Love That For Me by Abby Knox

ChapterSix

Alex

All day long,I’ve thought about how I should never have sent that email.

If Andrea sees it, she’ll shit a brick.

My staff has put me up in a hotel in Bozeman, a whole one-hour drive away from the building site. I hate that it’s so far away.

Gunther, my head of security, insisted that a chain hotel was more secure than a bed and breakfast in the quaint little town. But I’m about to climb the walls as I stare at my email, hitting refresh.

I take a break from staring at my email account and click over to do some internet research on the town. I have to take my mind off this woman for tonight; there’s nothing to do except wait for her to make the next move.

Through scrolling, I land on an odd website I hadn’t noticed before when I had initially looked into where to build my hub.

The Drop.

See what’s making ripples in The Creek.

From what I can tell, it’s a local gossip site about the town and surrounding area.

Scrolling down, nothing looks interesting because I obviously don’t know anybody here. Scrolling farther down, I run across an announcement that the independently owned site is seeking advertisers.

Huh.

This could work in my favor. My company’s already bought up a considerable amount of advertising in the Daily News. If I take out an ad in the competition, it might make me appear less biased. I forward the address to my vice president of marketing and let him handle it.

And now I’m alone with my thoughts again.

More specifically, my thoughts on Jessica.

I know damn well I never should have sent that email. Gunther is always warning me about transmissions being intercepted.

My god, though. I’m a touch-starved man whose schedule is predetermined weeks in advance. I have meetings, appearances, and keynote addresses every minute of every day.

It’s exhausting.

I want more.

I want Jessica.

As if I conjured her with my mind, my phone pings.

Jessica:Coffee. Tomorrow. But I’m buying.

I feellike the clouds have opened up, and I’m bathed in sunshine for the first time after a long cold winter.

Screw texting.

Maybe it’s presumptuous to call on the phone these days, but that’s what I do.

“Hello?”

“It’s Alex Martin.”

Her small laugh makes my chest ache. “Yeah. I know. Do you always respond to texts by calling people on the phone?”

I don’t tell her that I prefer phone conversations over text because, as both my publicist and security guards have warned me, anything written can be hacked into, stolen, shared, subpoenaed, or used against me by anybody. That’s a bit much to share with Jessica at this point.

“What can I say? I’m excited about our date tomorrow,” I reply.

She huffs. “I can’t have a working relationship with someone who’s hitting on me.”

“Why not?”

“Company policy? Common sense? Because it will look like you’re trying to influence the press to write articles that paint you favorably.”

“Ah, you’ve discovered my nefarious plot. Tried the strawberries yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says.

My stomach drops. “Did you not get—”

“I did not receive any strawberries today, nor did I drink an entire bottle of wine just now, nor is my apartment reeking of pollen from a billion flowers, nor is my skin lubed up with a hundred bucks worth of skin care products. Because if a source did give me any of those things, I would have to report it to my boss.”

I pause, mulling this over. “So don’t report it,” I say.

She responds sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to report because the card was missing.”

Oh. Okay. This woman is already steps ahead of me, and I like her more every second I talk to her.

“Got it,” I say.

“Got what? There’s nothing to get.”

Hmm. “Jessica, what do you earn in a month?”

“Excuse me?”

“What does the paper pay you?”

She goes silent for so long that I know I’ve overstepped my boundaries.

“I can’t decide if you’re trying to embarrass me or offer to keep me.”

“Keep you?” Like a pet? “I’m confused.”

“Like a kept woman. With you as the sugar daddy. Is that what this is? Because I have my pride, sir.”

This has me truly flustered.

“Can we start over? Hi. I’m Alex. I really like you and would love it if you’d go out with me. You don’t have to answer me now, but think about it.”

“Thirty thousand.”

“What?”

“That’s my salary.”

I do some quick math. “That’s not acceptable.”

“Oh, but we don’t do this for the money,” she says.

“I detect sarcasm.”

She snorts.

“You should consider another career,” I add.

“Careful, buddy, you’re gonna make me swoon.”

“I am fucking this up left and right, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you quit while you’re still somewhat ahead. See you at coffee tomorrow. Try to play along.”

She hangs up, and I’m left with so many questions. What am I playing along with?

* * *

I soon learnwhat she means when I spot her at Bean There the following day.

Customers turn to stare at me. That happens when I have two scary-looking dudes everywhere I go, one standing outside the door and the other hovering a few feet away at all times. It’s tiring, too, but I can’t give them days off on a whim—they just find replacements.

I catch Jessica’s eye as she delivers a coffee to her pregnant friend. She goes from smiling to a forced, curt nod in my direction.

