Chapter 25

Sierra

 

MY HEART raced as I listened to Joe give me a long-winded, and I believe earnest, apology.

“We fucked you over, we fucked you over real good,” he conceded, wrapping up the speech. “It was wrong, and I’m very sorry. Truly, I am. My brother looks about ready to slap the daylights out of me, and if you think he’s mad, Amy’s in a real fit. And they’re both right. You’re the best we’ve got, and we need you.”

But I wasn’t letting him off that easily. “And why should I come back?” I asked, while Flo leaned in close to my speaker to try to hear what Joe was saying.

“Well, for one, because it was my mistake and you shouldn’t lose your job over that.” Oh, how delicious it was to hear Joe try to sell me on the job he’d just fired me from. Sweet revenge. “And, for two… for two, without you, the pitch went belly-up. Couldn’t have been worse, as a matter of fact.”

Flo waggled her brows at me and loudly whispered, “I knew it.”

I put my hand to the speaker to try to block out her triumphant hiss, but Joe had probably caught it. Oh well. Let him hear, let the whole damn world hear, I thought.

“So,” I said, drawing out each word. “If I were to come back — which I’m not saying I will — but if I did, what would change? How could I guarantee a non-hostile work environment?”

Joe sighed, knowing damn well I had him over a barrel. “I’d give you a ten percent raise, a new title and we’d redo your contract to further protect you from unfair dismissal in the future. You happy?”

Florence’s hands clapped over her mouth in astonishment, and I wiggled around on the sofa, thrilled by this offer, but trying not to let Joe hear.

It was only with steely determination that I managed to keep my tone in check as I replied, “Hm… I guess that’ll do.”

I muted the phone and screamed to Florence, “I have my job back!”

She exploded up from the couch and began racing around the room with Ginger giving chase as I unmuted the phone and continued with, “So, what now?”

“You come back to Jacksonville and we try to convince Charles to let us do a new pitch.”

In my opinion, that didn’t seem plausible — Charles struck me as a guy who made up his mind and didn’t easily unmake it. But hey, if that’s what the man giving me a ten percent pay increase wanted, that’s what he’d get.

“All right,” I agreed. After a moment, I added, “On one condition.”

“Another condition?” Joe groaned.

“Yeah. I don’t want to have to interact with Jacob. At all.”

This wasn’t easy for me to say — each word seemed to put another bullet hole in my spirit. But Jacob… Jacob was deplorable. He’d willingly put his job above me, had watched me get fired and said nothing. And all that after I’d finally managed to forgive him for two years ago.

Yet, I couldn’t resist his body. I’m tough, but I’m human. I knew that if we came in close contact, anything could happen. So it was best to follow my head and lay down some ground rules. Like, for instance, “no interaction.”

I could hear Joe move his mouth away from the phone and say something, snatches of phrases I couldn’t catch. Shit. Who was he talking to? Was Jacob there, right then, in that moment? If so, could he hear me?

Fuck him, my inner voice sneered. He treated you like shit. If he hears you bashing him, well, that’s what he deserves. Besides, at least he’ll know you’ve put up boundaries.

Right. Yes. Good points, inner voice. Very wise.

So, though it wasn’t easy, I sat there patiently while Joe conversed with whomever it was — maybe it wasn’t even Jacob — and bit my thumbs to make sure I didn’t say anything stupid, like, “is Jacob there? How’s he doing? Does he still like me?”

Finally, Joe got back on the line.

“Hey, Sierra, sorry about that. Yes we can meet that, er, condition. How soon can you be on the next plane?”

The answer to that ended up being less than an hour. I gathered my wallet, phone and keys and a few necessities. I wasn’t even going to bother to pack a suitcase — there’s no way I was staying another night, and definitely not in that bedroom next to Jacob’s. Though from what Joe had said, it didn’t sound like we were exactly welcome in the mansion anymore.

There was only time to give Flo a quick hug and Ginger a kiss before running out the door. I’ll thank her later with a fresh bottle of vodka, I thought, then considered how much she’d done for me. Maybe two. Possibly three.

I boarded the plane in a pencil skirt, fitted blazer and stiletto heels. It was a dramatic improvement from my last plane ride less than twenty-four hours earlier.

