Unexpected Consequences Read online

  “If we get to that point, I guess I’ll have to.” Zeke shrugs, a typical move for him, but this time it’s forced. I can see the tension rolling off of him. His devoutly Catholic family will likely tear us to shreds and disown him, but there comes a point when you have to decide what is best for your own life. I just hope Zeke knows we’ll be there for him should that happen.

  “You’re not hearing me,” Jeff huffs, turning his attention to the man on his left. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing this. That means no more hiding. No lying. We have to all be on the same page from this moment on.”

  I choke on my soda at the way Jeff lays everything out for Zeke. While I agree that we need to keep the lines of communication completely open to make this work, even I’m a bit put-off by the gravity of his words. Yes, we’re talking about taking our relationship to a new level, but he’s making it sound like we’re jumping off the cliff to happily-ever-after.

  “Okay, let’s do it.” Zeke stands, rounding the table to place a kiss on my forehead. He grabs the tray, rushing off to dispose of it, effectively calling a time-out in our discussion. I should feel better knowing that both of the men I care for are on board with continuing, but I don’t. It feels like we’re all jumping in head first for all the wrong reasons. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to bring that up right now though.

  “Mary, can you come in here when you get a chance?” The sound of my boss’s voice pulls me from the sea of emails threatening to drown me. I shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer volume of correspondence waiting for me when I finally came in to work this morning after over a month away, but I am.

  “Yes, Mister Bennett,” I call across the hall. I pull a compact out of my desk, checking my appearance before heading into his office.

  “I’m sorry, Mary. Had I been thinking, I could have come to you,” he apologizes when I hobble into his corner office overlooking the capitol. I’m a bit shocked that he apologized, even if I know damn well he wouldn’t have come to my office. That would have given the impression that he has a heart and I’m fairly certain nothing could be further from the truth.

  “Not a problem, I have to get used to these things eventually,” I sigh, knowing the crutches propped against the empty chair next to me are likely going to be my constant companions for at least another month.

  “How are things going today?” he asks after closing the door. The quiet in his office is disconcerting.

  “All things considered, they’re going well. Thank you.” The way he appraises me, I don’t think this is going to remain a casual chat.

  “That’s good to hear.” He pulls a folder from his desk, handing it to me. “I need your help with this client. I know you don’t typically handle the corporate accounts, but I think it’s time for you to push yourself in a new direction.” I look down at the file in front of me. Sperry Industries. One of our firm’s biggest accounts. And he’s handing it to me on my first day back. When I already have a full caseload to catch up on.

  “Sir, I’m honored, but I’m not sure I have the time to devote to my existing clients and take this on as well.” As soon as I’ve said the words, I regret them. Turning down an opportunity such as this one is career suicide.

  “We’ve already reassigned everything else,” he informs me. “This afternoon, you will be meeting with the other associates to bring them up to speed on the cases and clients they will be assisting from here out. Beginning on Wednesday, Sperry will be your baby.”

  I should be happy about this. I’ve been busting my ass since the day I was hired, hoping to move up the ranks, despite everything I’ve heard about Mister Bennett and his chauvinistic ways. If he’s sitting here giving me what I want, why can’t I be happy about it?

  “Sir, what about Holly Richards?” I don’t care if he takes every case away from me, I can’t lose hers. She’s relying on me to see this through to the end. She’s also waiting for everyone to turn their backs on her and I don’t know that I can convince her that’s not what I’m doing here.

  Mister Bennett leans back in his seat, allowing the chair to slightly recline. To some people, it might seem as if he’s relaxing, but I know better. He’s an arrogant man who thrives on being in control. And he’s at his most content when he’s about to crush someone. Right now, I have a feeling that someone is me.

  “Of all the cases you had, she is the one you’re worried about? That case was the first to be reassigned,” he says haughtily.

  I shake my head, unwilling to let her case out of my hands without a fight. “Sir, you can’t take her case away from me. It took time to get her to trust me. The court date is coming up early this fall and she’s relying on me to be the one by her side.”

  “By her side,” he says with a menacing chuckle. “Isn’t that exactly where you were when you were run down by a car? Perhaps you’re not ready for a contract as important to the firm as Sperry.”

  “I assure you, sir, I am more than ready,” I protest. This is what I’ve been working for, the chance to prove that I’m one of the top associates in our firm, despite the fact that most of my colleagues are older than I am. “I can handle the Sperry account and still give Ms. Richards the counsel she’s paying to receive.”

  “Tell me, Ms. Brunner, why were you downtown with a client at that time of night?”

  I can’t believe the audacity of this arrogant jerk! One minute, he’s handing me the world on a silver platter, and now it feels as if he’s questioning my professionalism.

  “Sir, I was hired to represent Ms. Richards by a mutual friend.” I don’t delve into any deeper explanation. It’s none of his business what I do on my personal time and I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  His plump lips are pursed as he waits for me to continue. The look, combined with the fact that his lips are an unnatural looking shade of purple do nothing to add to his appeal. He’s an ugly man, inside and out.

