Good morning! In case you’ve forgotten, Becca is Conor’s dead wife’s sister. She’s a pain and calling him today to be more of a pain.
Conor sat at his desk ripping a new one in a CEO who deserved it less than Roy. Conor hadn’t slept most of the night and had arrived at work feeling like a WWE fighter before a match. When Conor finished yelling, the CEO nodded his head, stood up and ran out of the office.
Conor rose, shoving his chair backwards. He strode to the window and stared out over Manhattan.
He wanted Charisse.
But if she wanted him as her boyfriend, she never would’ve agreed to dinner with the captain. So he’d take her as his employee. He’d gone over the contract several times that day, looking for loopholes she might use to get out of it, but there were none. She could always quit, but she’d lose the income from the salon. Besides, she wasn’t going to give up the salon easily. He was counting on her to stick around in the hopes she’d get it back somehow.
He pondered what his first directive should be. The scheduling had been a sore spot. Maybe that’s where he should start.
“Mr. Grishin,” said Jack from his doorway.
Conor turned around. “Yes?”
“Becca is on line one. I’ve been putting her off all day, but she’s yelling about some party you’re planning for her?”
“Christ, she’s the last person I want to talk to today.” He crossed the office to his desk and picked up the phone without sitting down.
Jack closed the door as he left.
“What?” asked Conor.
“I haven’t heard anything from you about the party plans. Why don’t you just give me Raul’s number? I’m sure he’s the one doing all the work.” Her brash voice scraped at his nerves.
“You didn’t give me any dates or specifics. I thought you’d email me.”
“For fuck’s sake I told you I wanted it soon.”
“Fine, how about Monday at 11 am?”
“Listen asshole, you’re going to do this right for me. You took away the only family I had…”
His voice blasted into the phone. “I didn’t take her away from you. She took the risks. She loved living life on the edge. I will do this for you because she’d want me to, but then that’s it. I never want to see you again. You’re not lording guilt over me any more. Send me your top three dates, and I’ll get Raul to work on it.”
He slammed the phone down. Blood roared in his ears. Pain thrummed in his head.
Jack appeared with a shot of Scotch in one hand and the bottle in the other. Conor took the glass, tossed the Scotch back and waited for Jack to poor him another. At least the pain was ebbing.
Jack said, “I know you probably don’t want to take another call, but this is the second time the salon has called.”
“The salon? Ma Charisse?”
“Yes, Mei keeps saying it’s important.”
“Mei? Not Charisse?”
“Put her through.”
It seemed strange that Mei would be calling. Maybe Charisse had quit and told them he was their boss. He imagined she’d at least told them he owned the salon by now.
He picked up the phone. “Yes?”