Cutting my eyes to him, I smirk. “Are you just figuring out how our company works?”

  He leans back grinning. “This part of it.”

  We made it to Friday, and I’m gratified he looks happy. “How’s it going at home? How are you sleeping?”

  “Good. Getting the full eight hours.”

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “I will.” He stands, walking to the window. “So back to Taron… While he’s got everything running, what now?”

  My brow furrows, and I think how Rocky knew exactly what to do. One day in, and she never let us miss a beat. “You read the trades. Make notes of which companies are doing short, eighteen-month to three-year deals in the states and where. Then you cold call. Or cold-email, I guess.”

  He makes a noise. “Sales.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’ve never sold a fucking thing in my life.”

  “Time to start.”

  “Come on, Patton.” He leans against the windowsill. “Send me to California. Raquel is way better at this kind of work than I am. It’s not my gig.”

  I wish it were that easy. “Speaking of, we still need to hire someone.” I flip through the résumés Sandra put on my desk, handing half to him. “Help me sort through these. I was thinking an intern for social media—”

  “That right there’s a mistake. Your social media marketing is your most powerful tool. You should give it to someone who knows this company inside and out and cares about it as much as you do.”

  My eyes flicker to his. “You?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “I need you for more important things.”

  “You’re not hearing me. Nothing’s more important—”

  “Having clients who need office space, having elite properties for clients, putting the two together. That’s more important.”

  He shakes his head, exhaling an impatient breath as he flops down on my couch. “You’re missing the big picture…” Then he holds up a résumé. “Mary Jones. She’s perfect. MBA from Kellogg, four years in—”

  “Not another woman.” I flip through the ones I’m holding, discarding the females. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t care how it makes me look in my own office with just the two of us present. “See if you can find an Arab man.”

  Marley gives me a confused look. “An Arab man? That’s very specific.”

  “It’s good to have diversity.”

  “You care about that?”

  “Yes.” No more women… Dammit.

  “Okay…” He keeps flipping. “Here’s one. Alex Whitehead… unappealing last name, but he’s a homeboy—got his MBA at Owen. Not Arab, sorry. At least not that I can tell…”

  “Give me that.” He leans forward, and I take it, quickly scanning the sheet. “How did I miss this?”

  “See, I’m good for something.”

  Reaching out I tap the button on my phone. Sandra’s voice rings through the line. “What’s up?”

  “Hey, get me this Alex Whitehead in for an interview. As soon as possible. Work it into my schedule.”

  “On it.”

  We disconnect, and I think about what he said. “Don’t do that. You’re good for a lot of things.”

  “A lot of things that fuck up your life.” He’s back to flipping pages, and I study him a moment.

  Marley is more than a fuck up. The thing with Renée, well, I’ve gone over how that situation broke down in my mind so many times, I can’t do it anymore. I was inexperienced at being a CEO, I thought you could handle an office the way you handle a group of Marines…

  Renée didn’t argue with me. Hell, she barely spoke. I asked her what she wanted, how much money it would take, and she wilted like a flower.

  Then Marley went off the rails. At least for now, it seems he’s cut back on the partying. If only he’ll stay on the wagon. Nobody falls off quite as spectacularly as my friend.

  He grumbles at me. “Whoever we get has to be better than Buckingham.”

  “Who hired that guy?”

  “You.” He looks at me, and I lean back in my chair with a groan.

  “He took a job with Braden.” I wonder how long he was courting them behind my back. Jobs like that don’t just appear overnight.

  “Good thing we locked down Hastings and Key.” He slaps another résumé to the side. “I can’t imagine that bastard holding the purse strings on us.”

  Stephen Hastings is no walk in the park. At least he’ll let us run our business.

  A knock on my door draws my attention. I look up to see Sandra standing there with a puzzled expression.

  “What’s up?”

  “First, Alex Whitehead is a woman.”

  I cut my eyes at Marley, and he only shrugs. “It’s a gender-neutral name.”

