Sincerely, Up Yours: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy, page 6
“You think you can’t be replaced. I think you’re wrong,” I said.
“Yeah?” she asked. “I think I’ve got my finger on the pulse of this magazine in a way you clearly don’t. Hell, I bet I could even make an interview with you sell.”
Marcus snorted, then covered his mouth. His sisters made no attempt to hide their amusement.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked. Once again, common sense eluded me. I knew exactly what she meant, but I wanted to see if she had the balls to say it to my face. Of course she did.
“I mean you’re a stuck up, arrogant man whose hobbies probably include organizing spreadsheets and kicking puppies. You’re unsympathetic. You’re cold. You are exactly the kind of person nobody wants to read an interview about, but I could make it work, and that’s why you need me.”
“Then prove it,” I said. My voice felt cold.
For once, it seemed like I’d actually managed to surprise Darcy McClain.
Darcy’s eyebrows bunched together. “You want me to actually interview you?”
“You said you can do it. Prove you can. If the article doesn’t land well with readers, I fire you. If it does, I get off your back.”
She studied me, those blue eyes of hers searching my face to see if I was serious. Then something in her expression hardened. “Alright. Fine. But you need to let me interview you as much as I see fit. This doesn’t count if you constantly blow me off.”
“Do we have an agreement?”
She stuck her hand out, gaze locked on me and eyebrows drawn together seriously. “We do.”
And just like that, I gave one farewell wave to logic and reason. There was one woman I knew I needed to avoid above all else if I wanted to keep my focus on making The Squawker into what I believed it could become. There was one woman who had the potential to fuck everything I’d been working towards up. She was the one who could prove I was no better than my father assumed I was.
And my dumb ass just gave her permission to request private meetings with me whenever she wanted.
9
DARCY
It was a chilly, but not uncomfortable night in Manhattan. Soft, experimental music played over the speakers. Greenery hung from the trellises outside d’Orsay Gallery. I checked my phone to see if he’d responded and saw the asshole had simply given my question a thumbs up. What did that even mean?
Elizabeth nudged me in the side. We were standing beside a table with drinks and finger food. Elizabeth had on a simple but sexy blue dress that matched her hair. It had a plunging neckline and a hem just below her knees. If it wasn’t for the combat boots, she would’ve looked like she belonged with the well-dressed guests. “Anything?” she asked.
“A thumbs up.”
She laughed. “Does that mean he’s coming?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know. Let’s just find my sister and worry about Dominic if he shows.”
“I don’t get why you invited him here, though. I’d just interview him at work or something.”
“That’s like taking on a jaguar in the jungle. I need to get him out of his element if I’m going to have any chance of this interview going the way I want.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and gave me a slow, approving nod. “Look at you, Miss Strategy Pants. That does make sense.”
I batted my eyes and flipped my hair, grinning. “Yeah, I know. Call me highly motivated. I don’t just want this to work because I want Mr. Lockwood off my back. I want to show him he’s not as in control as he thinks. I’m sure he believes these interviews are going to be grunt sessions where I get nothing. But I’m going to teach him otherwise.”
“You hope. Although, I don’t know if you should be so quick to pass on a grunt session with Mr. Lockwood. I’d grunt with him any night of the week.”
I rolled my eyes. “Still? You have had a chance to see this guy in action for two weeks and you still haven’t been put off yet?”
Elizabeth was about to pop a cracker with some spread on it in her mouth and paused, eying me. “Really? You think seeing him for an extended period of time is going to make me want to ride his serpent less? Are you sure you’re human?”
I sighed. “I meant with the whole toxic personality thing. It doesn’t make him less attractive to you?”
“I wouldn’t say his personality is toxic,” she said carefully. We began walking toward the gallery doors together. “He’s just… troubled. And serious. Honestly, it just makes me want to get closer so I can help him heal. With the power of my pussy.”
I snorted. “I don’t think there is a vagina in this world that could heal that man.”
“Don’t underestimate my pussy, Darcy. But in all seriousness, I am actually thinking I’d rather bonk one of the other two. That Tristan one is interesting. I think he could probably throw me a solid five to six feet away. And Marcus, he–”
“Wait.” I pushed open the doors for Elizabeth, following her inside the gallery. The walls were lined with impressionistic art and people studying the pieces with drinks in hand. “What does him throwing you have to do with anything?”
“Oh. I have this rule. If a guy can throw me three feet, I ignore three red flags. Four feet means four flags, and so on. I think Tristan could throw me super far, so there’s really no amount of red flagging to scare me off him.”
I stopped in the hall, staring at her. “The scary thing is I’m pretty sure you’re serious.”
“I am. And don’t look at me like that. I never said I’d marry the guy. I just mean I’d let him smash. Do you want to be in the retirement home some day thinking of all the fine men you passed on?”
“To be honest, that wasn’t one of my top concerns going into retirement.”
She gave my forehead a little flick. I cursed at her and rubbed the spot. “Well start thinking about it, Darcy. When our vaginas hang it up for good, I want us to both be able to look back and say we fucked without mercy and without reservation.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t need to be able to say that.”
