Hard Place, page 3
I head back to the office, riding on the high I always get from scoring a new client. Our rival PR firm had been trying to get this particular account as well, and the game of winning over clients is part of what I love about my job. It’s a challenge, and the harder it is, the more satisfied I feel when I win. And I always win.
Back at my desk, I sort through my email. It’s something Jason usually did for me, deleting anything that wasn’t worth my time or answering the clients himself. There’s an email from my father I open right away.
Subject: “Assistant: Watson, Har”
Starts tomorrow. File is in the system if you want to review. If you find issues, let me know ASAP. I’ve already hired.
I hit reply, finding it almost funny that dear old dad is so on top of anything business-related but only remembers my birthday when his own assistant reminds him. I don’t see the point in reviewing Har’s file. And what kind of name is “Har”? Is it short for Harry?
Typing a quick reply, I thank Dad for getting me a new assistant on such short notice and then go back to work, getting a head start on the account I just secured.
About half an hour later, someone knocks on the door. I look up, forgetting yet again that Jason isn’t out there to handle it.
“Come in,” I call, and the door opens.
Marcus, one of the secretaries, inches in. He’s new and is scared of me. A lot of the new employees are. Someone else might feel bad about it, but I see it as a sign I’m a good boss. We’re not here to be friends. We’re here to make money.
“Yes?” I ask after he stares at me for a few seconds.
“Your sister is on the line. Should I send her through?”
I cock an eyebrow. Why the hell is Nicole calling me? Is something wrong? “Yes, go ahead.”
The door clicks shut and a few seconds later the phone on my desk rings.
“Why are you calling me at work?” I say as soon as I answer the phone. I don’t mean it to sound as harsh as it does, but I’m worried.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to call my big brother, not my father,” she spits, and the jab actually hurts.
“Fine, sorry. But what do you want? I’m in the middle of putting together a client proposal.”
“And I’m about to go into surgery.”
“You called to tell me that? That’s nothing new for you.”
“I know, but I was supposed to be leaving right now so I’ll be home in time to take Henry to his kindergarten orientation, but there was a bad car accident with multiple victims. It’s all hands on deck at the hospital and I’m waiting for the chopper to bring my patient for emergency surgery to save his life.”
My sister is a surgeon and I’m so damn proud of her. “I still don’t get what this has to do with me.”
“Calvin is in Dallas for business and Mom is at a day-spa and can’t leave in the middle of my treatments,” she says in a voice imitating our mother. I can’t help but laugh. “Trust me, I feel bad asking, but is there any way you could take Henry to student orientation?”
“What about your nanny?”
“I am not going to be one of those moms who sends her kid to orientation with the nanny. The school really advises against it anyway. You’re family and are one of his emergency contacts. Plus, Henry would love to see Uncle Alex. It’s been a while, and he asks about you all the time.”
I wish I could help, but I have so much to do at the office. “I’m at work, Nicole.”
“So am I. Please, Alex. Don’t make me pull the doctor card.”
“What is the doctor card?”
“The card where I remind you that I’m literally saving someone’s life and you’re putting together marketing plans that if you put on hold for an hour or so won’t kill anyone. Please, Alex. I feel like a bad mom for not being there,” she adds, voice thinning out. “I don’t want to be like Mom.”
“You’re nothing like Mom,” I tell her. Nicole and I were raised by our nanny. Dad was at the office more often than not, and Mom…I still don’t know what the hell she did or where she was. She wasn’t home and wasn’t involved in our lives at all. “You’re a good mom and Henry is lucky to have you. You’re not able to be at orientation but you want to be there. Mom never wanted to have anything to do with us.”
“Thanks, Al.”
“Of course. And I’ll go. Text me the details.”
4
Harper
“Girls!” I turn into the parking lot, nerves freaking shot. We barely made it here on time and the girls have been fighting over a stupid toy the whole time. Dad gave them each five dollars and took them to the store. The toy they wanted was ten dollars, so they combined their money and conned their poor, sweet grandfather into believing that buying one would be fine since they could share.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to take that doll and throw it out the window!” I snap and then feel bad. The girls were excited to see me and show me their LOL Doll, but I was in such a rush I brushed them off and practically dragged them into the car.
“Mommy, no!” Penny screams. “It’s my doll!”
“No, it’s mine!” Violet counters and the two start crying.
“Stop it!” I scream at the top of my lungs and then instantly feel bad—again—for screaming. This is not my finest parenting moment. “Please, girls,” I say. I don’t try to hide the desperation in my voice. “Please, just behave. We need to be on your best behavior so the teachers will be excited to have you,” I add, not wanting to tell them I’m afraid that if I come into the school with a screaming kid under each arm, the school will reject us and give the scholarship to someone else.
We’re a minute away, and orientation officially starts in five minutes. Assuming I can find a parking spot and get the girls out of the car in time, we might walk in with thirty seconds to spare.
The school has a tiny parking lot, with a sign saying that the spots are reserved tonight for orientation parents. I spent the afternoon filling out paperwork for my new job and was given keys to my very own Lexus to use at my disposal.