When I touched down in Jacksonville, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Joe with an address. Guess my instincts about their move from the mansion were right. I flagged down a taxi — which, in my outfit, wasn’t hard to do — and then gave the driver the address.

After fifteen minutes or so, he pulled to a stop in front of the dingiest motel you’ve ever seen — gray, peeling, the works. A group of sullen-looking teenagers lurked outside, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear some yelling. Not good.

But I pulled down the hem of my blazer, straightened my shoulders, paid the driver and disembarked. Maybe this was a slight downgrade from the mansion or, technically, a massive one, but I wouldn’t let that deter me. I’d won my job back and then some. My focus now wasn’t on the hospitality, but on fixing the pitch, even if Charles wouldn’t let us try again.

Outside the door, Joe was waving his arms, frantically signaling my attention. His shirt was rumpled and his blazer undone — he looked a mess. I felt a small burst of satisfaction at seeing how much my departure had left everyone out of sorts. By his side was Amy, who was grinning and beckoning me forward.

I walked as quickly as the heels would allow, finally arriving at the front door. Amy scooped me up into a giant hug, saying, “Gosh, girlie, it’s good to see you.” She gave another squeeze, and let me go. “And don’t you look fabulous.”

“Thanks,” I replied, smiling warmly.

Joe cleared his throat, and I turned my attention to him. “Sierra?”

“Yes?”

“I’m… I’m awful sorry,” he mumbled, barely able to meet my eyes. “I know I apologized over the phone, but I wanna apologize again.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Apology accepted. Now let’s get down to work.”

Joe smiled weakly, but looked relieved. Perhaps he was echoing how I had felt after the Instagram affair.

They led me into the motel, where they’d apparently rented a last-minute conference room for all of Pillers to convene in — luckily, in between the pitch getting cancelled and the bosses deciding to rehire me, no one had caught a flight home.

As our trio moved inside, Amy leaned in to whisper, “Just so you know, Jacob’s inside.”

My chest rose and fell quickly, but I said nothing.

She continued, “I know, I’m sorry.” Apparently, my little inhale hadn’t been so subtle. “But he is still part of the team, and his aspect of the pitch needs work. If you ever feel unable to handle it, just signal to me and I’ll, I don’t know, try to get him out of the room or something. Okay?”

There was no other choice — we’d arrived at the door. “Okay,” I sighed. “Sounds good.”

Just then, Joe flung open the doors, revealing the entire company, milling about, eating bagels and drinking coffee. All eyes went to me.

Including Jacob’s.

Even as the rest of the room stared me down, evidently aware at least in some degree of my departure, I could only focus on Jacob. His gaze traveled from my eyes, to my trembling lips, to my throat, to my breasts, which were practically heaving in time to my heartbeat, to my hips, and at last, to my feet. He raked me over, all in the span of a second, and I felt each move of his pupils like a laser on my flesh, searing me with pain and pleasure.

No sooner had he taken me in than he cast his eyes away, pointing them as far from my body as possible. Either he figured he’d best avoid me to ensure I didn’t become more irate, or Joe had plainly told him to keep interactions with me minimal. If it was the latter, as I suspected it was, well… well, then I was glad Jacob was following my rules. Isn’t that how I was supposed to feel? Glad?

Stop looking at him, my brain insisted. The longer you look, the more power you give him.

Point taken. I shifted my eyes from Jacob to the rest of the room, which was still openly balking at me.

“Hey,” I said with cheerful enthusiasm. “I’m back.”

More wide-eyed looks. Frustrated, I turned to Joe and hissed, “How much do they know?”

He pulled at his collar and twisted uncomfortably before replying, “Uh… all of it, I’d say, they know all of it.”

“Even the part where Jacob and I—”

“Yup, definitely that part.”

“Right then.” I straightened up and away from Joe. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t particularly the laying bare of my sexual exploits. Oddly enough, for the first time in my life, I found that I didn’t really give a damn. At least, if nothing else, this entire debacle had freed me from the trap of feeling shame. I was living in a post-shame world.

That’s the only way to really explain why I said what I said next.

“So then,” I said, addressing my co-workers. “Ya’ll know Jacob and I were caught together.”

