Page 61 of Negotiation Tactics
A surge of adrenaline shakes me to my very core. My stomach turns upside down as a sense of unfairness spreads through me and twists my insides. For Gabrio, who I don’t even know. For all the other Gabrio-s too, who, unlike me, don’t have the advantage of being rich.
They are fighting, with all that they’ve got, every day. Yet they might never win.
I grab onto the chair’s armrest and let it ground me. I’m on fire, ready to do what I should have done years ago. I’m scared shitless, but I’m also excited. I have the opportunity to make things happen, and this time, I won’t let my doubts get in the way. I’m done cowering in the corner like a kid who knows no better.
With a deep breath, I open up my contacts list and dial Lewis Devon. As the beeps sound, I twiddle with the edges of the napkin I still keep in the pocket of my jacket, even though I should’ve thrown it away weeks ago.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And as my dad picks up, I realize there was a reason for it.
“Hello, dad. We need to talk.”
23
Josh
Mariamwalksintomyoffice, her beaming smile telling me that her daughter, Sonya, has won another choreography contest.
“I see congratulations are in order,” I say as I take the box of freshly backed triple chocolate cookies from her hand. They smell divine.
“She won by a landslide.” She slaps my hand as I try to open the box. “Don’t touch them yet. It’s almost lunchtime.”
Glancing at my clock, I realize she’s right. “Just one?”
“Nope. We are going to the buffet place, so you need all the space you can have.”
Good point. The purpose of a buffet is to stuff yourself so full of food, you can barely walk afterwards. If I demolish her cookies beforehand, I’d be at a disadvantage. “Who’s going?”
“The usual suspects—Lily, you, me, Ben, Sharon.” She pauses, squinting her eyes at me like she’s about to scold me. “Peterson is invited, too.”
To my credit, I half-manage to keep my wince subtle, but it still makes her cross her arms over her chest. Today, she’s sporting a neon blue skirt and an electric green off-the-shoulder top, whereas I’m wearing beige slacks and a burgundy shirt.
“Maybe I should skip today…”
There is a pause. She knows what happened, I confessed it all to her and Lily. They also figured out that I’m still a little hung up on Alistair, even though it’s been a few weeks. He just got under my skin when he called me out of the blue during my date with Peterson, okay?
“No, you aren’t skipping just because you don’t want to feel awkward in his company. You face head on what makes you uncomfortable, Josh. You aren’t the type that runs away,” she challenges, because she knows that I blocked Alistair rather than having a go at him on the phone. In my defense, I was angry and kind of panicked. Plus, I wanted to be mature and do the more civil thing.
“You are right,” I agree, showing her a row of teeth as I prop my elbows on the desk and rest my chin in my palms. I also bat my eyelashes at her. “Now shoo, so I can finish up this report.”
She attempts a hard look but fails. “No touching the cookies or I’ll give them away.”
“Not if I can eat them all first,” I counter, cradling the box to my chest before she can snatch it.
Laughing, she leaves my office. I eat one just to spite her, but I don’t touch the rest, putting the box in my bag so it doesn’t tempt me.
About to get back to my report, I glance briefly at the painting on the wall and then out of the window. It’s sunny outside and the temperature is warm enough so that I can feel its gentle caress as it crosses into my office. I like spring—it’s sunny and green and warm and it leads to summer. But that’s enough distractions—I do have work to do. Daydreaming about picnics can wait.
Two paragraphs later, my phone rings and I have a feeling the universe is working against me today, tryingto get in the way of me finishing this damn report. It’s probably because I hate reports. Sighing, I check the caller ID, finding it to be an unknown number. My heart skips because for one very uncomfortable and hopeful moment, I ponder if it might be Alistair. Maybe like me, he’s still not over the whole thing and despite me blocking him, he’s gotten a new number just so he can call me and we can shout at each other.
But then, why did he wait until now and didn’t call me back right away?
“Hello,” I answer, nipping that ridiculous fantasy in the bud.
“Hi, Josh,” a familiar voice says. It’s not Alistair’s of course, but I do recognize it. “This is Brady Sanders. Devon Holidays’ new Vice President.”
“And Lily’s current best friend,” I counter over a huff of laughter. Why is Brady calling me? Something to do with her? Is her phone dead or something?
“That too, but I’m calling in my capacity of the former. Are you available at, let’s say… four p.m.?”
