Page 77 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
Too bad it was another thing he wouldn’t want to hear, and that there was no amount of sex that would make him like it.
I slept late, the effects of the day before probably catching up with me, and woke up alone, still feeling draggy and a tiny bit tender, which last part wasn’t exactly horrible to notice, or to remember.
It wasn’t that Hemi had actually been rough. He never was, not really, no matter what he told me beforehand to excite me. More that he’d paid me alotof attention, and when you worked anything out that hard, you were bound to be sore the next day.
I did finally get myself out of bed and get dressed, though, then went in search of intelligent life. I found Hemi in his office, his back to me, absolutely still and completely focused, and decided not to disturb him. The one benefit of yesterday’s meeting, besides that I’d found out where I stood—which was useful, if not comforting, to know—was that I understood better the kinds of pressures he faced, and how alone he was in facing them.
Designing a brilliant line wasn’t enough. You also had to sell it, and now that the heat of the moment was over, I couldn’t help worrying about what would happen if things didn’t work out. With the risky launch, or with that other thing. With Anika.
I knew, even though Hemi never mentioned it, that she was still there at the back of his mind. I suspected that was one reason he’d been so possessive with me since I’d moved in, which was why I hadn’t pushed back harder than I had. He was afraid of losing his money, and the power that came with it. And he was afraid of losing me, which was stupid, but at the same time…I got it. I probably felt a little bit the same way about Karen.
You never just reacted to what was happening now. You reacted to everything that had happened before, and that’s what Hemi was doing. I sometimes thought that I knew him better than he knew himself, because I saw that, and I wasn’t sure he did. But then, it was always easier to see inside other people than it was to look in the mirror.
This clearly wasn’t the time to charge in there and have a chat about that, though, so I left him undisturbed and went into the kitchen, where I found Karen. She’d apparently also slept in after a shift that had ended at midnight, and was looking a little zombified herself this morning.
I made myself a cup of tea and shoved a couple pieces of wholegrain bread into the toaster while Karen poured herself an enormous bowl of cereal and made a very messy smoothie that seemed to involve most of the contents of the produce drawer, not to mention a couple cartons of yogurt.
I asked her, when she was sucking the drink down in big gulps of viscous, nearly purple liquid, “Are you OK if Hemi and I take off this morning for an hour or so?”
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Uh…Hope. I can turn on the stove by myself and everything now.”
“It’s not that,” I tried to explain, because Hemi wasn’t the only person I’d been thinking about over the past couple days. “It’s that you and I haven’t been spending as much time together since we moved in here. I’m sure you’re glad to have your own room, but still—it’s pretty different, isn’t it? You might be feeling a little neglected, even, by your big sister,” I tried to joke. “So if you want to do something later…go shopping, maybe? Go to the movies?”
She didn’t seem to be feeling neglected, because she said, “Iwentto the movies last night, remember? I have to go again tonight, too. It’s pretty much killed my craving for popcorn, I’ll tell you that. Anyway, no, thanks. I want to go over to Mandy’s. We’re going to check out the thrift stores. And besides, shopping in the sportswear section of Saks doesn’t exactly add to your street cred, you know?” With that, she finished off the smoothie and started in on her Cheerios as if she had to grab them before they got away.
The thrift stores? Street cred? That was a new development. Karen had never cared much about clothes. Lately, though, she’d been experimenting, branching out from her previous Happy Geek presentation in sometimes startling ways. Today, for example, she’d adopted a grunge look that I was having a little trouble adjusting to. Heavy black eyeliner, dark lipstick, a black T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder and had apparently come pre-ripped, and a short gray skirt.
“Matter of fact,” she said, after finally wrestling her breakfast into submission and climbing off her stool, but at least taking her bowl and glass with her today, “I should leave right now.”
That was the moment when Hemi walked into the kitchen. He took a long look at Karen, and she put her dishes in the sink and said, “So, hey, I’m off. Brooklyn calls. And yes, I asked Hope.” Well, she’dtoldHope, at least. “Enjoy your walk or whatever.”
When she started to head past Hemi, though, he said, “Two things. First, clean up after yourself, please.”
She sighed, but said, “Right,” swept her fruit and vegetable trimmings into the garbage, shoved her Cheerios box into the cupboard and, at a hard look from Hemi, put the milk carton back into the fridge and slammed the door before slotting her dirty dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher.
“Satisfied?” she asked him, shoving the dishwasher shut with a knee.
He said, “Not entirely. You’ll also need to change before you go anywhere.”
“Why?” she asked. “I’m fine. This is what everybody wears. Besides, I have to wear an ugly uniform to school, and an ugly uniform to work. This is my only chance to express myself.”
“No.”
Karen’s dark brows drew together behind her glasses, her expression turning stubborn, a look I recognized from her childhood, though I’d been seeing it more lately than I had since she’d been about four. “What? Why not?”
“Because it’s too sexually suggestive,” he said, leaping boldly into the breach, where brave women—well, where I—feared to tread.
“It isnot,”Karen said. “It’s grunge, that’s all. And anyway—ha.That’s all youdo,is design stuff for women so they look sexy. And I’m not twelve, I’m sixteen. I’m allowed to look like somebody who might occasionally want to attract the attention of the opposite sex.”
Hemi could match anybody on earth in the Hard Expression department, though, and he was doing it. Storm clouds ahead for sure, and time for me to step in, as I should have done from the start, instead of sitting back and letting him do my job for me. Why had I done that, anyway? “Well, yes, sweetie,” I said. “It is. Suggestive, I mean.”
What was, you’re wondering? The pair of over-the-knee black stockings she was wearing with her clunky black shoes, that was what. Karen’s legs were long, and the skirt didn’t exactly reach her knees. In fact, there were a good four inches of long, slim thigh between the skirt’s hem and the tops of the stockings.
It was a look, yes. Whatkindof look, though…It had bothered me when I’d seen it, but I was never sure how hard to come down on her. I’d neverhadto come down on her. She’d been snarky, always, but studious and responsible, too. But then, that was partially because she’d been sick for months, if not years, and we’d always been in fairly desperate straits financially. When you were right at the edge, you tended to cling together for balance.
Now, though…things were different.
“This skirt isn’t even that short,” she said, which was technically true. “Am I suddenly going to parochial school? Are you guys going to get out a ruler?”
