The Love in Duet Collection, page 42
She smiles, like a naughty little thing. “I saw all your missed calls.”
“Why didn’t you pick up, you evil torturess?”
“Because it seemed like the kind of thing I’d rather hear in person. I was right. When the person you love realizes he wants you more than work, it’s kind of an awesome thing. I know, because that’s how I feel for you.”
Her words thrill and electrify me. They remind me that taking this kind of chance, without a safety net, was worth it. She was worth the jump.
I grab her wrist and lead her back to her bedroom, where I strip her out of her clothes and lavish attention on her fantastic body all night long.
In the morning, I wake up to the smell of pancakes. The scent draws me out of bed and into her kitchen, where she’s crooning into a spatula about her creation.
“You do know that song turns me on?”
She spins around, her eyes hooded, her voice smoky. “They’re hot off the griddle. Come and get ’em.”
“I will. But like I said, it turns me on. I want you first.”
“Jason, don’t you know? With me, you can have everything. You can have love and pancakes. And I’ll never serve you bacon.”
“That sounds like the perfect way to start every single day.”
After breakfast, and after post-breakfast experiments in other uses for syrup, followed by a long, hot shower, my phone rings. When I see it’s Ryder’s number, I take the call. But I don’t feel desperate. I’m simply curious.
And that’s a welcome change.
“Hey, Ryder, how’s it going?” I ask as I settle onto the couch while Truly gets dressed.
“Great. Apologies for calling on a Sunday, but sometimes business moves at either the speed of tar, or of the Concorde.”
“And never at the speed you want when you want it.”
“That’s the truth. Listen, I apologize for the cryptic message yesterday. I couldn’t say much because of the changes going on here.”
“No worries.”
“Here’s the deal though. We’re expanding. And I’m taking on a new role. I’m heading up programming for all of the shows and podcasts, so I’m taking a step back from the day-to-day hosting roles.”
“Congrats. Sounds like a good gig.”
“It’s a great one. We’re starting new shows, a couple of food podcasts, some restaurant reviews, and a new beer podcast we picked up. An affable fellow Brit is hosting that one.”
I furrow my brow. “Marcus?”
“Yes, that’s him. He knows his stuff.”
“I thought he was . . .” I trail off, not bothering to finish with taking my job. Assume nothing—that’s what I tell my guys. But in retrospect, I’d like to laugh at myself. Because that role makes perfect sense for Marcus. There’s no one better to host a beer podcast.
“And I’d like you to cohost with me.”
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, my jaw clangs to the floor. “You want me to be your Consummate Wingman cohost?”
“Yes. I do. Is that too much work? Can you fit it in with what you’ll be doing for Valerie? It won’t start for another few weeks. That’s why I told you I don’t need you this week. I want to work on some formatting changes to accommodate the next setup.”
“Yes. Yes. I say yes!”
He laughs. “Well, that was easy.”
“And it goes against all my own advice. Don’t let on how eager you are. But the cat’s out of the bag. I’m eager. I want this. And I’ll do a great job.”
“Excellent. We’ll set up some meetings to brainstorm.”
When I hang up, Truly pokes her head out of the bedroom, tugging her wet hair back into a ponytail. “What was that all about?”
I tell her the good news, and she throws her arms around me. “I knew it. I totally knew it.”
I look down at her outfit. “Why are you wearing exercise clothes? You just showered.”
“I know. I can’t very well do Punk Rope with sticky syrup on me. Gross.” Her eyes light up. “Hey, why don’t you come to class with me? It’s near your place, so you can grab some shorts there.”
I say yes to her offer too. Obviously. It’s what we’ve always done. It’s what I hope we’ll always do.
As we head over to the exercise class, I take her hand. “So, I’ve been thinking about all this good fortune that’s fallen my way in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Well, you are a gold mine. It makes sense that everyone wants to mine you.”
“But what I’ve been noodling on is my promise to you. How I want to help support your dreams too. I had an idea for you.”
She stops, tilts her head, and looks at me curiously. “Go on.”
“It’s about your bar concept.”
50
Truly
That afternoon, I head over to Charlotte’s bar, when my phone pings with a text.
It’s from my guy.
Jason: Good luck. I can't wait to hear how it goes.
Truly: I can’t wait to tell you.
I put my phone away, loving the certainty that he’ll be here for me however this goes.
When I reach the Lucky Spot, I walk straight over to my best friend. It’s early, so it’s not crowded yet.
“Hey, you!”
“I have a brilliant idea.”
“I happen to like brilliant ideas. Do tell.”
I point to her, then to me. “You. Me. Parisian-themed bar. What do you think?”
She gasps . . . says nothing . . . just stands there, bug-eyed. Finally, she finds words. “That. Sounds. Kick-ass.”
I smile. “I know, right? Two awesome women running a brand-new place together. We’d do a great job. Don’t you think?”
“We’d do an amazing job.”
“And screw investors. I have some money saved.”
“I’ve got plenty saved too.”
