Page 9 of Negotiation Tactics
“Chop, chop. You don’t want to be late,” Brady urges me, knocking on the door’s frame as he rocks back and forth on his heels.
Ah, he hasn’t been to the gym yet, so he’s restless. He’s a bit obsessed with working out and his big arms are proof of it. Three times a day is his normal, but if you ask me, that’s a bit too much. Still, I can’t complain, because if not for him, I probably wouldn’t be in such a good shape.He’s somewhat taken on the role of a Personal Trainer to me.
“Sir, yes, sir.” I salute him and get going. We enter the elevator, which is near my office, and I press on the conference floor.
“Last chance. You sure you don’t want me to tag along?”
“I don’t want to scare Amy Lee off, dude. I want to instill friendliness and professionalism and just listen to what she has to say. You better go lift or something.”
“A salary increase of a hundred percent, more holidays, better benefits.” He counts on his fingers. “You know how it goes.”
Not really, but I have an idea. My father made sure of it after sitting me down and lecturing me for two hours last night. It’s part of why I got little sleep.
“I can hold my ground,” I assure my friend.
We reach the first floor and he moves aside so I can exit the elevator. “Sure, whatever you say. I’ll get the popcorn and napkins ready.”
Did I mention my best friend is a dumbass?
“Get out.”
“I plan to. Heard your old man is playing golf with Santiago. Want me to swing by?”
Barbara, his PA, rushes over to us and hands him an envelope. He opens it, frowns and sends her off with a nod.
“You’d do that?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Sure. Can’t let daddy miss out on the opportunity to show off at least one of his two sons.”
His shit-eating grin is infections, making me laugh, too. We aren’t brothers or anything, but sometimes it really feels like we are. My parents love him and we’ve always joked about adopting him.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Have fun.”
“You don’t let your ass get handed to you, buddy. Love ya!” He smacks his lips and blows me an air kiss.
Shaking my head, I recenter myself and take a few slow inhales. I know this won’t be easy, but I’ve prepared myself and covered my bases. I know what to say and how to shut down the rep. I got this.
As I pass by the reception area, the woman at the desk informs me that the rep is in meeting room four. It’s the one at the back, medium-sized and airy. I reach it after a final pep-talk to myself, square my shoulders, and open the door.
I’m so ready for this.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alistair Devon, Junior Partner at Devon Holidays…” I say and kind of swallow my tongue because I am sonotready for this.
Not even a tiny bit.
Because the fierce woman I expected to meet is not a woman at all. She’s a man, whose soul-stealing green eyes I can never mistake.
They belong to none other but the sassy brat I hooked up with a month ago whom I’ve been trying—and failing—to forget ever since.
4
Josh
Holyshit,thiscan’tbe happening. Why ishehere? He can’t be here.
We stare at each other like two spooked rabbits.
Fuck. Me. What do I do now?
