ERIC REYNOLDS CONSTRUCTION
Eric was a fool and he knew it. He was a desperate, pathetic fool, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help himself and he couldn't stop himself and he knew he was making a spectacle of himself. But he couldn't be bothered to care about that, either.
For the next three days, it all kept coming back to him. Literally. Multiple bouquets of flowers, a couple of boxes of chocolate, a plush dog, a pair of tickets to a jazz concert, and--going for broke--a necklace with a diamond paw print charm directly from Tiffany. All of them hand delivered, all of them hand delivered right back to him. To his office. In front of his entire staff.
Besides the fact that sleep just wasn't happening for him, besides the self-loathing, and the constant battle to stop being such a god damned sap and forget about her already, the returned gifts were just the icing on the cake--this had officially become his worst week ever.
By Saturday, Terrell had twisted his arm into a trip to the bar. The bar was nothing fancy, just made up of hardwood floors and tables. A couple of TV's adorned the walls, Terrell always making sure to be seated within sight of one wherever they went. They would have been an excellent distraction if Eric could actually concentrate on one.
Terrell hadn't informed Eric that he was scoping out the ladies that night. Eric was always happy to play wing man for Terrell, but tonight it didn't appeal to him the way it used to. Tonight was exactly a week since he'd met Juliet at her party and spent the night with her. Tomorrow morning he would wake up and it would be exactly one week since the night was over and he'd made the most idiotic decision of his life. No more idiotic decisions. Not after this week, anyway. After this week, he would shape up. He would suck it in, hold his head high, forget about Juliet Carson and Carson Innovations, and move on with his life. There was no sense in beating a dead horse. The truth was, he blew his chances with her and he had no choice but to cut his losses.
He had hoped that beer number four would help start the numbing process, but apparently it was going to take a fifth--and a very attractive blonde with short hair--to get the process started. Naturally, of course, the girl's smile went directly for Terrell. In response, Eric turned up his beer.
"Hi," she said to him, her smile bright and her green eyes glittering. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but--well, my friend over there?" She paused to turn around and point to a girl with long, brown hair that sat alone a few tables away. "She's incredibly shy, but she's done nothing but gush over you since the moment you walked in. Are you...maybe single, by chance? And maybe willing to meet her?"
A delighted smile crossed Terrell's face in an instant. "Absolutely. Bring your drinks over here, come sit with us. She doesn't need to be shy, I won't bite--hard."
The girl grinned appreciatively. "Oh, amazing. Thank you so much. Be right back."
As the girl darted off, and Eric found himself compelled to glance down at her jeans, he shook his head at his best friend. "Could you be any more lame?"
"Ah, come on, women love that shit." Then he glanced at the girls and back at Eric. "The blonde is cute. Talk to her."
Eric's heart sank. On a normal night--any night before this past week, that was--he would have been on it. He would have turned on the charm, lit up his smile, and laid it all on thick. He was good at flirting and he knew it. But he just...wasn't feeling it anymore. Over the past week, Eric had realized that he wanted more out of life. He wanted to settle, he wanted to go home to the same woman every single night, he wanted to share a regular restaurant with her, he wanted a routine--he wanted a life. Hell, even Travis was showing signs of slowing down. The truth was, the single life was exhausting. Being single didn't interest Eric anymore.
He shook his head, his eyes on his beer. "Yeah, I don't know. I just...I don't really feel like being on the market right now--"
"I didn't say ask her out," Terrell objected. "I just said talk to her."
"Yeah. After you said 'she's cute.'"
"Well, she is cute." Then he lowered his voice and leaned across the table. "Look. She might be no Juliet Carson. But she's here. And she's gonna need some company while I'm talking up her cute friend. Okay? Just help a brother out tonight."
As if on cue, the two women approached the table again, each one of them taking seats next to Eric and Terrell at the round bar table. The blonde smile and looked at the two men. "Well, I'm Michelle. This, here, is Kristen. Thank you so much for letting us crash your evening."
"Nobody's crashing anything," Terrell replied smoothly. "I'm Terrell, and pretty boy across the table, there, is Eric."
"Well. Eric," Michelle greeted him flirtatiously, glancing at his small bottle collection. "Looks like a party of one on your side of the table."
Michelle was definitely cute. Her white hoodie sweater hugged her small frame and the tiny, diamond stud in her nose glinted against a low light above them. Her voice was warm, inviting and fun. She was almost bubbly. But Terrell was right. She was no Juliet Carson--she didn't come close to the style and the poise and the grace that Juliet had. Juliet was his type, he decided. She was the kind of woman he wanted. And with that, Eric took himself completely off the market. He was hopeless. Utterly, terribly hopeless.
Eric smiled at her. "Yeah, well. Nothing like an ice cold beer to wrap up a stressful week."
"Or three or four," she giggled.
Eric glanced across the table uncomfortably, disappointed in the way Terrell was already in his own little world with Kristen. The wing man needed a wing man. Michelle was nice, but Eric was in hell.
"So, uh, your friend doesn't seem to be that shy," he observed.
She looked Eric's face over and she smiled, her cheeks darkening a little. "You want to know a secret? I lied. I mean, she thinks your friend is totally hot, but--well, I kinda used that as an excuse because I was too shy to approach you on my own. That's really lame isn't it?"
Oh, God. Oh, God, not this. How many hearts was he going to break this week? This had to be a record.
He wanted to be flattered. He should have been. He should have been happy that someone was attracted to him. That someone wanted him. Except that he wasn't sure he wanted to be wanted as much as he wanted to be needed. And the way Juliet had needed him last Saturday night was enough to develop an addiction. He should have stayed home tonight.
"It's, uh...it's not lame," he replied. "It's, um, it's nice. I'm--I'm flattered--"
"But you have a girlfriend," she guessed, disappointed. "You're married. You're gay. You're a monk."
He had to chuckle. He couldn't help himself. Shaking his head with a smile, he said, "No, I'm--I'm not any of those things, I just--now's not really a good time for me to meet people..."
"And, yet, you've found yourself in a bar. You know, if you're not looking for a date, you're definitely in the wrong place."
"Did you come here looking for a date?"
"Of course I did. It's a bar."
"Well," he said, turning up his beer. "Honesty is the best policy, right?"
"Yes," she agreed warily, stirring her own drink with her straw. "I suppose it is. So who is she?"
"Who's who?"
"The woman you're pining for? The relationship you're mourning? Only one thing can cause you to drown your sorrows in bad beer and turn down a hot blonde."
"Hey," he objected. "This is not bad beer--"
"And I'm still a hot blonde."
"Shy, my ass," he muttered.
"So?" She pressed. "What's your deal? You're too handsome to be this sad."