I might look the part when I pull into a parking space, but seeing expensive car after expensive car reminds me how much we don’t fit in here. I turn down the last row and see a spot at the end. I flick on my turn signal, driving slow since I’m more than a little terrified of getting a scratch on this new car.
Penny screams at her sister and kicks the back of my seat. Again. I’ve asked her not to at least three times on the way over. It’s annoying, distracting, and could cause me to get into an accident. And the last thing I need is damage to the leather seats from children’s feet. I’m not entirely sure I’m supposed to put in car seats, and I didn’t ask.
I step on the brake and turn around, eyes wide.
“Stop kicking my seat!”
“I’m not,” she protests, and the fact that she straight-up lied isn’t helping my anger. “It’s Vi.”
“Vi can’t reach my seat with her feet. Stop lying, Penny. And listen. Please, just please, listen.” Blowing out a breath, I turn around and start forward, only to slam on my brakes when a BMW zips into the spot I was going to take.
Seriously? What an asshole. My signal was on. There was no mistaking that I was going to turn into that spot. Gritting my teeth, I drive forward, circling around the lot and taking a spot at the end. I get the girls out, hide that stupid toy in my purse, and heft them up, one on each hip, and walk as fast as I can toward the school.
I stop halfway, arms hurting. The girls are getting so heavy, and it’s like they gained ten pounds overnight.
“We’re going to have to walk fast,” I tell the girls and hike my purse back up my shoulder. Reaching down, I take their hands and start forward again, walking as fast as their little legs can move.
And then I see him, the asshole in the BMW who took my spot. He’s still sitting in his car, with his phone pressed to his ear. We slow and I narrow my eyes.
“Mommy, my shoe’s untied,” Penny tells me.
“I’ll get it.” I let go of their hands and crouch down, tying her shoe. I don’t know why I thought getting the girls shoes with laces was a good idea already. Oh wait, yes I do. They were three dollars cheaper than ones with velcro.
I quickly tie Penny’s shoe and then stand back up right as BMW Asshole gets out of his car.
“Hey,” I call, and he stops short, looking around the lot. His eyes settle on me, giving me a blank stare.
“Yes?”
“You took my spot.”
“Your spot?” He cocks an eyebrow and looks at his car. “I didn’t see your name on it.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t see yours either.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He moves a few feet toward me, but this man doesn’t just walk. He saunters, and it’s not like he’s even trying. I’d be blind not to notice how handsome he is.
Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a strong stubble-covered jawline. He’s muscular, apparent under his suit, which has to be designer, I’m sure of it. He’s the kind of man who can command a room just by stepping in it. I find him intimidating, and he knows it.
“The problem is, I had my signal on and was clearly going to turn into it.”
“I didn’t see you.” He comes closer again and my lips part as I suck in air. I can smell his expensive cologne and my stomach does a weird fluttering thing, almost like that feeling I got way back in the sixth grade when Tommy Stevens told me he thought my butt was cute.
But this guy…he wouldn’t say the word cute. No, he’s a dirty talker, I can tell. I just know that he’d—get it together, Harper.
Has it really been that long since I’ve been laid?
I look down at my girls. Yes, yes it has been that long. Cue dramatic sigh, right?
“You didn’t see me?” I echo, needing to remind myself that this guy is an ass.
“Yeah, and I got into the spot faster.”
“There’s no way you didn’t see me.”
“What a shame you had to park all the way over there, and you had to walk,” he says sarcastically.
My jaw actually drops. Is he implying I should be walking to get into shape? I lost the baby weight, probably due to stress and skipping meals, but besides my C-section scar, my body bounced right back to normal, and the only stretch marks I got were on my boobs from breastfeeding. I wasn’t able to do it long, but my boobs went from humble to whoa.
I take the girls’ hands again. We need to get into the school before we’re late. BMW Asshole opens the passenger door and a cute little boy starts to get out. “Learn to obey simple traffic laws. A signal means someone is taking a spot. Well, to the majority of the population who aren’t selfish jerks,” I add, wanting to get the last word in like a mature adult.
I turn and gently tug on the girls’ hands to get them to walk with me. “Don’t ever act like that,” I tell them, making sure I’m speaking loud enough for BMW Asshole to hear me. “I’ve raised you better than to be rude and disrespectful.”
Tessa is waiting for us right inside the doors, holding the paperwork that she started for me, filling in everything she could. I quickly fill out the rest, writing so hastily I have no idea if any of this will be legible. Then again, I’m sure a handful of doctors’ kids go here. They’re probably used to the messy handwriting.
The presentation is starting when we finally get into the auditorium, which is huge, by the way. Never in a million years would I think I’d be describing an elementary school as swanky, but here I am, looking at the dark velvet carpet and the sparkling chandelier hanging above me.
“Isn’t this pretty?” I whisper to the girls and look around for three open seats. We’re the last ones here and everything is full. I scan the room one more time and find two open together, which will be fine. One girl can sit on my lap if they can’t both cram into the same chair together.
