The Girl He Needs (20 page)

I hold Erik’s glass and slap at his hand as he tries to take it again. Though we managed to score two rooms, we haven’t managed to shake Erik for dinner, and if a higher power exists, I pray with every fiber in my body that we’ll be able to eighty-six him at the end of the meal.

I order a black coffee for Erik and work on his scotch.

“Here’s a fine offer, Brinn. If you’re willing, I’d like to put you on retainer,” Erik says, his words starting to run together.

“Retainer?” Brinn takes the scotch from me and swallows a large gulp. “Why would I want that?”

Erik laughs and I now know why it makes Brinn crazy. The poor guy’s laugh is one of those monosyllabic sounds that’s high pitched and repeats, much like a braying jackass.

“You and I are alike. For guys like us it’s about making money. You want that as much as I do. I can tell. I’m intuitive like that.” Slapping Brinn on the back, he says, “If I buy a plane you can be my on-call pilot.” Erik sits back and glares at the coffee.

“That’s a huge expense.” Brinn holds up his hand as Erik begins to bluster. “I’m not saying you can’t afford it, but the administration commitment is as big as the financial one.”

“Just where does your money come from?” I ask.

“Real estate mostly.” He gestures to himself and inadvertently pokes his own eye. “I’ve a good eye for land.”

“Just not what to use it for,” I say and Brinn chuckles.

“Tell the truth, you inherited some of it, right?” Brinn asks.

Erik shakes his head and reaches out, pulling his coffee toward him. He leans forward to meet this cup, lips pursed, head bobbing every so often. After an audible slurp he says, “Nah, my mom passed when I was in college. Left me a tiny life insurance policy.” He holds his thumb and fingers up to show us what his version of tiny looks like. “I bought and renovated my first apartment building and built it from there. About my offer. Interested in working for me? Being my on-call pilot?” he asks with the one eye closed.

“I have a pretty tight schedule with the school and teaching, so it’s unlikely that arrangement would work. And the chances of me purposefully nose-diving out of the sky to put us both out of our misery is pretty high.”

“Well, there is that.” I laugh.

“I’m not miserable,” Erik counters and slurps his coffee.

Brinn and I catch each other’s eyes and laugh again. Poor suck.

Erik leans over his coffee, tucking his head in the palms of his hands, and sighs heavily. “There’s got to be a better way to fly. A different option. Not all charters work within my time constraints and there’s nothing out there that fills the void.”

For a drunken guy, he’s pretty coherent even if he is slurring. Makes me wonder how he spent his college days, probably at one of those fraternities that spent more time with bongs, hazing, and tossing back shots during beer pong competitions than on academics.

“You need a company similar to charters but with a fleet large enough that it supports last-minute flights. Like fractional ownership, there are several companies that offer it.” Brinn pushes away his plate.

“Yeah but I’ve looked into them, for me that’s not smart money. The taxes alone turn me off. I’ve figured it out.” He taps his head. “You’re smart, start up something that does what I need and I’m in. I’d invest in that like this.” He tries to snap but his fingers slide more than they collide. Erik’s chin drops onto his chest, and he looks moments from checking out.

“I imagine you want something more along the lines of a turbo prop or business jet, not a single engine, with the expediency of online scheduling and flexibility.”

Erik points a weaving hand toward Brinn. “Precisely,” he says following it up with a hiccup.

“Can’t have it. There’ll always be a compromise. You need to decide which you want more, the convenience of short notification scheduling or a luxurious plane. You can’t have both all the time.”

Erik nods, presumably digesting the information. “I think I’d give up the type of ’craft. As long as it’s relatively comfortable.” He slides toward me and I push him back upright.

“To tell you the truth, I like the idea of a hybrid like that. But man are they risky. Sure, it sounds good on paper, but it’s impossible to get good estimates on profit because the market is unknown,” Brinn says mostly to himself.

Typical Brinn. He prefers low risk or none at all. What will it take to free him from the unyielding belief that Mark’s business is the end all? Other companies call for him constantly, the University wants him on staff, and Erik is all but offering Brinn his wallet.