He looked at her and furrowed his brow. "Who says I'm sad?"
"Four and a half beers. You order number six and you're damn right I'm going to take full advantage of you."
Eric couldn't decide if Michelle was coming on too strong or not. But the truth was, she amused him and she caused him to smile and, much to his surprise, that seemed to be exactly what he needed at the moment.
Talking to Michelle was fun. She was cute and she was sweet and she was flirty. She was respectful and she kept her distance. She didn't, however, sugarcoat the way she felt about him, but she didn't pressure him about it, either. She didn't ask for his number, she didn't offer hers, nor did she suggest any other forms of communication. The two women did have to leave after a bit, though, and it was her parting words that struck a chord with him. "Look, I don't know what your situation is, but just know that you still got it. I mean, hell, you got me to swoon all over you, even after the rejection. And the girl? Well, she's absolutely insane to let you get away. It's her loss."
As he watched the two friends leave the bar, he drained the rest of his beer and looked across the table at Terrell, who looked back at him with expectant eyes. "So..." Terrell started. "Did you...get a number? A date? Anything? Because I just sat here, apparently, and kept this chick entertained while her friend could put the moves on you. I got played, man!"
"Nah," Eric replied. "I didn't get any of that."
"Unbelievable."
"You know what, Terrell," he said with a smile as he sat back in his chair. "I'm a catch. You know that? I'm good-looking, I'm successful, and I am a nice guy. I have money. Tons of it, just sitting in the bank, waiting for nothing. I own a huge condo and, honestly? I'm fucking fantastic in bed. I know this for a fact. Juliet Carson would be lucky to have me."
"Except that you're a pompous asshole when you drink," Terrell scoffed.
"Yeah," Eric agreed, hanging his head and running a hand through his hair. "I gotta work on that. She had a bad experience with a drunk construction worker once already." Then he sighed and let out a quiet, desperate laugh. "I'm such a fool. Pathetic. Trying to better myself for a woman who doesn't even want me. Chasing her, sending her flowers...like I don't have anything else better to do."
"Well. Women don't exactly respond well to desperate men."
"I wasn't desperate until I met her."
"I had lunch with her a few days ago," Terrell suddenly confessed.
Eric sat his beer bottle, that he'd since picked up and fiddled with, back down on the table loudly, looking stone-faced at Terrell. "Great," he spat. "That's just...great. Good for you." Then he relented and let out a quiet sigh. "How did she look?"
"Beautiful. Just like always."
"Good," Eric nodded. "Good."
"And tired," Terrell continued. "Overworked. Stressed. A lot like you."
"Just--just tell me. Did she ask about me? You know what, don't answer that. I know she didn't, I don't know who I'm kidding--"
"She did."
Eric's heart raced as he looked up at Terrell from the table. "What did she say?"
"You hurt her."
Eric sighed in defeat. "That was never my intention. But she won't let me explain, she won't have anything to do with me--"
"She was also awfully interested in your relationship with your father."
With that, Eric took a blow to the chest. The notion made him sick to his stomach. He was nothing like his father and he hoped she didn't believe that he was based on her impression of his father when she met him. Hell, it was bad enough he'd lost her trust--now she thought he was as big an asshole as his father, to boot.
"This just keeps getting better and better," Eric muttered.
"She thinks your old man's a prick," Terrell stated.
"I'm nothing like him," Eric said quietly.
"Hey, you don't have to tell me. I already know." Terrell paused and sighed. "Look. This is--this is pathetic, Eric. I'm gonna be straight up with you. I haven't seen you act like such a useless sap since Sam--"
"Can we not bring up Sam right now?"
"Well, shit, are you still pining for her, too?"
"No. I just don't need to be reminded of the way she made a fool out of me. I can't even keep a relationship together. I can't keep a woman interested. I fuck up everything I touch, I'm just--"
"Drunk," Terrell finished. "You are drunk. Man, what happened to you? What happened to Eric Reynolds, man about town? Fun to have a beer with, cool to watch a game with? This guy right here, man--this ain't you. What you need to do is get off your ass, grow some balls, and man up. You go to her and you tell her how it's gonna be. No more of this crying, pansy ass bullshit. It's depressing."
"Yeah, because that's so simple."
"I get Juliet. Okay? I understand why she is the way she is--"
"You don't understand shit," Eric spat darkly.
"Hey," Terrell said defensively. "Pull it back a little bit. I do understand--we're friends because we get each other. Juliet has an issue with control--she always has to have it. She has to have everything her way or the highway, in every aspect of her life. She doesn't do relationships because being in a relationship means she has to give up control. It's her life and she does what she wants."
Eric rolled his eyes. He was too drunk to make the eye-rolling discreet, but he didn't care how discreet the expression was, either. He knew Terrell had no idea what he was talking about. Eric knew why Juliet was the way she was--he knew the real reason. He also knew that, despite her issues, she was impossible to reason with--that was Juliet's problem. Eric had been wrong to begin with, that much was true. But never giving him a chance to tell his side of the story--Juliet was wrong for that. She needed to know that, too.
"Women like Juliet don't want men who...cry in their beer and pine for them and feel sorry for themselves. Women like Juliet need strong, confident, self-assured men. And, to be honest, I really think she feels something for you. You just gotta approach her the right way. And this right here? This ain't cutting it, man. You're pathetic."
With that, Terrell stood up and tossed some cash on the table before fishing his keys out of his pocket. "Hey," Eric said, offended. "Where are you going?"
"To get laid. Kristen asked if I wanted to meet her later. I think she might be one of those closet freaks."
"So you're just gonna...leave me here? That's rude."
As Eric looked around, the room spun a little and he nearly stumbled off of his stool. Terrell shook his head and approached him to help him stand. "You really are hopeless, you know that? I'll take you home and let you sleep this off. But tomorrow? No more Eric Reynolds, the pussy. You got that?"
"Yeah, yeah," Eric replied, already feeling his sour mood setting in. "Just get me out of here."
He knew Terrell was right. And he agreed with him. He didn't want to be a pathetic sap as much as Terrell didn't want him to be. He wanted to be himself again--he wanted to laugh and make jokes and flirt with waitresses and rag on his buddies. He wanted to feel human again. How he had managed to allow a single person to have an impact like this on him in such a short amount of time, he didn't know. But what he did know was once he slept this drunkenness off, he would wake up a new man, come hell or high water.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
For the rest of the work week, the gifts were relentless. Purple-dyed flowers gave way to dozens of roses, roses graduated to stuffed animals and concert tickets, and the necklace--well, the necklace touched Juliet and nearly brought a tear to her eye. But she couldn't accept any of it. She couldn't take anything from Eric that might lead him to believe that she might be thinking about him--regardless if her reality said otherwise.
