Insanity is how I'd describe my life as of late. Berkley and I have been working like slaves on this Coca-Cola account. I've stayed late at work more times than I can count or care to mention. Nothing is ever good enough for the executive we're working with, Barry. He'll ask for the demographic of one area but by the time we hold a meeting to present the information he's changed his mind and completely assumes we should've known about it. He acts as if we're mind readers or at the very least his secretary.
Berkley has been all over the delivery of the numbers, making sure everything is perfect for him when he comes in for his meetings and I've been taking care of the research behind it. The way Barry saunters into the office as if he could buy the floorboards right from under our feet drives Berkley crazy. So used to being the only "true" alpha male in the room, catering to Barry is the bane of his existence right now.
"Where have you been all day?" I hear just as two arms slide around my waist pulling me into a hard frame.
"I've been working Berkley." I reply gripping his arms to release myself from his grasp, "What did I tell you about the PDA?"
I feel him watching me, eyes glued to my ass. It's almost like there are sensors back there that go off every time some perv sets his sights on it.
Sitting down I obstruct his view and regain his attention. "The door's closed, no one saw."
The promise in his voice falls on deaf ears. For a little over a month now we've been seeing each other. I distinctly remember telling him that the only way we would work would be if we could be kept a secret. The last thing I need is everyone here knowing we've been dating. That would bring everything, personal and work related, into question and force us under a magnifying glass.
It's not as if I'm oblivious. I know the only reason he offered the Coke account to me was so he could get in my pants. He told me as much by the middle of our first month working on it together. Let him tell it, he only admitted the truth because he admired my work ethic and the quality I produced. To him it was surprising I didn't 'take the bait' and make a move on him. From that point on he vowed to be upfront with me.
By the beginning of May, astonishingly enough, I developed a respect for him that I didn't think I would after such a crass confession. I respect his hard working nature but more than that, his honesty. I've never met a person who's as blunt as he is. He doesn't beat around the bush or sugar coat a thing. According to him his parents took that route every time they decided to send him off to boarding school or any other misadventure in his youth and he promised himself he wouldn't do the same once he got older. I always know what I'm getting into with him and I like that. It's different from what I'm used to.
"The door may be closed but there are windows right beside it. You know how busy this hallway is and I've already been hearing rumors floating around because we've been working together so much," I explain, trying not to sound bitchy. But thanks to Whitney and her backstabbing rumor starting ass I can't help it. I feel like this needs to be under my control and I won't apologize for that.
"You do realize even if we were to get "caught"," he air quotes the word as if it's trivial, "it wouldn't matter because I don't have a board of directors. The only person I would have to answer to would be myself and I'm pretty sure I approve."
I roll my eyes. It's so easy for him. He's not the one who'll become a social pariah if this gets out. I refuse to lose the friends I have over this and I won't become one of those women whose only companion is the guy they're dating.
"Sure Berkley," I reply hoping he'll hear the annoyance in my voice and just leave.
Instead he walks to my desk, taking his usual seat on top of it. "Did we just have our first fight?" he asks, his hand flying to his chest dramatically, "I think that calls for some making up don't you?"
I laugh at his antics, "You're such a stereotype."
He frowns, pursing his vibrant pink lips, "How?"
"You're a spoiled billionaire who's so used to getting any woman you want you think all you have to do is flash your money and extravagant cars and flaunt those plump little lips and doe eyes and panties will drop. Lord forbid you actually have to work for a woman's affections," I sarcastically reply although I'm totally serious.
The frown on his face leaves just as suddenly as it came as he erupts in laughter. "It actually amazes me how comfortable you are talking shá»t to me. It's refreshing."
I shrug, "All in a day's work I guess."
He chuckles, shaking his head, "Speaking of work I'll let you get back to it. I need the demographics for Arizona in my email before the day's end."
"Done," I insist, turning to power up my computer. I finished the demos up last night but he doesn't need to know that. As far as he's concerned I'll be here working all day when in reality I'll be catching up on the videos in my YouTube sub box.
"You have plans for tonight? I was thinking we could grab some dinner," he implores with one hand on the doorknob.
I shake my head, "No can do. I've been promising for weeks to take Damien and Amita out and tonight's the night."
He nods his head in understanding before waving and leaving the room. We've been so busy in the past months he's lucky to have gotten me out to dinner when he did.
I had spent the entire day researching and plotting out Coke's likability here in Cali and by the time it was time to go home I still had work to do. Berkley barged into my office, thinking I was gone, to sit a file on my desk and from there we ended up working together until neither of us could see straight from hunger. He walked me out to my car, something that became a routine after the first time in March, and instead of parting ways like we normally do he asked me to get dinner with him. After that, every night we'd work late together he'd have something delivered and we'd get to know each other while we ate and worked.
It's interesting dating someone like Berkley at this age. Emotionally everything is very casual and cool. There's no awkward conversation about what we are or if we're boyfriend and girlfriend, this isn't high school. Back then if you dated someone but weren't ball and chain committed you were a whore, plain and simple. The logic of high school is warped in so many ways but that has to be one of the worst.
