Page 10 of Free to Dream
“Ohhhh,” my sister drawls out as she pauses, her Southern accent making it a five-syllable word. “Should have run with me. I got up when y’all did and put in five miles. Maybe I’ll go get a mocha with some extra whip from The Coffee Shop.”
“Keep out of it, Ali,” Phil huffs. He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, challenging her to step into our argument more than she already has.
“Seriously, Phillip, what’s wrong with you?” I ask. “We’re actually here for a reason this morning. You know, a quick briefing before a potentially lucrative client walks through the door in about fifteen minutes.”
Phil looks at us for a moment before speaking. His eyes, which are so incredibly blue and filled with a raging regret, begin to soften. “If I said nothing, would either of you believe me?”
In unison, Ali and I both say, “No.”
Sighing, Phil follows Ali and sits in one of the chairs across from my desk. I join them, crossing my legs and folding my hands over my stomach as I lean back. “Okay, out with it. Why have you been a douche this morning? More so than normal? We have our first appointment coming in”—I check the clock—“in seventeen minutes. Out with it, and do it quickly.”
“So, about that first appointment,” Phil starts. I slowly uncross my legs and sit forward.
“Yes?”
“There’s something you should know.”
I’m going to throttle my brother. After all our years of working together, if he left out telling me any minute detail about this appointment, I’m going to lose it.
Knowing Phil, this could be anything from the appointment was supposed to be at the Lockwood company headquarters in Manhattan or their family compound in Greenwich. If Phil suddenly springs on me that he forgot to tell me the client’s expecting to have a champagne catered breakfast ready, I’m going to give up on keeping my legendary control, take my scissors and straddle him while I cut off all his hair in massive chunks. He won’t be able to stop me because he’ll be too busy choking on the extra-skinny, watered down latte he just made me pick up.
In my calmest voice, I ask, “What about it?”
Ali whispers “Uh-oh” under her breath.
Phil looks at his hands, then at the clock. Another minute ticks by. Sixteen minutes until this appointment. He looks at Ali, who just stares back at him with a mean look. He looks back down at his hands. Silence. Fifteen minutes.
From the doorway, Holly pipes in with “Did you fuck the groom or something?”
Ali starts to laugh as I gasp. Standing in the door, Corinna, Em and Holly are standing in varying states of arms crossed, waiting for Phil’s answer. Em just mean mugs Phil. I check the clock again. Fourteen minutes.
Phil sighs and looks at me with guilt on his face. That was my only warning.
“No, but Jason was engaged to him about ten years ago and broke it off to be with me. Or so the story goes.”
Chaos erupts in my office. In my disbelief, I make a few mental notes. First, Phil is prohibited from doing any further client event profile forms. I also give myself a mental reminder to review all his other forms for new clients for the rest of the week. How could he not think this information was important for me to know, especially now, having more than mere minutes before the Lockwoods come through my door?
As I sit back, listening to my siblings yell among each other, I try to regroup. I have no time to call Jason to discreetly find out what occurred.
I now have five minutes to get this under control.
Forget who fucked who or who fucked whom over. This is not how we built this business.
Phil. Might. Die.
Slowly.
Blunt force trauma caused by my planner. That’s a delicious thought.
But later.
I’ll enjoy planning it in detail, after I deal with damage control.
“All of you, get out of my office. RIGHT NOW!” I yell at my siblings. “I have exactly four minutes to figure this out. I think you all might be depraved lunatics, and how I know this and continue to work with you all on a daily basis is eluding me. This is not the impression this company will give under any circumstances, short of the building catching fire. Find your offices and have your meltdowns in there.”
Then I hear it. That fucking bitch Fate. Three goddamn minutes early. Of course.
“I happen to agree with Ms. Freeman. She and I have an appointment on behalf of my family.”