There were gasps and some frenzied whispers and one of my team members smiled at me, admiring my candor. Jacob’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times, as if he were rapidly swallowing. Good. Let’m squirm. His facial expression was morphing between shock and rage, but like the responsible guy he usually was, he resisted the urge to throttle me. I’m sure he knew — or at least had been made to understand — that this was all his fault, and he’d take whatever damn consequences I doled out. For once, I was running this circus. I knew that, at least for the next twelve hours or so, I was absolutely irreplaceable.

After the brief pause I allotted for everyone’s delicate sensibilities, I continued. “Now, normally, I’m a sweet Southern girl with manners too pristine to say something that… graphic at work. But, since everybody already knows, I ain’t gonna pretend like it didn’t happen. I just want to reassure all ya’ll that it’s not gonna happen again. Big mistake. Huge mistake.”

People were shaking their heads in disbelief. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jacob’s jaw clench, his cheekbones jutting out as he tilted his chin downward. Was he… hurt? A part of me, obviously, drew satisfaction from this. But another, damnable part of me wanted to rush over and nurse his wounds, to tell him that everything would be all right. Why was my heart such a fickle friend?

“Anyways,” I went on, rounding the finish line, “I’m working for Pillers again, because I hear you folks got yourselves into a bit of a pickle. Is that right?”

Finally, I got a real response from the rooms. The entire room chorused in with ‘yes’m,’ or ‘oh boy yeah.’ Nods all around. They seemed grim, and more than anything, embarrassed. Shame was a familiar emotion for me, so I had a pretty good idea of what they might be going through.

“It’s all right,” I told them, echoing the words I’d have wanted to hear. “Pitches go bad, shit happens. Life isn’t a straight line. And I’ll be honest with you, there may not be a second chance, because time only moves forward, not back. But Joe and Tom have asked me to return to reshape this pitch into everything it could be, everything it ought to have been. And maybe we’ll get a shot to run with it. Maybe not. Either way, we’ll do a job we can be proud of. Who’s in?”

Much to my surprise, the room erupted in cheers. Without a doubt, every single person was on board. Jacob clapped politely, but the excitement didn’t reach his eyes the way it reached those of my other co-workers. And how could blame him? After everything we’d been through this weekend, having to watch me lead a pitch — that, by the way, would probably amount to fuck all and do no good for his company — was indubitably a burden.

“All right, folks. Let’s get to work.”

We broke up into teams, and I had each group go over their presentation for me as I ironed out kinks and offered subtle course corrections. While assisting everyone, I realized that, though I’d done a good job preparing the presentations themselves, I hadn’t adequately prepared the people giving them on how to present. They were nervous, which was causing them to fumble, which led in turn to the numerous technology mishaps and general blunders Joe and Tom had described to me earlier.

So, I essentially spent my day soothing whinnying horses, coaxing them into no longer pawing at the ground. I did the best I could, then did it again ten times over. I was beginning to think maybe the whole mishap with Jacob had been a boon — after all, it’d allowed me to forfeit my pride and become better at my job.

I was riding the high of a task well done when I looked on my checklist and realized that I’d come to the very bottom, at which was the thing I’d been most avoiding.

It was time to talk to Jacob.

I didn’t like it, I didn’t want to do it, but it had to be done. Joe and Tom were good to their word, and I knew they wouldn’t make me work with him if I didn’t want to, but from everything I’d heard on their end, and from what fellow Pillers employees had obliquely referenced when recounting the pitch, Jacob had particularly fouled up his presentation. Now, no doubt part of that was because he was flustered and upset by what had gone done with me and Joe the night before. But that didn’t mean his part of the presentation was where it needed to be, and I needed to put my job first, and my emotions second — just like he had with me.

Thus, I strode over to Jacob, whose team surrounded him in the corner — they had, out of kindness, moved into his little nook of darkness. The room’s volume dropped as everyone turned to see what I would do, but I glanced back over my shoulder, letting them all know I had the basic five senses and could tell they were trying to eavesdrop, and suddenly, the volume was back as they all tried busily to convince me they weren’t spying. Humph.

