What About Us Page 7

  “Helen. Helen,” he stops me, softly. “It’s okay. I’m not firing you.”

  “You’re not?”

  He chuckles. “No. Of course not. I asked you here because that man, Alex, he wants to talk to you. He’s in my office.”

  “What? No, I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  “Is he dangerous?” Matt asks.

  My eyes widen. “Dangerous? Alex?” I laugh. “No, he’s not dangerous.” Not physically, at least.

  “Then why don’t you want to speak with him?”

  “Because I haven’t seen him in years. And I’m working. This isn’t the time to reconnect. He’s weirded out by my nudity and I don’t need judgment or a lecture or—”

  “He’s giving you two thousand dollars for ten minutes of your time.”

  “What?!” I shriek.

  “Yep.”

  I cock a hip out, my hand at my waist. “Ten minutes for what, exactly?”

  “To talk, he says. Fritz will be right outside the door if you need him. Unless you think he will hurt you in any way. In which case, I won’t allow—”

  “Alex wouldn’t hurt me.” I know this absolutely. Even after not seeing him for so many years, he isn’t the kind of person who’d harm me, or anyone, for that matter.

  Just then, Iggy walks out of the adjacent office. “I agree,” he says. “I don’t think he will. His record’s clean. Too clean, actually.”

  “Oh my God, you did a background check on him?”

  “Only a preliminary one,” Iggy says, matter-of-factly. “He’s not your brother.”

  “No. He’s an old friend.”

  “Just friends? He’s like a caged animal. Seems like more than friends,” Matt adds.

  “We were very close growing up.”

  “Did he have anything to do with that bruise you had on your face last week?” Iggy asks.

  Oh God, how did he know? I look down at my feet. I thought I’d done such a good job at covering it up. Could this day get any worse? “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think anyone else noticed. It’s my job, you know, to see what everyone else misses.”

  “Wasn’t him. I swear,” I say.

  “Is Luke back?” Matt asks.

  I swallow. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us? Did you call the cops?”

  “Of course. But he wasn’t home when they went by. I don’t even know if they’re looking for him. I don’t want any problems, okay? I just need to work.”

  “I don’t like this,” Iggy says.

  “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I need to talk to Alex and then I need to get back to work. So, if you don’t mind—”

  I practically push my bosses out of the way and walk inside the office and close the door behind me.

  “You have a lot of nerve, Alex Archer! Coming to my place of business after abandoning me for twelve years. Now you offer me money just to talk? You’d better have a good explanation!” I yell, indignantly, stomping my foot and waiting for his answer. “Because I can’t be bought so easily!”

  “Is that so?” he says from across the desk, where he’s made himself very comfortable. “Because from where I’m sitting it looks like you can be bought. Rather easily, in fact. Two thousand dollars seems to be your price.”

  Funny, a minute ago I thought there was no way in hell I could be angrier or more humiliated than I already was.

  I was dead wrong.

  “Fuck you,” I spit out.

  I will not cry. I will not cry.

  I’ve swallowed my pride twice tonight and done things I’d never in my wildest dreams thought I’d do.

  One, stand in a roomful of people naked because I am that hard up for money.

  Two, show Alex weakness by taking two thousand dollars from him, because I am that hard up for money. I sold myself out, and I feel horrible about it. But desperation makes you do stupid things.

  He stands and walks around the desk and leans his ass against the front of it, crossing his arms over his chest.

  His eyes are assessing and predatory and I think his expression is meant to scare me, but Alex does not scare me. But hurt me…yeah, that he’s done.

  I force myself to shove his callous statement aside and try to focus on Alex’s lack of social skills. I’ve known him far too long. Always, he was the serious child. Book smart. Pensive. Analytical. Not exactly introverted, but more as if the mere presence of people bothered him and he preferred to be alone. And he did the right things most of the time, but rarely said the right thing.

  Me, on the other hand, I talk. I blurt things out. I don’t think things through. In fact, how many times did my father tell me to think before I spoke? How many times did my mother scold me for not being proper? I cross my arms over my chest, much like he’s doing, and bite my tongue. I won’t be the one to talk. Not now. He has some explaining to do, and that proverbial slap in the face he just gave me leaves a huge lump in the back of my throat.

  The silence is absolutely deafening.

  After a moment, he pushes himself off the desk and takes two long steps until he’s mere inches from me. I swallow and point to my wrist, as if I have a watch. The clock is ticking. He’d better hurry up.

  Jesus, he smells good. Damn him.

  No, not good. Great.

  Fresh and clean and expensive. Acqua di Gio.

  It’s nostalgic. It’s the smell of my past. Of the silver serving plates and fine bone china. Of the thick Persian rug in my old living room. Of the silk drapes that lined my bedroom window.

  I’m used to my new lifestyle. One that came about abruptly and one that I was completely unprepared for. I’d put all the finer things I had behind me and moved on, focusing on living my life one day at a time. Being grateful for the things that I did have instead of the things that I lost.

