Reese
I'm way too old to be this hungover. And I am really fucking hungover. My alarm went off several hours ago, but I turned it off and turned back over. Now I'm awake feeling fuzzy-brained and cotton-mouthed.
I drank so, so much last night. I was drinking when Sasha left. And still drinking when B left an hour later. I'm not normally a 'drown my troubles in a bottle of alcohol' kind of person, but it's been my go-to way of dealing with certain things for the past couple of months.
The past couple of months have been particularly shitty.
When my friends were gone, I opened my laptop because I needed to know more about him.
JC fucking celebrity Chasez.
A Google search led me to his Wikipedia where I learned what his initials stand for. Then I read about the one and only solo album he put out. I had no intention of listening to it, but the title was a little interesting, and after reading the track listing curiosity got the better of me. I opened my music app, found the album and hit shuffle and...well, that was a colossal mistake.
The first song started, a few bars of piano and then his voice.
His voice.
His voice is nothing short of amazing. I sat there listening to "Lose Myself," goosebumps on my skin, absolutely mesmerized. There was so much passion, and longing, and emotion and just...fuck me. I sat there with my wine and the song on repeat for I don't know how long. I know that at one point my cheeks were wet and I realized I was crying, at which point I turned it off.
And then I went to bed, where I bawled until I finally passed out. Which is really fucking pathetic.
Because it's him, but it's not just him.
It's David and Rebecca. And the damn ring on her finger. And the fact that I had no clue, even though no one else around me seemed to be surprised.
It's that I didn't even know who JC was. And maybe that seems like a completely different issue, but it's not.
It's the fact that I am, apparently, the most oblivious person on earth.
I want to call my mom so she can tell me what to do, and the fact that I can't makes me feel sick and pissed off too.
To my irritation, my work phone starts ringing and I pick it up to see it's 12:15. I know I don't have any appointments scheduled this afternoon and I don't recognize the number so I shake myself a little to get into professional mode. After a quick swig of water from my bedside table, I answer.
"Gibbons Realty. Reese Adams speaking." I hope the hangover isn't obvious in my voice.
"Reese! Hi," a vaguely familiar feminine voice says. "It's Tia White, from yesterday."
My stomach drops. She sounds way too chipper so I know she can't be calling about anything related to JC, but just hearing her voice fills me with dread.
"Oh, Tia, hi." I force myself to sound just as cheerful as she does. "How are you?"
"Honestly, I'm stressed," she replies. "My schedule for the rest of the week just became crazy busy. I know I said I wanted to check out some of the properties before I head back to L.A., but that's going to be almost impossible."
She must be calling me to tell me she won't be able to meet this week after all. Maybe I can pass her off to another agent whenever she's back in town. Or maybe we can continue to work together virtually. Either way, hopefully I'll never have to see her or her boyfriend ever again.
I'm home free, I think.
"Unless there's some chance you have some free time today?" she says hopefully.
Dammit.
"Well, um..." I'm trying to stall, to come up with a valid excuse as to why I can't meet with her today. One that doesn't include telling her how much I had to drink last night. I cough a little. "My early evening is pretty full, so--"
"How about now?" she interrupts enthusiastically. "Or as close to now as you can manage?"
"Oh." Dammit. "Uh, what properties did you want to look at? I'll have to make sure whatever you want to see is available for viewing now."
She gives me addresses for four properties, and I know for a fact that three of them are vacant and likely to be available for immediate viewing. They're also very near my neighborhood. As is her hotel--which I found out when she was in my office yesterday.
I have no excuses. Motherfucker.
I tell her I'll call her right back. With a huge sigh I get out of bed and head across the hall to my home office. It would be so unprofessional to tell her that I can't meet today, but I'm so tempted. And if it weren't for the fact that I'm really not a good liar, I would. Instead, I get onto the company website and, a few keystrokes later, we're scheduled.
Back in my room I dial her number. "Hi, Tia," I say after she greets me again. "We're all set. I can pick you up in," I glance at the clock, "an hour and a half?"
"That's perfect!" she practically squeals. "We'll see you then. Thanks so much, Reese."
"It's my pleasure," I find myself saying. Which is so. Much. Bullshit. "I'll see you soon."
I end the call and blow out a breath. She said "we."
Mother. Fucker.
JC
"Dammit!" Tia tosses her phone onto the bed in front of her.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"That was Helen. There's so much happening this week and I'm not going to have any time to meet with Reese again before we fly back home."
Helen is her father's personal assistant. Lately, when it comes to her work, Helen is the one calling and texting a full ninety percent of the time.
Tia looks and sounds so agitated, but all I feel is relief. I've been trying to figure out how I can get out of seeing Reese again. Because as much as I want to see her again, I absolutely do not want to see her again under present circumstances.
And now, maybe, I don't have to.
"Oh, um...well, you can come back another time."
She's picking her phone back up and texting now, and for a few seconds she doesn't answer me.
"Babe, did you see where I put that folder Reese gave me yesterday?"
She's still looking down at her phone so she doesn't see the way my eyes roll. "You left it in the living room."
Saying nothing, Tia practically sprints into the other room and comes back with the glossy black folder in hand. She sits back down on the bed and opens it, pulling out Reese's business card.
"What are you doing?" I ask, feeling nervous.
She stops and smiles at me.
Her smile is the first thing I noticed about her. Those dimples. She has a beautiful smile.
Unfortunately, when she smiles like that, her intention is to get whatever she wants. Knowing that has taken some of the luster out of it for me.
"Maybe she can meet with us today." Tia's entering numbers into her phone.
The nervousness in my stomach is now a fifty pound steel ball. "Wh--today? Tia, she's...she's probably busy. With other clients."
And I'm not prepared to see her again. For the third day in a row.
But Tia's already dialing. "If she's busy, she's busy. But it doesn't hurt to ask."
I don't want to hear her end of the conversation so I stand up and go to the bathroom. I've already showered today, so I turn on the overhead fan and sit on the closed toilet with my head in my hands.
This is another one of those things about Tia that's just not working for me. It's not that she isn't a nice person, because she is. But when something is really important to her, it kind of takes precedence over everything else. And she's never rude about it, whatever it is, but she also has this tendency to just generally not take no for an answer.
When she wants something, she's like a tiny, beautiful force of nature. Or maybe a bulldozer. Or a wrecking ball.
I shouldn't be thinking this way about my girlfriend.
I kinda want to pray that Reese is busy today, but I'm not sure if God's on speaking terms with me right now. Instead I cross my fingers, literally, and make a passionate wish and hope that some sympathetic angel hears and takes pity on me.
The idea of spending even one more minute with Tia and Reese at the same time makes me queasy.
I count to one hundred, slowly, before leaving the room. But when I step out of the bathroom Tia's still on the phone. Big surprise.
"That's perfect!" she's saying. As excited as she sounds, I assume she's gotten her way. Which is par for the course. "We'll see you then. Thanks so much, Reese."
And just like that, my day is fucked.
