Mixed, p.8
Mixed, page 8
part #2 of Breaking Free Series
"Dad, I told you why I left. I—"
"Yes, of course. You wanted to try a different field of law. Mergers and acquisitions were becoming too mundane for you. I still don't understand what allure the entertainment industry has over a prestigious position as a partner at perhaps one of the most pre-eminent firms in the country."
“Dad, it’s my life. I can live it the way I see fit. I wanted a change. I needed to make the move, so I did. That’s it. What is it that brought you to LA other than Brinxley?”
“No reason for that other needing to attend a meeting and see my daughter. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
“Dad, I’m lucky if I get in more than ten words in a conversation with you, and you haven’t called me for weeks, except for the other day to confirm that I’d gotten your itinerary. If I don’t call you, then who knows how long it would be before I heard from you.”
“That’s not true. We spoke three days ago.”
“Okay Dad, fine.” She set her menu down and signaled to the waiter that they were ready to order. She got the waffles with two sides of bacon and also ordered her father’s meal for him. His predictability sometimes comforted her and others, frustrated her to no end. She handed he menu back to the waiter and their awkward breakfast date continued.
Since she’d been a child, her relationship with her dad had always been different than the one with her mom, but before her mom died, he’d been different. He’d been much freer with his affection, like hugs and sitting down with her, wanting to know what happened during her day. When her mom died, sometimes she thought it would have been better if she had been shipped off to boarding school. In some ways, it was harder to remember her dad one way and have a new reality presented to her right after her mom died. She’d hoped that by doing all the things that he asked and following in his footsteps that maybe someday she would have been able to renew that kind of relationship, but that day had never come.
“How are things with the firm?”
“They are going well. I’ve made some progress on a few projects. I’m managing a team. The lateral move was a good one for me and the change of pace has been nice.”
“Hmm.”
“Dad, I’m exhausted. Tell me what you want to tell me.”
“I’m surprised, is all. I would have thought that after all your hard work at your old firm, you would have wanted to stay there until you made partner. Had I known you’d wanted this change of pace, I would have made some calls myself.”
She took a deep breath. This was precisely why she hadn’t told him anything about it until everything was final. Her dad loved to meddle. He loved to micromanage her life, and she’d gone along with it for so long—probably too long. Her break to the west coast had been her shot at making her own way.
“I didn’t want you to make calls, Dad. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because maybe I wanted to do this on my own—completely on my own—without any intervention by you. You’ve always tried to put your print on every aspect of my life and I didn’t want that anymore,” she said, leaning forward as she spoke, trying to make sure she wasn’t drawing attention from the other patrons. The only thing her father hated more than disobedience was making a scene.
The waiter came back with their meals and set them in front of them. She sat back and checked out her plate. Not giving a fuck at that moment, she picked up some bacon and started chowing down on it. Her dad’s aghast look almost made her laugh out loud—almost.
“Jennifer,” he warned.
“Dad, I’m living my own life here. I’m doing what I need to do and I’m doing great work and I’m not going to let you dictate my life anymore. I hope you have a good meeting, but do not try to micromanage my life.” She licked her fingers, drawing another glare from her father.
“I’m not going to sit here and allow you to speak to me like this.” He stood, throwing his napkin down in the chair. He reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet and took out some twenties and placed them on the table. She was left in the wake of his rushed departure past her and out of the restaurant.
“Bye, Dad,” she said, picking up another piece of bacon. Maybe she was still a little drunk.
13
Groaning, Mark rolled over on his bed and fell immediately to the hardwood floor of his office. Glancing around, everything from the night before came rushing back to him. Holy shit! He grabbed his throbbing head and rested it against the arm of the couch. Jen, his head whipped around—mistake, huge mistake—and the room spun. Wow, that woman could drink!
She’d bailed. Not that he could blame her, but this wasn’t how he thought his first post-divorce romp would go. Had it really been that long? Almost two years. Maybe it was for the best. Vibrations on his back had him reaching up to find out what the hell was on him. It was a phone, practically welded to his back. Pushing a button, the screen lit up. It was Jen’s. A small glow of happiness crept up at the thought that she’d come back for it eventually.
Stupid! This was not what he should be thinking about right now. He had other crap to deal with and didn’t need to be thinking about another woman. He needed to focus on The Bramble and how to keep it out of Cheryl’s clutches. When she’d reached for Jen last night, it took everything in him to remember that she was a woman and he would not put his hands on her. Just thinking of her made his blood boil. Clenching his hands, he pulled his shirt over his head. It smelled like Jen, like flowers and vanilla.
They’d been going drink for drink for most of the night at the wedding. Then, adding in the aerial silk show was insane. Being Jen’s spotter as she wrapped herself up in that cloth provided quite a show, which didn’t do anything to slow his libido. He was an inch away from punching Liam in the chest when he kept trying to get a peek up her dress from the grass below, standing next to him. As a bar owner, Mark had never entertained inadequacies about his drinking abilities, but compared to her he might as well be a college freshman.