  But that cologne—the one assaulting my senses—suddenly transports me back to being a lovesick teenager constantly ignored by the quiet and mysterious older guy who I dreamed about nightly, even when I was being rejected daily.

  “Why are you working here?”

  “Here? As in Duality? It’s where I work. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “How is it that you became a bartender?”

  I must look as confused as I feel. “I got a certificate in mixology and applied—”

  “Not how, Helen. Why? Why are you a bartender?”

  “Listen, Alex, I have to get back to work in three minutes and you aren’t making any sense. Is this what you wanted to talk about? What I’ve been up to for twelve years? If that’s what you wanted to know, you should’ve negotiated more than ten minutes.”

  “Fine. Let’s talk tomorrow. My house at ten A.M.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” I repeat, matter-of-factly.

  “Why not?”

  “Why would I is a better question, don’t you think? You didn’t bother to find me all these years and now you stumble into my life and think you have any say in it at all? You and your stupid family abandoned me. Whatever the hell I’m doing with my life is none of your business. Not yours, not your mother’s, and definitely not your worthless father, who abandoned my father and me when we needed you most. I think our time is up.” I turn around, not wanting to talk about this anymore. It’s angering me more and more and reopening too many old wounds.

  He grabs my wrist and pulls me roughly forward. “You shouldn’t say shit you know nothing about. Your father fucked over my family. You stole all our money, and now you, what…blew through it, and are hard up for money?”

  All the blood in my body slides down to my toes. My mouth is open, but words aren’t coming out.

>   I should correct him. I should set him straight. But I refuse to. “Since you seem to be the jury, the judge, and the executioner, I don’t need to add anything to the story you’re convinced happened. What I do need to know is why do you care? Why are you here? And where is my two thousand dollars?”

  He takes a step forward and then another until my back is pressed against the door. His tall figure looms over me, and I have to look up to see those steel-cold eyes look down at me with loathing. “Where’s the money, Helen? How’d you spend it? Humor me and tell me. I’ll admit, I’m curious. So curious, in fact, that I’m here paying two grand for a story I shouldn’t care a thing about.”

  He’s standing so close now I can feel his breath on me, and the way his chest vibrates when he speaks in that low rumble. I swallow hard. All of a sudden I find myself distracted by his presence. Seems like my stupid childhood crush hasn’t gone anywhere after all.

  He continues. “So, this is work now? You showing your tits to a room full of men for money?”

  He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, the sonofabitch.

  I lift my hand and without hesitation slap it across his face. He closes his eyes and his nose flares. My palm stings. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

  With a twitchy jaw, he presses his body against mine. “What? My words insult you? Hypocritical, don’t you think? Especially since everyone in the room upstairs saw you naked tonight.”

  I can’t take his cruelty anymore. “I don’t know what money you think I had or have, for that matter. But I don’t have any. In fact, when I was forced out of my home, my city, and abandoned by everyone I knew, I was homeless for over a year.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I shrug. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. But I was. I lived in a tent, then a car. There were days I didn’t eat, weeks I didn’t bathe, months I sat all alone wondering what the hell to do. I was eighteen and all alone. Completely. Do you know what it feels like to be all alone?” I demand, a finger jabbing into his chest. I don’t give him a chance to answer. “Of course you don’t. You were sitting on your little Archer throne, throwing stones and making up stories in your egotistical head. So, if you came back to show me how great your life turned out, then fine. I’m not above taking your money right now because I need it. I think I’ve answered all your questions. So, if you don’t mind…” I push him away from me, trying to swallow down the huge lump in the back of my throat. Rehashing that part of my life is hard. Rehashing it with someone who I want to hate, and make feel as horrible as I do now, is worse.

  There’s a knock from the other side of the door. “Time’s up!” Matt yells.

  “You abandoned me,” I whisper. My voice breaks, and I hear a small intake of breath at the proverbial last blow.

  We’re staring at each other, and the electricity between us is palpable. The emotions are thick. Hate, resentment, guilt, sadness. Nothing positive can come from having us in the same room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be speechless. Not like this. He had no idea what had happened to me; it’s obvious by the way he’s gawking. I shouldn’t hold him responsible for something he didn’t know.

  But he should have known. He should have called. He could have come looking for me. And that’s the crux of my anger with Alex and why I’m done listening.

  “Leave the money with Matt,” I say, my voice cracking. “Oh. And this is yours. God forbid you leave it with the likes of someone like me. I’m sure you’d spend the next decade thinking I stole it from you.” I reach into my bag and toss his jacket at him, then open the door and bolt out as fast as I can, leaving Alex and my boss standing by the door looking confused as ever.

  Chapter 6

  Alex

  She’s poor? She’s been destitute this entire time? It can’t be. How could I not have known this?

  I never asked.

  I curse and run a hand down my face, determined to control myself, but in the end it doesn’t matter. She feels abandoned. I don’t know if she’s telling me the truth, but if she is, then I’m the asshole here. I’ve been wrong for a long time.