  My gaze returns to Sandra. “And…?”

  “She’d like to withdraw her application. She said she was unaware of the ‘toxic work environment’ when she submitted her résumé for consideration.”

  Sandra does little air quotes, and now I’m really frowning. “What the hell?”

  “Problem solved.” Marley slaps another résumé down on the side table.

  More like brand-new fucking problem. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” She crosses her arms. “It’s not like we have a lot of turnover. Yes, Taron just left, and you fired Jerry, but—”

  “On the record, Jerry accepted a position at Braden Investment Group.”

  “Off the record?” Sandra gives me a pointed look I don’t particularly like, considering she’s my secretary.

  “Off the record is nothing you need to worry about.”

  “You’ve told me not to worry before. I think it’s time you started letting me in on some of this stuff. I can keep an eye on the job boards and keep you posted on the scuttlebutt.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s talking about social media gossip. The stuff you think is so unimportant.” Marley’s moved to lying on his back on the sofa, sorting through résumés. “I think I found another guy.”

  Sandra’s still waiting, and I glance up at her. “Off the record, Jerry tried to extort money from us. He objected to Raquel being promoted over him, and when I wouldn’t change my mind, he threatened me then quit.”

  “Oh my God!” Sandra gasps.

  Marley only mutters, “Told you I hated that guy.”

  “Yeah.” I study the stack of papers in front of me. Remembering how that all went down. Remembering the shattered look in Rocky’s eyes.

  I want a drink. Or a fucking cigarette.

  Slipping my hand into the pocket of my blazer, I pop another white square out of the blister packet and put it in my mouth.

  Sandra’s eyebrow cocks. “In all the years we’ve worked together I have never seen you chew gum.”

  “Few things are less professional. It’s that nicotine shit.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really… Is it working?”

  “No.” I toss the résumés aside. “See what you can find out about this toxic office whatever—”

  “Toxic work environment,” she supplies.

  “See if you can find out what that’s about and let me know. Also, see if this Ryan Daniels can come in for an interview tomorrow.” My eyes go to Marley. “Can you drink? I need a whiskey.”

  “I’m on a cleanse, but I’ll be happy to sit beside you while you destroy your liver.” That’s just perfect. Standing, I grab my phone. “Whatever—just don’t join a cult.”

  “I have been looking into Buddhism…”

  Waving my hand, I nod. “Buddhism is fine. No cults.”

  Friday night at AJ’s gets more crowded as the evening wears on. A live band plays a mix of country covers and what I assume are originals. We are in Music City, after all. Marley and I are sitting at a high top table on the patio overlooking the skyline.

  “So Jerry tried to extort us.” He’s sipping an O’Doul’s Amber. “Sounds like there’s more to the story. What did you not tell Sandra?”

  I’m on my third whiskey, so it’s less painful to talk about it. “He dragged up that business with Renée. Really stuck it to me… right in front of Rocky.”

  “Rocky?”

  “Raquel, sorry.” My eyes are fixed on my glass, but I’m seeing her eyes fill with tears. The things she said… Broken and cruel. Two whiskeys, and it still hurts.

  “Rocky?”

  “It’s a family nickname.” She used to wrestle with her dad… I’ve got to stop this now.

  He’s strangely quiet, and I glance up at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s cute.” He takes another pull of the tawny near beer. “She’s a fighter.”

  “Yeah.” I polish off my drink as the waitress approaches and order another, anything to stop the flood of images tormenting me.

  Marley waves that he’s fine for now, and we both fall silent. The band’s not bad, but I’m not in the mood to feel good. I’ve never felt like this about a woman, like I’m not sure how I’ll put her out of my mind.

  “She really made an impression on you.” Marley holds the empty bottle, turning it in his hands. I can’t answer that, and he adds under his breath. “Lost opportunities and missed chances… they suck.”

  My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my breast pocket. A text from Sandra’s on the face: Jerry’s running his mouth.