  “Will there be anything else?” I ask, needing to get out of the suffocating office, hating the fact that my crutches won’t allow me to storm out of here, slamming the door behind me as I would love to do.

  “No,” he says curtly. “I will take your word that you will be able to give Greg Sperry the attention his company deserves. To do that, you will not be involved in the Richards case or any of the other charity cases I’ve allowed you to take on. I’ve humored you far too long, it’s time for me to put my foot down.”

  I make my way back to the office, fighting the urge to break down in tears.

  One would think today would have been a productive day seeing as there’s no one here needing me to get them a drink, help them get dressed or anything else. One would think wrong.

  I hate how quiet it is. Even cranking the stereo does nothing to help my uneasy feeling. I’ve grown used to having Mary around, and now that she’s back to work, I miss her. Like a little fucking punk, I’ve been looking at the clock obsessively, trying to figure out how much longer until she comes home. Four hours, thirty-six minutes.

  And ain’t it a bitch that I think of her getting done with work and coming to my place as her coming home? I know it’s because she’s been recuperating here, but sometimes it feels as if we’re moving at warp speed now that the three of us have decided that we’re more than just play partners.

  We spent most of the weekend figuring out the logistics of how to make things work. Seriously, this is another part of why I like to keep things casual. There’s no good reason a word like logistics should be used when it comes to people doing something that feels good.

  I feel like I need crib notes to keep up with everything Mary talked about this past weekend, as well as an accompanying glossary of relevant terms. According to her, not only do we need to make time for all three of us to spend together, we also need to make it a priority to develop healthy one-on-one relationships. As she went through all of this, she was throwing out shit like dyads, triads, polyamory, polyfidelity and I can’t even remember the rest of the vocabulary ter
ms that I’m sure there will be a test on later. More than once, I was tempted to ask her when we could quit talking and get to fucking, but that would have been insensitive. Hell, I’m not even sure how much longer it’ll be before she’s up for all that.

  When all was said and done, I realized Monday nights are going to suck for me. Tonight, I am the one left sitting at home while Jeff takes Mary out to dinner. I’m happy for them because they haven’t had as much time as she and I have had, but dammit, I don’t want to be odd man out. Ever.

  I have to get out of this fucking condo. I’m driving myself crazy, thinking about Mary and Jeff. Thinking about how things are changing. Worrying about what’s going to happen if the two of them have a stronger connection than I have with either of them and I’m left in the dust. Yet another reason I don’t do relationships. Apparently, getting involved in one means emasculating myself and putting my balls up on a shelf. Being with two people, I’m not really sure at this point which one of them I’ll have to ask for permission to have them back.

  Under the guise of needing to talk about the new bands we’re looking to book for later in the year, I grab a stack of folders and head upstairs to Dylan’s place. Living in the same building has turned out to be a good thing for our business because we don’t have to worry about the overhead of maintaining a traditional office space.

  “You here?” I call out, using my key to open his front door. After one embarrassing incident when he and Tasha came stumbling out of their bedroom naked, I learned to announce myself as soon as the door opens.

  “Kitchen,” Dylan yells back. Tasha must be out for the day because she’d be on our asses for yelling like a couple of kids if she was here. At first, I didn’t understand what would possess Dylan to ask Tasha to move in with him after such a short time dating, but now that I’ve officially had Mary in my space for a month, I get it. There’s something soothing about knowing someone else is around. I’m tempted to ask her to make it permanent, but that seems like a bit of a pussy thing to do.

  I pull a bar stool up to the kitchen island where Dylan is multi-tasking. One side of the granite counter is riddled with paperwork while he’s busy making lunch on the other side.

  “You get the tracks I sent you this morning?” he asks, turning back to the refrigerator, putting away everything he had pulled out to make a sandwich.

  “Yeah. I think Winding River could be a good fit for Roman’s, but I’m not sure where we could book Searching for Justice.”

  Dylan stares at me as if I’ve grown a third eye. Obviously, he has something planned but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is. They’re a good band, there’s no disputing that, but their eclectic sound doesn’t fit into any mold. When we’ve tried cross-booking in venues in the past, it has wound up being a loss and we’ve worked too hard to build a reputation for knowing exactly who to book in what clubs to screw it up now.

  “Last Chance,” Dylan says like it’s a no-brainer. “They’re just edgy enough that the regulars there will eat it up and I think it’s the best opportunity to get them into the market. They’re local, so we’ll try them out on a Monday night. It will be a boost on a slow day for Drew without having to worry about losing a prime booking if they flop.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I disagree. Part of me is shocked we still have any sort of relationship with Andrew Mesina and his pride and joy club after the shit that has gone down there because of Holly and Tasha.