Everything came with notes, none of them beyond a few words. "Forgive me" was frequent. Others read "Talk to me." "Meet me for dinner." "I'm sorry." "Let me explain." And, her personal favorite, "I just want you to wear my socks again." That one made her laugh out loud until she caught herself and handed the gift back to the courier. No. She had to stand her ground. Eric Reynolds was bad news. He was a mistake that should have never happened. The quicker she could erase him out of her life, and out of her memory, the better.
On a professional level, however, Reynolds Construction was looking really good, despite the way she felt about Carl Reynolds. The truth was, she couldn't be bothered with the way the company ran under his direction. She was only interested in digging around in the past two years since Eric had been the CEO. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked what she found.
She spent the rest of the work week deep in Reynolds Construction's business. She stayed on the phone, gathering countless references from past and present clients, asking about everything from their business experience with Reynolds, to the quality of their work, to their likelihood to refer them to other prospective clients. "If you ever needed a home built for yourself and your family, how likely would you be to take your business, and your future, to Reynolds Construction?"
"Oh, they'd be my first choice." That was the most popular answer.
When she wasn't on the phone, she was all over the city, visiting various structures the company had constructed. She looked for something--anything--that might be a deal-breaker. She looked for cheap fixes, sloppy baseboards, and faulty flooring, among other things. Except that she could find nothing that displeased her. Nothing at all. And this brought on a mixture of emotions, both delight and disappointment--because this meant that she had to face the truth: that Reynolds Construction, as run by Eric Reynolds, was exactly what she had been searching for all along.
Saturday, Juliet spent all day digging for more. There had to be something, somewhere, that was wrong with this company. Somewhere there was a skeleton, somewhere there was something despicable, something unforgivable...anything. There had to be.
She dug as deep as she could, researching company statistics, figures, and, most importantly, digging to find any kind of lawsuit. Any kind of complaint, indiscretion, fraud, breach of contract, anything that could be wrong with their business or make them less reputable than what they were turning out to be. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. They were perfect.
Reynolds Construction was the company she wanted to relocate Carson Innovations.
Sitting in the window seat in the kitchen, puffing on a menthol, Juliet pondered hard about how in the hell she was going to be able to make this work.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Beth almost didn't make it out the door to get to Juliet's condo Sunday morning.
For the past week, Beth and Travis had been inseparable. Sleeping with a man so soon wasn't necessarily Beth's ideal method for starting a relationship, but she finally had to reason with herself that every relationship was different and that she and Travis just happened to very much enjoy each other's company, physically. Besides how amazing the sex was--light years beyond how great she thought Chris had been--they spent the majority of their time talking for hours on end. Travis was hilarious and she loved to listen to him tell stories. She loved to watch his eyes brighten and she loved the way he put his witty spins on whatever situation he had gotten himself into. The truth was, Beth was more addicted to listening to Travis talk than she actually was sleeping with him. And she felt like that meant something.
But despite how she was beginning to feel about Travis, it was still Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings would forever be reserved for coffee and bagels and pointless female gossip.
Donning her usual uniform of pajama pants and fuzzy slippers and armed with a bag full of fresh bagels, Beth knocked on Juliet's apartment door, slightly nervous that she might be met with the same response she was met with last weekend. To her relief, however, she heard Juliet's voice ring out, "It's open!" And Beth happily let herself inside the condo, locking the door behind her.
"You probably ought not to leave your door unlocked like that," Beth started to scold her when she turned around and froze at the sight. "Holy shit," she muttered. "What the hell is happening here?"
Juliet sat Indian-style on her living room floor, with her coffee table doubling as her work desk. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, her glasses sat on her face, and she was bundled up in a pair of fleece pajama pants and a sweatshirt donning the moniker of her favorite band. Beth always shook her head when Juliet wore these shirts. She always ragged on her for being too old to fangirl over an old teenybopper band and Juliet was quick to school Beth on the band every time as if it were the first time she'd ever made a remark. "They even named a song after me," Juliet would always say. And Beth's line would be, "Yep. Because they obviously picked you out of their thousands of teenybopper fans just to use your name." And Juliet would always come back with, "That's what I choose to believe and it makes me happy. You're just jealous because they didn't name a song after you." This was Beth's cue to roll her eyes and smirk in amusement at her. If only society could see who Juliet really was underneath the blazers and the designer shoes--they'd shake their heads and smile at her just like Beth did.
Surrounding Juliet and her sweatshirt of brotherly love, was a sea of paperwork. On the coffee table, on the couch, on the floor around her...she had surrounded herself with a fortress of paper. To the right of the laptop sat a legal pad that she was scribbling furiously on as she paused to click something on the computer and then start scribbling more. It was as if she'd given up on relocating the office to another building, and just relocated it to her living room floor.
"Hey, you're just in time, I think I'm almost finished, I just need you to help me make sure I have everything covered," Juliet said, nonchalantly.
Beth was drawing a blank. She had no earthly idea what Juliet was talking about. "Um, finished with what...?"
Juliet took her glasses off and looked up at Beth, and then at the bag, her eyes widening. "Oh, thank God, I'm starving!"
Removing her coat and jerking the bagel bag back as if to keep it from Juliet's reach, Beth raised an expectant eyebrow at her. "Not until you tell me what all...this...is about."
"Oh," she said, glancing back at her work. "Reynolds Construction is going to do the construction on the new building."
Beth was floored. Shocked. Stunned, even. Travis never mentioned anything. Not even a word. She knew he wasn't much involved with the business aspect of the company, but hell, it was a family business. He had to know what was going on, regardless.
Juliet must have read her expression because she continued with, "Oh, they don't know it, yet, or anything. I'm busy getting the contract together and in order and then I'll present it to them."
"Them..." Beth repeated.
"Yes," Juliet replied, matter-of-factly. "Reynolds Construction."
"Jules. You realize that they aren't that large a company. You realize that all initial business transactions and contracts have to be reviewed and signed by--"
"I'll go put on a pot of coffee," she interrupted, clearing a stack of papers out of the way and jumping up to head to the kitchen.
As Juliet disappeared from the room, Beth took it upon herself to ease her curiosity. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she leaned over and peeked at Juliet's laptop screen--and was intrigued by the multiple tabs she had open on the browser. It took her a millisecond to see Eric's first name on one of them and she clicked on it and found a Google page with his name in the search. Then she clicked on the other tabs and found Eric's Facebook page and Twitter account--both of which looked as if they hadn't been used since the Ice Age. Beth didn't know what to think. Juliet wanted to keep repeating 'Reynolds Construction' like it was nothing, but the truth was, Reynolds Construction was merely code for 'Eric Reynolds.' Juliet had real feelings for that man and she was doing her damnest to cover it up. Or deny it. One or the other.