Dating as an adult is a whole new world. You can see as many people as you want as often as you want. If you go on a date with someone and you don't vibe then you never have to see them again.
With Berkley he never asks much more from me than the basics, the bare minimum. What do you like? What don't you like? Are you happy with this? I'm not surprised since he's completely self-absorbed ninety-five percent of the time, which I'm okay with. I'm my own person and so is he. I make my own decisions as does he and neither of us is ready for a commitment, that's clear.
We're taking things slower than slow, or at least I am. I can tell he itches for more control over the direction of our relationship, if you can call it that, but that's something I won't allow. I like the pace we're at. Things are light and simple, exactly what I need after what I've been through. Thinking things through I know this won't last but for now he's here and so am I so we might as well have fun. I guess with one eye closed I can see a potential for more but that all depends on his patience, I'm not going to relearn how to love overnight.
~*~
"How can you work a full day and still have so much energy?" Damien questions. He drops his bags in the backseat of his car before hopping in the driver's seat.
"I do yoga in the morning now. It wakes me up and calms me down all in one and gets me ready for the day," I answer closing the door to the passenger side.
I only have one small bag from a second-hand jewelry store. My savings is still pretty steep so when I saw the pre-owned diamond pendant necklace I had to get it. It cost a fortune but I've always wanted one that wasn't cubic zirconia and wouldn't turn my neck green.
Since Amita is finishing up a couple of interviews we decided to hit a nearby shopping center. Damien complained he had nothing to wear tonight so he insisted we go shopping. The more I told him he didn't need a new outfit the faster he shopped. He ended up with a pair of pressed white pants and a button up floral shirt. He's going to be mad as hell later when he walks into the dingy karaoke bar I found.
I'm not sure what Amita is wearing but the same hot pink pumps, white peplum blazer and black pencil skirt ensemble I wore to work today is going to do it for me. I'll be over dressed as well but at least I won't have spent extra money on or wasted an outfit.
~*~
Walking into the bar I can see from the look on Damien's face he was expecting something different. The entire walk up to the building he kept saying how cool he thought those clubs hidden inside the buildings of other businesses were. I can understand why he'd think that was the case tonight. The karaoke bar is in a strip mall wedged in between a flower shop and a nail salon in the outskirts of West Hollywood. If there was ever a prime place for one of those speakeasy type clubs this would be it.
He shoots daggers at me the entire way to our peanut shell covered table. Amita and I are in stitches by the time he finally speaks.
"This is not what I had in mind when you said you were taking us out. I'm supremely over dressed, in white pants no less and this place is filthy," he fumes dusting peanut shells from the table onto the floor with a napkin as if that's helping the mess any.
Amita laughs, "Stop being such a princess Damien we're all over dressed. Just enjoy the moment and order a drink."
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he's centering himself, before getting up to order a round for the table.
Amita and I snicker at his retreating frame. Even in the dim lighting and deep brown wood surroundings of the bar we can see him practically floating on air. The way he's dipping and dodging people in an effort not to stain his pants is hilarious.
"I've already accepted the fact that my blazer will probably be ruined after tonight, he might as well accept his pants' fate now," I joke, nudging Amita. My anxiety is pretty level tonight thankfully, alerting me of how comfortable I am with the two of them.
She nods, cracking a few peanuts from the tan wicker bowl on the table, "Exactly. I'm sitting here in a baby pink dress I know this shá»t is destined for the trash."
Damien sits our drinks down just as I'm about to respond, whiskey sours.
I can't help the way my nose turns up at the idea of the brown liquor. I'm a margarita, wine or champagne kind of girl if I drink at all. I'm not too keen on the idea of drinking egg white either.
"Blame yourself for this venue," he says acknowledging the look on my face, "the bartender had no idea how to make anything. Not even a Cosmo!"
"Did she use sour mix or fresh lemon juice?" Amita asks playing with the black straw in her glass.
"Juice," Damien replies, "What's the difference?"
"Everything," Amita answers raising her eyebrows.
I laugh and grab my own glass, hesitating before taking the first sip. I'm surprised at how good it is. The sweet yet tart mixture of flavors gives me just the boost I need to have a good time tonight.
With every passing drink I loosen up even more and start to contemplate actually doing a round of karaoke. It's something I've always wanted to do but being as anxious socially as I am it's never been in the cards for me.
"I'm going to admit it!" Damien blurts randomly, holding up his hands. He's already tipsy after a couple of refills.
"Admit what?" I snort finishing off my drink and motioning to the bartender for another round.
"I know who you are," he explains, his eyes struggling slightly to focus on my face.
"Right," I say exaggerating the word. I give Amita a look.
She shrugs and smiles shaking her head as if she has no idea what he's talking about.
"No," his head shakes dramatically, "I know you're SheKnows."
My slightly less sober state leaves completely then. Holy shá»t.
I keep my writing on Spoodle anonymous on purpose. The things I write are sometimes personal, like they have been recently, but most of the time sexual. I don't hold back when writing my characters or the sweet love making or rough hard banging they engage in. I take solace in the fact that no one knows me on Spoodle. I can say what I want about who I want without having to worry about anyone from my everyday life finding out. Even my parents don't know what I write on my account. They know I write but I never let them know my account name or even the titles of my books. Anonymity is key.
