The memories continue to suffocate me. I feel constricted.

I can’t fucking breathe.

A gentle touch glides over my back and I jump at the contact. “You okay?” Casen asks concern evident in his voice.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I’m finally able to lift my head and slide off of the stool, grasping my purse to my chest. “Yes. I just…” I stumble. “I need a moment.”

I race to the bathroom, knowing full well I am fucking this up. I’ve managed to screw Patrick and Thad over no problem. So what is so different that, just speaking to Casen twice in the past week, has me turned inside out? The bathroom door slams against the tiled wall when I barge in and lock myself inside. My forehead meets the cold metal of the door as I chastise myself.

Get your shit together, Embyr.

You hate him.

He didn’t stop them.

He repulses you.

I repeat this over and over until I believe what I’m saying. It takes a few minutes, but I gather myself and hold my head up high as I stride back to the bar, shoulders straight, like I didn’t just fall apart in front of my prey. When I turn the corner, I see Casen looking down at his phone typing furiously, and I pray I didn’t lose him. I’ll be pissed if I screwed it all up by letting his good looks and charm suck me in at a vulnerable moment.

“There you are.” He places his phone back into his pocket.

I reclaim my spot and nod. “Yeah. Sorry. Long, shitty day got to me.” I smile back, hoping he believes my lie.

“No worries,” he comforts and slides a glass of water my way. “You looked like you needed this.”

I take a sip and nod with gratitude.

“So,” he begins angling his body so I’m facing him. “Last week didn’t seem to go over very well for me. I feel as though I came on too strong.” When I don’t respond, he continues. “It sounds cliché, but I’ve noticed you the past few weeks and feel like, despite the brush off last Friday, that I should make more of an effort. Try not to scare you off. Maybe see if you wanted to go out sometime.”