Not one to sugarcoat, Beth carried the bagels into the kitchen and began to unpack it on the island, twitching her nose at the scent of stale cigarette smoke. Ignoring her usual scolding of Juliet's smoking, Beth instead went straight for it. "Why are you stalking Eric Reynolds?"
Juliet whipped around and looked at Beth, her long ponytail nearly whipping around her neck in the process. "Excuse me?"
"That's what you get for leaving your computer wide open. You're Googling him, looking at his social media..."
"He's the CEO of this company, I want to know who I'm dealing with," Juliet spat.
"Because a night in bed with him didn't tell you everything you needed to know," Beth muttered.
"Well, no, not...professionally..."
"Save it, Jules. You're hot for him. You're hot for him and you miss him and you're using this construction company as an excuse to get close to him."
Juliet's jaw dropped and the blood drained from her face. Beth just knew she had her pegged. She just knew it. She couldn't hide anything from Beth.
"That is ridiculous," Juliet finally objected.
"It's true, that's what it is. You want to get close to him without actually being close to him so that you can get what you want out of him without actually getting what you want out of him. You get a relationship with the man, maybe not the relationship you want, but some semblance of a relationship, which is good enough for you. Keeping him at arm's length while still keeping him in your grasp. Just give in already, Juliet. Just go out with him, for crying out loud!"
Juliet studied Beth's face, her brow furrowed, obviously taking in her words. Finally, her face growing flustered, she shook her head. "I am trying to enter into a business relationship with Reynolds Construction. Nothing more, nothing less."
"In order to do that, you're going to have to come face-to-face with him," Beth reminded her. "You'll have to speak to him. Associate with him. In essence, you basically have to sit there and tell him your dreams and wait for him to make them come true. I don't know how many more signs can just...just crash down on your head like this. I'm surprised you're not paralyzed from them all."
"Look," Juliet barked forcefully. "This has absolutely nothing to do with Eric Reynolds. T&K screwed us over. We are literally a week or two away from closing on this building without shit for plans. We had no other options, Beth, I almost had to look at Reynolds. The truth is, they're who we want handling our building. That is it. I have spent the last four days researching and digging and going all over town, double, triple, quadruple checking to make sure that these guys are who we want. I looked for flaws, I looked for discrepancies, I looked for everything to talk myself out of this and there isn't anything. Their references are solid, their work is quality, and their ethic is impeccable. I'm just going to have to suck it up and make this happen. I want our building, Beth. That's what I want. Not that man. This isn't about him, it's about us. You got that?"
Another thing Beth had learned about Juliet over the years was when to give it a rest. This was one of those times. Focusing her attention on cutting a bagel open and slathering cream cheese over it, she replied, "Okay. Fine. Then show me this contract you've drafted."
Settling themselves in the living room once again, armed with bagels and coffee, Beth watched in horror as Juliet gathered paper after paper after paper. Their normal contracts weren't quite this large. "Jules--is all this the contract? How many drafts are here?"
"Just one."
"What is all this?"
"The contract is extremely explicit. Every I is dotted, every T crossed, every demand, expectation, consequence, and stipulation is noted. I want no stone left unturned, nothing left up to negotiation, this is the contract, take it or leave it. I just want you to look at it and see if you have anything to add, take away, or change."
"Did you sleep last night?"
"Eh, some."
"Jules--"
"Come on, read! I want to finish this today."
Beth speed read through what she could speed read. Most of it was standard, things they put in every contract for every project. Same liabilities, same terms...wait. Not the same terms. "Juliet," she spoke firmly. "You put Eric in charge of everything. You can't put the CEO in charge of a project like that."
"I can do whatever I want."
"This is getting ridiculous. This is not a Reynolds Construction contract, this is an Eric Reynolds contract--"
"I met his father, who owns the company. And his weasley sales guy uncle. I didn't like either one of them, and I want neither of them coming within a ten foot radius of this project. My stipulation for Eric to be personally involved with this project has nothing to do with anything...personal. I've researched his work and the company under his direction. He's good at his job. That's as far as it goes."
"Then there's the money," Beth continued. "That is a lot of money..."
"They're worth the money. Have you seen their work?"
"I actually have," Beth said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Um, Travis has been showing me around some this week..."
Juliet raised her eyebrows and blinked her eyes. "So. Travis, huh? Travis Reynolds. Looks like I'm not the only one with a personal interest in this company, then."
"HAH!" Beth said, pointing to Juliet excitedly. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, and you just admitted it!"
"You played me!" Juliet yelled in defense.
"I actually didn't," Beth calmed. "You just kind of walked into it."
Both women were silent for a moment as Juliet reached up and tightened her ponytail. "Okay, fine," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "I can't stop thinking about him. Okay? He's gorgeous. And he's amazing and I can't stop thinking about his face last week when I--when I yelled at him in my office and I just--my brain was on overload and I couldn't handle it and--Beth, I just can't. I can't do anything with him, I can't have anything with him. It just can't happen."
"But I just don't understand why--"
"Because I'm fucked up. Because I don't do relationships, I wouldn't know what to do with one if I tried. I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing. And I just--I really want his company to work on our building. And if we have a professional relationship, I can't have a personal one with him. And I think it's better that way. For the both of us, me and him. He doesn't need to carry around all my baggage, Beth. He just doesn't."
"So you're not mad at him anymore?"
Juliet sighed. "I really don't know what I am right now."
"So, then...are you saying it's bad business if Travis and I...?"
"How I feel about business and pleasure is on a strictly personal level. If you think you can balance the two, that's your prerogative. I want you to be happy, Beth. You deserve it, more than anyone I know."
"So do you," Beth whispered.
With that, Juliet held her chin high and plastered on a smile that was as fake as her chest. "And I'm about to be happy--once we get these relocation plans off the ground."
Reluctantly, Beth went back to the contract. She knew what Juliet was doing here. She recognized her attitude and her transparency. What was really going on, was that Juliet had just spent the night smoking cigarettes and eating crow. And now she was making excuses to make herself feel better about the situation she'd found herself in. The reality was, Juliet was preparing to go crawling back to Eric Reynolds and ask him for help. Beth knew that Juliet would never admit that there was a possibility that Eric would shoot her down in return for shooting him down earlier in the week. Instead, she went on with the attitude that it was a sure thing and that they already had this contract signed and in the bag. She hoped to be there with Juliet when she presented the contract. She was afraid she might need her to pick her back up off the ground when the meeting was said and done.
