Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire: Chapter 4
Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire (Single and Sassy in the city Book 2)
Ethan
âThe best way to get out of your funk is to go out and grab a drink.â Jackson strums his fingers against my desk, and I look up at him irritably. Thereâs nothing I dislike more than when people tell me how to get out of a funk Iâm not in.
âNot your best idea.â I look back down at the files on my desk. It will take me a good three to four hours to finish going through them. Then, I have to head to the gym and work out before heading home for bed. âI donât want a drink, and I donât want to be accosted by dozens of women as soon as I enter the bar.â
âSince when?â
âSince when what?â I snap, giving him the evil eye. If I had a magic power that allowed me to shoot laser beams from my retinas, I would activate it now. âDonât you have something else to do, Jackson, other than get on my nerves?â
âOoh, Iâm getting on your nerves now?â Jackson acts like he canât believe what Iâve said. As if I havenât said it a million times before now. âI think that is a definite sign that you need to leave the paperwork for the night and come out and grab a drink.â
âWhy do you want me to get a drink with you so much?â I question him, my patience wearing thin. I do not want to be around giggling, flirtatious women, the entire evening telling me how amazing I am.
âMaybe because youâre Mr. Popular?â He shrugs. âAnd if you are popular, then Iâm popular.â
âYou donât need me to be popular,â I say, looking at him in his expensive, crisp navy-blue suit. The top button of his shirt is undone, and I know that women will hurry over to him as soon as they see him. Jackson needs me as much as he needs a skunk to be popular.
âOh, come on, Ethan. I know youâre in a bad mood, but this is not going to make you feel better. Like I said weââ
âWe nothing,â I growl.
âLook here, old chap, letâs grab a drink. Thereâs this new bar that opened called the Owl and the Pussycat. We can check it out, then we can come back. Maybe we can even come up with a jingle ourselves. Todd Wayne never got back to you, right?â
âNo, he didnât.â I frown, wondering why the man never emailed me back.
âSo, then, I guess we come up with something.â
âYou and I come up with a jingle?â I say stoically as I glance at him. âCopywriting isnât really our wheelhouse.â
âWell, I actually had an idea already.â
âYou did?â I raise a single eyebrow and lean back in my leather chair. I tap my fingers against the solid wood desk and stare at him for a couple of seconds. âGo on, then.â
âGo on what?â
âLet me hear the jingle you created. Now.â
He walks toward me and takes a seat in the chair opposite the desk. Our eyes are locked and honed in on one another, almost as if weâre battling. I know Iâm going to win. I always win. Be it a staring contest, an arm-wrestling match, or a mental showdown. I never lose.
âFine,â he says, tapping his foot against the ground. I hold back a smile as I wait for him to sing the jingle heâs created.
He clears his throat and counts, âA one, a one, a one, two, three, four.â
He starts snapping his fingers, and Iâm holding back laughter now. If thereâs something about Jackson, it is that he always commits to what heâs going to do.
âGet yourself some light,â he sings. âSome beautiful lights. Do you want to feel like royalty, like the king and queen of France, or the king and queen of England, or the king and queen of your pants? Get yourself some lights. Get yourself some lights from Lord Chambers. He is not a stranger.â
I canât stop myself; the laughter erupts from me. Jackson has a nice voice, but heâs not talented with his wordsmithery.
âWhat? You donât like it?â He pouts like heâs wounded. I know heâs not.
âI wouldnât say I donât like it, but I would say itâs kind of crap.â
âFine. Now, can we go grab a drink? You made me embarrass myself to get you to come out to the bar.â
âWell, you chose to embarrass yourself,â I say and then nod. âBut fine, one drink, then I have to come back and work.â I watch as he stands up, and we head toward the door. As we exit, I notice that Edith is long gone. However, the newspaper is still sitting there. I grab it from the desk and study my photo.
âWhere did they get this picture from anyway? I look like a douchebag.â
âWomen love douchebags though.â Jackson watches as I throw the newspaper into the trash. âIsnât that crazy?â Jackson says as we make our way to the elevator.
âWhat do you mean? Isnât what crazy?â
âThat you hate the fact that lots of hot women want you? Youâre totally in another world, arenât you?â he asks as we step inside the elevator, and he presses the button for the lobby. He leans back against the wall and checks something on his phone.
âNo, Iâm not in another world. Iâm just frustrated. Iâve called the newspaper several times. Iâve spoken to several different editors, including the editor in chief, and all of them have told me that I was put in the paper by popular demand. But really, who are these people who want me so badly? Who is voting for me to be the most eligible bachelor in New York City? The editor in chief said I come highly recommended each year.â
Jackson looks away from me, then, and my eyes narrow as he runs his fingers through his hair and taps his foot against the groundâtelltale signs of some sort of guilt.
âIs there something youâre not telling me?â
âWhat?â he says in an innocent tone, and I can feel something clicking in my brain, but Iâm not sure what.
