Page 26 of The Write Off

“August would be better for Bryce.” His oily grin makes his already punchable face more of a tempting target.

They agreed on October. True, I haven’t seen the contract, but I was on the email chain when the date was sent. Moving her deadline up like that is unheard of and I’m about to tell him so.

“August it is.” Rilla gives him the same forced smile I saw her use on her unhappy patrons at the bar.

“Beautiful.” He winks at her, his hand still on her arm and I’ve officially had enough.

“Was there anything else you wanted us to work on, Bryce?” It’s not really a question. This meeting was to confirm that we’re staying on track; it’s not as if he has anything to add.

He finally lifts his hand off Rilla and runs it over his clean shaven face. “Nothing specific. Just stay the course. I’m really happy with how things are shaping up.” His gaze travels back and forth between us with interest. “For two people who didn’t want to work together, you seem to be managing just fine.” He leans forward again and whispers to her, “You know, this guy tried to convince me that you were a mess.”

It doesn’t surprise me that he found a way to work that into the conversation, but it angers me nonetheless. I have no one to blame but myself for that lapse in judgment. It had been a long week and I was tired and frustrated about numerous things. Still, I should never have spoken about her that way, especially to Bryce of all people.

“Well, you know what they say,” she says, with a self-deprecating shrug. “A broken clock is right twice a day.”

Bryce laughs loudly, tossing his head back and putting both hands over his Armani clad chest. “Rilla, you slay me.”

If only.

“Alright, kids,” he places both hands down on the table with a sigh. “As much as I’d love to hang out with my new favorite author all day, there is money to be made and my grandfather’s company isn’t going to run itself.” He stands and straightens his tie. “Rilla, it was an absolute pleasure. I look forward to working closely with you for years to come.” With a brief nod at me, he gives her one last perusal before breezing out.

Instantly the air feels more breathable, and we both relax into the high-back chairs with sighs of relief.

“Are all meetings with him that enjoyable?” Rilla turns in her chair to face me. “Because I feel like I just got a root canal with no freezing.”

A chuckle rumbles through my chest and I shake my head. “That was one of the more pleasant ones, believe it or not. Last year he gathered up as many of us as he could and made us look at pictures from his vacation. Another time I had to watch him tell the diversity and equity committee that no one in history has been more misunderstood and misrepresented than straight White men.”

Rilla’s laughter echoes off the walls, warming the cold boardroom like no heat source could. I find myself going out of my way to make her laugh, craving not only the sound but the feeling it sparks within me.

“He really is a model of resilience in the face of adversity.”

“Truly.”

“We should come up with a game to play the next time we meet with him.” She pushes her curls back behind her ears and I notice the caramel highlights in her brown hair. “We can put vodka in our coffee mugs and take a drink every time he interrupts us.”

I shake my head. “We’d be drunk in less than five minutes.”

“Okay, okay, good point.” She taps her delicate fingers on the table, performing her own little drum solo as she thinks. “We’ll play Bryce bingo!”

“Bingo?”

“Yes!” Her eyes light up with mischief. “I’ll make up bingo cards for each of us with things we expect him to do. Like, he brings up that his grandfather founded the company.”

I nod, catching on. “Every time he speaks about himself in the third-person, or takes credit for work he didn’t do.”

“Yes! Or every time he reminds me that you called me a mess.” The room goes silent as the words leave her mouth. I feel my face drop and she looks away, packing up her laptop. “The possibilities are endless.”

Even though she appears to have forgiven me for saying what I said, she definitely hasn’t forgotten. I hate that it still feels like a rift in an otherwise amicable working relationship.

“Rilla, I want to once again say that I’m sorry for calling you that–”

“No, Logan, it’s fine. I was just–”

“Can I please finish?”

“Okay, Bryce, you just interrupted me too.” She frowns at me.

“Jesus, you are a hard person to apologize to.”

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