Page 49 of It's Not PMS, It's You

“You don’t ever learn, Mason. Ruth has got your number. This won’t end well.” Gary shook his headno, warning me to not take the bait.

I sat up in my chair contemplating my next move.

I respect people who treat me with respect.

Mason didn’t fit in that category.

Even when someone and I had different opinions, I would always try to see things from their point of view if they were passionate and sincere about something.

Mason was just being a dick, as usual.

Keep in mind he still has a huge stake in the company and you will need to keep the peace until you’re at the helm.

I’m grateful Gary reminded me of this because I was so close to telling Mason that I was impressed that he was flexible enough to have his foot in his mouth and his head up his butt at the same time.

I just smiled, knowing the day would come when he would get what he deserved. “I’m good, thanks so much for asking.”

Mason huffed and crossed his arms, looking disappointed that I hadn’t taken the bait.

Gary winked at me, looking content that I hadn’t played Mason’s game.

Sometimes it’s better to take the high road.

Not always, though.

In fact . . .

“Oh . . .” I couldn’t help changing my mind. “I noticed you were the only one here who didn’t talk about your round of golf at Torrey Pines. Why is that?”

A few of the guys laughed and one of them said, “That’s because he shot a one-oh-two”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Mason said. “Are we done here?”

I scratched the side of my face, just not ready to let this one go. “That’s a par seventy-two course, am I right, fellas?”

“Sure as hell is,” said Steve, one of the other partners.

“That would mean Mason shot thirty over par. Well, I guess you were just having an off day.”

Mason glared at me. “Hey, I was driving the ball well off the tee, but just couldn’t get a handle on the putting once I got it on the green.”

I nodded. “Maybe you just need to grip it and stroke it harder. You know what that’s like.” I winked.

Laughter filled the conference room as Gary cleared his throat and stood. “Meeting adjourned. Remember, we need to come up with some fresh ideas for new revenue streams. I’ll be sending an email to the entire staff later today.” He walked around the large conference room table and leaned close to my ear. “I thought you said you were going to take it easy on him.”

“Believe me, Iwastaking it easy.”

After stopping by Dee’s desk to say hello, I was out the door, driving the ten minutes to Little Italy. I parked on State Street near Amici Park, and walked past the bocce ball courts to the amphitheater inside.

Max was leaning casually against a pillar in his black pin-stripe suit, his hair slicked back, grinning, like he was posing for some men’s magazine.

He was trying way too hard, but I wouldn’t hold that against him.

Max pushed himself off the pillar and closed the distance between us. “Ruth. So good to meet you in person.” He held out his hand.

“A pleasure.” I shook his hand and then looked around the park. “I must have eaten in Little Italy a hundred times, but I’ve never been to this park before.”

“It’s small, but has lots of personality. Follow me. I’d like to show you something.”