Desperately Seeking Epic(67)

“That was a month off that I look forward to every year.” His face was getting red.

“And you are welcome to still take it off. You just won’t get paid for it,” she told him calmly.

“I count on that money,” he argued. “You didn’t even talk to us about it,” Marcus yelled.

Clara grinned at him with disbelief and disdain. “Why would I talk to you about it?”

“Because I work here.”

“Yes, that’s right. You work here, for me. And for Paul. We make the decisions. Not you.”

She couldn’t have known the effect her words would have on Marcus. She didn’t know the history. She didn’t know that though Marcus never told me, I knew deep down he’d been deeply hurt when Dennis didn’t leave him part of the business. After all, he was Dennis’s adopted son. Marcus took it as being slighted, and wondered if maybe Dennis hadn’t felt the same. But all the same, Clara’s words might as well have been like a whip to the face.

“This was my father’s business,” Marcus scoffed.

Clara blinked a few times as she absorbed that information. She never knew. “And I’m sorry if I don’t agree to his whore coming in here and trying to take over the place.”

Clara’s eyes practically bulged out of her head as I propped my head in my hand. I needed to intervene. I should have intervened. Marcus had gone off the deep end. But I didn’t at that moment, because he was digging into her about how she was affiliated with Dennis. And I wanted to know just as badly as he did why he’d left her half of his business. She looked at me, and I knew she was waiting for me to speak up, to reprimand Marcus, but I didn’t. Clara dropped her head as if seeking a moment to calm herself.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I wasn’t his whore.”

“Then the daughter from his whore?” Marcus fished. Dude! He wasn’t giving up.

“From what I understand, he was single. Why would he have a whore or a mistress? You’re a fucking idiot.” She said the insult slowly, her voice certain. “And no. I’m not his daughter.”

“Then who are you?” he shouted. “Why did he leave you half of a business he spent most of his life building?”

We both watched her as she struggled to answer . . . or not to answer. Shaking her head, she picked up the envelope and shoved it in her purse. “Of all fucking days, it had to be today.” I scowled. What did that mean?

She rounded the desk, and bent down so her intense line of sight met Marcus.’ In a calm but certain voice, she growled, “If you ever call me a whore or the daughter of a whore or anything affiliated with the word whore, ever again, I will fire you.” Looking at me just as angrily, she snapped, “You deal with this. We made that decision about February together. You own half of his anger.” Then she walked out, slamming the office door behind her.

“You really know how to make the work environment pleasant,” I chirped. “Thanks.”

“You really gave the okay for the February jumps?” he asked, ignoring me.

I shrugged unapologetically before trying to explain. “Even if we can only get one hundred jumps and sell the pictures and videos, we would at least cover your salary plus Clara’s and mine. Otherwise, we’re tossing money out the window. I know it’s your month off, and I know you can’t stand her, but sometimes, sometimes,” I reiterated, “she does have a valid point and good ideas.”

Marcus furrowed his brows. “Is that Paul the business owner talking, or Paul the guy that wants to fuck her talking?”

Well, shit. I was shocked. He’d never spoken to me like that, with such animosity. And because I was young and arrogant and insensitive, I replied, “That’s Paul, your fucking boss, talking.”

He nodded a few times, letting me know he got what I was saying—loud and clear—before he marched out the office, slamming it as well.



After my last jump, I closed up the office. Marcus and Clara never returned after their argument, and I busted ass all afternoon between greeting clients, handling payments, and diving. After I closed the office for the evening, I drove straight to the closest bar with every intention of getting hammered. The constant animosity between Clara and Marcus was starting to weigh on me. If I backed Clara, Marcus thought it was only because I wanted to have sex with her. If I backed Marcus, I’d piss Clara off and for some reason, I really didn’t want to piss her off. Not anymore, anyway. I just wanted some peace. What I needed was a few stiff drinks to help me forget. Finding some company for the night wouldn’t hurt either. At that time, I knew I was attracted to Clara. I knew I wanted her. But I didn’t want to want her. She wasn’t my type. At all. She was bossy and high-handed; always a know-it-all. I liked my women easy. And I didn’t mean in the sexual way . . . although, sometimes that’s all a man really wants when he’s young and single. I meant easy in the laid-back sense. Easy in the knew when to let shit go sense. Clara wasn’t easy. In any sense of the word. She was a ballbuster. Other than her being nothing like my ideal woman, there was also the matter of my freedom. It was of the utmost importance to me. Settling down was as foreign to me as another planet. I was working hard to stay put; to be satisfied by my dives, hoping it would douse the need I felt to go. To move. But I knew myself well. That need couldn’t be sated. Not permanently, anyway. And I’d learned early on, after breaking a few hearts, that you don’t make promises you can’t keep. So I started laying down the terms early on. I walked into any situation with one hundred percent honesty. I told them two things.