Working Stiff(42)
Rox said, “I mean it. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not dating him.”
Brandy nodded. “But it bothers you anyway.”
“I didn’t like seeing those other women get hurt. I don’t like what it says about him. He seems like a great guy in every other way. It’s just the disappearing act.”
“Yeah,” Brandy said.
Rox shrugged. “It’s like he drops off the face of the Earth for these women.”
“Yeah,” Brandy said. “It’s like he—” She waited, batting her eyelashes.
“Fine,” Rox said. “It’s like he dies. It’s like he doesn’t care about what he does to those people he leaves behind.”
“There it is.” Brandy took one step over and hugged her, her skinny little arms wrapping around Rox’s chubbiness like ribbons.
Rox hugged her back.
Brandy said, “You tell him he can’t have any of my cats. If he isn’t willing to give them a forever home, I’ll just keep them here until I find someone worthwhile.”
Later, Rox crouched beside the open door of one of the kennels. The stainless steel multiplex of kennels rose five doors high and eight across. Inside, each had a litter box, a bed, food and water bowls, and one or two sleeping cats.
“Here, kitty,” she whispered.
The gray cat flattened herself against the back of the kennel, spitting. Her matted and clumped fur stuck out all over her, and other patches were raw skin where she had been chewing it and pulling it out.
“Come on, baby. It’s okay.”
The name on the cage read “Fairy Dust, possibly feral.”
“It’s okay, sugar. I won’t hurt you,” she said.
The cat’s ragged fur stood all on end like an electric current of hate ran through her.
Rox knew better than to put her hand in the cage.
After a few minutes, she closed the cage and went to work with a cat, Jubilee, who had been abused and was understandably terrified of people. In five minutes, Rox had that kitty sitting in her lap and leaning against her chest, purring with relief.
LIKE A PARTNER
The next morning, the morning of Gina Watson’s contract discussion, Rox padded through Cash’s house, swinging her pumps in her fingers and dressed in her best business chic suit. Her laptop and cell phone were charged. The contract was heavily annotated and the notes had been approved by both Cash and Josie Silverman, the middle partner of Arbeitman, Silverman, and Amsberg.
They were ready to rock this thing.
She and Cash were going to walk in that office and explicate the crap out this contract. The agents could then negotiate the final terms with the studio, and they could go over the final draft one more time and then sign that puppy. Watson could be filming in a week.
“Cash!” she called, walking through the house.
The three cats trailed her in a small herd. Every time she yelled, Speedbump whined. He didn’t like it when she raised her voice.
He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room.
“Cash!”
Speedbump whimpered.
“Hey Cash!”
Speedbump’s grumble turned into a yowl.
“Cash, where are you!”
“Out here.” His voice wasn’t a yell, just a comment spoken loud enough for her to hear it.
The French doors to the deck were open, and the ocean breeze filled the house through the screen doors.
Cash was leaning over the deck railing, wearing jeans and a loose white tee shirt.
Those were not lawyer clothes.
“Hey,” she called, walking out onto the deck. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“I have an idea,” he said, turning and resting his elbows on the rail behind himself.
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “You go put a suit on. You’re going to the office.”
“You can set up your cell phone so that I can see Watson’s people.”
She walked over to him in case she needed to shake her finger in his face and leaned on the railing beside him. “You’re going to video chat this conference? They are not going to like that. They paid for Cash Amsberg to work on their contract, not video chat because you’re too busy surfing and lying on the beach.”
Not that he was surfing or doing anything remotely recreational, either.
He said, “I’m not going to video chat. You’re going to go in for me and do all the talking.”
No way. “I wouldn’t know what to say!”
“I’ll watch and listen over your phone, and I’ll give you notes through the Bluetooth.”
“It is so rude to wear a Bluetooth into a conference. I would never.”
He gestured to her head, nearly brushing her shoulder. “Just don’t tie your hair back in one of those headache-inducing buns, and no one will be able to see it.”