A replay of the night flashed through his head: her mouth, her hands, that woman brought him to his knees. His morning wood now fully on display, he reached onto the couch to grab his boxers. After taking care of things in the bathroom, he got dressed and stumbled down the steps and into the kitchen. The bright lights were on and Rox was in there. He covered his face like a vampire, resisting the urge to hiss.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Rox said, cheerily walking in from the walk-in fridge.
“How can you be so chipper in the morning?”
“I’m a morning person. Being here until 12 a.m. is what really screws with me. But getting my prep done early, taking a nap at home and coming back, I can usually make it through each shift that my slave driver of a boss forces me to do day in and day out.”
He was too hung over to give her any more than a grunt.
“Your sleeping beauty is already out the door. She headed out a while ago. I think she was late for a date or something.”
“A date?” That little lump in his chest grew. A date? A date with who? Maybe she didn’t want to wake him, not because she didn’t want to wake him and maybe had some work to do, but maybe because she regretted it. Or worse, she just didn’t really care all that much at all.
“Dude, I’m screwing with you. She didn’t say anything about a date. She said she had to go to some brunch thing. But you’re totally falling for her,” she teased, twirling one of her knives at him before she went back to chopping.
“Shut your mouth,” he whispered. His head throbbed with every syllable.
“Whatever, I’m off for the day after I do the prep. Everyone else will be in for lunch and dinner service.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning against one of the counters.
“You look like shit. I haven’t seen someone out-drink you in a while,” she said, cleaning some kind of vegetable.
“It’s brutal.” Mark grabbed his head and rested it on the cold metal counter.
“No contaminating my counters!”
“Stop shouting,” he whispered.
“Stop rubbing your greasy head all over my clean counters.” She walked over with a wooden chair.
“Sit here,” she commanded and stalked off. The faucet turned on and she banged around the kitchen. Then under his bowed head a glass of water and a hand with pills appeared in his line of vision.
“Drink up.” She knelt as he took the pills into his mouth and swallowed them. “Lightweight.” She chuckled as she stalked back off to continue her prep.
“I’m your boss, aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”
She snorted. “Mark, I’ve known you so long you’re practically like a brother to me and I imagine if I had a brother I wouldn’t let him get away with anything, so sorry you got stuck with the short straw when it comes to getting my sympathy.”
Leaning his head up against the wall behind him, he closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning.
“So, what’s the deal with Jen?”
“No deal. We went to the wedding. She was my date. We had fun. Almost got in a fight with Cheryl. Drank a ridiculous amount of booze. The end.”
“Right, sure. I would have loved to see those two in a fight. Jen would definitely be able to take her. She seems scrappy,” she chuckled. He cracked open his eyes.
“She does, doesn’t she?”
“When you going to ask her out on a real date? Make it official?”
“There is no official, I’m not even done with this shit with Cheryl yet. I can’t get involved with anyone else.”
“Sure,” she teased.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a committer, Mark. That’s what you do. You don’t go out drinking with a woman, especially after take her to a wedding as your date, and sleep with her and are not already starting to pick out china patterns in your mind.”
“I do not. Shut up,” he groaned.
“You proposed to Cheryl after eight months. And there was, what? Three weeks between when you broke up with the girlfriend you were with before her? I’m surprised you’ve gone almost two years since you separated from Cheryl before ending up with someone.”
“Can we not talk about this right now?”
“You got it, boss.” She saluted him and walked back to her prep. “I’m just saying, she seemed like she wouldn’t put up with any of your shit and is fun, so … good job on the rebound chick.” Rox walked back into the walk-in freezer before he could throw anything at her.
After eating a bacon-heavy breakfast prepared by Rox, Mark left the kitchen out the back door and came face-to-face with his car. At least, he thought it was his car. It was hard to tell with half the windshield smashed, paint completely ripped from the side, and at least one of the tires flat.
“FUCK!”
Rox came barreling out of the kitchen and skidded to a stop behind him.
“What the hell?” What the hell happened to your car?” He swung around, eyes blazing. She backed up a step, careful to keep the door from closing.
“Hell if I know! You didn’t see this when you came in?”
“No, it was fine when I came in. It hadn’t been touched.”
“Well someone definitely touched it.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“Who knows, probably Cheryl’s moron new boyfriend or something. I have to go to the bank tomorrow.
How am I going to drive this thing?”
“I rode my bike today. What are you going to do?”
“I have to drive it home, then to the shop, and hope they can fix it and also hope that they can put me on a payment plan or something. I do not need this right now! It doesn’t open until ten and my meeting at the bank is tomorrow at nine. There is no way it will be ready in time. Damnit!” He ran his hands through his hair and pulled on it in frustration.
“I’m sorry, Mark.”
“Rox, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault at all. I’ll think of something. I’ll get this sorted out.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything. I’ll head back in,” Roxanne said, looking pale.
