Against the Ropes (21 page)

“It’s nothing. It’s all new to me so I got a little scared.”

Max tucks his finger under my chin and tilts my head back. He stares into my eyes and his smile fades. “I trust you, baby. I trust you to tell me if there is something I need to know. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

Funny. That’s what my father said before he threw me into the wall.

**FROWNS**

It’s Monday morning and Sergio is in a terrible mood. After we exchange greetings, he snarls and growls about payments and due dates until I cut him off.

“I thought you’d be happy I sent in the payment. You’re that much closer to getting the Porsche.” I turn all the pens in my pen holder to point up and mentally calculate the number of green slips it might cost me.

“Unfortunately, your payment was insufficient,” he says. “I went through the financial documents you sent me—rental agreement, bills, expenses—and by my calculation, your monthly payment should be higher.” He tells me how high. My hand flies to my mouth, knocking over the pen box. A sea of pens washes over my desk. Points sideways.

“You’ve got to be kidding. I made a rough calculation myself. I should be paying less not more. Your new payment leaves me without money for rent, food, or expenses.”

Sergio sighs. “I’ll email you my calculations. You’ll see I was doing you a favor by asking for the minimum payment. Now I’m forced to ask for more. This is what happens when you try to be too clever, Ms. Delaney.”

“You can’t do that.” But already my brain is scrambling to find a way out. Maybe Max will let me work at the club every night. Maybe not. He’s already paying me way more than I’m worth.

“I can do anything I want.”

“I’m going to appeal,” I say. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“Go ahead. The appeal process is all set out on our website.” Shouts echo on Sergio’s end of the line. Someone yells “Code Blue.”

“Are you at a hospital?”

Sergio growls and I hear a door slam. “Where I am doesn’t concern you. The only thing that should concern you is paying me.”

“Sorry.” I immediately regret my curiosity. But why is he calling from the hospital? Again? Something about this whole thing is definitely off.

“I have to have that payment tomorrow, Ms. Delaney. Even if you appeal today, it will take several days to process your request.”

“I’m going to call my friend. She’s a lawyer. She’ll tell me if what you’re doing is legal.”

Sergio gives a bitter laugh. “Go ahead. Even if I’ve crossed the line, what are you going to do? You don’t have the money to start a lawsuit. And even if you find someone to take your case for free, it will be at least a year, maybe two, before you get into court, by which time the interest and penalties will have increased and your credit will be ruined because the default will continue to show up on your credit report. It’s a no-win situation for you, Ms. Delaney. No. Win. Just pay the money.”

His last few words come out in a shout. So emotional. So unlike the Sergio I’ve come to know. Where is the boredom? The professional detachment? The compassion and humor?

“I thought we were friends, Sergio,” I whine. “Give me a week. I’ll have the money.”

Sergio sighs. “I have spent more time talking to you than all my debtors combined. I have bent over backward for you. I can’t do any more than I have already.”

“Bend just a little further.”

“From what I know of you, Ms. Delaney, you wouldn’t pay the price. You’re just a little too straight up. You play by the rules. You don’t take risks.”

Straight up? After being with Max? I think not, but I’m not sharing those thoughts with Sergio of all people.

“What does a joke buy me? I have a feeling you might be in need of a joke today.”

The sound Sergio makes, almost like he is choking back a sob, makes my heart lurch. He’s not himself. He’s in the hospital. Clearly distressed. Already I know I’m going to regret what I’m about to do.

“You know what, Sergio. I’m going to tell you a joke anyway. If you want to give me that extra week after I’m done, I’ll be very grateful. But if not, I hope it brightens your day because it sounds to me like you need some cheering up.”

He draws in a ragged breath. “You’re hard on my mind, Ms. Delaney, and hard on my heart. You’re like the mythical debtor everyone has heard about, but no one has seen. The debtor who sends presents at Christmas and flowers at Easter. Pleasant, cheerful, accommodating—”

“Desperate and broke.”

Sergio sobs a laugh. “You have your week and you have bought yourself some goodwill and a smile you can’t see. Tell your joke, Ms. Delaney. You’re right. I could use some cheering up.”