My palms damp, I swipe them on my pant legs and cross the room, ignoring all the stares and whispers. I slide into the empty chair next to Jessica at the table, nodding at Meredith. The pregnant woman stares at me with wide-eyed interest, and I can’t help but notice the barista is watching her watch me. This is…awkward.

Just for the record, I’m not complaining that I can’t just, like, grab a coffee or go to the grocery store like an average person without a lot of rigmarole. Once in a blue moon would be nice, though.

Jessica’s tone is business-like as she announces, “I asked Meredith to sit in on our meeting to help ease the tension here. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say. “I thought your article on the groundbreaking was great.”

She shoots me a glare, then I remember. Play along. She said to play along.

I clear my throat, and Meredith and Jessica stare expectantly at me.

“But clearly, it left a lot to be desired,” I quickly add. “She doesn’t understand the basics of reporting on tech.”

The air goes cold around us.

Uh, I might have gone too far.

Meredith visibly winces as if my insults are causing her physical pain. “Wow,” she breathes.

Jessica uses the tabletop to click her pen five times, fast and loud, then clears her throat. “Right. I’m just a dumb girl. Anyway…”

Everyone is silent for several moments.

“No, you’re not,” Meredith says quietly.

“It’s okay, Mer,” Jessica says, then turns to me. “So let’s talk about the other builds you’re planning that haven’t been announced yet. What are the plans, specifically? Apartment complexes? Fast food chains? Have you thought about how the sudden arrival of fast-food chains and franchise stores will affect the downtown area? And how do you plan to address the lack of available child care for your workers?”

At least I don’t have to pretend to react to these questions. I shouldn’t laugh, but it escapes me before I can stop it. I angle my chair to look directly at Jessica without straining my neck. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say.

Her brow furrows. “These are real problems you will encounter, and the public needs answers.”

Now my blood pressure is up. “Listen,” I say, perhaps a little too sternly.

Her eyes widen, and I regret my tone but continue, “I write code. I would rather be in an office thinking up the next product to improve people’s lives. Child care and Chuck E. Cheeses are not in my wheelhouse. If you have concerns about that, maybe you should put that in an opinion piece on your editorial page instead of conjuring up disaster scenarios before we’ve even begun hiring workers.”

I immediately regret how all of this sounds. I do care about workers. I care about the cost of living and child care, but I need a minute to breathe and meet with advisors. That’s what I should have said. Instead, I reacted, and now I fear I’ve fucked up yet another interview.

Jessica’s eyes are full of hurt, masked by coldness.

“Fine. Maybe I will,” she says, gathering her things and marching out of the coffee shop, leaving me alone with Meredith.

“Wait,” I try, but she’s already halfway out the door.

I stand, but then remember, I’m supposed to play along. We’re keeping people off the scent. I didn’t realize I’d be acting out an entire skit to accomplish that goal, but here I am.

“It seems we got off on the wrong foot. Again.” I slump back into my seat and take a sip of my coffee.

The barista is now swooping over to our table with a plate of muffins. To my left, Gunther takes a step forward. To do what? Do jiu-jitsu on the coffee man? In a move that is both territorial but sweet, the coffee man kisses the top of Meredith’s head and rubs her back. “Can I get you anything?”

He doesn’t address me.

She smiles up at him and touches his arm. “Besides the muffins? No, we’re good.”

The barista looks at me, then heads back to fuss with some machines behind the counter.

“Can I speak boldly?” Meredith asks.

I unwrap the paper from the bottom of one that looks like banana nut, my favorite. “Sure.”

She takes a giant bite of a blueberry muffin, and I wait for what she needs to say.

“Both of you talking over each other and not really communicating.”

She doesn’t know how right she is.

“Meredith, what would you do if you were me?”

She runs her pregnant belly and stares back at me with big eyes. “If I were…you?”

“If money were no object and you wanted to do something nice for J…for the town?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you what to do with your money.”

I laugh, “This might be your only chance to tell someone like me what to do, Meredith. Take a shot at it.”

Something clicks. “Oh! I’d buy the old movie theater and fix it up.”

My thoughts go back to yesterday when Jessica mentioned the decrepit old buildings downtown.

“Empty movie theater?”

She nods. “It’s over a hundred years old, and it’s been sitting empty for decades. Pretty sad. Jessica’s in love with it. She stares at it longingly every day on her way to work. If I were you, I’d do it soon before Jessica takes it upon herself and goes into financial ruin on the mold removal alone.”

Interesting.

I thank Meredith and the barista, and politely excuse myself.

The first order of business today will be to call my realtor.