“Your loss.” She shrugged.
I spotted my sister, Eloise. She had on paint stained, baggy beige pants and an oversized smock of a t-shirt. Her red hair was a mess and part of her bangs were caked to her temple with a mix of red and blue paint. “Darcy!” she shouted, rushing over to crash into me with a hard hug.
“Hey,” I said, smiling.
“I’m so glad you came.”
“You know I don’t ever miss these things.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be glad. And you brought Elizabeth!” She hugged Elizabeth next, who patted her awkwardly on the back.
My little sister was… enthusiastic. It was endearing to me and I loved the heck out of her, but it also made me feel like I needed to keep a constant watch on her. Without regular supervision, she had a tendency to get roped into all sorts of questionable situations. She was nineteen, pretty enough to draw all the wrong attention, and incredibly talented. A few times a week, she brought her guitar to coffee shops and got paid well to sing and play. When she wasn’t doing music, she was making art. I didn’t exactly understand her style when it came to art, but I did my best to support her as much as I could.
“You guys need to meet Basil.”
“Oh, we’ve met,” Elizabeth said. “I like him on my pizza. Sometimes if I’m feely saucy I’ll even sprinkle him on my pasta.”
Eloise scrunched up her freckled nose, shaking her head. “No, silly. Basil. He’s my boyfriend. We met at this concert under a bridge a few days ago. He’s amazing.”
“You met this guy under a bridge?” I asked slowly. “Kind of like a troll?”
“His name is Basil?” Elizabeth asked. “Is his dad’s name Herb? Son of Berry Bush?”
I tried not to smile as I subtly gave Elizabeth’s ankle a kick. She shot me a guilty, but amused look.
“I haven’t met his parents yet,” Eloise said, either ignoring or brushing off Elizabeth’s jokes. “Come on, I’ll introduce you two.”
We followed Eloise through the hallway. A few people stopped her to compliment her work. She beamed, thanking them before drifting onwards. We ended up in a darkened, circular room with black and white paintings lit by aggressive overhead spotlights. Each piece reminded me of nightmares and bones. The images were skulls and indistinct shapes that all seemed somehow tortured and surreal.
“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “I could use one of these for my bathroom.”
“Your bathroom?” I asked.
“I’ve been kind of backed up lately. I could use something to scare the shit out of me at the appropriate time.”
I shook my head, smiling. Eloise didn’t seem to get the joke or care. She just led us into the room where a man with long, surfer-blonde hair and a goatee was standing. He had one arm crossed over his chest and his other raised to his chin where he stroked his facial hair.
“Hey babe,” Eloise said. She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He nodded to her, only halfway paying attention. “Guys, this is Basil. My boyfriend.”
He turned toward us with a theatrical slowness, then looked us up and down. “Who are the townsfolk?”
Ugh. If it was possible to choke on pretension, this Basil guy would’ve been purple in the face already.
“This is my big sister, Darcy,” Eloise pointed. “And this is her blue-haired friend, Elizabeth. Why don’t you tell them about some of your art?”
Basil gave us all a pained expression like she’d just asked him to explain math to a moldy sack of potatoes. “Well, this piece is my latest. I call it Home, the Tangled Existential Plane Between Fear and Longing.”
“Catchy,” Elizabeth said lightly.
I could hear her barely holding the laughter in her voice, and it made me feel a fit of giggles coming on. I stifled it though, because I didn’t want to hurt my sister’s feelings. “Oh,” I managed.
The piece in question was a pure black background with specks of white and beige scattered in a vague pattern.
Basil stepped closer, gesturing. “These tortured lines represent my soul, and the black here is to indicate the suffering behind…”
I started to zone out when I sensed something behind us. I turned and saw Dominic striding down the hallway, tall and proud.
Oh, shit. If the mission was not to cause a scene with this Basil guy, Dominic was almost certainly about to fail it spectacularly.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked.
Basil turned a suffering eye on Dominic. “This is my soul on display.”
“Your soul is fucking creepy.”
That actually earned a smile from Basil. “Why, thank you.”
Dominic turned his attention to me, eyes narrowed. “Why did you ask me to meet you here?”
“Honestly? Because I thought you wouldn’t come,” I said.
He spread his long arms. “It wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong.”
“Hi,” Eloise said. She rushed up and hugged him while his arms were still spread. “I’m Eloise, Darcy’s little sister.”
Dominic flinched back from the hug like a flea-ridden dog had just started humping his leg. His lips twitched. “Alright,” he said finally, brushing off his suit.
“Hi, Boss,” Elizabeth said, twinkling her fingers. “Did you bring either of your friends?”
“Are we doing this or not?” he asked me, completely ignoring Elizabeth. I wondered if she was used to that by now.
“You bet your ass we are,” I said. “I finally get a chance to unlock the secrets of Dominic Lockwood in a one on one interview. Come on, I picked out the perfect little spot for it. You're going to love it.”
He probably was going to hate it, actually, but that was half of the fun.
