Page 49 of Kneeling for Them
“I agree completely, Mr.Tyler.”
“Call me Kingston, please.”
She lays her hand on my forearm.“Kingston.Call me Kristin.”
Oh, this won’t do.I pull my arm back and spot Grant Ramanathan hurrying past the office door.
“Grant!”I call.
He stops in his tracks and comes to stand in the doorway.“What’s up, Kingston?”
“I have a phone appointment, but Kristin needs to get settled into her new office.You’ve met Kristin Wayfield, right?She’s coming over from managing the quant department.”
“Yeah, hey, Kristin,” he says.“Congrats on the promotion.”
I know his felicitations are honest, because I’d approached him for Joel’s job, first.Unfortunately, he and another woman on this floor both turned it down.They’re happy getting paid almost as much to do less work, and I don’t blame them.If Kristin works out, she’ll get more promotions and take over more of my responsibilities soIcan work less.
I hope she works out.
Before Joel started working here, this place was free of drama.I’d like to return it to that former glory.We do a good job, every time.Like clockwork.Slow and steady.It makes us trustworthy, and that means a lot when we’re handling everyone’s data and money.
Something flickers in Kristin’s eyes as I step away.Understanding.I think she gets it—there was a seed of sexual interest there for a moment, but I’ve nipped it in the bud.
Good thing, too, because like I said, I don’t want drama.Sebastian is supplying plenty of that at the moment.
Sebastian
It’s been a few days since I last saw Ella, and I’m missing her.We’ve texted, mostly song lyrics that I’m curious whether she likes or not.She sends me some of hers, too.It’s a new feeling, being vulnerable like this with a woman, baring more of myself than I’m used to.
I have to settle for texts rather than seeing her in person because she’s working so damn much.I hate it.I wish I could give her whatever money she needs for rent so she could spend more time with King and me, but I know she’d never accept it.
Morning light streams through my windows, lighting up my living room.I pick up my phone and review our texts from last night.
Me:What do you think of the phrase “charred heart” in that last verse I sent you?
Ella:If you change it, I’ll cut you.
Then she put in several laughing emoji before adding,I mean it.Don’t change that phrase.
I’ve played all night, tinkering and messing with this song, and I want nothing more than to share it with Ella.
Hoping she’s awake, I text her again.Good morning, princess.I want to play a song for you.In person.
She’s writing back, but the three little dots showing she’s typing appear, then disappear.Then they appear again.
I can come to you, I write.
No, I’ll come to you.I’m just waking up.I need to be in Dorado Heights for work in a couple of hours, anyway.And I want to see your place.
I look around my place.It’s clean enough, I guess.Mostly cluttered with notebooks, pens, guitar picks.I’d love nothing more than to have Ella here.When sending her my address, I add the elevator code so she can come right in.
See you soon, she writes.
Can’t wait.
I tidy up some things, make coffee, eat a piece of toast.I wonder if there’s enough time to get some real breakfast delivered, because Ella never feeds herself as well as she should.
I’m looking over an online menu for the nearest diner when my buzzer sounds, alerting me to a guest.But Ella should be able to let herself in.Maybe she forgot the code or can’t get to her phone for some reason.I press the button to allow her up, then wait in front of the elevator to pull my little princess into my arms.
