The waitress approached the table before he had a chance to respond and his jaw snapped shut.
He ordered a porterhouse steak, salad, and a side of spaghetti. I watched the waitress ogling him and honestly felt embarrassed for her. I assumed she was thinking the same thing all the office women were saying about him.
“Taelyn?” I looked across the table. “You wanna order or do you want me to do it for you?”
“Sorry, Caesar salad with grilled chicken please.” I handed her the menu.
“This isn’t a date Taelyn. Order real food.” His eyes smiled and I looked at him and smiled back. He looked up at the waitress and winked, “All set, thanks babe.” I rolled my eyes and he looked at me curiously. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Babe?”
“Habit. If I call you that will you be offended?”
“Mildly, but I’ll let you know.”
“Bad ass huh?”
I was confused and he could tell. He chuckled again. Arrogant ass. I was ready to let him know how unaffected I was by him. That just because the office women and the waitress were visibly shaken by him, I was actually immune.
“Look, wrong foot and all aside. My vision for the company I want to start is not all this stuffy suit shit. I want to build a team of people who love music. People that at five o’clock aren’t rushing to the door, but are so damn deep in their heads and the sounds we create together that they want to stay after five. They want it to stay four o’clock forever. No one wants to go to the bar to find someone to fuck through the evening hours just so they can fall asleep feeling that buzz, because they will have the buzz at the company. I want something different so that they don’t wake up in the morning and dread going back to a damn stuffy job with people they have to smile at and pretend they like. They won’t have to do that because they will want to go to work because that is where the buzz will be. I mean, for fuck sake, I walk into Steel and it’s ‘Hello Mr. Steel, good morning Mr. Steel, how was your night Mr. Steel, this Mr. Steel that,’ it’s fucking nauseating.”
His smile lit up his face as he continued.
“I want to find the damn kid who was picked on because he wasn’t cool enough to hang. The one who, instead of banging the cheer captain, went home and finger fucked his guitar or banged his drums like he wanted to bang the football captain’s girl. I want the kid who went to bed every god damn night with head phones on listening to his favorite songs to escape the reality of an abusive or absent father. I want the girl who wasn’t good enough to hang with the it crowd, who dove into the piano letting her fingers tickle the ivory while she created perfection because she was fucking good enough. I want the guy dressed in all black to have his voice and the notes he belts out be his ultimate orgasm. I want people the people, who were told they couldn’t be shit, to live and breathe something other than a twisted up blunt. I want their high to be the notes, the melodies, the beats, the songs that live inside them. I want them to be who they are and be seen. Not what the stuffy ass production company suit told them. I want to be the one to help them find who they are without walking onto a stage where some British fuck tells them they’re not marketable. Fuck Simon Powell and his fucking boy band breeding ass.”
His hands were clenched into fists on the table.
“Here you are Mr. Steel.”
His shoulders slouched a bit and he groaned a thank you.
I couldn’t help but smile. He was so passionate about building his company.
The waitress walked away. “See, Mr. Fucking Steel.”
“Xavier.”
“Yeah Xavier,” He smiled and his eyes danced a bit. “So Taelyn, what do you say. You in?”
“I am. Tell me where we go next boss.”
“Not boss. I don’t sign your paycheck, Steel Incorporated does. We’re a team.”
“Sounds good but still, where do we go next?”
“We pick a place. These four were no good. I know it. But there has to be somewhere--.”
“What’s wrong with Steel? It’s a great location. Mr. O’Donnell’s assistant took me to see the basement I think. It looked great. There…”