  She sends me a link, and when I tap on it, it takes me to a brief in Nashville Notes, a rinky-dink online journal run by the Nashville Association of Business and Industry. I scan it, and the more I read, the hotter my blood gets.

  “What the fuck?”

  “What?” Marley leans closer to check out what’s on my screen. “Area business leader and CEO Patton Fletcher throws hush money at sex scandal?”

  Obvious click-bait.

  His brow furrows, and he studies my face. “Sex scandal? Is this about…”

  My hand tightens on my fresh glass of whiskey, and I read aloud. “Shake up at Fletcher International. Less than a week after senior partner Martin Randall was hospitalized for exhaustion, the tech-based corporate realtor vying to be ‘the Airbnb for business’ has lost three senior staffers in as many days.

  ‘Taron Rhodes, VP of client development, Jerry Buckingham, senior account executive, and Raquel Morgan, the newest member of the Fletcher team have all left the building.

  ‘According to Buckingham, CEO Patton Fletcher paid hush money a year ago to keep Renée Morgan, former Fletcher CPA, from going public with sexual assault allegations against Randall…”

  I can’t read any more of this bullshit. Tapping the number in my contacts, I wait as it rings.

  Marley’s face is pale. “Sexual assault? I didn’t assault her…”

  A gravelly voice finally answers my call. “NABI, this is Hank.”

  “Hank, Patton Fletcher here.”

  Shuffling on the other end, and he clears his throat. “Patton. I was expecting a call from you.”

  “I hope it’s because you’re preparing a retraction. Since we’re old friends, I thought I’d give you a chance to correct yourself before my lawyer does it for you.”

  I use the term friends loosely.

  “Aly’s got her facts straight, Patton. I checked them myself before approving the story.”

  “Her facts are not straight. Taron took a leave of absence and Ms. Morgan has been offered a promotion.”

  “That’s not what Jerry told us…”

  “Jerry Buckingham is a dick, and I fired his ass for insubordination. What you’re printing is his sad attempt to strike back.”

  “So you’re saying this business with the CPA never happened?”

  Fuck. I hesitate… which looks bad. “You misrepresented the facts.”

  “Jerry provided documents showing you gave her money a year ago—”

  “I didn’t give her money. I never even spoke to her.”

  “But you did personally secure a small-business loan on behalf of Ms. Morgan?”

  Shit, I should not have called Hank. I need to hang up the phone before I make matters worse. This is PR Crisis Mismanagement 101.

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” I disconnect and consider slamming my phone against the table. Repeatedly.

  Marley’s face is twisted. “What now?”

  Fire is in my veins. “You got a cigarette?”

  “You’re not supposed to smoke here.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  He fishes in his pocket, and I fire it up. I’m going to hell anyway. Slamming back the fourth whiskey, I’m on my feet, grinding my jaw. Nashville Notes is a shitty little gossip rag that every business leader in this town reads. Hell, anyone doing business in Nashville reads it.

  “Fuck…” I growl louder.

  “Stop pacing.” Marley’s voice is low. “The waitress is coming. We’d better go.”

  He’s on his feet, putting an arm across my chest.

  “Sir, you have to take that outside.”

  “We are outside.” I’ve had too much whiskey.

  “I mean off the premises. Please don’t make me call security.” Her smile is flinty, like I’m not the first belligerent smoker she’s encountered.

  “Come on, Patton. Let’s go, man.” Marley’s pulling on my shoulder, and my eyes flare.

  The waitress’s expression turns to fear, and she takes a step back, doing a little wave toward the bar.

  “Colleen, is it?” I read her nametag. “Some little worm is trying to fuck with me.”

  “Hey, we’re just going. No worries.” Marley smiles and then steps to me. “Don’t make things worse. Let’s. Go.”

  A big guy is headed in our direction, and my first thought is I can take him. My second thought is my fucking dad.

  Clenching my fist, I take one last drag then drop the cigarette in my drink. “ Sorry, Colleen. We’re leaving.”