"How?" I inquire breathlessly. My mind is racing trying to figure it out.
Amita holds up her hand to stop Damien. "He's a fan," she explains, "so am I actually. He followed your work since nearly the beginning and one day you posted your personal Twitter rather than the one for your account and he found out who you were."
"So you know too?" I ask dumbly. Her answer is obvious but my brain in it's shock and alcohol tainted state is struggling to catch up.
I remember the day she's speaking of well. I got a few new followers on my personal Twitter after I posted a chapter which was out of the ordinary. I had the nagging thought that I had typed out the wrong Twitter but it wasn't until I checked it that the thought was confirmed. Immediately I took it down and replaced it but I guess the damage had been done.
"When your application came through the system I recognized your name and slid it to the top of Amita's pile," Damien confesses, his hands moving in explanation.
"So I got the job because you like my writing?" I question, feeling like I've taken a blow to the gut.
"No!," Amita exclaims quickly, "I mean I do like your writing, you have skills, but Damien didn't tell me about any of this until after I pushed your application through to Berkley. You got the job because you're qualified for the position. And as far as I've seen you've been doing a damned good job."
Damien nods in agreement as he grabs shots from the waitress's tray.
"Why didn't yall tell me sooner?" I ask, settling into the reality that my secret is out even if only by a smidge.
"I liked your personality and I didn't want you to think I was using you or something so I didn't say anything," Damien replies sliding a shot over to me, "We good?"
I smirk sliding the glass in between my fingers, "We're good."
I hiss after downing the shot and listen to Damien talk about his fiancé Taylor. He's a scrawny little red head from Texas with green eyes that could light up a room. His words not mine.
I can tell he's drunk now. He keeps taking long pauses between his words and staring off into the distance mid-sentence. Amita and I are dying of laughter but we're well on our way to being a drink passed tipsy. I'm glad Amita suggested we drop our cars off at home and use Uber tonight.
The waitress comes back around with more shots issuing them out to each of us. "Compliments of the gentlemen in the corner," she says, gesturing her head towards the section of tables by the karaoke stage.
We turn towards them and they raise their glasses into the air. With graying hair and beer bellies I'm almost one hundred percent sure they're someone's dad, they're definitely old enough to be mine and not in the kinky way.
"Ew," I groan turning back around in my seat.
"Girl, that's a free drink stop playing," Amita jokes, downing her shot.
Damien and I laugh but follow suit. The tequila feels like fire blazing down my throat making me wince.
"Okay," I declare before letting out a hard cough, "that's it! I'm done for the night!"
Amita nods her head in agreement and starts to dig through her purse for her phone to call an Uber driver.
"Wait! We haven't sang yet," Damien notes, holding his hands up in a 'stop' motion.
The next thing I know we're on stage and the intro music to Bootylicious starts. Damien takes Beyoncé's verse, singing it like he knows the words by heart. The chorus flies by with us doing drunken variations of twerking until it's my turn to belt out Kelly's verse.
I'm confident things will go fine until I sing 'I'm about to break you off' as 'I'm about to break your arm' forcing us all into a fit of laughter through the rest of my verse and the chorus.
We get it together in time for Amita to stumble through Michelle's verse with Damien and I as her backup singers.
I'm not sure when I turned into the personification of Beyoncé but every adlib she hit in the song flies from my throat with as much sass as she has in her walk. By the final note I'm convinced I was possessed by Sasha Fierce herself.
The drunken bar erupts in applause and wolf whistles as we laugh and take our bows. Booze is heavy in the air and even heavier in our guts but we're too drunk to care. We get to feel like celebrities for a few seconds before heading off the stage to pay the bill and leave.
"So you write like Hemingway and you can sing? What else can you do? Fly?" Damien asks grabbing his phone from the table.
I cackle at that. Hemingway I am not, not even remotely close. "No flying, but I can cook," I offer, paying the much higher than I expected tab.
Amita drops her phone back into her purse with a smirk, "What does cooking have to do with flying?"
"Nothing!" I defend, unsure of what I'm getting defensive for.
We all share a look before exploding in laughter.
I haven't had this much fun in a very long time. I might've just drunkenly belted out an early 2000s hit in a stinky crowded bar but I did it with people I feel I can truly call my friends. These were the days I longed for when I was in college and it makes me happy to know I can have them now. The only thing left to do tonight is carpool home and get up my porch stairs in one piece.
***********************************************
What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall enjoyed the chapter! I had fun writing it so I hope yall had fun reading it!
I'm going to start letting yall know the song name/artist in the A/N since the video isn't available across all platforms.
So what'd you guys think about Bentley and Bailey being together? Do yall think he has good intentions or is he just a little dog? Let me know!
#HAILEY is coming next chapter!! *squeals* Who all is excited?! I know I am!!
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: buunessaa, zoebuisekwildcard, CholeBolton8, imazing, and RosieAli98!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Until Next Time,
WBN