“And we could take out loans for the rest. I know it’d be incredible, and you once said you wanted to do a Parisian-styled bar.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Do you think Spencer would be cool with it? I know you guys run this place together, but I kind of just want to do something with us. You and me. Girl power.”
“Gee, let me ask him. Hey, handsome,” she calls out to her husband at the other end of the bar.
“That’s me,” he replies.
“Question for you.”
He strides over, a curious glint in his green eyes. “Ask away, Snuffleupagus.”
“What would you think about Truly and me starting a place all our own? A little Parisian-themed place.”
He flashes his winning grin, one of the many things that stole her heart years ago. “I’d say Vive la France.”
“That’s it?” I ask with a laugh.
He shrugs. “Some things in life are easy. I’ve always thought the two of you would make a good business combo. And as I like to say, happy wife equals happy life. Sounds like this would make my wife happy.”
Charlotte plants a kiss on his lips, and when she breaks it, he adds, “And you can count on me to order the first glass of vino.”
My friend turns back to me with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and extends a hand. “Hello, new business partner. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
When I see Jason later that night, he gives me the most delicious congratulatory kiss.
It almost makes me forget what I wanted to say to him. “Thank you for the brilliant idea.”
He shakes his head. “No. It wasn't my idea. It was yours. It was what you wanted to do all along. All I did was remind you.”
“It was more than a reminder, but how about you remind me now of where kisses with you can lead to.”
He grins. “I can definitely remind you of that.”
And he does, all night long.
51
I take a sip of my Earl Grey, waiting for Troy’s answer.
I’m expecting a barrage of questions, since that’s his style.
But I only get one. “When can I start?”
“How’s today?”
“I’m on it. I already have a plan. I’ve been writing best man’s speeches on the side to prep for this moment. I’ll keep Sully as my second-in-command, and I’ve got another friend ready for my third groomsman, just like you had.”
“As I suspect, you’re really the best man for the job.”
He sits up straighter. “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Twelfth Night.” He extends a hand. “I will bring honor to the humble profession of best man for hire.” Then he raises his arms above his head, shaking his hips. “And this means I can finally quit the pole.”
Laughing, I scratch my jaw. “I feel like that’s not Shakespeare.”
He taps his chest. “That’s one hundred percent Troy D’Angelo. By the way, you know that’s not my real name, right?”
“It’s not?”
“You couldn’t see through that?” Adopting an announcer’s tone, he says, “And now, taking the stage, the one, the only . . . Troy . . . D’Angelo.” He pronounces the last name like “dangle” with an O at the end.
“Why, yes. I can definitely see through that now. But that’s an image I’d like to unsee.”
“Me too, my friend. Me too. And thanks to you, I can be Troy Seewoster. Aspiring playwright and best man for hire extraordinaire.”
“Your real last name is Seewoster?”
“Yes.”
“Piece of advice, mate. Keep the stage name.”
He seems to consider this, then nods. “You’re right. Troy D’Angelo I shall remain.”
“How would you like to start with Zane Jarratt? He’s an X Games skateboarding star who needs an extra groomsman to match the number of bridesmaids. Some of his mates are out of town for the wedding. He’s a client of my friend, so Josh hooked me up with him, and I’ll pass him along to you instead. But wait. Can you do an Australian accent?”
“Can I do an Australian accent? I am Australian. How did you not know this?” he says in a perfect rendition of an accent from Down Under.
“Are you really?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m from North Dakota. But have I impressed the man who’s always teaching others how to make an impact?”
“You have. You absolutely have.” I take another drink of my tea. Yes, my exit plan is working better than I expected.
52
Josh
The bat phone rings.
Even though it’s the middle of the night, it wakes me up instantly. This is the emergency line.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Dude!”
Dragging a hand through my hair, I sit up straight. “What’s up, Zane? You okay?”
“I am motherfucking awesome. In fact, I’ve never been better. I’m hanging with Jako tonight,” he says, naming one of his best buds in the business, another skater on his team. He sighs contentedly. “So whassup with you?”
I laugh. “Nothing was up, my man. It’s three in the morning. Wassup with you?”
“Not much. Just chilling. Munching on some sunflower seeds. Man, if you could get me a lifetime supply of these, I would be the happiest cat ever.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Also, do me a favor. Call me again in the middle of the night to tell me you’re awesome and nothing is going on but snacking.”
He snaps his fingers. “Shit, I just remembered why I called. I need your friend.”
I furrow my brow, trying to figure out who he means. Then again, I’m always trying to figure out what Zane means. A few too many hits on the joint when he was in high school have made his reaction times less than top-notch when he’s outside the skate park. In the skate park? The dude kills it. No clue how that worked out, but I’m glad it did. He’s been making bank for both of us for more than a decade.
“Sure. I’ll help you out. But help me out first. Which friend?”
“You know. Let’s throw another shrimp on the barbie. That one.”
“Jay. Jay, who’s from Sydney,” I say, using the fake name Jason set up for this ceremony.