I mentally sift through my joke collection to find something that will make him laugh. Aha. I have it. I take a deep breath. “A debt collector parks his brand new Porsche outside his office to show off to his colleagues—”

***

By the end of my day, I have filed an online complaint with his company, yelled at a lady at the Education Commission who insisted they had no record of my change of address, and called two consumer help agencies who advise me Sergio has not done anything wrong. Amanda is in trial but she promises she’ll look into the case as soon as the trial ends. The Better Business Bureau and the Federal Trade Commission recommend several avenues of appeal, but by the time I finish talking to them, I have almost lost the will to live.

Thank God for Charlie. If he hadn’t covered for me while I obsessed all day, I would have had a desk full of green slips and probably a pink dismissal slip too.

The easiest solution would be to make the payments, and for that I need a second job. Not so easy to get in this economic climate. I count sixty-seven job applications in my outbox and sixty-seven corresponding rejections in my inbox. My only hope is Redemption.

But can I ask Max for more work?

What if he asks why? I can’t tell him how bad the situation is. And I don’t want him to think I’m interested in him only for his money or that I’m using him to get a job. Still, the lure of working at Redemption with Max and his fighters is hard to resist.

I swallow my pride and text Max.

Are u busy tonight? Need to talk to u

At work. Negotiating a deal. Might go late. Tomorrow?

Can’t wait

Should I be worried? **frowns**

:)

:) ?

Turn that frown upside down

Will send Lewis to pick you up. You can wait at my office

Looking forward to seeing ur office **jumps up and down**

Looking forward to seeing you **does not jump up and down because in meeting**

What should I wear 2 ur office?

Nothing

Naughty Max **shakes finger**

Hard Max **shakes something else**

**gasps**

That’s what I like to read

So…nothing? Seriously?

Nothing. Seriously

What about ur clients?

Will deal with clients

U r kidding right?

Max?

Max?

An hour later I step out of the elevator and into the offices of IMM Ventures, situated on top of a historic building in the South of Market neighborhood of San Francisco. I am greeted by the scent of lemon polish and a sea of white, broken up only by the occasional exposed brick wall and the wood-beam ceilings. The furniture has none of the features I usually associate with furniture. Chairs and couches lack backs, arms, or cushions. Tables jut out from walls like planks from a pirate ship. The reception desk appears to hover in midair. The last vestiges of daylight filter through huge iron-latticed windows. It is minimalism to the extreme.

A tall, willowy receptionist wearing a skintight red dress rises from the floating desk to greet me. Her ultra chic blond bob swings gently as she walks across the wooden floor on four-inch stilettos. Her face is so perfect she doesn’t need makeup. Or maybe she’s wearing her makeup perfectly. Regardless, she shouldn’t be here in Max’s office. She should be on a runway somewhere far away. Like Milan. Or maybe the Moon.

“Mr. Huntington asked me to stay until you arrived, Miss Delaney.” Her smile is as cold as my heart. Why couldn’t he have hired a frumpy receptionist with unkempt hair and a couple of extra rolls? Maybe a mole on her cheek.

“Thank you for waiting.” We shake hands, my soft, warm fingers closing around her long, bony ones. Her hand is so thin, I could probably break it with just one squeeze.

I imagine we say so much to each other with that handshake.

“So you’re the new girlfriend?”

“Hands off, bitch. He’s mine.”

“I’ve been after him for months. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“I’m naked under this trench coat.”

“I’m not even worried. Look at you.”

“Completely naked. Except for these heels.”

“One month and he’ll come running to me.”

“Not after I take off this coat.”

“Or maybe, he won’t even wait.”

“I’m going to make him suffer first.”

“You’re hardly a threat. Sniff.”

“When I’m done with him, he won’t even know you exist.”

She breaks the shake first. “May I get you something to drink, Miss Delaney?”

“No, thank you very much, I had a drink in the
limo
on the way here.”

“May I take your coat?” She gives me a tight smile.

“It’s a bit chilly in here. I think I’ll keep it on.”

Pleasantries over, we share a glare and then she sighs.

“Well, I’ll be going then. Do make yourself comfortable. The meeting is in the boardroom. You can see all the action from the reception area.”

We exchange farewells. I hope I never see her again.