Beth prayed she was wrong.
Eric was a fool and he knew it. He was a desperate, pathetic fool, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help himself and he couldn't stop himself and he knew he was making a spectacle of himself. But he couldn't be bothered to care about that, either.
For the next three days, it all kept coming back to him. Literally. Multiple bouquets of flowers, a couple of boxes of chocolate, a plush dog, a pair of tickets to a jazz concert, and--going for broke--a necklace with a diamond paw print charm directly from Tiffany. All of them hand delivered, all of them hand delivered right back to him. To his office. In front of his entire staff.
Besides the fact that sleep just wasn't happening for him, besides the self-loathing, and the constant battle to stop being such a god damned sap and forget about her already, the returned gifts were just the icing on the cake--this had officially become his worst week ever.
By Saturday, Terrell had twisted his arm into a trip to the bar. The bar was nothing fancy, just made up of hardwood floors and tables. A couple of TV's adorned the walls, Terrell always making sure to be seated within sight of one wherever they went. They would have been an excellent distraction if Eric could actually concentrate on one.
Terrell hadn't informed Eric that he was scoping out the ladies that night. Eric was always happy to play wing man for Terrell, but tonight it didn't appeal to him the way it used to. Tonight was exactly a week since he'd met Juliet at her party and spent the night with her. Tomorrow morning he would wake up and it would be exactly one week since the night was over and he'd made the most idiotic decision of his life. No more idiotic decisions. Not after this week, anyway. After this week, he would shape up. He would suck it in, hold his head high, forget about Juliet Carson and Carson Innovations, and move on with his life. There was no sense in beating a dead horse. The truth was, he blew his chances with her and he had no choice but to cut his losses.
He had hoped that beer number four would help start the numbing process, but apparently it was going to take a fifth--and a very attractive blonde with short hair--to get the process started. Naturally, of course, the girl's smile went directly for Terrell. In response, Eric turned up his beer.
"Hi," she said to him, her smile bright and her green eyes glittering. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but--well, my friend over there?" She paused to turn around and point to a girl with long, brown hair that sat alone a few tables away. "She's incredibly shy, but she's done nothing but gush over you since the moment you walked in. Are you...maybe single, by chance? And maybe willing to meet her?"
A delighted smile crossed Terrell's face in an instant. "Absolutely. Bring your drinks over here, come sit with us. She doesn't need to be shy, I won't bite--hard."
The girl grinned appreciatively. "Oh, amazing. Thank you so much. Be right back."
As the girl darted off, and Eric found himself compelled to glance down at her jeans, he shook his head at his best friend. "Could you be any more lame?"
"Ah, come on, women love that shit." Then he glanced at the girls and back at Eric. "The blonde is cute. Talk to her."
Eric's heart sank. On a normal night--any night before this past week, that was--he would have been on it. He would have turned on the charm, lit up his smile, and laid it all on thick. He was good at flirting and he knew it. But he just...wasn't feeling it anymore. Over the past week, Eric had realized that he wanted more out of life. He wanted to settle, he wanted to go home to the same woman every single night, he wanted to share a regular restaurant with her, he wanted a routine--he wanted a life. Hell, even Travis was showing signs of slowing down. The truth was, the single life was exhausting. Being single didn't interest Eric anymore.
He shook his head, his eyes on his beer. "Yeah, I don't know. I just...I don't really feel like being on the market right now--"
"I didn't say ask her out," Terrell objected. "I just said talk to her."
"Yeah. After you said 'she's cute.'"
"Well, she is cute." Then he lowered his voice and leaned across the table. "Look. She might be no Juliet Carson. But she's here. And she's gonna need some company while I'm talking up her cute friend. Okay? Just help a brother out tonight."
As if on cue, the two women approached the table again, each one of them taking seats next to Eric and Terrell at the round bar table. The blonde smile and looked at the two men. "Well, I'm Michelle. This, here, is Kristen. Thank you so much for letting us crash your evening."
"Nobody's crashing anything," Terrell replied smoothly. "I'm Terrell, and pretty boy across the table, there, is Eric."
"Well. Eric," Michelle greeted him flirtatiously, glancing at his small bottle collection. "Looks like a party of one on your side of the table."
Michelle was definitely cute. Her white hoodie sweater hugged her small frame and the tiny, diamond stud in her nose glinted against a low light above them. Her voice was warm, inviting and fun. She was almost bubbly. But Terrell was right. She was no Juliet Carson--she didn't come close to the style and the poise and the grace that Juliet had. Juliet was his type, he decided. She was the kind of woman he wanted. And with that, Eric took himself completely off the market. He was hopeless. Utterly, terribly hopeless.
Eric smiled at her. "Yeah, well. Nothing like an ice cold beer to wrap up a stressful week."
"Or three or four," she giggled.
Eric glanced across the table uncomfortably, disappointed in the way Terrell was already in his own little world with Kristen. The wing man needed a wing man. Michelle was nice, but Eric was in hell.
"So, uh, your friend doesn't seem to be that shy," he observed.
She looked Eric's face over and she smiled, her cheeks darkening a little. "You want to know a secret? I lied. I mean, she thinks your friend is totally hot, but--well, I kinda used that as an excuse because I was too shy to approach you on my own. That's really lame isn't it?"
Oh, God. Oh, God, not this. How many hearts was he going to break this week? This had to be a record.
He wanted to be flattered. He should have been. He should have been happy that someone was attracted to him. That someone wanted him. Except that he wasn't sure he wanted to be wanted as much as he wanted to be needed. And the way Juliet had needed him last Saturday night was enough to develop an addiction. He should have stayed home tonight.
"It's, uh...it's not lame," he replied. "It's, um, it's nice. I'm--I'm flattered--"
"But you have a girlfriend," she guessed, disappointed. "You're married. You're gay. You're a monk."
He had to chuckle. He couldn't help himself. Shaking his head with a smile, he said, "No, I'm--I'm not any of those things, I just--now's not really a good time for me to meet people..."
"And, yet, you've found yourself in a bar. You know, if you're not looking for a date, you're definitely in the wrong place."
"Did you come here looking for a date?"
"Of course I did. It's a bar."
"Well," he said, turning up his beer. "Honesty is the best policy, right?"
"Yes," she agreed warily, stirring her own drink with her straw. "I suppose it is. So who is she?"
"Who's who?"
"The woman you're pining for? The relationship you're mourning? Only one thing can cause you to drown your sorrows in bad beer and turn down a hot blonde."
"Hey," he objected. "This is not bad beer--"
"And I'm still a hot blonde."
"Shy, my ass," he muttered.
"So?" She pressed. "What's your deal? You're too handsome to be this sad."
