Page 20 of Until You're Breathless

She hesitates for a moment. “Because I know that you’re the closest competitor.”

“Why not go work for Ford?”

“Because I can’t stand them. They’re the neediest fucks on the planet. They call night and day with no regard for boundaries.”

“I’ve got news for you, Bowie. I’m not much for boundaries, either. In fact, I went to visit Axl Lennon at five o’clock this morning, and then I saw my brother Rush right after that.”

“But would you call a staff member at two o’clock in the morning?”

I’ve wanted to. But I hold the keys to the building and there isn’t a machine in this place that I can’t handle on my own. “No.” I say honestly, feeling like I want to lie just for the satisfaction.

She’s content with that answer but she doesn’t make further comment.

“Look, I just...I don’t think that this will ever work, Bowie. If you want the honest to God truth. I know your worth and I know what you’re capable of, and I just think that it’s too much of a risk.”

After a swallow and a tight nod, she licks her lips and speaks. “I can appreciate that. If you want to know the truth, if the shoe were on the other foot, I wouldn’t have even seen you. I sort of judge you for that.” She chuckles.

I rise as she rises, knowing that this conversation is over. As I walk her to the door, she turns. “But understand that you’ll never find another person that loves this business more than I do. I’ve sacrificed everything for it and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. There is nothing more fulfilling for me than watching a project come to fruition. It’s not about money to me. It’s about the American dream. And I’ll put that front and center no matter what company I work for.”

“Ever thought about starting your own?”

“When you’ve been trained to feel like your company is your own that you share with the same person you share your life with, there is no comparison. Besides, if I thought of that even ten years ago, I might have had a fighting chance, but now everything is a mess. I may revisit that idea after the dust settles, but for now, I need to get back into the game.”

I stick my hand out for her to shake. “If you need some support, let me know. I’m not in this business to cut people down. That’s not how I got to where I am now.”

“And that’s why I came to you first, Jagger.” She smiles. “It was nice seeing you again.”

I nod. I can’t say the same. I know that this meeting is going to cost me days of interrupted sleep. To avoid questions, I don’t walk her to the door. I bid her adieu from the inside of my office and let her see herself out.

“All real.” Stevie confirms as I walk through her door. She’s sitting at her desk with her feet propped up on the desk, heels pointing out so far I’m afraid she’ll use them as a weapon.

“What. What’s all real?” I ask, closing her door. The receptionist knows who I am so she just gestured me in. Visits to my sister’s office are usually spontaneous and never last more than five minutes, because that’s all that we can stand of each other. The love is fast and furious, but in under a minute, I can already feel my skin starting to crawl, and she’s the same. We both admit to it. Neither of us are offended. It’s just in our D.N.A. Evidently, she doesn’t have that effect on anyone else, and neither do I, for that matter.

“Bowie Ritter and Boston Kruger. All real. None of that shit’s made up. My source tells me that she tried to stick around but he was being such a psycho, watching her every move, just waiting for her to sabotage him, so she walked. The media is all over it now.”

I already know all this, but I don’t tell her as much.

“So, how much did he offer her?” She asks.

“How the fuck should I know.” I say with a grunt, sitting in the guest chair.

“Because she came to see you and don’t lie to me, I can see it in your face.”

Skin starts to crawl. “How the fuck do you do that.”

She shrugs. “It’s a gift. You have it, too. Don’t underestimate yourself. That’s why you showed her the door.”

My mouth opens. I repeat, only louder. “How the fuck do you do that!”

Stevie is unimpressed. Her eyes scan down a website as she scrolls through a page on her laptop. “Tabloids say three million.”

“What?” I squeal.

“Boston and Bowie. Pay attention.” She snaps her fingers. “Three million was her parting price. I would have doubled that, personally, for pain and suffering. After living with that pencil dick all those years, standing in his fucking shadow, only to be thanked like that? I would have annihilated him for that much.”

“Which is why I showed her the door.”

“You’ll call her back.”

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