“I can name ten guys willing to take that risk and invest,” Erik says with fluttery eyes. “I had a college roomie that’s a math genius and I can get him to run the numbers. His ability for predict—” Erik’s head slumps forward and jerks back up, and he sways in his seat. “—shon, predishing is bar none.”

“Prediction,” I say.

“Yes, that.” He stares down the length of the single finger he’s pointing at me. “Predishing.”

“Come on, big guy. Time to go home.” Brinn hands me the business credit card. “Pay the check and meet me in the lobby, please.” He pulls Erik up under his arms and steadies him on his feet.

“What are you gonna do with him?”

“He lives in town and he has a driver with a car waiting outside. I’m gonna toss him in it and slam the door.”

“Good luck with that,” I say and flag down our waitress.

“These shoes hurt my feet,” I hear Erik say as Brinn nearly carries him out of the restaurant.

“You should try them with socks,” Brinn says and I laugh out loud.

I pay the check and wander into the lobby. It’s overrun with people in various degrees of martial arts uniforms and it makes me think of my short time in Dallas. Which, funny enough, seems like a lifetime ago even though it was only two years. The person I was when I arrived there, scared yet excited to reinvent myself, has morphed into what I hope is a more steady, balanced person who’s trying to grab life by the balls.

If I think about where I am with Will, I’ll cry.

I search the lobby for Brinn and catch his eye as he walks toward me. He winks and his smile opens up, pulling me toward him.

“How’d it go?” I ask, stepping into his space.

“He kept offering me a job. Raising the wage every few minutes. As if it were that easy or I’d work for him.” He rubs a hand down my arm and slides it around my waist.

“He’s certainly annoying but he’s okay. There are worse guys to invest with. Erik is still trying to figure out who he is. I should let Jayne get her hands on him; she’d burn his clothes and love every minute of it. In fact, I’ll do that. Are we seeing him again tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately. You’d do business with him?” He pulls me closer and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t? He’s proven he’s skilled with making money. That thing you said about the online scheduling sounds amazing. It’s not like things with Mark are going anywhere.” I remember the days my father would storm around grousing about the ineptness of charters. Enough so that he eventually bought a company jet. Erik’s frustrations are not isolated to him.

“But they will be. Soon, I hope.”

“There are just as many risks with that plan as there are with Erik’s.”

Brinn shrugs, but I can tell he’s rolling the idea around in his head by the few irritated sighs he’s making.

“It would take a lot of capital for that startup. I just don’t know if I could tolerate him. He pretty much says what he’s thinking so there’d be no mystery.” He shakes his head. “It’s a wonder he’s ever made a dime.”

“It’s something to consider.”

“Nah, between trying to buy into Mark’s and putting together my application for my PhD, there’s really not much to consider. I’ve got all the options I need and they are sure things.”

“Do you really want your PhD? Was it something you were thinking of getting before the school made the offer?”

“No but that’s because I was single-focused on Mark.”

“The psychic said you had three paths. Maybe this one is the third.”

Brinn laughs. “Doubtful. Speaking of which, the university has this big charity shindig thing next weekend. I usually don’t do these sort of things but I’ve been told it would behoove me to go. Care to come with me?”

“Casual or formal?”

“Formal. I have to dig up a tux.”

“Tuxes cannot be ‘dug up’. They have to fit. They should”—I sweep my hands over his shoulders and down to his waist—“show this off. Jayne can help you.”

He groans. “Let’s forget about all this. I saw a movie theatre across the street.”

“We’re alone in a hotel and you want to go to a movie?” I wrap my arms around his waist.

He laughs. “Yeah, actually. I’d like to do something with you other than sex and food. It’s not a date or anything, because we don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Not a date?” The noise of the hotel is a whisper compared to the hum of our bodies.

“Nah, not a date. I mean, you know, even though it looks like what all other normal people do on dates. Dinner, movie, hold hands.”

“Entertain a drunk man.”

“See. Not a date. Just friends or maybe even co-workers, that’s how un-date like this evening is, and because it’s not a date I don’t have to acquiesce and agree to some chick flick just to try and impress you with my soft manly side.”

“You already scoped out the selection, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Liberation, the new alien sci-fi movie, is out and I’d love to see it. Come on. You like sci-fi. It’s been ages since I went to a movie.”