He looked at her and furrowed his brow. "Who says I'm sad?"
"Four and a half beers. You order number six and you're damn right I'm going to take full advantage of you."
Eric couldn't decide if Michelle was coming on too strong or not. But the truth was, she amused him and she caused him to smile and, much to his surprise, that seemed to be exactly what he needed at the moment.
Talking to Michelle was fun. She was cute and she was sweet and she was flirty. She was respectful and she kept her distance. She didn't, however, sugarcoat the way she felt about him, but she didn't pressure him about it, either. She didn't ask for his number, she didn't offer hers, nor did she suggest any other forms of communication. The two women did have to leave after a bit, though, and it was her parting words that struck a chord with him. "Look, I don't know what your situation is, but just know that you still got it. I mean, hell, you got me to swoon all over you, even after the rejection. And the girl? Well, she's absolutely insane to let you get away. It's her loss."
As he watched the two friends leave the bar, he drained the rest of his beer and looked across the table at Terrell, who looked back at him with expectant eyes. "So..." Terrell started. "Did you...get a number? A date? Anything? Because I just sat here, apparently, and kept this chick entertained while her friend could put the moves on you. I got played, man!"
"Nah," Eric replied. "I didn't get any of that."
"Unbelievable."
"You know what, Terrell," he said with a smile as he sat back in his chair. "I'm a catch. You know that? I'm good-looking, I'm successful, and I am a nice guy. I have money. Tons of it, just sitting in the bank, waiting for nothing. I own a huge condo and, honestly? I'm fucking fantastic in bed. I know this for a fact. Juliet Carson would be lucky to have me."
"Except that you're a pompous asshole when you drink," Terrell scoffed.
"Yeah," Eric agreed, hanging his head and running a hand through his hair. "I gotta work on that. She had a bad experience with a drunk construction worker once already." Then he sighed and let out a quiet, desperate laugh. "I'm such a fool. Pathetic. Trying to better myself for a woman who doesn't even want me. Chasing her, sending her flowers...like I don't have anything else better to do."
"Well. Women don't exactly respond well to desperate men."
"I wasn't desperate until I met her."
"I had lunch with her a few days ago," Terrell suddenly confessed.
Eric sat his beer bottle, that he'd since picked up and fiddled with, back down on the table loudly, looking stone-faced at Terrell. "Great," he spat. "That's just...great. Good for you." Then he relented and let out a quiet sigh. "How did she look?"
"Beautiful. Just like always."
"Good," Eric nodded. "Good."
"And tired," Terrell continued. "Overworked. Stressed. A lot like you."
"Just--just tell me. Did she ask about me? You know what, don't answer that. I know she didn't, I don't know who I'm kidding--"
"She did."
Eric's heart raced as he looked up at Terrell from the table. "What did she say?"
"You hurt her."
Eric sighed in defeat. "That was never my intention. But she won't let me explain, she won't have anything to do with me--"
"She was also awfully interested in your relationship with your father."
With that, Eric took a blow to the chest. The notion made him sick to his stomach. He was nothing like his father and he hoped she didn't believe that he was based on her impression of his father when she met him. Hell, it was bad enough he'd lost her trust--now she thought he was as big an asshole as his father, to boot.
"This just keeps getting better and better," Eric muttered.
"She thinks your old man's a prick," Terrell stated.
"I'm nothing like him," Eric said quietly.
"Hey, you don't have to tell me. I already know." Terrell paused and sighed. "Look. This is--this is pathetic, Eric. I'm gonna be straight up with you. I haven't seen you act like such a useless sap since Sam--"
"Can we not bring up Sam right now?"
"Well, shit, are you still pining for her, too?"
"No. I just don't need to be reminded of the way she made a fool out of me. I can't even keep a relationship together. I can't keep a woman interested. I fuck up everything I touch, I'm just--"
"Drunk," Terrell finished. "You are drunk. Man, what happened to you? What happened to Eric Reynolds, man about town? Fun to have a beer with, cool to watch a game with? This guy right here, man--this ain't you. What you need to do is get off your ass, grow some balls, and man up. You go to her and you tell her how it's gonna be. No more of this crying, pansy ass bullshit. It's depressing."
"Yeah, because that's so simple."
"I get Juliet. Okay? I understand why she is the way she is--"
"You don't understand shit," Eric spat darkly.
"Hey," Terrell said defensively. "Pull it back a little bit. I do understand--we're friends because we get each other. Juliet has an issue with control--she always has to have it. She has to have everything her way or the highway, in every aspect of her life. She doesn't do relationships because being in a relationship means she has to give up control. It's her life and she does what she wants."
Eric rolled his eyes. He was too drunk to make the eye-rolling discreet, but he didn't care how discreet the expression was, either. He knew Terrell had no idea what he was talking about. Eric knew why Juliet was the way she was--he knew the real reason. He also knew that, despite her issues, she was impossible to reason with--that was Juliet's problem. Eric had been wrong to begin with, that much was true. But never giving him a chance to tell his side of the story--Juliet was wrong for that. She needed to know that, too.
"Women like Juliet don't want men who...cry in their beer and pine for them and feel sorry for themselves. Women like Juliet need strong, confident, self-assured men. And, to be honest, I really think she feels something for you. You just gotta approach her the right way. And this right here? This ain't cutting it, man. You're pathetic."
With that, Terrell stood up and tossed some cash on the table before fishing his keys out of his pocket. "Hey," Eric said, offended. "Where are you going?"
"To get laid. Kristen asked if I wanted to meet her later. I think she might be one of those closet freaks."
"So you're just gonna...leave me here? That's rude."
As Eric looked around, the room spun a little and he nearly stumbled off of his stool. Terrell shook his head and approached him to help him stand. "You really are hopeless, you know that? I'll take you home and let you sleep this off. But tomorrow? No more Eric Reynolds, the pussy. You got that?"
"Yeah, yeah," Eric replied, already feeling his sour mood setting in. "Just get me out of here."
He knew Terrell was right. And he agreed with him. He didn't want to be a pathetic sap as much as Terrell didn't want him to be. He wanted to be himself again--he wanted to laugh and make jokes and flirt with waitresses and rag on his buddies. He wanted to feel human again. How he had managed to allow a single person to have an impact like this on him in such a short amount of time, he didn't know. But what he did know was once he slept this drunkenness off, he would wake up a new man, come hell or high water.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
For the rest of the work week, the gifts were relentless. Purple-dyed flowers gave way to dozens of roses, roses graduated to stuffed animals and concert tickets, and the necklace--well, the necklace touched Juliet and nearly brought a tear to her eye. But she couldn't accept any of it. She couldn't take anything from Eric that might lead him to believe that she might be thinking about him--regardless if her reality said otherwise.
