Page 71 of Emmett
I watch my hands as they drift across the keys, and I can feel his throat in my grip. The genuine hurt and confusion in his eyes flick through my mind in a painful flashback and I grind my molars against each other so roughly that I worry I may crack one of them.
With a sigh, I stand and close the lid of the piano, cover the keys with their fallboard, and step out of the room.
“Get me a scotch,” I order one of the staff members passing me. “And for fuck’s sake, put it on ice.”
I trek up the stairs and into my office, dropping into my leather chair with a sigh, and Moose settles next to me with a whine. I reach down to scratch behind his ear as the man that I spoke with earlier steps into the room with a glass in one hand and a stack of envelopes in the other. “Your scotch and your mail, sir,” he tells me.
Gesturing him forward, I take both from him, sipping on the scotch as I sort through the mail. Junk here, an invitation there, a bill there. Finally, a letter addressed to me from the home of Jefferson and Molly Montgomery. I use mygrandfather’s letter opener to slice through the top and I pull out the paper inside: another letter, once again asking me to visit with them. They send the same letter, written in slightly different wording, at least twice per year. Just like every other time since the first letter, I stand and toss the thing into the fireplace at the side of the room.
Moose lets out another whine as the fire crackles, taking their words with it. “It’s all for the best,” I tell him.
•
My assistant trails me in a way not unlike Moose as I march through the office building, keeping himself less than a foot away from me at all times. “Mr. Montgomery,” he pants as he tries to keep up with me, “Nash, you— are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I’m certain that he’s referring to my unkempt hair, devoid of product and style, and the loose sweater and dark wash jeans that I’ve dressed myself in today, in place of one of my white suits. “I haven’t been feeling well,” I snap at him, “but you sodesperatelyneeded me back.” Reaching for a large binder on my desk, I toss it into his hands. “So this is your task for today. We’re implementing these changes across all of our nightclubs. See to it that they go into effect immediately and that all runs smoothly. That should keep you busy enough to not bother me, yes?”
“Nash—”
“I’m going home,” I tell him. “Should you need me, take the issue to someone fucking else.”
Like Vincent, my assistant is on the short list of those who don’t seem to be afraid of me. No matter which mask I wear or what I say, he stays dutifully by my side. His greeneyes search mine as he stands in front of me, hefting the binder in his arms.
“What are you waiting for? You were given a job. Go do it.”
“Do you need to talk about something?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, wearing that stupid fucking pitying look on his face.
“We aren’t friends,” I tell him. “You do what I tell you to and I pay your bills.”
With that, I reach for my keys and shoulder past him out of the office, headed back to the quiet of my own house.
This isn’t a mask; as heavy as they’d gotten, one of my masks would be lighter than this. I amangry,mostly at myself. I amworried, mostly about him.
I think that for the first time in my life, it’s possible that I may actually feel properly lonely.
TWENTY-NINE
Emmett
“Delivery,” Davis announces as he opens my office door, carrying a box under his arm. “Think these were supposed to come to you.”
“Oh cool, yeah, thanks.” I take the box from him and drop it onto my desk, tearing away the tape holding it together. Inclining my head toward the door I ask him, “Will you go ahead and shut that on your way out?”
He blows out a breath, furrowing his brow, and he steps closer. Reaching past me, he grabs the paper coffee cup off of my desk and sniffs at the lid, pulling his head back with a grimace. “Fuck me. Gonna add some coffee to that Irish, Hoss?”
“You drink on the clock,” I snap.
“Only difference is everyone knows when I do it,” he chuckles. “I’m not pretendin’ it’s something else and locking myself in my office at,” he pulls his wrist up to check his watch, “nine AM. I’ll make ya a deal: you grab a stick of gum and a water bottle before someone else smells that shit, and if you wanna drink about somethin’, we can go out after we’re done here.”
“Fine.”
“Good. Montgomery’s gonna be here in ten, so get fixed up and get in there.”
“Do Ireally need to be there?” I ask. “I— have a headache.”
“Well, lemme think on that for a sec. Owner of the company,” he says, pointing to himself. Moving to point toward the hallway, aiming for Dad’s office, he adds, “Owner of the company, and…hold on for a sec here, I think there might be one more—” he points to me now, “that’s right, owner of the damn company. Yeah, man, we all gotta be there.”
He leaves with a friendly whack of his palm against my back and I shut the door behind him, watching the time tick down on my watch until Nash is due to arrive. When ten minutes pass, I step out of my office and carefully move down the hallway to do probably the most gutless thing I’ve ever done in my life.