Page 39 of Game Changer

Sittingin a bar a few blocks from my home is not the solution to my problems. I hoped it would be, but any answers to the fucked up predicament I’m facing won’t be found in this glass of scotch.

This is my second since I sat down. I downed the first in one gulp to relieve the excruciating frustration I’ve felt since Hildy showed up at Turquoise Crown and interrupted what I am certain would have been the best kiss of my life.

It’s not lost on me that she also saved me from what would have been a major mistake in my career. Falling for a woman that a client wants is stepping over a boundary I swore I’d never do.

I’ve never had a problem avoiding the temptation because I’ve never met a woman who has captivated me the way Opal has.

If I pursue her, I have to drop Percy as a client and tell him that he doesn’t stand a chance with her. The issue is that I don’t know if I stand a chance with her either.

I want a chance, though, but what exactly do I want a chance at?

To kiss her?

To fuck her?

To build a relationship with her?

Since I’ve never felt the urge to be in a romantic relationship with any woman, it’s easy to strike the last option off my list.

My phone chimes in my pocket. It’s been doing that non-stop all night. I ignored it when I was with Opal, glanced at it briefly on the subway ride to this bar, and since I ordered my first drink, I’ve kept it out of sight.

Another text notification immediately follows the last one, so I pull the phone out to find a message from Percy.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

The last thing I want is to deal with him tonight.

I read the most recent text message he just sent, and two others from him that arrived since I left Turquoise Crown.

The first two are awkward attempts to start a conversation. One asks how I am, and the other comments on the almost ideal weather New Yorkers enjoyed today.

The third is the one I need to respond to.

Percy: I want an update on Opal. I’m ready to make my move.

“Go to hell,” I whisper, staring at my phone’s screen.

“I haven’t even sat down yet,” a very familiar voice says from next to me. “I thought you said you’d always be happy to see me, regardless of the place or time.”

“Scout.” I stand to take my sister in my arms as soon as I realize it’s her. “I am always happy to see you.”

After a brief embrace, she pushes both hands against my chest to gain enough distance to look up to study my face. “So, you weren’t telling me to go to hell?”

I laugh at the mere thought of that. “Fuck, no.”

Her gaze darts back over her shoulder to a table where two other women are sitting. Both are around her age, although I’m no expert on picking twenty-four-year-olds out in a crowd.

“Are those your friends?” I question.

“Why?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Don’t make a move on either, William. I work with them, and I don’t want you messing that up for me by breaking one of their hearts.”

I take that all in. “There’s zero chance of that happening. I’m not going to make a move on anyone tonight.”

She laughs as though I’m joking.

Not feeling the need to explain myself further, I dive into her life. “How’s the new job going? Is the promotion working out?”

Scout recently returned to Manhattan after spending just over a year in London working for an auction house there. Once a position opened up on this side of the Atlantic, she threw her name in the ring and was offered the job almost immediately. It came with more responsibility, a bigger salary, and, most importantly, a chance to move back home.

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