I take a seat on the most uncomfortable bench I have ever had the displeasure to sit on. The slab of cold, hard marble juts out from the wall like a gigantic tongue. But it does give me a good view of the glass-fronted boardroom. Max is sitting at a long, white table facing me. He looks mouthwateringly hot in his blue shirt and red striped tie. An assortment of suited businessmen are sitting on the other side of the table facing him. How did he get six men to all sit on one side of the table? Did he entice them with the view through the massive arched window in the brick wall behind him?

Max glances up and his lips curve into a faint smile. Other than that, he gives no indication he sees me.

My phone buzzes.

Hi baby. I like your coat

Not my coat. Colton chose it. You paid for it. Lewis brought it to me

You’re wearing it

I didn’t think you were serious

When it comes to you, I’m always serious

When it comes to u, I’m always shocked

Are you undressed to play after the meeting?

Maybe. Maybe not

**frowns**

You’re cute when you **frown**

I stand up and stretch, letting my coat fall open just a tiny bit so he can see what isn’t underneath.

You’re cute when you do as I say and sit on the bench until I’m done

Not tonight

**FROWNS**

He should frown. It is his game, but this time we’ll play by my rules. Bondage ice-cream sex on the desk has loosened my inhibitions, and tonight I’m going to fly.

Someone speaks directly to him, and he puts down his phone. I wander around the reception area looking at…nothing. There is nothing to divert the eye except the view. No pictures, no magazines, no television, no area rugs. Like the restaurant, the focus is on the food—or in this case, the work.

I glance over at the boardroom. Max is talking, but his eyes are on me.

Showtime.

My, it’s getting hot. I fluff my hair and lean against the cool brick wall across from the board room. I unbutton the first button on my trench coat and fan myself. Still hot. I unbutton the second button and flap the coat to let cool air brush over my skin. No response from Max. I slide my hand into the coat and cup my breast.

My phone buzzes. I struggle to repress a smile.

What are you doing?

I’m hot

Turn down the heat. There’s a thermostat at Cindy’s desk

I like heat

AFTER the meeting

Someone hands him a file folder, and he tears his eyes away. I saunter over to Cindy’s desk facing the boardroom and perch on the front. Hmmm. It’s a bit too high for comfort. I drag her chair around and sit on the desk with one foot on the chair and one foot on the floor. I rest my elbow on my thigh in Rodin’s “Thinker” pose. But I’m not thinking intellectual thoughts. I let my trench coat fall open, just enough to reveal the shadow of my modesty.

My phone buzzes angrily. This is just way too much fun. Why did I never do anything like this before?

What the FUCK are you doing?

Pondering where the thermostat might be

It’s on the other side of the desk

Ooops. Silly me

I slide off the desk and spin around. The thermostat is indeed on the wall behind the desk. Why waste time walking around? I bend over and lean across the desk. I spread my legs for balance. I flip up the convenient back flap of the trench coat. Then I give a little wiggle. I am a bad, bad girl.

BUZZ

I am laughing too hard to answer the phone.

BUZZ

Also, I can’t reach it in my current position.

BUZZ

I relent and push myself up. He is in a meeting after all. I should really turn it down. Maybe he’s hot too. I check my messages.

STOP

STOP

STOP

I bite my lip to stifle my laughter and return his messages.

Bad Max. Shouty caps hurt my ears

What the hell has gotten into you?

Sorry, couldn’t reach the thermostat

You’re going to be a very sorry girl when I’m done here

Promises, promises

On the bench and don’t move

Yeah. I’ll do “on the bench.” I undo yet another button on my coat as I walk over to the marble slab. I am hot now, for real. He must know what his words do to me. I lie on my side, one leg out, one leg bent at the knee, shoe on the bench, hand propped up on my elbow in the traditional sex kitten pose. My coat slides over my skin, revealing things that are for Max’s eyes only. The phone buzzes in my hand. Why did I never notice it had such a powerful vibration?

Behave. We’re almost done

I stare at the phone. Suddenly, I have an idea. A delicious idea. A naughty idea. I send Max a text.

Call me. If I don’t answer, call again

I turn the ringer to vibration and swing my legs down so I am sitting on the bench facing him. I part my legs. Max frowns. I slip the phone into my coat and secure it at the juncture of my thighs. Max’s eyes widen. He chokes. One of his clients pushes a glass of water across the table. Max glares at me and shakes his head. I slide one hand into the coat and fondle my breast. He closes his eyes and sucks in his lips.