“Rox, it will be fine. At least no one was hurt.”
“Good thing,” she said, smiling weakly before disappearing back into the kitchen.
He surveyed the damage, changed the flat tire, and headed home. He called the bank to see if he could reschedule the meeting for later in the day tomorrow. They agreed, so once he got home, he passed out for a bit, waking groggy. He needed to get back to the bar to try to sort through things. After showering, he dropped the car off at the shop—thankfully they worked with him on the payments. Then he ordered a set of security cameras for the back alley—putting it on credit sucked, but someone was trying to destroy the place he’d worked so hard on.
He then got a taxi back to The Bramble to go over the books to get ready for his meeting tomorrow. As he scrutinized the financials, it became clear to him that there was no way to buy Cheryl out of her half without taking out more loans or taking on an investor.
The Bramble did well. It was an excellent location, which was part of the reason he was so reluctant to sell or take on an investor. The parcel of land had been in his family for decades with a new bustling business district springing up around them. But the value of that land increased a lot and paying her the money would take a long time and he didn’t want to be entangled with her any more than necessary.
His parents owned a bar in that same location for years. He remembered spending every weekend bussing tables and working the register when he was little. When they died when he was sixteen, the bar was shuttered and he went to live with his grandparents out of state. The estate with their insurance was enough to cover things like property taxes and other bills until he was old enough. After finishing college, he was aimless for a while and wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t until a fateful visit to the old bar that he decided to reopen it and eventually turn it into The Bramble.
The old bar was less his style and the building was run down anyway. It hadn’t been doing so great when he opened it as-is, so he’d taken out a loan and used the last of the insurance money to design, build, and open it. It initially opened a little less than two months after he married Cheryl. Since it was technically opened when they were married, she was entitled to fifty percent, even though her contribution had been nil. He thought he was in love, always falling in love and never having it work out.
Now, because of his moronic search for love, he might lose one of the last connections he had to his parents. Pushing the papers aside, he rested his head on the desk. This was turning into more of a nightmare than his failed marriage. A soft vibration caught his attention. It continued to vibrate and Mark pushed the papers aside to locate the noise. Checking out the screen of the phone, he remembered he still had Jen’s phone. He hesitated before answering, but decided he’d rather take a message, in case she needed the message.
“Jen’s phone,” he said, after accepting the call.
“Mark, thank god. I was worried maybe I’d left it somewhere at the wedding or at the bar and maybe someone stole it,” she said.
“Nope, it’s been here with me the whole time, safe and sound.”
“Great! When’s a good time for me to come by and pick it up? Are you open now?”
“We’re not open, but I’m here in the office. I’ll be here until 8 p.m.”
“Okay that’s perfect. I finished up brunch with my dad and I wanted to go to Sunday Sketch. Can I come by later?” He breathed out a sigh of relief upon hearing that she’s been at brunch with her dad. The idea that she was on a brunch date with some guy irked him, even if he pretended he hadn’t. Rox’s joke was just a joke, but in the back of his mind, it still nagged at him. He didn’t think Jen was one to sleep with someone one night and go out with someone the next day, but he’d been wrong before.
“Sure, Sunday Sketch, huh? Going to be sad I won’t be there?”
“Don’t I know it. Although I’m sure I can sketch you from memory after last night.” She laughed, making him smile into the phone. “If I stop by at seven or so, would that work for you?”
“Sure, that works fine. If I’m not downstairs, just come up to the office and I’ll be here.”
“Okay, perfect. See you then!”
14
Mark was behind the bar when the front door creaked open a little after seven. His heart thudded as he saw Jen walk in. She looked amazing. She had her sketch pad under her arm and her art supply bag slung over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I hate lugging all this stuff around, especially when I’m taking taxis.” He pulled her phone out of his back pocket and she squealed with delight, throwing her bag and pad down on the bar.
“I missed you baby, did you miss me?” she cooed, as she kissed the phone repeatedly. He cleared his throat.
“Should I leave you two alone?”
Jen shot him a lovey look. “You don’t know how hard it was for us to be apart from one another. I’m just glad this wasn’t a work day. I would have been back here five minutes after I left.” Jen turned her phone away and stage whispered, “But it was actually nice being without the phone for a whole day and being able to draw without being disrupted. Don’t tell my phone, he’ll be heartbroken.”
“Heartbroken, huh? I’ll be sure to keep it from him. Wouldn’t want him drowning his sorrows in the bar.”
“True.”
“Do you want a drink?”
Jen let out a groan. “I couldn’t drink anything today if you paid me. I was so hung over this morning. I had to keep myself from puking using sheer force of will. I think I’ll be off the booze for a while.”
“Well, don’t be a stranger, even if you’re not drinking.”
“Of course I won’t. Rox’s food is absolutely delicious.” She blushed and peered up at him. “Plus, I wouldn’t want to leave you hanging in the buffer girlfriend department.”
