"Okay. But pinky promise you'll accept the money when the time comes."
"Yes! Even though I don't know what the hell a pinky promise is."
"This." And she sticks out her pinky finger and tells me what to do. It's kind of cute, so I go with it. It must be a girl thing.
The pilot comes over the headset and asks if we want to circle the city again.
"Vivi?"
"No, I'm good."
"Take us in to Whitworth, please."
"Yes, sir."
When we land, I escort her off the helicopter and into the building. "I don't suppose you'd care to see my office, would you?"
"Sure, why not."
The building is vacant now. We take the stairs down one flight, since my office is on the top floor. It's silent since everyone has gone home. I point to Granddad's office and keep walking until I get to the next corner one, which is mine. Then I open the door, using the electronic key card. When the lock clicks, I push the door open, and Vivi's inhaled breath lets me know she loves the view from the dual glass windows.
"Wow. This is what you look at every day?"
"During the day it isn't nearly as spectacular." I don't add that the view is much better with her in here.
"This is unreal. I wish I worked here."
"Say the word and that can be arranged." I'm not joking. My face is as serious as it's ever been and she knows it.
"I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"It would be bad for work. And us."
"I don't see how. You'd be in IT. I'm not there. Our paths would never cross."
For a moment I believe she considers it. The back of her hand presses over her mouth and she looks hopeful, but then she lowers her head and sighs. "It wouldn't work."
"How about I see if we could use you as a consultant until you find something permanent?"
"I have to think about it."
I move in front of her and take her hand. "Let's go and eat dinner. You must be starved."
"I can't. The helicopter was wonderful and I loved it, but maybe some other time. Thank you, though."
"Okay." I hide the letdown behind a smile. She's not ready for me. For us, I should say. At least she didn't scream the entire ride. That's a plus. Baby steps, Prescott.
Escorting her out of the building, I help her into the waiting car and instruct the driver to take her wherever she wants to go. She thanks me and I watch the car drive away. Then I call Eric.
"Thanks, man. I owe you."
"Is she going to chop off my balls?"
"I don't think so. But tell me if she had a nice time, will you? I don't want to know the details, just text me yes or no."
"I will. And for whatever it's worth, I'm on Team Prescott. And don't ask me why, because I have no idea."
I laugh and thank him. Eric is one of the good guys. I hope the job works out for him.
Thirty minutes later, I smile as I read his text.
Yes.
On to my next plan.
Chapter 28
Vivi
"At least it was awesome," Eric says.
"Awesome, stupendous, amazing, the greatest experience of my life. Are you kidding? But I still want to kill you for not warning me."
"Sorry, not sorry. You never would've gone. And damn, Viv, the guy is desperate for you. If you ask me-"
"Did I ask you?"
"No, but I'm telling you anyway. He's in love with you."
"Are you nuts?"
Eric takes my hand and drags me to the couch. "Sit."
So I do.
"Listen up. Men and women are different. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't think like a man. He has issues. Everyone does, including you." He points his index finger at me and wiggles it. "His may actually be bigger than yours. Give the guy a chance."
I cross my arms and harrumph. "I told him about mine."
"Apparently he told you about his. And from the sound of it, you are now in his inner circle. I don't know, nor do I care to know, what those issues are. The fact he bared his soul to you tells me he trusts you and has extremely strong feelings for you. Why else would he do that?" I can't answer that and Eric takes my silence as permission to continue. "So stop hedging and just date the guy. Frankly, I'm tired of all your whining and the back and forth between you two."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"But I thought he spent the night with someone."
"Fine. But did you even ask him or give him a chance to explain?"
I sit here like a sullen child. And maybe that's how I'm acting. I haven't really been acting like a grown up at all, have I? What was he supposed to do when I wouldn't even talk to him or take his calls?
"He offered me a job."
"And?"
"I refused."
Eric throws his hands up in the air. "You are the dumbest, most idiotic woman on the face of the Earth. How the hell did you graduate from MIT?" Then he stomps out of the room.
I chase after him. "Eric, stop."
He turns and taps his foot, waiting for me to speak.
"You really think I should take the job?"
"No, Vivi, I think you should be a bartender for the rest of your life."
I groan and grab my head.
"Would you stop all this angst and think for a minute. God opened a window for you and you're sitting here, like a dumbass, staring at the thing. You have to know that Prescott called me by now to enlist my aid in getting the two of you together. You have that degree from MIT. You're supposedly brilliant, though I'm beginning to question that. I would think you had deduced that by now."
"I figured as much. I just didn't want to ask you."
"He did and I did, so now you know the truth. He did it with the promise of an interview for me at Whitworth. At first I told him no. But then the more I thought about it the dumber it was of me not to take him up on it. My business wasn't taking off and I didn't want to wait tables forever. So call me an asshole and self-serving, but I did it. Besides, I had a feeling that the two of you should be together anyway. Now he's offering something similar to you and you're acting like a moron about it. Take the fucking job! Run with it and show that company how amazing you are. Build your reputation back up. Then if you don't like the damn job, you have a résumé again. And the same if you and Prescott don't work out. Just don't be stupid, Vivi."
Eric's right. I really can't pass this opportunity up.
"Have I been that much of a whiny ass over him?"
"Whiny ass doesn't begin to cover it. Wimpy, whiny, grumbly, you name it. The man has bent over backward to help you. Has opened up his fucking bank account to you and you keep kicking him in the balls. If it were me, I would've already tossed you into the river and never looked back. Personally, I don't know what your problem is. Yes, you've been through a lot. Way more than I ever want to handle and I get that you don't want to put your heart out there, but damn. This whiplash thing is too much for a roommate to take."
Jumping up, I dig through my handbag, searching for my phone. Then I send Prescott a text.
Thank you for the ride tonight. It was amazing. V
He hits me back with a quick, Glad you liked it. I have some more tricks up my sleeve. Are you interested?
I send him a laughing emoji because I can only imagine what kinds of tricks he has in mind. Then I send him this:
I've been thinking about your job offer. I'd like to talk about it some more.
He is fast with: Lunch tomorrow?
Sounds great. Where?
My office. Noon.
Okay, will this be an interview or lunch, I wonder. I'd better scrape up a résumé. I have one already, so I'll bring it with me just in case.
In the morning, a major case of nerves attacks me and I wish Eric were here to calm me down. It's been a long time since I had a real job interview and I'm not even sure if this is one. What the hell should I wear?
I comb through my closet and decide to play it safe, opting for a pair of black pants that could be either for work or just going out to lunch, and a nice black sweater that lands in the middle of work and business casual. It's something I'd definitely wear to work, but not interview worthy. If I were interviewing, I'd wear a suit, but if it turns out to be an interview, I can say I thought it was only lunch. As for my résumé, I can say I was bringing it to him so he could pass it along. That covers my bases pretty well.
About eleven-thirty, my phone goes off and it's a text from Prescott telling me to expect a car in fifteen minutes. I thank him and go down to the waiting vehicle at eleven forty-five. My stomach is so knotted up, I don't know if I can eat.
The security desk asks for my name and when I tell them, a guard escorts me to a special set of elevators designated for the executive floors. It requires a key to get in. The guard slides in his card and when I'm inside, he presses the appropriate floor and tells me Mr. Beckham will be waiting. I thank him as the doors are closing.