10
DOMINIC
I took a seat beneath a wooden trellis lined with hanging vines and Edison bulbs dangling from black wires. Darcy had led us off to a side section of the outdoor area that was secluded from the rest by a well-maintained bush wall and more wooden trellises. The area housed a single wrought iron table and a pair of chairs.
“Did you set this up?” I asked. I gave the area another suspicious once-over. It felt more like the scene of a romantic date than an interview location.
“My sister has art shown at this gallery every few months. I only found this spot a little while ago. I don’t think anybody else knows about it because it’s so off the beaten path.”
I grunted, taking a seat across from her. She looked fantastic. Darcy had on a loose-fitting sleeveless black top tucked into a pair of black, baggy pants. She wore a white cotton cardigan over it all, looking cozy and making an irrational part of me want to pull her in to my arms, keeping her warm against the chill in the air.
Despite the sandals and relatively casual clothes, she looked classy as hell. Maybe it was the short hair and long neck, or it could’ve been the golden hoop earrings and matching necklace.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
I nodded, then waited for her to get on with the questions. Instead, she just leaned forward on the table, resting her narrow chin on the tops of her hands. Her eyes seemed to dance with the reflection of lights as she looked up at me, totally comfortable in the silence.
What the hell was she doing?
“Aren’t you going to ask questions?”
“Would you answer them if I did?” she countered.
“I hadn’t planned on it. Bombing this interview is my easiest path to firing you.”
“Honesty. That’s new.”
“I don’t need to hide the truth from you. I want you gone. It’s that simple.”
“Why?”
I was already talking more than I’d planned, but something about her was making the words slip straight from my brain to my lips. “Because you’re dangerous.”
That earned a raised eyebrow. “Little old me? Dangerous?” She pulled her chin back, hanging her mouth open in mock offense.
“You are attached to the magazine. You’ll fight me on every attempt I make to modernize and expand its reach.” And I want to grab a fistful of that short, silky hair and bend you over this fucking table. I want to see if you can look so untouchable while I’m buried in you to the hilt.
“And why are you so motivated to change the magazine?”
“Because it can be more than what it is.”
“But why The Squawker? Why magazines in general? Most people say it’s a dying art. And if you’re going to try to push some sort of political agenda, why force it on a glorified gossip magazine?”
“I want to reach a new audience. I think there’s a way to bring them news along with their entertainment. People want to be informed, but they don’t want to be bored out of their minds. That’s my vision for The Squawker. News and entertainment in a highly digestible format.”
She worked her lips to the side, studying me.
Less than two minutes in, and I’d already probably given her more than enough to write her fucking interview. This was exactly why I needed her gone so badly. I couldn’t afford to keep letting this sort of thing happen with her.
“You sound very driven to prove you can do this. Where does that drive come from?”
Stop answering her questions. I sat back in my chair, glaring at her and saying nothing.
Darcy’s full lips curved into a smile as she gave a sexy little shrug. “Oops. Did somebody realize they were accidentally giving me the interview they didn’t want to?”
She went back to watching me and saying nothing.
“How long do we need to do this?” I asked.
“You’re free to leave at any time. You’re the boss, right? But you did say you’d let me get an interview whenever I wanted. So just keep in mind this won’t be the last.”
I knew I should’ve simply got up and left without a word, but I couldn’t fucking help myself. “Will the next session be this romantic?”
She smiled, biting her lip. “So far I’m one for one on getting information out of you in a romantic setting. So, yeah, I think we’ll try to stick with the whole romantic first-date vibe.”
“Spectacular,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Are you going to stay to check out the art?” she asked. Something in her tone told me she was done with the interview. For now.
“No. I have work to do.”
“Dominic. It’s after ten. You’re seriously thinking about work?”
“The competition doesn’t sleep. Why should I?”
“I’m pretty sure everybody sleeps.”
Smart ass. I got to my feet and spread my arms at her. “Any more questions, Miss McClain?”
“Not tonight.” Darcy flashed a sweet smile, but I knew there was venom behind it. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you again.”
I found myself growling under my breath as I left. How the hell had she managed to get me to talk so much? I needed to make sure that didn’t happen again. Next time she scheduled one of these little interviews, she was going to be the one walking away disappointed.
11
DARCY
Dominic Lockwood was a royal pain in my ass. I’d been working for him for three weeks now. I knew he spent an unhealthy amount of time every day micromanaging his employees. He monitored our screens and was always checking in on our projects. He had endless suggestions and tweaks for our pieces. He was never satisfied with the way things were done and always seemed to want to change this and that.
Worse, his desire for change also meant the people I’d worked with for the last two years were dropping like flies. I admittedly wasn’t super sad to see Stinky Steve go. He apparently was running some sort of stuffed animal business through eBay and used work hours to keep up with it. I thought the real reason was that Dominic happened to walk by right as Steve was trying to get my attention from his desk in the corner.
Then Cathy had been axed. Technically, that one was also probably for the best. Cathy wrote an advice column responding to emails from readers and she’d been going more and more off the rails ever since she discovered the healing power of crystals. And then there was Jack from the research team. Apparently, he’d been caught interviewing with the competition and badmouthing the new leadership here, so Dominic relieved him of his duties.