  Andrew avoided taking our calls for a while after the night Tasha disappeared and Dylan almost beat someone in the parking lot trying to figure out where she went. He wasn’t pleased that his staff had to intervene and, even worse, that the cops were called. Madison is a great city for entertainment, but the Alcohol License Review Commission scrutinizes every altercation, every time the police are called to the business, when the time comes to review and renew a liquor license. Last Chance has been under a microscope for the past eighteen months because of the previous owners and their blind eye when it came to drugs and fights, so Andrew worried that any continued affiliation with our company would bring more drama to his club. I'm still unsure how Dylan talked his way back into his good graces, but he managed to do so quickly enough that we didn’t lose any bookings there.

  “Are you kidding me? Drew’s going to love them. The ladies will be drooling over Jackson and the guys will be sporting wood over Amy. They kick ass, but they’re still so new, I can’t think of a better place to put them. You know as well as I do that Last Chance is one of the only places in town that can draw a crowd just about any night of the week.”

  Dylan slaps his hand against the counter, frustrated that I’m not seeing what he’s trying to do. There’s a palpable divide between us right now that we need to get past. The problem is, I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been taking time off lately and I’m off my game or if this is personal. Our own shit hasn’t interfered in the past, but this doesn’t feel like a professional rift.

  I head over to his laptop, loading the Searching for Justice tracks. Having a band’s songs in the background as we work helps me think. Given enough time, I can start to see them taking the stage at one club or another. I need to figure out what Dylan’s hearing that I’m not.

  When My Addiction starts playing, my eyes drift shut, listening to the acoustic guitar layered with a smooth beat, and then Amy’s gravelly voice building as she sings about fighting the way she’s feeling, trying her damnedest to keep from falling in love.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I concede, eyes still closed, body absorbing the music as I sway on my stool. “I’ll call Andrew to set up the meeting.”

  Things aren’t back to normal between the two of us after that, but Dylan’s no longer pissed, thinking I’m losing my touch. We trudge through the contracts and proposals that have piled up recently before flopping onto the couch for a bit of relaxation in the form of Call of Duty: Ghosts.

  “So, how are things going downstairs?” Dylan asks, leaning forward to focus on the fight we’ve found ourselves in on the screen.

  “Good,” I say, trying to decide how much I want to share. I know I told Jeff and Mary that I wouldn’t hide us from my family and friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to spill the sordid details like a fucking chick.

  “You and Mary?” Dylan presses. He glances over, catching the shit eating grin I can’t hide when I think about her. Two hours, seventeen minutes.

  When I glance at my watch and sigh, Dylan falls back on the couch, laughing uproariously. “Holy fuck, I never thought I’d see the day…” he says through his laughter.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I turn my head and see him staring back at me, still amused but trying to stop his outburst.

  “You! You went and fell in love with her, didn’t you?” He tosses the controller on the table, turning his full attention to me.

  “No fucking way,” I protest. Lie number one of the day. The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth because we made a pact that there would be no secrets. The only justification I can come up with is that I’m not lying about having a relationship with them, only about the fact that I was stupid enough to fall for her, for both of them, without knowing if they will ever feel the same way about me.

  “Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Dylan chuckles. He makes his way into the kitchen, coming back with a beer for each of us. While I don’t typically drink this early in the day, I tip the bottle back, hoping the smooth microbrew will quiet all the bullshit swirling in my mind. “Remember, I’ve been where you’re at. You can tell yourself whatever you have to, but the sooner you admit it, the easier it’s going to be to deal with.”

  “Fuck you, Caprese. Just because you turned into a little bitch doesn’t mean the rest of us have to follow suit.” I pick at the label on my bottle, trying to come up with something, anything, to get me out of this conversation.

  “Okay, so what about you and the good doctor?” Dylan presses on. I blame Tasha for this. B
efore she came into his life, Dylan couldn’t have cared less what anyone else was doing. Now, it’s almost like he wants everyone else to be tied down to someone so he’s not the only one of our little group in a serious relationship. “You two get caught sucking face in public lately?”

  “No, we’ve kept that all behind closed doors,” I respond quietly. Now I wish we were back to talking about my pansy feelings about Mary. At least then I wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to proceed. Dylan and I haven’t talked about the Jeff situation since we cleared the air and I’ve gone out of my way to avoid running into anyone we know when he and I are alone together.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about what you were doing behind closed doors,” he laughs, punching me in the arm playfully. “Seriously, never picked you as a screamer.”

  “What the--”

  “Lesson one of being in love…” he starts, holding up a finger. “Women talk. All the fucking time. You’d better get used to the fact that anything that happens is going to go from Mary to Tasha. And if it’s something as hilarious as you and Jeff dancing around one another, trying to hide the fact that you had wild monkey sex while Mary was sleeping in the other room, you can be damn sure my girl and her big mouth will tell me about it.”

  “Fuck,” I groan. If Tasha knows, that means Holly’s going to know. As soon as Holly knows, Tommy’s going to know. Fuck!

  When we started talking about how to make this all work, it was easy to feel the excitement radiating off Mary. She’s the optimist out of the three of us. The one who thinks that everything will work out, no matter what the odds are. Now that I’m standing in Zeke’s condo waiting for her to finish getting ready for our first night out as a couple, I’m not so sure.