And I came face to face with Jacob, the man who’d broken my heart — but who had also made me feel more than I’d ever known I was capable of feeling. He’d broken my heart, yes… but he’d also split it wide enough that new experiences, new sensations, could rush in.

Focus on the breaking! my mind screamed. Not all this ‘new experiences’ bullshit!

True. That wasn’t like me, to get caught up in the fantasy and neglect the reality of the situation. And the reality of this was that I’d been unceremoniously discarded in favor of his job, that only I’d been punished for our mutual actions. It was all so unfair. And let’s be real, sooo sexist.

But now he was staring me dead in the eyes and I was struggling to remember how guilty he was, how much he ought to be ashamed. The brown warmed me like hot chocolate, heating me down to my very core and, erm, other places near said core. His eyelashes fluttered as he took me in. The air was electric between us — though we stood a foot apart, I felt as though his skin was against mine. What other explanation was there for my nerve ends that seemed to be on fire?

His team, who had been milling around in the corner, took one look at us and quickly scrambled to another part of the room — I didn’t know where, and I didn’t much care.

“Well?” I asked him as soon as they were gone.

He remained mute, and I grew agitated.

“Jacob?” I demanded.

His gaze at last tore from mine, and he looked to the left, biting his lip. “I promised I wouldn’t speak to you. I’m keeping that promise.”

I struggled for words. “That’s… uh… good. That’s good. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.” Duh, Sierra, I thought to myself. I needed him to feel my anger — he deserved to burn the way I had burned. But there was work to get done. “I’m gonna set all that aside, but just for one minute, and just so I can help you with this pitch. Which I’m only helping you with because I care about my career. Understood?”

He nodded, but still wouldn’t look at me.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you understand,” I insisted.

Goddammit, why had I told him to do that? Because then his gaze, so hot and so tender, was on me once more, making me weak behind the knees.

“I understand,” he murmured in a low bass.

“Great,” I replied, trying to keep the nerves from inflecting my voice.

Together, we went over his presentation. I tried not to become agitated — or, if I’m being honest, turned on — by his proximity, but it was a sizable challenge. He was wearing a button-down white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, one or two buttons undone, and black slacks. He looked like an executive, a man in charge. The kind of guy who knew the rules because he had created them. Oh, I’d let that man bend me over a desk, anytime.

Shit. Um. Shit. It was that kind of stupid thinking that had gotten me here in the first place. He’s an asshole, Sierra, I consciously reminded myself. Don’t get played again.

So I crossed my legs, folded my arms, and communicated with every non-verbal language message possible that I hated him and hoped he got hit by a Mac truck. Jacob seemed to take the implication, and though he looked none too pleased, he didn’t begrudge my anger.

After a solid period of work, we’d ironed out the kinks in his presentation. His hands fluttered to the computer mouse near me to shut a document and our fingers touched. He immediately jerked them back, apologizing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to — to—”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately. “It was an accident.”

Had I wanted it to be an accident? I wasn’t sure.

“All right,” I continued, standing up from the long table and turning to face the rest of the room, who were chatting, practicing presentations, et cetera. To them, I announced, “I think you’re all ready.”

“Really?” Tom asked.

“Are you sure?” Joe rejoined, fidgeting like a toddler.

“As ready as we’ll ever be. Make the call. Quiet, everyone.”

The men nodded and I crossed the room to stand by their side as Joe pulled out his phone and pressed a contact. He turned it on speaker, and we waited for three long rings. At last, someone picked up.

“Hello?”

“Charles! Hey, hey there, it’s Joe Piller, of Pillers, wanted to say—”

“Why are you calling me?”

This set Joe back on his heels, so I hopped in. “Charles, it’s also Sierra. Of Pillers.”

Now Charles paused, before chuckling, “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again. Certainly didn’t think you’d be calling yourself ‘of Pillers.’”

“Things change,” I said breezily. “And things have definitely changed for the better around these parts. Like, for instance, we’ve strengthened our pitch, and we’d like a second chance.”

He snickered, “I’m charmed by your moxie, kiddo. You’ve got real balls.” The laugh dissipated and he continued, “But I only give out one chance. And you blew it.” The laugh returned. “Or is that turn of phrase perhaps a little too apt?”

