Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“So have others in that office, and I bet they don’t know that, Bella.”
“Jeez, brother. Rein in the protective bear.”
“I saw how you were last night. You were crying, Bella. You never cry.”
“It was the pooch, who I love, by the way.”
He scowls and I sigh.
“Fine,” I say. “You want to know how he found out I get hangry?”
“Oh, yeah. I want to hear how he knows. I want to know a lot of things about you and Tyler, and you’re both a little too tight-lipped for me not to read into this. He will hurt you, Bella.”
He already did, I think, but what I say is, “Are we talking about my diet or what?”
“Are we?” he challenges.
“There was a meeting once between Tyler, me, and a big country star I was about to sign who started acting like an arrogant ass. We knew he had that in him, and I warned Tyler before the meeting that I hadn’t eaten and my patience would be low.” I sip the coffee and it’s cold but good enough to still be decent. It’s not really something that strikes me as a Tyler drink—chocolate and cinnamon, I think—and I like it. Once the cup is back in the saucer I add, “You know the joy of having money is that you can’t be held captive by money.”
“Do I even want to know how this played out?” Dash asks.
“Very similar to any fight we’ve ever had when I haven’t eaten. I was that Bella.” I chow down on a bit of my sandwich, which is technically a croissant.
“Yeah, I know that Bella well.” He curls his fingers at me. “Bring it. What did you do?”
I shrug and swallow, reaching for the cup again. “I told him that I thought it was best he find another rep, after which I excused myself and went to the café, where I inhaled a yogurt cup. I even remember the flavor. It was cherry and it tasted really good that day.”
“Who was the singer?”
“You have to hear the rest of the story to appreciate who it is. I left the meeting around two o’clock. An hour later with a bowl of soup down me along with a chunk of bread, and mental clarity restored, I was pretty sure I’d be fired.”
“But you weren’t, obviously. Unless you were and then got rehired, and I never heard about it.”
“I wasn’t fired.” I set my cup down, remembering that night as the night I truly turned a corner with Tyler, at least as boss and employee. It was the night I felt he respected my decision-making. “It was probably seven that evening and I was working late, talking myself out of going ahead and packing my things. And then he was just there, standing in my office door.”
“Tyler?”
“Yes, Tyler. I held my breath, waiting for him to tell me to hit the road.”
“And?”
“He stood there for all of a minute, stared at me, and then said ‘You have a big set of balls for a woman, but you did the right thing today. Once a problem, always a problem. Get some rest.’ I’d blinked, and he was gone.”
“How inappropriately Tyler,” Dash comments.
“Yeah, but you know, for the most part, I’m used to him, and he’s taught me a lot about this business. I would never have closed your deals—any of them—without him as a sounding board.”
“Didn’t seem like you were used to him last night,” he observes, a little too clearly.
I simply remind him of what I’ve already said to him last night. “I explained that last night.”
“You tried,” he says, letting me know he buys none of it, but for now he moves on. “What happened with the client?”
“I arrived to work the next day to a gorgeous arrangement of flowers and a five-thousand-dollar gift card to Chanel.”
“Tell me that was not Tyler, because that is over the line.”
“Of course, it wasn’t Tyler. Why would my boss send me gifts for losing a giant client?” I don’t give him a chance to answer before I add, “It was the client, and there was an apology note attached.”
“You’d think the client would understand money doesn’t motivate you after you gave him the proverbial finger. And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this story when it happened.”
“Yes, well, I go home with so many, it’s hard to share them all. As for the financial motivation, you’re right. Gifts don’t motivate me. But I like the money I earn. You know my goal is to leave Mom’s money untouched for retirement.”
“Then what did you do with the gifts?”
“I gave him back the gift card, gave the flowers to the receptionist, and agreed to another meeting. He’s a top client now. We’ve done well together. The studio loves how humble he is.”
Tyler rejoins us and obviously having heard the conversation adds, “You talking about Carter?”