Chapter 2
687 Words
“Paulie, I need you,” Viola yelled from the stage at the five-star hotel where the wedding we’d planned would be taking place in two hours.
“Yes, your royal pain in the ass,” I replied once I made my way to where she stood.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing I adore you like a brother. Otherwise, you’d be fired.”
“Ha,” I retorted. “No one else will put up with you, so you don’t scare me.”
Today’s event was a gay wedding, and we’d had many of those since same-s*x marriage had been legalized.
I looked around the platform. “Wait, where are the flowers for the stage? Shouldn’t they be here already?” I checked my iPad. Yes, I’d had them down for delivery half an hour ago.
The grooms-to-be had been adamant about having ten purple roses in ten purple vases lining the stage behind the ten groomsmen—yes, ten—who would be attending them in white suits, lavender shirts, and white ties with lilac polka dots. Hugely overkill, but, hey, that’s what they’d paid for since both men adored purple. I kept thinking Barney and friends would pop up at any second.
I checked my iPad for the name of the florist we’d used and the delivery schedule.
Viola said, “That’s just it. They would have been here, but there was an accident on the freeway. They’re stuck. We need to enact ‘Plan B’ in case they don’t arrive at all.” It was our motto to always be ready for anything, because s**t did, indeed, happen. “Please go back to the office and get the corporate credit card from Van and buy some roses, stat.”
Oh, great, I had to deal with him. Van had been anything but civil since I’d cut off the s*x, though I didn’t know what his problem was, since he seemed to get enough action, from what I’d heard. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? I pasted a smile of assent on my face and quickly texted the CFO about the situation so he’d know I’d be stopping by in a few to pick up the card.
I made some quick calls to florists in the area to reserve roses in whatever shade of purple they had for me, then got my car from the valet in front of the hotel and drove the ten minutes to our office located on the tenth floor of a swank class “A” building. I ran down the hall after waving distractedly to Adina, our longsuffering receptionist, and knocked three times on Van’s door before entering.
“Van, do you have the card ready—”
I stopped short on seeing our newest intern, Nigel Callum, riding the lap of our esteemed head of finance. I was ashamed to say my c**k showed interest behind my expensive slacks. At least the jock I wore kept things in check, to a point.
“Sorry,” I mumbled before shutting the door again.
It was likely that neither man had noticed my presence, as involved as they were in reaching the finish line. I leaned against the wooden frame, waiting for the obligatory sounds of release, gave them two minutes—I counted the seconds—to clean up after that before I knocked again. Time was of the essence, after all. My feelings of disappointment in Van would not be given the light of day.
“Van? It’s Paulie,” I called out. “Did you get my text? I need the company card to use for a wedding emergency.”
“Just a sec,” he replied, sounding muffled and a little breathy, from what I could tell.
The door opened a minute later, both men appearing neat, if a little flushed, when I stepped into the room. Air freshener did nothing to dispel the scent of c*m in the air. Nigel was seated in front of Van’s desk, staring at his cell phone. Van had a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Apologies for intruding, but I really need that card, please.” I kept my gaze focused on Van’s tie as I spoke. “Viola will explain later, I’m sure. I did send a text, though you were likely, er, busy at the time.”
“Likely.”
Had he no shame? Van went over to a safe on the wall and used the combination to open it. Once he got the card and handed it over, I walked to the door.
“Thanks,” I said, “and maybe use a stronger scented air freshener next time. It still smells like someone got f****d in here.” With that pronouncement, I made my exit.
- Writer