The blood rushed to my cheeks. This guy really was a prick. In another universe, I’d be calling a magazine to report him for odious behavior, exposing his misdeeds to the country. As it was… I needed the job. And, unfortunately, shit heads like him have all the money.

While I couldn’t call him all the four-letter words that sprang readily to mind, I could eviscerate his business plans. Men like that respond to one thing, and one thing only, and that’s cold hard cash. I had to reason with Charles not in emotional terms, but in financial terms.

Joe was about to speak, but I shook my head quickly.

He nodded, and louder, into the receiver, I began to pontificate. “Listen, Charles,” I said, imagining myself pulling on some suspenders and chewing a cigar like an old money tycoon. “Our pitch was shit. You know that, I know that. But the pitch isn’t what you came for, right? You don’t care about whether or not our fonts were appealing or our graphs color-coded. You care about the bottom line. And the bottom line is that we’re not in the business of selling products — we’re builders, not salespeople.

“And let me get real with you. I’ve seen your timeline for building, know it like the back of my hand. You need this baby up within the year. I know you’ve already pre-sold units to certain people, made some promises. I don’t know what happens if your contracts fall through, but I know it can’t be good. Am I right?”

Silence. So I continued, “Thought so. You don’t have the time to find another building company based in Florida. In fact, I’d venture to guess you’ve already spoken with most of them, and drawn the conclusion that Pillers is the best, because, well, we are. If you drop us now, you’ll waste time finding another company, and you’ll end up having to settle for one of our competitors, who for all your trouble, probably still won’t finish the job on time.”

I cut myself off before I could add ‘you lousy prick,’ and waited tensely with everyone else for Charles’ reply.

At last, it came.

“Fine. You get one more chance. Can you be at the mansion in half an hour?”

The room broke into mute celebrations of joy — hugging, jumping up and down, fist pumping. I almost wished he could hear them rejoicing, could know how much this meant to all of us. But of course, this was supposed to be a private conversation. Oops!

“Yes,” I managed to say through a wide grin. “We can.”

“All right. Don’t fuck this up again.”

Charles clicked off, and we all let loose the shrieks of excitement we’d been stifling.

“Sierra, that was amazing!” someone called.

“You’re a damn hero!” another chimed in.

“You’ve saved the company!” exclaimed a third.

I clasped hands with Joe and Tom, then wrapped Amy in a gigantic hug, whispering, “Thank you.”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

And then suddenly I was right next to Jacob, whose face was nearly sparkling with joy, giving off kilowatts of happiness. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, and I could see relief in his brow.

I wanted to reach out and kiss him, to entwine his fingers with mine and revel in the success.

But I couldn’t.

Hesitantly, he swallowed and said, “That was incredible. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It was nothing,” I replied, blowing off his words for fear that I would get too enraptured by the emotion within them.

“No, it wasn’t,” he negated, shaking his head. “You saved my company. You saved my father.”

I blushed, but forced myself to accept the compliment. “Thank you, Jacob.” But of course, I couldn’t let him get his hopes too high — we needed to be realistic. “Remember that this is just a pitch. There’s every chance we could give it a second go and he could say no. Given everything that’s happened this weekend, he might decide we’re a bigger risk than we’re worth, and that another company might deliver late but be less of an internal wreck.”

Jacob leaned forward, and murmured, “Don’t downplay your victory.” His hand reached out as if to brush a strand of hair off my forehead, but he paused mid-movement, his fingers dangling in the air. With clear effort, he pulled the hand back, and tucked it into his pocket.

“Sorry,” he said suddenly.

He swiveled on his heel and strode towards his team, who he greeted with a whoop of excitement. They all slapped their hands on his back, calling him ‘good ol’ boy’ and ‘champ.’

Despite my monumental — and frankly, unexpected — success, my heart felt empty. I wanted what I couldn’t have — Jacob. I was right back to where I’d begun, angry and hurt and still dreaming of his touch. How could I break this apparent cycle of love and loss? What would it to let him go? And, at the very core of it all, did I want him to go? If I watched him walk away this weekend and he flew back to Tampa, would we ever see each other again?

My heart raced with questions and yearning, but my mind knew that there was a job to be done.

I had to go save this company.