  She puts her hand on the bouncer’s arm, and says something quietly. I’m behind Marley heading to the door. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes as we descend, trying to stop my fury. Trying to think this through.

  “They’re eight hours ahead of us in Dubai… Abu Dhabi… I need to call David.”

  “Our lawyer?” Marley’s lost in his own thoughts. “Did Renée tell you I assaulted her?”

  “No.” His words fan the anger in my chest. “Don’t even address that.”

  A tone sounds, and the silver doors open.

  Everything shifts.

  Right in front of us is Jerry with his stupid head thrown back in a laugh. On his arm is a blonde, and I see he’s with Chip Braden. The two see me at the same time, and while Chip looks smug, Jerry’s face goes white.

  My fist clenches, and it’s too late for clear thinking. Lunging forward, I catch Jerry by the collar as he tries to run.

  “Patton!” His voice breaks on a scream as I punch him in the face.

  Damn, that felt good is quickly followed by screaming pain. I might have broken my hand.

  I don’t give a shit. I’m pulling back to hit him again, harder, when Marley has me around the bicep, pulling me back.

  “Patton, stop.” He’s right in my ear, and I see the crowd gathering, all with phones out taking photos.

  Struggling against my friend, I glance down to see Jerry on the floor holding his face. “You’re going to pay for that, Fletcher.”

  “Then I’d better make it worth it.” Marley’s not strong enough to hold me, and I’m going in for another punch when two men grab me, hustling me from the lobby out the doors.

  “That’s enough, Tough Guy.” The big one holds me outside as Jerry’s crew quickly files onto the elevator. “Don’t let me see you back here tonight, or I’m calling the cops.”

  This guy’s the size of the Rock, and even though my insides are on fire, I back down. Marley has his keys, and I follow him to the car. He studies me like I might go off again. Hell, I might.

  I breathe slowly, doing my best to calm my wrath. The worst thing I could do tonight is get arrested.

  “Take me back to the office. I’ve got to try and fix this.”

  29

  Raquel

  “Another mermaid… No, what is it?” Renée holds up a pearl-glazed mermaid statue. “Oh! It’s a lamp.”

  I’m standing behind stacks of boxes holding a price-scanner gun. “Hand it over.” She holds the base toward me, and I zip it. “Inventory is fun!”

  She gives me a look. “That’s because you’ve got the counter gun.”

  I point it at her. “Drop your weapons. I said drop ‘em!”

  “Stop quoting Star Wars and keep scanning.”

  We’re in the small storage closet at the back of Ms. Hazel’s store. It’s Saturday morning, and all week I’ve trailed Renée on her daily rounds.

  Every day we do our cat care… Every night, too, with the tiny kittens. I feel like a new mom getting up every four hours to help her bottle-feed Binky and Midnight. After breakfast, we ride our bikes out to the beach and walk around, then we do whatever Ms. Hazel needs at the store in the afternoons. Today she has us doing inventory to get ready for the holiday rush.

  Renée and I have talked about everything except why I’m here.

  I know she’s waiting. I’m waiting. I’m afraid if I start talking about Patton, I’ll start crying again, and thankfully, the water works have stopped.

  I’ve only heard from him once since I got here, a lone text sent late on Wednesday night, after I’d gone to bed.

  None of this works without you.

  Reading it made my heart beat too fast. It made the tears start again. I cried myself to sleep and was late to help her on that day, and now, just remembering it, my chest aches.

  I still haven’t decided what to do about California, and my time is almost up. I’ve got to do something. Can I honestly work with him when I still feel this way?

  “I love getting ready for the holidays.” She pulls out another mermaid lamp and holds it to me to scan before arranging it on what is now the mermaid shelf. “We get to order tons of new stuff, and when it all starts coming in, it’s like Christmas morning.”

  Speaking of boxes, I open a new one that’s filled with crinkled paper and bubble wrap. “What’s this?”