Page 3 of Forbidden Fruit

“Oh, fine,” she says. “You always did get your way, Clive.”

The papers rustle as she picks them up. I can almost taste this freedom, the life I’m about to start. Maybe without anyone but myself in it. Maybe not.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” she says, signing her name with a flourish.

I don’t say a word.

“Jack will owe me, too.”

“That one’s true enough,” I say.

She looks at me like I’m already out the door as if she can see my back disappearing. And that’s what I intend for her to see. She gets up from the table and puts the papers back in the folder, slamming it in front of me. She even manages to make that dramatic.

“There you go, Mr. Bishop,” she says, like she’s the one granting me the favor.

I take the folder and try not to smile. If I do, Kay will see it as a sign of weakness, but she’d be wrong. I’ve got strength enough for both of us now. Her eyes linger on me, still chilly, but there’s something behind them now. I think it might be a little bit of respect. But it might just be anger.

“Stay a few more minutes,” she says, handing me a glass with some age. The whiskey, not the glass. “There’s something I need from you.”

“We both know you have everything you need,” I say.

I settle into a low, black chair. It feels like sitting on a suitcase. Kay perches on the edge of a new-looking couch. I think she’s going for a casual effect, but nothing is casual with Kay.

“So,” she says. “Jack.”

“Kay,” I say, nodding back.

“Stop it.”

“Your son. My stepson.” I take a sip of the whiskey. It goes down well.

She tries to look annoyed, but I see the smile she’s fighting back.

“You know what I mean, Clive. You have him working under people you’ve only known for a few years. That’s not fair.”

“No,” I say. “It’s fair. It’s perfectly fair. That’s the problem.”

She swirls her drink, eyes on me. I’m enjoying this more than I should. More than I thought I would. “Is Jack going to have a future at the company?” she asks.

“Of course, he has a future. I think I’ve been more than generous. After all, I haven’t fired him despite his refusal to work.”

“Clive,” she says, putting on the tone that used to get to me. “I want him to have a chance.”

“I’m giving him that. A chance. If he starts pulling his weight, he’ll go places. Until then, not a chance.”

“You could make him VP.”

“True,” I say. “I could also put your son in charge of engineering. Maybe he could solve the big data problems by being there in person.”

She rolls her eyes, but I know her well enough to see she’s already losing patience. She thought she could have this argument, get what she wants, and be done with it. I love showing her she’s wrong.

“Kay, listen,” I say. “He needs to work harder.”

“He is working hard,” she says, leaning in. “You’re just not seeing it. You know what he wants to do, don’t you?”

“Get a promotion?” I say.

“Get married.”

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