âYou didnât nominate me, did you?â
âMe? Nominate you? Would I do such a thing?â
âYes. Yes, you would. I remember when we were getting our MBAs and you nominated me to be president of the tennis club.â
âWhat, you liked to play tennis.â
âIâve played tennis ten times in my life. I could take it or leave it.â
âBut you were really good.â
âNo, I wasnât.â
âYou were very sporty.â
âIâm sporty, yes, and hey, I can hit the ball across the net. Didnât mean I wanted to be the president of the tennis association.â
âWell, you should have told me you didnât want that job.â
âI wouldâve told you if I wanted it.â I let out a deep sigh and press the stop button.
âOh, boy,â Jackson says, folding his arms and focusing on me. âWhat is it?â
âTell me this. Did you, or did you not nominate me?â
âI didnât nominate you, but I may have told someone late one night that my best friend was really eligible and really rich and really good-looking. Not knowing that she would nominate you.â He bows his head, but I can still see the knowing smirk. âIn my defense, she was giving me the hand job of my dreams.â
âReally, Jackson?â
âSorry,â he says, his eyes light as if heâs remembering that night fondly. âBut the good news is she hates me now, so itâs very unlikely that sheâll nominate you or put you in next year.â
âIâve been listed for the last five years. How long ago did you date this lady? Whatâs her name? How do I get in contact with her?â
âTo be honest, we were on and off for a couple of years. She liked to play, if you know what I mean. Ironically, her name was Primrose, but she went by Prim. I can see if I can find her number, if you want.â He shrugs and presses the button for the elevator to continue. âNow, are we going to talk about this all night, Ethan, or are we just going to go out and have some fun?â
âWhatever,â I say. âI canât believe Todd never got back to me. You havenât heard from him?â
âNo.â He shakes his head. âBy the way, one of the girls down there was trying to say something to you before you left.â
âOh?â I stare at him. âWhich girl?â
âI donât remember her name.â
âI donât remember seeing anyone. I just remember that guy, Dave, or whatever his name is. Iâve spoken to him before and I did not want to be there when he burst into song again.â I shudder as I think about him.
âThat makes sense.â
We exit the elevator as it arrives at the first floor and walk through the white marble floor of the lobby. I notice several of my employees having hushed conversations as they notice me. I nod at several members of staff and continue to the door. I know that my employees both revere me and are scared of me, which is the way that it should be. They should love me and want to work well, but they should also be in fear that if they donât do a good job, they will lose it. At least, thatâs what I think is my leadership style. Iâve been going to a therapist who says that might not be the best way to treat my employees. Iâm still thinking about whether or not I agree with her.
I step outside of the building and look over to the right. My chauffeur, Randy, is standing there and hurries over. âGood evening, Mr. Rosser. Good evening, Mr. Pruitt,â he says as he turns to Jackson. âAm I driving you somewhere tonight or will you be walking?â
I look over at Jackson. âHow far away is this bar you were talking about?â
âItâs on the other side of the city,â he says. âRandy, do you mind driving us? Itâs a new bar called the Owl and the Pussycat.â
âNot at all.â Randy hurries toward the limo and opens the back door. âIâm here at your service, as always.â
âThank you, Randy,â I say as I get into the back of the car. Jackson gets in beside me.
âYou want a whisky?â he asks, opening the small fridge at the side. I nod, and he takes out a decanter with some of the finest Scottish whisky sold, pours me a glass, and makes one for himself.
âItâs been a long day,â he says, handing me the glass. âBut I do have some good news.â
âOkay, and that is?â
âThe manufacturing plants in Ohio are scheduled to be completed next month, so thatâs a month ahead of schedule.â
âWe have enough people power to work them?â I ask him, raising an eyebrow. âI thought HR said they were having a hard time finding qualified applicants.â
âWe havenât gone into full-force yet, Ethan. We didnât want to do that until we knew when we were going to officially open, but now we have a date. I will speak to someone in HR about contacting some more recruitment agencies to get the word out. Everyone needs jobs.â
âBut do people want to work the jobs?â
âWe pay three times minimum wage,â he says. âWe have excellent benefits. I donât know why they wouldnât.â
âYeah, I guess. Because thatâs going to be of the utmost importance if weâre going to meet quotas.â I pause as I see my phone ringing. Itâs my granddad. âHey, hold on. Itâs Granddad.â
I answer the phone. âHey, whatâs up?â
âHi, Ethan. I was just speaking to your nana, and we were wondering if youâd like to come over to dinner tonight.â
âItâs seven p.m., Grandpa.â
âOh, yes⦠Well, maybe not tonight. Maybe this weekend. Lunch.â
âYeah. Is everything okay? You sound weird.â
âIâm not weird. Iâm justâ¦â He pauses. âHold on, your nana wants to speak to you.â
âOkay,â I say, sitting back, staring out the window at the lights as Randy drives us through the hustling and bustling streets of Manhattan.
âEthan, darling,â my nana says in her sweet older voice. I wonder if she wants something.
âHi, Nana, how are you?â
âOh, darling, I saw the newspaper today.â Of course.