Everything came with notes, none of them beyond a few words. "Forgive me" was frequent. Others read "Talk to me." "Meet me for dinner." "I'm sorry." "Let me explain." And, her personal favorite, "I just want you to wear my socks again." That one made her laugh out loud until she caught herself and handed the gift back to the courier. No. She had to stand her ground. Eric Reynolds was bad news. He was a mistake that should have never happened. The quicker she could erase him out of her life, and out of her memory, the better.
On a professional level, however, Reynolds Construction was looking really good, despite the way she felt about Carl Reynolds. The truth was, she couldn't be bothered with the way the company ran under his direction. She was only interested in digging around in the past two years since Eric had been the CEO. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked what she found.
She spent the rest of the work week deep in Reynolds Construction's business. She stayed on the phone, gathering countless references from past and present clients, asking about everything from their business experience with Reynolds, to the quality of their work, to their likelihood to refer them to other prospective clients. "If you ever needed a home built for yourself and your family, how likely would you be to take your business, and your future, to Reynolds Construction?"
"Oh, they'd be my first choice." That was the most popular answer.
When she wasn't on the phone, she was all over the city, visiting various structures the company had constructed. She looked for something--anything--that might be a deal-breaker. She looked for cheap fixes, sloppy baseboards, and faulty flooring, among other things. Except that she could find nothing that displeased her. Nothing at all. And this brought on a mixture of emotions, both delight and disappointment--because this meant that she had to face the truth: that Reynolds Construction, as run by Eric Reynolds, was exactly what she had been searching for all along.
Saturday, Juliet spent all day digging for more. There had to be something, somewhere, that was wrong with this company. Somewhere there was a skeleton, somewhere there was something despicable, something unforgivable...anything. There had to be.
She dug as deep as she could, researching company statistics, figures, and, most importantly, digging to find any kind of lawsuit. Any kind of complaint, indiscretion, fraud, breach of contract, anything that could be wrong with their business or make them less reputable than what they were turning out to be. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. They were perfect.
Reynolds Construction was the company she wanted to relocate Carson Innovations.
Sitting in the window seat in the kitchen, puffing on a menthol, Juliet pondered hard about how in the hell she was going to be able to make this work.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Beth almost didn't make it out the door to get to Juliet's condo Sunday morning.
For the past week, Beth and Travis had been inseparable. Sleeping with a man so soon wasn't necessarily Beth's ideal method for starting a relationship, but she finally had to reason with herself that every relationship was different and that she and Travis just happened to very much enjoy each other's company, physically. Besides how amazing the sex was--light years beyond how great she thought Chris had been--they spent the majority of their time talking for hours on end. Travis was hilarious and she loved to listen to him tell stories. She loved to watch his eyes brighten and she loved the way he put his witty spins on whatever situation he had gotten himself into. The truth was, Beth was more addicted to listening to Travis talk than she actually was sleeping with him. And she felt like that meant something.
But despite how she was beginning to feel about Travis, it was still Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings would forever be reserved for coffee and bagels and pointless female gossip.
Donning her usual uniform of pajama pants and fuzzy slippers and armed with a bag full of fresh bagels, Beth knocked on Juliet's apartment door, slightly nervous that she might be met with the same response she was met with last weekend. To her relief, however, she heard Juliet's voice ring out, "It's open!" And Beth happily let herself inside the condo, locking the door behind her.
"You probably ought not to leave your door unlocked like that," Beth started to scold her when she turned around and froze at the sight. "Holy shit," she muttered. "What the hell is happening here?"
Juliet sat Indian-style on her living room floor, with her coffee table doubling as her work desk. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, her glasses sat on her face, and she was bundled up in a pair of fleece pajama pants and a sweatshirt donning the moniker of her favorite band. Beth always shook her head when Juliet wore these shirts. She always ragged on her for being too old to fangirl over an old teenybopper band and Juliet was quick to school Beth on the band every time as if it were the first time she'd ever made a remark. "They even named a song after me," Juliet would always say. And Beth's line would be, "Yep. Because they obviously picked you out of their thousands of teenybopper fans just to use your name." And Juliet would always come back with, "That's what I choose to believe and it makes me happy. You're just jealous because they didn't name a song after you." This was Beth's cue to roll her eyes and smirk in amusement at her. If only society could see who Juliet really was underneath the blazers and the designer shoes--they'd shake their heads and smile at her just like Beth did.
Surrounding Juliet and her sweatshirt of brotherly love, was a sea of paperwork. On the coffee table, on the couch, on the floor around her...she had surrounded herself with a fortress of paper. To the right of the laptop sat a legal pad that she was scribbling furiously on as she paused to click something on the computer and then start scribbling more. It was as if she'd given up on relocating the office to another building, and just relocated it to her living room floor.
"Hey, you're just in time, I think I'm almost finished, I just need you to help me make sure I have everything covered," Juliet said, nonchalantly.
Beth was drawing a blank. She had no earthly idea what Juliet was talking about. "Um, finished with what...?"
Juliet took her glasses off and looked up at Beth, and then at the bag, her eyes widening. "Oh, thank God, I'm starving!"
Removing her coat and jerking the bagel bag back as if to keep it from Juliet's reach, Beth raised an expectant eyebrow at her. "Not until you tell me what all...this...is about."
"Oh," she said, glancing back at her work. "Reynolds Construction is going to do the construction on the new building."
Beth was floored. Shocked. Stunned, even. Travis never mentioned anything. Not even a word. She knew he wasn't much involved with the business aspect of the company, but hell, it was a family business. He had to know what was going on, regardless.
Juliet must have read her expression because she continued with, "Oh, they don't know it, yet, or anything. I'm busy getting the contract together and in order and then I'll present it to them."
"Them..." Beth repeated.
"Yes," Juliet replied, matter-of-factly. "Reynolds Construction."
"Jules. You realize that they aren't that large a company. You realize that all initial business transactions and contracts have to be reviewed and signed by--"
"I'll go put on a pot of coffee," she interrupted, clearing a stack of papers out of the way and jumping up to head to the kitchen.
As Juliet disappeared from the room, Beth took it upon herself to ease her curiosity. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she leaned over and peeked at Juliet's laptop screen--and was intrigued by the multiple tabs she had open on the browser. It took her a millisecond to see Eric's first name on one of them and she clicked on it and found a Google page with his name in the search. Then she clicked on the other tabs and found Eric's Facebook page and Twitter account--both of which looked as if they hadn't been used since the Ice Age. Beth didn't know what to think. Juliet wanted to keep repeating 'Reynolds Construction' like it was nothing, but the truth was, Reynolds Construction was merely code for 'Eric Reynolds.' Juliet had real feelings for that man and she was doing her damnest to cover it up. Or deny it. One or the other.