  Iggy pushes off the wall, where he’s been leaning. “I checked you out and you’re a decent enough man, it seems.”

  “You checked me out?” I exclaim, but he waves his hands, ignoring my questioning gaze.

  “He checks everyone out,” Matt adds.

  “How did she get hurt?” I ask. My entire demeanor and tone changes to contrite and worried. “Last week when I came here, she had a bruise on her face.”

  They look at each other as if having a silent conversation. “You didn’t ask her? You had ten minutes.”

  “She’s proud. She wouldn’t have told me.”

  “Yeah, we know. She won’t tell us either,” Matt admits.

  “But you know, don’t you?” I ask.

  “There’s an ex. Bad news.”

  “Fuck,” I growl.

  “Yep,” Matt adds. “We’ve tried to help, but like you said, she’s proud.”

  “So…what are you going to do about it?” Iggy asks.

  “Me? It’s really none of my business. She’s not going to let me help her.”

  Plus, I’m supposed to hate her. I think. Or maybe not…Everything keeps changing from one minute to the next.

  Damn it.

  “You’ve made it your business. But I suppose I can dig further and take care of it myself.”

  “No.” I hate the thought of another man taking care of Helen. “No. I got this,” I call out as I jog down the stairs as fast as I can. I find her about to walk into an “employees only” door. “Wait. Helen, please. Wait!”

  She’s holding the door open but turns around looking defeated, her eyes wet. I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Obviously, she waited until she was away from me to let those tears flow.

  I run my fingers through my hair. “Tell me one thing and then maybe I’ll stop bothering you.”

  “Maybe you’ll stop? Those odds are terrible.”

  She’s right. I’m not going to stop until she leaves this place. “Do you like working here?”

  Without hesitation she says, “Yes.”

  Damn, I hadn’t expected that answer. “Really? You didn’t look comfortable—”

  She interrupts me. “Not upstairs. I enjoyed working downstairs. The pay is better upstairs,” she admits.

  I reach into the pocket of the jacket that is now a wrinkled mess on my arm and take out my wallet. I quickly write her a check for the two thousand dollars I promised her. “I find myself in need of a personal assistant,” I blurt as I rip the check out and hand it to her. She hesitates for a moment, then takes it. That was not at all what I thought would come out of my mouth. Even though I had no clue what I would say, that wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.

  My face must show my confusion because she lets go of the door and pulls me to the hall, where it’s a little bit quieter. Not much, but enough so that I don’t have to yell over the music. “I need someone to help me while I’m in Miami. It’s not permanent, but I think you’d be a good fit.”

  “A-are you offering me a job? You insult me, fight with me, then offer me a job? Are you crazy? What is your deal, Alex?”

  “Yes,” I say quickly and her eyes narrow at me. “Yes, I’m offering you a job. No, I’m not crazy.”

  “You are offering me a job?” she repeats.

  “Yes.”

  She lets out a deep breath. “Why?”

  “Helen, you shouldn’t be working here.”

  “You have no idea where I should be working. You don’t know me anymore, Alex. I thought I made that clear three minutes ago.”

  “Yes, I do,” I argue. “Maybe I don’t know you like I used to. But I know you enough to know
you don’t belong here.”

  Helen

  God, his lack of emotion, the way I can’t read him at all, it makes me want to scream. It never used to bother me, because I thought I knew him. At the core, I thought I knew what he meant even if he said it indelicately. But now…I don’t know. Maybe I’ve grown out of my naïveté. Or maybe he’s just the asshole everyone always pinned him to be.

  I take a deep breath and exhale. I remember that I need to have patience with Alex. I remember that sometimes he doesn’t read people’s emotions like everyone else. “Why are you doing this, Alex? I don’t understand. Help me to understand.”

  He looks at me with furrowed brows. As if I am the crazy one here. “I need help and you were always someone I considered smart. You are also very social. My social skills are somewhat lacking.”

  “Somewhat?” I roll my eyes and I think—maybe—I see a small smile on his lips.

  “I have events coming up, and I need someone to go with me. I also need someone to help coordinate some work I’m having done in my house. You need a better job and I need help. It’s a win-win.”

  “You’re making this up. You saw me here today and you’re offering me a pity job.”

  “And if I was?”

  Damn it. It is a pity job. Which I, unfortunately, need.

  “How much does it pay?”

  “Two—” I must have made some sort of face because he quickly adjusts to, “three thousand a week.”

  “What!”

  “Four thousand?” His brows draw together. “What do you make, Helen? I’ll double it. Is that fair?”

  “Alex Archer, are you that out of touch with reality that four thousand dollars a week is something you’d consider normal?”

  “It’s not enough,” he deadpans.

  “Stop! No! Damn it, Alex. Yes, it’s enough. It’s more than enough.” I take his face in my hand out of frustration. “I should take advantage of you. You’ve been nothing but arrogant and nasty for the last fifteen minutes.” I let go of his face and sigh, because damn it…he’s crazy, but his heart is still big. “Two thousand would have done it.”