“Nope.” Never. If I had a dollar every time Mom asked me that, I could buy a chicken farm for my dad. However, that would mean it would come with a house that has regular amenities, and that would never do.
I smile to myself. I love my parents, but man, they are set in their ways and have a fixed mindset when it comes to modern living.
I divulge a little more information. “It’s just that this new client is difficult.” Impossible to read. Closed off and has a fortress built around him, made of five-foot-thick stone and an impenetrable portcullis. “And he hates all of my ideas.” It’s just as well I didn’t mention storytelling through movement, because I think that would have triggered a seizure.
He was already on the verge of a meltdown because of the brightly painted restaurant I booked. The fast-paced music was a step too far for the man whose whole personality is irritable and intense.
He’s handsome, though. There’s no escaping those blue eyes of his that almost hypnotized me over dinner. Or the broad muscles he hides beneath his gray suit. Tall, dark, mysterious, commanding, he’s the opposite of my type, but I have to admit the grumpy bastard part of him intrigues me.
“Describe him to me,” she presses me for information. Mom might say she hates what I do, but deep down, she secretly loves it and finds it fascinating.
“He owns a law firm with his three brothers. The family firm was started years ago by their father. He specializes in corporate law, doing mergers and acquisitions.”
“Pft,” she scoffs, making me chuckle as Mom hates anything to do with law and order.
I add more details, painting a picture of him to her. “His name is Elijah, and he prefers to be called Eli. Plays chess, has a thing for bonsai, quiet, mysterious, guarded.” A clear image of him forms in my mind, and I sigh again, only this time it’s blissful. “Chiseled jaw you could cut glass on, piercing eyes like the blue of glacial water, mesmerizing,” I say dreamily. “Dark hair, short beard, confident, handsome, and so tall. About six-four, maybe taller. He’s gorgeous.” I fall silent, unaware I had stopped rubbing Ghost’s stomach until he taps his fluffy paw against my hand, requesting me to continue.
“You like him.” It’s not a question.
“I do not,” I snap a little too harshly, giving myself away and causing Ghost to lift his head and look at me suspiciously, as if sensing my lie. I stick my tongue out at him, and if I didn’t know any better, I swear he rolls his eyes at me before dropping his head back against the sofa.
“Keep telling yourself that and you might sound convincing,” Mom drawls.
“Oh, God,” I grumble. “This is bad.”
“So, you like a client. Big deal. Has that never happened before?”
Has a guy ever made butterflies dance in my belly and raise my temperature by what felt like ten degrees when he rubbed his enormous, veined hands over his scruff in deep thought? Is that what she means? Because if so, then… “Nope.” I pause. Those hands were masterpieces. I never thought I’d be into hand porn, but here we are.
I add, “It’s okay, though, he was just standing in for someone else tonight. It’s only temporary, and I won’t have to deal with him directly when she returns to work.” Thankfully.
“And when is their event?” she asks.
“After his eldest brother’s wedding.” It’s a few months away. Plenty of time to organize the event, but much too long to spend with a man who is far too good-looking for his own good.
“That will go by in a flash.”
I agree. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” I say, knowing it will be anything but fine if I have to put up with his insufferable ass. “Even if I do have to deal with him, he wants to be contacted by email only anyway. It’ll be fine,” I repeat like a mantra. Although that is a real shame because it means I won’t get to see those blazing blue eyes of his again anytime soon; on the bright side, it means I am far enough away from him to keep my distance. “He hates me,” I state matter-of-factly. It was so obvious. His polite smiles felt tight rather than genuine. The way he looked at me with bewilderment, as if wondering how I could get so many words out in one breath, compared to his one-word answers, seemed to frazzle his brain. I know I can be a lot, but I am who I am, and I won’t change for anyone.
When I was younger, my classmates and teachers always said I was too much, too chatty, too this, too that. Now that I’ve gotten older, I don’t care what people think about my style, my hair color, the way I speak, or how I act, and I refuse to let anyone dull my sparkle.
“No rational person hates you, Sapphy. He’s obviously crazy.”
I love how protective Mom is of me; she thinks I have the most beautiful soul in the world, a sentiment she expresses to me every day of my life, even via text. Because, yup, my technology-hating mother, who believes that global inequality and corporate power are what tip the world off balance, loves her cell phone. For someone who hates corporations, patriarchy, and any other word ending with a “Y”, the irony isn’t lost on me.
“Anyway, let’s not talk about Elijah, I mean Eli, anymore.” I steer our conversation down a different road. “What are your plans for the weekend?” Tomorrow is Friday.
“We are off to a swinging retreat.”
My parents have never hidden their open relationship from me; hell, they’re not even married, but someone please stuff my ears with glue because I do not need to know what they do in their spare time. “Aaannnd that’s my cue to hang up.”
“It’s all very natural, Sapphy. We’re safe, and it’s consensual. And you know Daddy likes to?—”
I end the call and throw my cell to the far side of my sectional, as if it has a contagious disease, and gag.
“What the hell is wrong with my parents, Ghost?” I shudder and stop rubbing his tummy, feeling like I could do with a shower. I need to scrub myself clean, and my ears feel violated. “Why can’t they just be normal?” Ghost lifts his head before sitting up and begins grooming himself. “You’ll get another hairball.” He stops licking himself and stares me down before continuing again, ignoring me entirely.
I have no power here.