Riley
This whole goddamn thing is confusing, but for some reason, I’m actually starting to enjoy myself.
Maybe it’s the little “relaxation technique” that Aaron showed me, or maybe I’m just starting to get more comfortable with my role. The first week flies past, one day after the next of meetings followed by boring hotel rooms. We drive across Indiana, heading toward the Chicago area, taking meeting after meeting with owners that typically don’t care about anything but the free lunch we offer them after the presentation. It’s frustrating, but at least Aaron doesn’t complain about my performance anymore.
“These guys are gonna buy,” he says to me as we drive to a local Applebee’s.
“How do you know?” I ask. “We haven’t met them yet.”
“Just got a certain eagerness over the phone. Besides, not a lot of them want to meet after work hours.”
“Good point,” I say, although I don’t add that I’d also rather not meet after business hours. This is my job, and Aaron hates when I whine about it. I can’t really blame him. It’s about time I sucked it up and made the best of my situation.
We park in the lot and head inside. It’s like any other Applebee’s, and Aaron spots the guys we’re here to meet sitting at the bar. The first man’s name is Roger. He’s portly, with a thick mustache and a crisp white shirt. The other guy’s a lot younger, maybe in his twenties, and I spot the resemblance almost immediately.
“Roger, Carter, this is Riley,” Aaron introduces me. “She’s the head engineer.”
“Well now, a lady engineer,” Roger bellows.
“Jesus, Dad,” Carter quickly says. “You can’t say things like that.”
“What?” He looks around like he has no clue what his son’s talking about. “I’m just saying, not a lot of lady engineers. It’s impressive!”
“Okay, let’s sit down before my father says something racist.” Carter quickly ushers us all to stools at the bar. Aaron sits closest to the two men, and instantly starts talking about the panels.
I can’t say I’m too insulted by what the old guy said, although I’m surprised he actually said it out loud. I can tell people are thinking that when they first meet me based on the looks they give, but they normally are polite enough to keep it to themselves.
Apparently, this guy isn’t so polite.
“Drinks!” he bellows, interrupting Aaron’s pitch. “We need some drinks if I’m going to listen to this all night.”
Carter winces. “Dad, come on. Be polite.”
“Polite,” the old man rumbles. “That shit’s for you young people. Bartender!”
The bartender, a young girl with thick blonde hair and too much makeup, trots over. “What can I get you guys?”
“Whisky for me,” Roger bellows. “Beer for my boy and the salesman fellow. And a white wine for the lady.”
I blink, surprised. I haven’t had someone order me a drink in a while. Aaron’s about to say something but the bartender trots off to get the drinks before he can speak up.
He gives me an apologetic look but gets back to business. The bartender returns with the drinks and I take a tiny sip of mine, just to placate Roger. He drinks enough for both of us, though, finishing off two more whiskies by the time Aaron finishes pitching to Carter.
“Is all that true?” Carter asks Aaron. “I mean, it sounds promising. But do you have production models yet?”
Aaron turns to me. “I think you can take over,” he says, shifting himself out of his seat.
I slide across and take his vacated stool. As I’m about to answer Carter, his father speaks up. “Your wine!”
I’m a little startled. “I’m sorry, what was that, sir?”
“Your wine,” he repeats. “You’re not drinking. You’ll let an old man drink alone?”
“You’re not alone,” I point out. “And everyone else is drinking.”
“But you’re not! It’s rude.”
Aaron sits down next to me and leans over the bar. “And it’s rude to force a lady to drink when she doesn’t want to.” He glares at the old whale, and I’m genuinely surprised.
“It’s okay, I’m just—” I start to say, but Aaron stops me.
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He looks up at Roger again. “Or are you going to force her to talk about her personal life at a business meeting?”
“Okay, okay,” Carter finally speaks up. “Dad, you’ve had enough to drink. Riley, can we get back to business?”
I nod gratefully, and we start talking specifics again.
By the end of the night, Carter makes a verbal commitment to buy. We head back to the car, and Aaron’s practically beaming.
“Finally!” he says, laughing. “Took us long enough.”
“Think he’s for real?” I ask.
“Definitely.” He unlocks the car and we get in. “I think he’ll actually buy, too.”
“Really?” I feel a surge of excitement. “You think so?”
“I feel it.” He laughs, starting the engine. “And holy shit, his father. That guy was a piece of shit.”
“Lady engineer,” I quote, and Aaron laughs.
“And trying to force you to drink! Jesus, if his son weren’t there, I bet the old bastard would’ve pinched your ass or something.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Listen, you didn’t need to stand up for me.”
“I know,” he says. “But I wanted that sale, and I knew that the old bastard was going to ruin it if I let him.”
I grin. “It wasn’t for my honor, then?”
He turns to me, expression serious. “It was for you,” he says. “This whole trip is for you, remember?”
He turns back to the road and I’m taken aback. He was so sincere that I can’t decide if he’s fucking with me or if he really means it.
But I can see where he’s coming from. If this trip is a success, I stand to make a lot of money. Still, this trip is far from my idea of a good time. I never wanted any of it.
“We’ll probably get some more of that, you know,” he says after a short silence. “It’s messed up and not right, but it’s probably going to happen again.”
“Men are pigs and sexists,” I say, grinning at him. “Right?”
“Exactly,” he agrees, nodding along with me. “And you’d better stick with me, little lady. I’ll protect you.”
I laugh and punch his arm, leaning toward him and smiling. I feel high from the excitement of that sale, and I don’t want the night to end.
We get back to the hotel and head up to our rooms. I pause outside of mine, looking at him for a second. He looks back, a little quizzical expression on his face.
I have to admit, he’s impressive. He’s an asshole and pushy and I dislike him most of the time, but he still knows what he’s doing. Sure, he doesn’t close every single meeting, but I can tell he’ll close every single meeting where we have a chance. And the fact that he wants to spend all this time with me on the road, all for my own benefit, it says something about him.
But it’s not just for my benefit, I have to keep reminding myself. He wants my baby and he wants me, and this is all a part of his trap. He wants me to start overlooking all the things I don’t like about him. He wants to charm me.
I’m not going to let that happen. I can’t let it happen. I’m putting this baby up for adoption, one way or another.
“Goodnight,” I say to him, and head into my room.
“Night,” he says as my door shuts behind me.