We quickly walk down the middle aisle and stop at the third row from the back.
“Excuse me,” I say to the man sitting at the end of the row. His face is turned down to his phone, and a cute little boy sits next to him. The man turns his head up and my stomach clenches. It’s BMW Asshole.
“Seriously,” he mumbles under his breath. I raise my eyebrows at him but press my lips together. There’s no point saying anything to him now, especially not in front of everyone. And I have the sinking feeling I’m going to come up against more entitled parents throughout our year here anyway.
“Can we sneak in, please?” I ask and he sighs, like it’s so much trouble to move his legs to the side so we can walk past. Staring back down at his phone, he angles his legs in so we can shuffle past. Penny sits in the seat next to the little boy, who introduces himself as Henry. I pull Violet into my lap only to have Penny whine that she wants me to hold her.
“I’ll switch who I’m holding in ten minutes,” I whisper-talk to them. “Okay?”
“I want my own seat,” Violet says.
“Perfect. Then you sit there, and I’ll hold Penny.”
Penny slides back into the seat. “I want my own seat,” she whines.
Gritting my teeth, I take a breath and look at the stage. Tessa is up there, along with a few other staff members. She gives me a big smile, helping to ease my nerves.
I zero my attention in on the stage, and just a few seconds later, the principal starts talking, welcoming us to the school. Penny moves into my lap, and Violet sits next to Henry, whispering something to him that makes him giggle. I smile, happy to see that she’s making friends already.
“Shhh,” I remind the kids and give Henry a wink. He smiles broadly and pushes himself back in his seat, turning his attention back to the stage. The staff is introduced, and we go over policies and procedures.
It’s warm in here and having Penny on my lap doesn’t help. BMW Asshole must be feeling it too, because he leans forward and pulls his arms from his suit jacket sleeves. He neatly folds the jacket and rests it on his lap. And then he undoes the wrist button on his shirt and starts to roll up the sleeves.
Good God, he shouldn’t be allowed to do that in here. I turn my head as slightly as I can, flicking my eyes from him to the stage and back again. A few other moms are looking as well, and two in the row across from us are obviously staring and talking about him.
He has muscular forearms, and seeing that little bit of tan skin shouldn’t make heat flash through me. I swallow hard, trying to push the image of his deft fingers moving up to his collar, slowly unbuttoning his shirt out of my head.
Sin and sex appeal drip from this man, and I know the DILF jokes are going to be strong with this one.
A tour of the school is next, and I’m once again left with my mouth hanging open in shock from how nice everything is.
After we’ve been shown around, the kids are welcome to go into one of the classrooms to play. I can tell this is a big deal by the way everyone is acting, and when we get into the classroom, I can see why.
The kids are off playing, giving the parents time to measure each other up. I’m not always the best at reading people, wanting to give them all the benefit of the doubt. And as a sufferer myself of Resting Bitch Face, I try not to judge based on looks.
But dammit, so many of these moms look like they have sticks up their asses. They’re all put together, wearing heels and carrying designer purses. BMW Asshole stands near the door of the classroom, on his phone again.
I slink back, moving out of the direct line of sight from a group of moms who make the Stepford Wives look like party animals.
“Hey,” a strawberry blonde woman says, walking over. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” I press my lips together in a tight smile.
“I thought so. I didn’t remember seeing you at the open house this summer. Not like I’m creepy and remember everyone, but I’m a fellow twin-mom so you kind of stood out to me.” She smiles, showing perfect white teeth. Her lips are perfectly full, probably from injections, and her strawberry blonde hair falls in perfect curls over her shoulders.
“I’m Rose.”
“Harper. Nice to meet you.” I look out at the kids playing. “Which ones are yours?”
Rose turns, looking for a few seconds to locate her children. I didn’t see any other identical twins, but sometimes all it takes is different hairstyles to make my own look like two different people.
“Mason is in the blue shirt with the sloth on it, and Madison is the one picking her nose in the corner.” She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Your girls are darling.”
“Thanks. Your kids are too, nose picking aside. Mine went through that stage a few months ago. They’ve either stopped or learned to do it when I’m not looking.”
Rose laughs and the knot in my chest loosens a bit. Maybe I’ll make a mom-friend here after all.
“How many volunteer spots are you going to sign up for?” Rose asks. “I feel like one or two a month is good enough, but you know how they are.” She looks at the Stepford Wives and rolls her eyes. “They’re here every day. Like, what’s the point of sending the kids to school if you’re going to be here with them every day, right? Though it is kind of nice to get out of the house and feel like you have a purpose.”
“I, um, work, so I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do here at the school. But coming in once a month does sound nice, just to help out and see how the girls are doing.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
I can’t look at Rose as I’m lying, though I’m really not lying. Just fluffing the truth. “I work in public relations at a marketing firm. It’s boring, I promise.”
“I’m sure it’s interesting. What about your husband?”
“It’s, uh, just me.” I smile as I look at my girls, playing with a dollhouse that probably cost as much as a month’s rent for our little apartment. “Just me and the girls.”
