tenacity.”
The words leapt out of my mouth before
I could stop them: “Glad I’m impressing someone.”
Oh, Ally, Ally, Ally, I could
almost hear my mother saying. When will you ever learn to think
before you speak?
It didn’t really matter that I
couldn’t recall the context of that memory. It could have been
any time within the past twenty-four years of my life.
“Hunter not appreciating you?”
Chuck’s voice held nothing but sympathy, and he waved away my
sound of protest. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of prying
further. I’m sure I’ve heard this story before; he leaves
a string of hearts in his wake, young Hunter. He doesn’t
understand how deeply women feel things, particularly smart,
passionate, artistic young women like you.”
Flattery will get you everywhere with
me. Even if you’re a snake. “Well, I guess I am—”
But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and Chuck plowed on.
“There’s nothing malicious
about it; it’s just that when you get right down to it, the
man’s rather shallow. He sees a pretty face and the women he
strings along hope he sees something more.” He shook his head,
mournful and earnest. “Don’t be embarrassed, Miss
Bartlett. I’ve seen it all from him at least a hundred times
before.”
“It’s not like that!”
I snapped, the tears threatening again, but I held them at bay with
an iron will. I couldn’t let him think I was some floozy,
sleeping her way to the top; not after all I’d sacrificed to
keep my good name. “Hunter and I—‘s not like that.
We’re just—I’m jus’ sick of Hunter being so
self-centered, is all. All ‘I’m Hunter Knox’ like
that—like that…”
I waved my hand, trying to convey what
I couldn’t with words. Some distant part of my brain noted that
my hand was unsteady and I tried to keep it from wavering. I couldn’t
let Chuck guess how much alcohol I’d consumed. I couldn’t
let him guess because—
Because—
It was really hard to remember the
reason. He was being so nice to me.
He patted my shoulder. “Oh,
really? Hunter may have his faults, but being egotistical in
business—well, frankly it doesn’t seem like him.”
His disbelief goaded me further. “Well,
it is! He can’t see how people are trying to help him, he just
wants to do it all himself, and all he can do is, is, is—insult
everyone, call them names, say they’ve wasted their life on the
job they love—I tried to…I mean, other people really
care about the company, but he jus’, just is all—”
I forgot my need to keep my gestures small, waved my hands like I was
conducting a large orchestra—“wanting to run everything
himself, gotta turn everything around all by himself and it’s
like the family name is freaking sacred or some shit—some ish,
some—” I blushed at my profane slip but more words kept
burbling out of my lubricated throat. “It’s more than
just a product to him, like—like—like he’s a
freaking mishin—mish—missionary or something!”
There was a grin in Chuck’s
voice, but my mind couldn’t quite put a reason to it. Reasons
were very far away and unimportant at the moment, unconnected to me
and my anger and the muggy night air.
“That sounds awful,” Chuck
sympathized. “Do tell me more, you poor thing.”
And God help me, I did.
#
“Well, I thought that went well,
don’t you?” Hunter said.
I did not think that had gone well. I
thought that had gone the opposite of well. It had, in fact, gone so
thoroughly not-well that in a crescendo of complete unwellness, the
evening was ending with me having to ride back to the plantation in a
car driven by an obscenely happy Hunter, who insisted on humming
happy songs under his breath, making random positive comments about
my sister, grilling me about how my efforts had gone and why he
hadn’t seen me for the last quarter, and touching my arm.
Like, maybe if he had just confined
himself to touching my arm, I would have been more kindly
The words leapt out of my mouth before
I could stop them: “Glad I’m impressing someone.”
Oh, Ally, Ally, Ally, I could
almost hear my mother saying. When will you ever learn to think
before you speak?
It didn’t really matter that I
couldn’t recall the context of that memory. It could have been
any time within the past twenty-four years of my life.
“Hunter not appreciating you?”
Chuck’s voice held nothing but sympathy, and he waved away my
sound of protest. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of prying
further. I’m sure I’ve heard this story before; he leaves
a string of hearts in his wake, young Hunter. He doesn’t
understand how deeply women feel things, particularly smart,
passionate, artistic young women like you.”
Flattery will get you everywhere with
me. Even if you’re a snake. “Well, I guess I am—”
But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and Chuck plowed on.
“There’s nothing malicious
about it; it’s just that when you get right down to it, the
man’s rather shallow. He sees a pretty face and the women he
strings along hope he sees something more.” He shook his head,
mournful and earnest. “Don’t be embarrassed, Miss
Bartlett. I’ve seen it all from him at least a hundred times
before.”
“It’s not like that!”
I snapped, the tears threatening again, but I held them at bay with
an iron will. I couldn’t let him think I was some floozy,
sleeping her way to the top; not after all I’d sacrificed to
keep my good name. “Hunter and I—‘s not like that.
We’re just—I’m jus’ sick of Hunter being so
self-centered, is all. All ‘I’m Hunter Knox’ like
that—like that…”
I waved my hand, trying to convey what
I couldn’t with words. Some distant part of my brain noted that
my hand was unsteady and I tried to keep it from wavering. I couldn’t
let Chuck guess how much alcohol I’d consumed. I couldn’t
let him guess because—
Because—
It was really hard to remember the
reason. He was being so nice to me.
He patted my shoulder. “Oh,
really? Hunter may have his faults, but being egotistical in
business—well, frankly it doesn’t seem like him.”
His disbelief goaded me further. “Well,
it is! He can’t see how people are trying to help him, he just
wants to do it all himself, and all he can do is, is, is—insult
everyone, call them names, say they’ve wasted their life on the
job they love—I tried to…I mean, other people really
care about the company, but he jus’, just is all—”
I forgot my need to keep my gestures small, waved my hands like I was
conducting a large orchestra—“wanting to run everything
himself, gotta turn everything around all by himself and it’s
like the family name is freaking sacred or some shit—some ish,
some—” I blushed at my profane slip but more words kept
burbling out of my lubricated throat. “It’s more than
just a product to him, like—like—like he’s a
freaking mishin—mish—missionary or something!”
There was a grin in Chuck’s
voice, but my mind couldn’t quite put a reason to it. Reasons
were very far away and unimportant at the moment, unconnected to me
and my anger and the muggy night air.
“That sounds awful,” Chuck
sympathized. “Do tell me more, you poor thing.”
And God help me, I did.
#
“Well, I thought that went well,
don’t you?” Hunter said.
I did not think that had gone well. I
thought that had gone the opposite of well. It had, in fact, gone so
thoroughly not-well that in a crescendo of complete unwellness, the
evening was ending with me having to ride back to the plantation in a
car driven by an obscenely happy Hunter, who insisted on humming
happy songs under his breath, making random positive comments about
my sister, grilling me about how my efforts had gone and why he
hadn’t seen me for the last quarter, and touching my arm.
Like, maybe if he had just confined
himself to touching my arm, I would have been more kindly
Similar Books
