Page 18 of Until You're Breathless

“So? That doesn’t mean that I have to hire her, does it.” I point out.

“It doesn’t.” He’s matter of fact. “But did you see the rest of the pool? A loser, a former economist for the last shitty government, a guy that’s just received a pardon for fucking tax evasion, and her. That’s what we have so far.”

“So, someone else will come up.”

“You think it’s that easy, Jagger? This isn’t an internship for a fucking accounting firm. We need someone with her background, with her integrity, with her vision, man. Unless you want to hire Axl Lennon, she’s it right now. I mean, in six months, attrition might bring on a handful of other candidates, but dude, you haven’t got six months. You said yourself that you’re fucking drowning. And that’s not even the worst of it, man. How do we even know that she’s being genuine?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I thought you said that she and him called it quits?”

“Exactly. How do you know that she’s not knocking on your door for revenge, Jagger? We want someone with a heart for this company, not someone looking to get the ultimate revenge.”

“So, say she did come aboard for revenge. Wouldn’t that make a great motivation to kick Boston’s ass?”

He cranes his neck, looking at me like I just said that I want the cast of Friends to run my business. “And what about yourhead, Jagger?”

Now it’s my turn to crane my neck. “Whataboutmy head?”

“Don’t tell me that this won’t mess with it.”

I scoff. “Look, Rush, I get that you’re looking out for my best interests, man, but I’m a grownup, remember? And this is my business, my heart and soul, not some part-time job that I’d like to keep so I can save up for a set of wheels. I can be professional.”

He lifts a brow. “Are you sure about that? Because I saw your assistant’s face print on your fucking laptop last night.”

A hand scrapes down my face. “That’s different. It’s just about sex. She doesn’t want anything more and neither do I.”

“Well, what if you take a ride in your wayback machine like your friend Axl just loves to fucking do, and suddenly you let your heart get in the way of business, hm? I know what you went through, man. I lived with you. You were just a kid.”

“Exactly. That was a long time ago, Rush. I’ve been over it for years, and that’s the way that it’s going to stay. You and Halen don’t have anything to worry about.”

The muscles in his jaw are working. “Do you want to wait it out? Make her sweat a while for old time’s sake? See if something else better pops up?”

The thought of steering this ship alone doesn’t scare me. It never has. I have no interest in complicating my life further, and right now, I feel like doing it alone for a while longer is the lesser of two evils. Bowie is the best candidate for this job, and she would kick the ass of anyone else that we could recruit, but the stakes are too high. If she’s going to be here for any other reason than to drive this company to the next level, then I don’t need that any more than I need to hire an ex con. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s wait it out.”

He frowns and nods. “Good choice, brother. I believed in you.”

I smirk. “So, does Halen owe you fifty bucks for this now?’

He stuffs his laptop into the bag and gives me a wink. “A hundred, actually.”

Chapter 6

Jagger

Scrollingthroughmyphonewhile I wait for some drawings to load onto my computer, I see an article pop up. “Fuck, Axl!” I nearly shout. “Goddamn you. Can’t you keep your face out of the goddamn news for more than a month?” Sure, it’s a tabloid, but still. They’ve got his face blurred out, but as sure as the nose on my face, it’s him. Especially since he’s wearing a shirt with his name and company logo on it. ‘RamYouRacing’ is a logo well-known to anyone not living under a rock, let’s just say that. And he sure lives up to that standard, seeing as, according to the photo, he’s been caught getting head in a limo by some slut that looks like he picked her up in a back alley.

“God, I cannot do business with a dude like that!” I say to myself, hearing my family’s voice scream at me from inside my head. The guy is great. He’s a world class race car driver, a genius, has a heart of gold, is as loyal as fuck, but when it comes to having his face plastered on a paper, he is a glutton for attention...and for punishment, evidently. His agent has a field day with him. I’ve seen enough and I’m in terrible need of a coffee and a walk, so I head outside my office.

And I immediately regret it...

As I walk to the coffee carafe at the back of the reception desk, I see her coming into the building...Bowie Ritter.

I see her first before she sees me, as she’s never been inside this place, to my knowledge, and she doesn’t know where to look. But it’s too late for me to hightail it back to my office and tell the girls at reception that I’m not available for a spontaneous guest. Also, I’m not a pussy.

“Hey, a...are you here to see me?” I ask her, as the girls behind the desk scurry to help. I raise my hand, indicating that I’ve got it.

“Yes, if you can spare the time.” Bowie says. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt that goes below the knee, a double-breasted jacket done right up, a frilly scarf that pokes out from said jacket, to cover any cleavage that may want to peek out, conservative-length heels, and her hair is in a messy bun. Bowie always knew how to be professional, and her clothes scream that.

“Sure. Come on in. I’ve got about five minutes before my next meeting.” Which is the truth. My production team and I have a session every day around this time.

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