âAnd I assume youâre talking about the article?â I say sarcastically. âWho knew I was so eligible?â
âYes, and Iâve had so many phone calls from so many of my friends with granddaughters who are also single. And I was thinking thatâ¦â
âNo, Nana.â I cut her off because I know exactly what sheâs going to say. Sheâs going to say that she wants to have a luncheon, and invite over a bunch of eligible women to see if I like any of them. As if I were Prince Charming and the luncheon was instead of a ball for me to find my Cinderella. Nana knows better than this. Iâm not looking for a Cinderella. Iâm not looking for a princess. Iâm not looking for anyone.
âBut, Ethan.â
âNana.â
âOh, Ethan. You know how much I worry about you. I justâ¦â
âThereâs no need to worry about me. Iâm living my best life.â
âBut, darling, all you ever do is work, just like your grandfather. Thatâs why I made him quit and hand over the company to your dad.â
âAnd we both know Dad ran it into the ground, Nana. Thatâs why Iâm working so hard, remember? Because if I wasnât, then you and Grandpa might be out in the streets and Mom and Dad might be out in the streets, and the thousands of people that work for Rosser International might be out in the streets, as well.â
âYou know we appreciate everything youâve done to turn the company around and it is doing so well because of you and that Jackson, of course.â
âIâll let Jackson know,â I say, glancing at my friend. Heâs looking at something on his phone, but I can see the smile on his lips. I know he knows exactly what this call is about because, every year, Nana tries to do the same thing, and every year, I tell her no, Iâm not interested.
âOh, but Ethan, Iâ¦â
âNana, Jackson and I actually just headed out somewhere. Can I give you a call back later?â
âWell, you know what I would prefer?â
âWhatâs that, Nana?â
âIf you would just come to Sunday lunch.â
âIâll come to Sunday lunch if you promise there wonât be any eligible women there.â
She lets out a deep sigh. âFine, fine,â she says again. âAnd you invite that friend Jackson of yours.â
âI will. Iâm sure heâd love to come, Nana. Love you.â
âI love you, too, darling,â she says.
We hang up, and I look back over at Jackson. âNana wants you to come to lunch on Sunday.â
âOoh, Iâm down,â he says. âI love your nanaâs cooking.â
âI know.â
âIf your nana was younger and single, I totally would have married her.â
I roll my eyes. This is the hundredth time Jackson has said this to me and my nana. Nana loves it because heâs so handsome, which makes her blush, but I know itâs not true. Jackson, for all his talk, has no interest in getting married, either. He comes from a very wealthy family that is even more messed up than mine, and even though we donât talk about his reasons why, I know that he also doesnât believe in true love, and he also doesnât believe in a happily ever after.
âSo, I was thinking,â he says. âWhat about we change the company photo shoot fromâ¦â He pauses. âWait, where were we going again?â
âI donât think we actually decided on a place, but I was thinking Hawaii.â
âDid you finalize which of the employees would be coming?â
âNot yet,â I said, shaking my head. âI did go around to the different offices with HR, but I guess, apparently, thereâs been some complaints because I went into a couple of offices and immediately said no. And they think it was based on me looking for people I thought were good-looking so the photos would be filled with the âbeautifulâ people who work for me. But I donât see looks in the office. You know that.â
âI know, because if you had, you would have totally noticed that smoking hot girl in copywriting that was trying to talk to you.â
âWhat smoking hot girl? What are you talking about?â I rack my brain to think about the different people Iâd seen in copywriting. âThere was that guy Dave, and then that old lady, and then that librarian-looking lady.â
âOh my gosh, Ethan. You totally didnât check her out, did you?â
âUm, no, and youâre telling me you did?â
âShe was smoking. Sure, she had her hair in a bun and those big glasses, but I looked into her eyes and she was really pretty. She had a pretty face. I mean, she needs a makeover or something, butâ¦â
âBut nothing. You know youâre not allowed to sleep with or date anyone at the office.â
âWell, Iâm not interested in dating her,â he says. âBut one hot night?â He smirks and puts his hands up as I glare at him. âDonât worry, Iâm not going to sleep with the hot girl in copywriting.â
âYou better not,â I say, shaking my head. âPlus, I think maybe you need to get laid, because I donât remember seeing any hot girl in copywriting.â I shrug. âAre we nearly there yet, because I really do need to do some more work tonight.â
âDonât worry,â he says. âWeâll be there in, like, ten minutes. Weâll have a drink or two and then you can go home and bust your ass.â
âUh-huh,â I say, shaking my head. âYouâre lucky that youâre my best friend or you would not be able to get away with half the stuff you say to me.â
âBut I am your best friend and I can,â he says, winking at me. âAnd thatâs why you just love having me as your CFO.â
âOh yeah,â I say. âThatâs why. Youâre as welcome as a bullet in my head.â
Jackson throws his head back and starts laughing because we know we would be lost without each other, and I couldnât run Rosser International without his help. Yes, sometimes I can be grumpy, but I know I wouldnât want to do it alone.