Page 37 of Open for Negotiation
“What do you think? Miranda showed, started her bullshit, as usual, and left. That’s about par for the course, isn’t it?” I scrub my hand over my face, completely overwhelmed by the day.
“Why do you do that?” he asks, leaning forward with his elbows on my desktop.
“Do what?”
“Act like what she does, and how she acts, is somehow excusable? You always have this tone like you’re apologizing for her and it’s fucking bizarre.”
I don’t like to talk about Miranda’s issues with others. It’s no one’s business, especially because it involves her health. Borderline Personality Disorder is no laughing matter and it’s not taken seriously enough by the general public because it doesn’t have a fancy name like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. Even Miranda has a hard time grasping the concept of just how serious it is. Getting her to take her medication is a battle in and of itself.
“Miranda makes choices and does things that are wrong. I’m guilty of reacting to those things negatively, and I’ve even done things that I’m not proud of when it comes to her, but she is struggling, that’s obvious…”
“And you have a soft spot for her. You always have.”
“Even now, when honestly… I hate her.” Saying those words out loud is incredibly cathartic. I do hate her, but at the same time, I have love for her because I did care about her once upon a time. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.
“You’re going to have to stop tiptoeing around this issue with her, drown her in court, and move on. She’s only contesting this divorce in hopes you’ll back down and take her back, which, just so we’re clear, I’ll literally hurt you if you do.” He smiles like he’s kidding, but in a sense he isn’t. I think Jackson hates her more than I do.
“I’m not taking her back. I’m just trying to get through this divorce the legal way, the right way, making sure there are no loopholes that she and her attorneys can exploit.”
“So, why aren’t you bringing up these episodes? And the fact that she threw a rock through your window, or the fact that she broke into your house? You’re telling your attorney the Fortress related things, but not the things that are legally wrong.”
“Miranda is sick, Jackson. She needs help, not hindrance. I’m not just going to hang her out to dry. We don’t know what could happen to her if I did that.”
“But that’s not really your problem anymore, nor would it be your fault. That’s what divorce is for.”
“Says the man who’s never experienced it, let alone had a single steady relationship in his entire life.”
“Yeah, for damn good reason apparently. Look what it’s doing to you. You’ve got that gorgeous blonde out there who makes you smile and has somehow agreed to enthusiastically sleep with you, yet you spend your spare time worrying about Miranda and her shit.”
“Scarlett has nothing to do with—”
“Ah ha!! I knew it! You are sleeping with her! I called it. I knew it.” He claps his hands once then drums a rhythm on my desk with them. “I knew it. I love being right.”
Fuck.
“Look, don’t make that a big deal, all right? She’s my employee. We are trying to keep that as low key as possible for a variety of reasons that I don’t even have time to cover with you, and I’d appreciate if we didn’t discuss it in this building anymore.”
“Just let me say one more thing and I’ll zip my lips.”
I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Go ahead. You’re going to, no matter what I say.”
“You’re right about that.”
“I see the way she looks at you, and the way you look at her. If you do anything to fuck this up, I’ll flirt with her in front of you, on principle. Got it? She seems like a nice woman and you deserve that. Keep your shit in check, especially with Miranda. Don’t let her shit taint your new shit.”
“We should make a drinking game. Take a shot every time you say the word shit.”
He reaches onto my desk and snatches my pen from my notepad before tossing it at me like a toddler. I expertly swat it away before it hits my face.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” he says, laughing.
“Yeah, I know, but I’m the best dick you know.” I freeze, and my face contorts in realization as to what I just said. “Wait. Never mind. Don’t read into that.”
Jackson begins to hysterically laugh at my expense.
This is why I’m glad he’s here in Atlanta with me. He’s able to bring laughter and a bit of levity to even the shittiest of days.
***