“Yes! You’re like Stephen Hawking. How do you do that? Do you do brain exercises? Is that how you’re so sharp?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Anyhoo, that’s him. He’s cool. I like that accent. Ooh. Idea! Can you do a little g’day, mate accent when you intro me to Monster Energy Bull Rider Drinks, or whatever that sponsorship is you’re getting for me?”
“No. I love you, man, but I’m not pretending to be Australian.” I’ll go to the ends of the earth for my clients and their deals, but I’m not going to perform like a trick monkey for their amusement.
“Fine, have it your way. But you rock! Never forget that. So, the bad news is I lost Jay’s number. And I need it. Because guess what?”
“You want to hear him say g’day, mate?”
He cracks up. “No, but I’ll add that to the list. Along with the dingo ate my baby. But I have to talk to him, because he needs to be my best man now.”
“I thought Jako was doing the honors?”
“No, man. I’m at the hospital right now with him. Didn’t I tell you that?”
I roll my eyes. “You told me you were with Jako. You didn’t say you were at the hospital. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I do. I need a new best man. I’d ask you to do the speech, but that’s not cool. I love you and all, but I gotta have some boundaries. That’s what my fiancée keeps telling me. Boundaries. Anyway, Jako broke his leg doing a gazelle flip. That’s the other bad news. And that means he can’t do me the honor of being by my side next weekend. He’s so fucking bummed. He wrote a speech too. Well, half of it, and you know how Jako is. He hates writing. He hates words.”
“Words can be little devils.”
“But no worries. We came up with a plan in the ambulance. He’ll FaceTime from the hospital bed in his cast, and Jay will deliver his speech. It’s going to be rad. Can you hook me up with Jay-man and he can do the speech?”
“I’m on it. One tip though. Don’t call him Jay-man.”
“Right. Thanks. Jay-boy it is.”
The next weekend, the wedding goes off without a hitch. Jason’s buddy Troy has taken over his business. He has zero problems pretending he’s Jay-man or Jay-boy—and brings his guy Sully along to fill in as the extra groomsman—and in his role, Troy delivers the first half of Jako’s best man’s speech and the second half of what, I presume, he wrote.
It’s stellar, and it makes Zane smile like he’s won a lifetime supply of sunflower seeds. The wedding is everything my longtime client could want, and that’s what matters most to me: happy clients.
After the reception winds down, Zane claps me on the shoulder. “You’re the man. You know that, right? I’d be nothing without you.”
I’m not saying I want him to think that, but I do like that he does. So I keep my reply simple. “You know I’m always happy to help.”
That’s my goal: go the extra mile. Then another mile. This business is insanely competitive, and being an agent, a negotiator, a therapist, a sounding board, a dartboard, and a fucking wedding planner, along with an occasional Uber driver, is par for the course. It’s how I stay ahead, and I always need to be ten steps ahead, given the way the competition is breathing down my neck.
Zane smacks my chest. “Man, you did more than help. You saved the day. You always save the day. I owe you like ten million presents. Want me to send you a new car? I want to get a new Jeep. I could get two. One for you, one for me.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I’m all good. Also, I hope you like your gift. I got you a little something.”
His eyes sparkle. “Dude. You did not have to get me a present.”
“I know. I wanted to.”
I don’t have to stick around to know he’ll be over the moon when he receives his lifetime supply of a certain snack food. “Anyway, glad it all worked out with the new Jay. And congrats again.”
When I leave the wedding and hop into an Uber, my regular line rings. Private. Could be anyone—team owner, publicist, potential client.
“Summers here.”
“Hey, man. It’s Lorenzo.”
I sit up straight, a burst of possibility flaring in me. “Lorenzo. How the hell are you?”
“I had two RBIs tonight, and we won, so I’d say I’m fantastic.”
“That is definitely fantastic. You’ve been putting up the numbers all season, man. But tell me something, how’s your mom? Last time we talked you said she was having chest pains. How’s she doing?”
“She’s all better. And hey, thanks for asking about her. That means a lot to me, and it makes me feel even better about what I want to ask you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it shows you care about me. About my family. And that’s why I’m hoping you’d want to negotiate a fat new contract with the Yankees for me? Think you’d be up for that?”
Fireworks spark across the whole night sky. “I’d love nothing more.”
A couple days later, Jason joins me for a Yankees game in my box seats.
He surveys the swank setup, complete with catering and plush velvet chairs. “Still slumming it, I see?”
“Yeah. Maybe someday I’ll move up to the third baseline.”
“I trust business is good?”
“It’s excellent. Lorenzo is all mine now.”
“Ah, so evil Leather Pants Poacher didn’t nab him?”
I scoff. “No way. I’m still the man. And your new biz is taking off?”
“Started some of my new work this week. Maybe I’ll even write a piece about etiquette when invited to a fancy suite at a ball game. Like, may I please devour all the mushroom canapés?”
“Do you even know what a canapé is?”
“Does anyone know what a canapé is?”
“No one does. Also, I’m glad you figured out your lady issues and your work issues. Like I said, work isn’t everything.” I tap my ear. “See? I’m Bluetooth-free today.”
