Page 47
Story: Power Twist
“I called him to let him know what was going on,” she whines. “He must have gotten in the truck and headed south.”
“What's going on?” T demands, palms on the table and leaning in close like we're about to discuss a top-secret mission.
“Taeler's dad, my ex, is here.”
“Is he dangerous?” T asks, brows raised.
“No,” I grumble, crossing both arms over my chest in a full-on pout. “Can this night get any worse?”
“I need fucking snacks for this shit show,” Tiny says as he stands from the table. “Do not start the show before I get back. You want some banana pudding?”
Nodding, I flip him the bird. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Doll, I am, but this is the most entertainment I've had in years. Don't blame me for enjoying it.”
I watch as he ambles through the crowd, bumping against several guest’s shoulders with his thick hips as he makes his way down the tight rows of benches and chairs.
“Should I be worried?” I startle at Trey's lips against my ear.
“No,” I whisper. “It's… we're… it's history.”
“Not very convincing, Mess.”
Taeler pushes from the table and hooks a thumb toward the door. “You two talk, I'll go get dad. He's headed to the restaurant from Hoodwink.”
“I'll go with you—”
A heavy hand shoves down on my shoulder, keeping me in my seat.
“Not a chance, Mess.” Trey raises a hand and motions for Grem. “Go outside with Taeler. Make sure she's safe while she waits on her dad.”
A sly smile spreads across Taeler's lips. “I like you already. Thanks, Trey.”
The chatter of the restaurant filters in, providing the perfect background noise to keep our conversation private.
“He's a good guy,” Trey says above me, his eyes tracking the entire restaurant. “Also he knows if anything happens, you'll have his balls for it, so she's safe on all fronts.”
Not wanting to see another death glare, I keep my eyes on the rough wooden table. “What's with the gas price thing?”
His shoulders rise and fall. “Not sure. I've noticed it too but never thought you had something to do with it. No clue why they do, though maybe that’s because I know what you do day in and day out. But it's not good. These people are not happy.”
“Awesome. Just one more thing for me to fucking deal with.” Pulling out my phone, I quickly type a reminder note to look into it once we're back in DC. “The bill, Russians, Taeler's hormones, and now rising gas prices I have no damn idea what to do about. Good thing none of those are major,” I say with an incredulous laugh. “Fuck.”
“You need more help, Mess. You need a team bigger than you, Jessica, and your admin.”
“I know, but I don't have anyone else I can trust.” Rolling my shoulders, I shake out my tight fingers. “It's fine. I can handle it.”
“Mess—”
“It's fine. I have dozens of people working on other projects for me, so I do have help. I need to handle these things personally though. Especially the Taeler thing.” Craning my neck, I try to see to the front door. “Think they're okay out there?”
“Pretty sure he already has her pants off,” T deadpans.
I try to bolt off the bench, but two hands grip my shoulders, shoving me back into the seat with more force than necessary. “I'm kidding, Randi. They're fine. Grem just reported in. Your ex just pulled into the parking lot.”
“I need a drink,” I grumble.
“Not a great idea,” T says, glancing around the small eating area. “In fact, can we do this reunion somewhere else?”
“What's going on?” T demands, palms on the table and leaning in close like we're about to discuss a top-secret mission.
“Taeler's dad, my ex, is here.”
“Is he dangerous?” T asks, brows raised.
“No,” I grumble, crossing both arms over my chest in a full-on pout. “Can this night get any worse?”
“I need fucking snacks for this shit show,” Tiny says as he stands from the table. “Do not start the show before I get back. You want some banana pudding?”
Nodding, I flip him the bird. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Doll, I am, but this is the most entertainment I've had in years. Don't blame me for enjoying it.”
I watch as he ambles through the crowd, bumping against several guest’s shoulders with his thick hips as he makes his way down the tight rows of benches and chairs.
“Should I be worried?” I startle at Trey's lips against my ear.
“No,” I whisper. “It's… we're… it's history.”
“Not very convincing, Mess.”
Taeler pushes from the table and hooks a thumb toward the door. “You two talk, I'll go get dad. He's headed to the restaurant from Hoodwink.”
“I'll go with you—”
A heavy hand shoves down on my shoulder, keeping me in my seat.
“Not a chance, Mess.” Trey raises a hand and motions for Grem. “Go outside with Taeler. Make sure she's safe while she waits on her dad.”
A sly smile spreads across Taeler's lips. “I like you already. Thanks, Trey.”
The chatter of the restaurant filters in, providing the perfect background noise to keep our conversation private.
“He's a good guy,” Trey says above me, his eyes tracking the entire restaurant. “Also he knows if anything happens, you'll have his balls for it, so she's safe on all fronts.”
Not wanting to see another death glare, I keep my eyes on the rough wooden table. “What's with the gas price thing?”
His shoulders rise and fall. “Not sure. I've noticed it too but never thought you had something to do with it. No clue why they do, though maybe that’s because I know what you do day in and day out. But it's not good. These people are not happy.”
“Awesome. Just one more thing for me to fucking deal with.” Pulling out my phone, I quickly type a reminder note to look into it once we're back in DC. “The bill, Russians, Taeler's hormones, and now rising gas prices I have no damn idea what to do about. Good thing none of those are major,” I say with an incredulous laugh. “Fuck.”
“You need more help, Mess. You need a team bigger than you, Jessica, and your admin.”
“I know, but I don't have anyone else I can trust.” Rolling my shoulders, I shake out my tight fingers. “It's fine. I can handle it.”
“Mess—”
“It's fine. I have dozens of people working on other projects for me, so I do have help. I need to handle these things personally though. Especially the Taeler thing.” Craning my neck, I try to see to the front door. “Think they're okay out there?”
“Pretty sure he already has her pants off,” T deadpans.
I try to bolt off the bench, but two hands grip my shoulders, shoving me back into the seat with more force than necessary. “I'm kidding, Randi. They're fine. Grem just reported in. Your ex just pulled into the parking lot.”
“I need a drink,” I grumble.
“Not a great idea,” T says, glancing around the small eating area. “In fact, can we do this reunion somewhere else?”
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