Not one to sugarcoat, Beth carried the bagels into the kitchen and began to unpack it on the island, twitching her nose at the scent of stale cigarette smoke. Ignoring her usual scolding of Juliet's smoking, Beth instead went straight for it. "Why are you stalking Eric Reynolds?"
Juliet whipped around and looked at Beth, her long ponytail nearly whipping around her neck in the process. "Excuse me?"
"That's what you get for leaving your computer wide open. You're Googling him, looking at his social media..."
"He's the CEO of this company, I want to know who I'm dealing with," Juliet spat.
"Because a night in bed with him didn't tell you everything you needed to know," Beth muttered.
"Well, no, not...professionally..."
"Save it, Jules. You're hot for him. You're hot for him and you miss him and you're using this construction company as an excuse to get close to him."
Juliet's jaw dropped and the blood drained from her face. Beth just knew she had her pegged. She just knew it. She couldn't hide anything from Beth.
"That is ridiculous," Juliet finally objected.
"It's true, that's what it is. You want to get close to him without actually being close to him so that you can get what you want out of him without actually getting what you want out of him. You get a relationship with the man, maybe not the relationship you want, but some semblance of a relationship, which is good enough for you. Keeping him at arm's length while still keeping him in your grasp. Just give in already, Juliet. Just go out with him, for crying out loud!"
Juliet studied Beth's face, her brow furrowed, obviously taking in her words. Finally, her face growing flustered, she shook her head. "I am trying to enter into a business relationship with Reynolds Construction. Nothing more, nothing less."
"In order to do that, you're going to have to come face-to-face with him," Beth reminded her. "You'll have to speak to him. Associate with him. In essence, you basically have to sit there and tell him your dreams and wait for him to make them come true. I don't know how many more signs can just...just crash down on your head like this. I'm surprised you're not paralyzed from them all."
"Look," Juliet barked forcefully. "This has absolutely nothing to do with Eric Reynolds. T&K screwed us over. We are literally a week or two away from closing on this building without shit for plans. We had no other options, Beth, I almost had to look at Reynolds. The truth is, they're who we want handling our building. That is it. I have spent the last four days researching and digging and going all over town, double, triple, quadruple checking to make sure that these guys are who we want. I looked for flaws, I looked for discrepancies, I looked for everything to talk myself out of this and there isn't anything. Their references are solid, their work is quality, and their ethic is impeccable. I'm just going to have to suck it up and make this happen. I want our building, Beth. That's what I want. Not that man. This isn't about him, it's about us. You got that?"
Another thing Beth had learned about Juliet over the years was when to give it a rest. This was one of those times. Focusing her attention on cutting a bagel open and slathering cream cheese over it, she replied, "Okay. Fine. Then show me this contract you've drafted."
Settling themselves in the living room once again, armed with bagels and coffee, Beth watched in horror as Juliet gathered paper after paper after paper. Their normal contracts weren't quite this large. "Jules--is all this the contract? How many drafts are here?"
"Just one."
"What is all this?"
"The contract is extremely explicit. Every I is dotted, every T crossed, every demand, expectation, consequence, and stipulation is noted. I want no stone left unturned, nothing left up to negotiation, this is the contract, take it or leave it. I just want you to look at it and see if you have anything to add, take away, or change."
"Did you sleep last night?"
"Eh, some."
"Jules--"
"Come on, read! I want to finish this today."
Beth speed read through what she could speed read. Most of it was standard, things they put in every contract for every project. Same liabilities, same terms...wait. Not the same terms. "Juliet," she spoke firmly. "You put Eric in charge of everything. You can't put the CEO in charge of a project like that."
"I can do whatever I want."
"This is getting ridiculous. This is not a Reynolds Construction contract, this is an Eric Reynolds contract--"
"I met his father, who owns the company. And his weasley sales guy uncle. I didn't like either one of them, and I want neither of them coming within a ten foot radius of this project. My stipulation for Eric to be personally involved with this project has nothing to do with anything...personal. I've researched his work and the company under his direction. He's good at his job. That's as far as it goes."
"Then there's the money," Beth continued. "That is a lot of money..."
"They're worth the money. Have you seen their work?"
"I actually have," Beth said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Um, Travis has been showing me around some this week..."
Juliet raised her eyebrows and blinked her eyes. "So. Travis, huh? Travis Reynolds. Looks like I'm not the only one with a personal interest in this company, then."
"HAH!" Beth said, pointing to Juliet excitedly. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, and you just admitted it!"
"You played me!" Juliet yelled in defense.
"I actually didn't," Beth calmed. "You just kind of walked into it."
Both women were silent for a moment as Juliet reached up and tightened her ponytail. "Okay, fine," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "I can't stop thinking about him. Okay? He's gorgeous. And he's amazing and I can't stop thinking about his face last week when I--when I yelled at him in my office and I just--my brain was on overload and I couldn't handle it and--Beth, I just can't. I can't do anything with him, I can't have anything with him. It just can't happen."
"But I just don't understand why--"
"Because I'm fucked up. Because I don't do relationships, I wouldn't know what to do with one if I tried. I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing. And I just--I really want his company to work on our building. And if we have a professional relationship, I can't have a personal one with him. And I think it's better that way. For the both of us, me and him. He doesn't need to carry around all my baggage, Beth. He just doesn't."
"So you're not mad at him anymore?"
Juliet sighed. "I really don't know what I am right now."
"So, then...are you saying it's bad business if Travis and I...?"
"How I feel about business and pleasure is on a strictly personal level. If you think you can balance the two, that's your prerogative. I want you to be happy, Beth. You deserve it, more than anyone I know."
"So do you," Beth whispered.
With that, Juliet held her chin high and plastered on a smile that was as fake as her chest. "And I'm about to be happy--once we get these relocation plans off the ground."
Reluctantly, Beth went back to the contract. She knew what Juliet was doing here. She recognized her attitude and her transparency. What was really going on, was that Juliet had just spent the night smoking cigarettes and eating crow. And now she was making excuses to make herself feel better about the situation she'd found herself in. The reality was, Juliet was preparing to go crawling back to Eric Reynolds and ask him for help. Beth knew that Juliet would never admit that there was a possibility that Eric would shoot her down in return for shooting him down earlier in the week. Instead, she went on with the attitude that it was a sure thing and that they already had this contract signed and in the bag. She hoped to be there with Juliet when she presented the contract. She was afraid she might need her to pick her back up off the ground when the meeting was said and done.
Beth prayed she was wrong.