I shrug. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, have another drink, and take it upstairs?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s more to life than sex.”

I purse my lips as if I’m considering the plausibility.

Brinn laughs. “Yeah, it sounded stupid in my head but I said it anyway. I’m tempted, you know I am, but I’d really like to see a movie with you. Besides, these BJJ’s are all bad ass looking in their gis and I’m thinking I need to get you away from all this testosterone.”

“You know I learned self-defense from a BJJ. In Texas.”

“You lived in Texas?”

I nod and tell Brinn how I met the owner of a Brazilian jiu-jitsu school at the bar where I’d taken a job when I escaped to Dallas following my runaway bride act. How upon arriving, I realized my options were limited as far as jobs were, so I scored one in a bookstore and the other in a bar. Using the experience I gained during my short stint as a barmaid for one of my mother’s gambling themed charity events. Being of a studious nature, more so back then versus now, I’d read several books on the art of cocktail making. Instant job skill.

“Then Utah?”

“Yes, I worked as a ski instructor. After Utah was Washington State—that’s where I met the artist I was engaged too. But I found out he was marrying me because he thought I had connections in the art world. And here I thought it was about an evolved relationship with an open concept. No real strings.”

“You could do that? Share your spouse?”

I shake my head. “I realized I couldn’t on the drive to Vegas. Right before I figured out I was being played. I think I was just lonely. That’s when I got this.” I touch the piercing he likes to kiss.

“From there?”

“South Carolina and now here.”

“Any chance you dated this Brazilian jiu-jitsu instructor?”

“Maybe.” I shrug.

“What if he’s here right now?” Brinn scans the crowd, his eyes coming back to me, the corners crinkled with repressed laughter.

“Holy shit, you’re right. I don’t think he’d be too happy to see me. I dumped him over a text message. We should get out of here. Fast. To the movies,” I say. I try to make light of it, only now thinking back on it all, I don’t feel adventurous, but more like a shit bag.

“Yes!” He plants a fast kiss on my lips and lets go of my waist to grab my hand. He drags me through the lobby, weaving between the sea of uniforms, and we quickly make our way outside but are forced to stop at the crosswalk, waiting for the flashing white man to give us the approval to cross. Thunder booms overhead.

“Come on,” he says when it gives us the cue, tucking my hand into his. We run across the street as fat, unexpected raindrops splash down on and around us.

“It’s cold.” I’m surprised.

“Enjoy it. It’s a rare thing.” We jog through the crowd as others scatter in all directions hoping to find cover before the deluge begins. Brinn leads me toward the theatre doors.

“Don’t we need to buy tickets?” I tug him toward the booth but he tugs back, bringing me in front of him, and pushes me gently through the door.

“I bought tickets earlier from the concierge. Popcorn?” He points to the concessions counter.

I snatch the tickets from his hand and read them. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch. If these tickets were for a specific movie and not a voucher, I’d be giving you hell for playing me like that. What if I’d said no to a movie?” I hand him back the vouchers.

“Ha, no way.”

“Maybe I would’ve fought hard for a romantic comedy.”

“Nope. You got all the romance you can handle right here.” He pats his chest a couple of beats, puffing it out. I roll my eyes and turn away but he snags me by the arm and pulls me into his embrace, wrapping me tight.

“Just two co-workers, huh?” I say.

“Yep, after the movie I’ll show you how to fix the copy machine.”

“Is that office talk for playing doctor?”

He laughs and brushes a kiss along my lower lip. “When it’s time for you to go, don’t end it with a text, please.”

“Are you ready for me to go?” I find that asking the question makes my breath freeze in my chest.

“Nope, I just don’t want to always be worried that’s it’s a good-bye every time I get a text from you.” The darkening of his eyes speaks to his the depth of his worry even if his voice feigns indifference. I see the Brinn who was always let down by people he let in, people he trusted. I see a little...reticence I now recognize is a part of him in everything he does, as if he’s bracing himself for the inevitable abandonment. Except for when we’re having sex; that’s when he opens up. That’s when he’s the most exposed. I’d rather rip my own heart from my chest than be one of those people that put shadows in his eyes.