Page 6 of Meet Me at Midnight

The conference call ends shortly after that, and as Neil and Chris open the room up for questions, Avery slides in like a water moccasin—head held high above the water and completely devoid of shame. She’s wearing the nude Louboutins she bought at Saks, carrying her latest Birkin bag, and showcasing a matching cream Chanel tweed jacket and skirt that would make most people want to puke over the price tag.

Neil’s brow furrows as he watches his daughter walk around the boardroom table with a Starbucks cup in her hand, taking a seat damn near at the head of the table while I sink farther into the wall. “Running a little behind?” he questions.

“Feels like I’m right on time, Daddy,” Avery says with a shrug, gently tossing strands of her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

Beau shakes his head silently, meeting my eyes in a conspiratorial moment. I try not to melt on the spot, but it’s hard, given the level of heat building between my legs every time I freaking look at him.

“Please proceed,” my best friend adds with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

Neil shakes his head on a laugh. He knows Avery doesn’t give a fuck, and even if he tried to get her to find one, she’d outsource the job and go for margaritas instead. She is what she is, and for the sake of ease, Neil has chosen to accept it. He moves his attention back to the room. “This campaign is big shit, guys. We want Hughes International as a client, and Midnight is the way we’re going to do it.”

Avery jumps out of her seat, noticing me against the wall for the first time, and comes to stand beside me. “What’d I miss?” she whispers, officially sending my ability to listen to Neil, Chris, Beau, and Chris’s son Seth as they start discussing the particulars into orbit.

What’d she miss?Ha.“Everything.”

She shrugs. “You’re never going to believe who I saw at Starbucks.”

I don’t respond, trying like hell to listen to whatever Chris McKenzie is currently saying, but Avery doesn’t get the message.

“Remember that guy we met at Luna, like, three weeks ago?” she asks, her entire body turned toward me like we’re in the middleof a gabfest and not in the middle of an important work meeting. At this point, it doesn’t matter what I say or do; she wants to tell me this story, and I’m going to hear it. Her father’s company’s success and our jobs be damned. “David. The one with those incredible blue eyes. He bought our table service in VIP, and I ended up back at his place. Remember him?”

I nod. I do, in fact, remember David. But I also remember that Beau was at Luna that night, dancing with some brunette chick with long legs. It waspainful.

“Well, he was ordering a caramel macchiato this morning two people in front of me,” Avery comments, her eyes alight with a future hookup. “He still looks good as hell, and he wants us to meet him at Neon tonight.”

I don’t say anything to that, but I already know there is no way in hell I’m going to Neon. I’m not in college anymore. I have a job. A job I’m trying to be good at, mind you, so that I can further my career in marketing and make use of the degree I spent four years earning at the University of Miami.

“I’d like to head the team for this campaign,” Beau declares, yanking my attention away from coming up with a cover story of excuses to get out of Avery’s late-night plans and back to the important work shit going down in front of us. And, you know, back toBeau.

“Actually, I think I should be the one doing that,” Seth McKenzie fires back, a cocky smile on his face. “We both know I always win, Beau.”

It’s a statement so cataclysmic, even Avery pipes down to listen. A little over a year ago, Beau’s longtime girlfriend Bethany left him for Seth, who was his best friend at the time, and they gotengaged within two months of her big breakup with Beau. It sounds like a plot fromGeneral Hospital, I know, but for Beau, it’s reality.

Internally, I still haven’t figured out how to reconcile how angry I am on Beau’s behalf with the unexpected, hope-building status of his singledom. I practically had my all-black, funeral-inspired outfit picked out for Beau and Bethany’s future wedding, and thenboom, the dirty hussy dropped a bomb. I cannot fathom having Beau and fumbling him for Seth. Don’t get me wrong, Seth McKenzie is attractive with his light-brown hair and ocean-blue eyes, but he’s no Beau Banks.No one is.

Beau narrows his astute gaze. “That’s cute, Seth, but you’d be in way over your head on this, and we both know it.”

“In over my head? I don’t think so, man,” Seth responds, his voice rising with irritation. “I just finished the campaign for Clover Athletics, and, not sure if you remember, but I knocked it out of the fucking park.”

The tension is growing by the second, stretching tight between Beau and Seth like a rubber band as they stare each other down, and all I can do is watch, completely riveted and on edge at the same time.

“You didn’t even come close to what my campaign for Dalencia Fashion did,” Beau refutes, his voice deep with sarcasm. “We’re lucky Clover even wants to work with us again after the pathetic numbers you generated.”

Both Avery’s and my heads bounce back and forth like volleyballs being smashed across a net. This spat may be work-related, but the inherent tension is nearly enough to set the whole damn building on fire.

“Pathetic numbers?” Seth nearly shouts, and strands of his silky hair fall toward his eyes. “They doubled their sales!”

“Is this, like, some kind of lovers’ quarrel?” Avery asks, her voice managing to rise above both Seth and Beau. She’s unserious about everything, but the people who really know her know this is her way of trying to defuse a situation. “Or do I need to go find a tape measure so you can compare your dicks?”

“Avery,” Neil chides, though the grin stretching across his handsome face belies his whole intent.

“What?” she insists. “Tell them to put Peter and Paul Pogostick away, and we’ll move on.”

Neil’s face pinches in consideration. “You know, maybe what we need is a little friendly competition. If you’re both so ready to take this on, you both should. Right, Chris?”

Chris crosses his arms below his round, barrel chest. He’s a big guy, a few inches taller than Neil, but not nearly as good-looking. Honestly, if he’d stop doing the weird, slicked-back hair look on his curly gray hair, he’d increase his appeal tenfold. “Getting Hughes International as a client is important. Hell, it’s the most important thing right now. And the more ideas we have, the better.”

“You don’t need more than one idea when you’re confident you have the best one,” Seth challenges, and the tone of his voice does the tango with annoyance.

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