Old School (A Bad Boy Biker Romance) (18 page)

“What interview?” I said, and her face fell. I knew immediately that she wasn't joking.

“The interview to go with the photo shoot. We always do an interview with our photo shoots. You know that. Please tell me you did it,” she said, her face totally devoid of warmth just like it used to be. I didn't know what to say.

“Uh...” was all I could think of. Jennifer didn't break eye contact.

“Is this a joke? Because if it is it's in very poor taste,” she said.

“I'm not joking,” I said, “I'm sorry but I didn't know that the interview was my responsibility.” Jennifer's face began to turn crimson.

“You didn't know it was your responsibility? Whose responsibility would it be? I am so sick of people in this office not taking responsibility for themselves,” she stood up and threw my articles on the floor, “We are going to print on Monday, Lola! And this crap means nothing if we don't have an interview. Oh god, how could I have been stupid enough to trust you to work on your own? That was a mistake. Hiring you was a mistake, Jesus Christ!”

Jennifer had always had a short fuse, but I had never seen her go off on anyone like she was going off on me. This was it. My love life was in ruins and now my career would follow it down the shitter.

I didn't even try to explain myself because I knew it wouldn't do any good. I just listened to Jennifer rant and rave and knock things over until she was too tired to do anymore. She was breathing heavily now, panting and sweating and glaring at me.

There was a knock on the door and Tim poked his head in. There was a concerned look on his face. “Is everything OK in here?” he asked, looking at both of us but I knew he was really asking me. Jennifer answered instead.

“Everything is fine, thank you Tim,” she said, lowering her voice and returning to her seat. “Right, cos if you need any help with anything...”

“-We don't,” she said, sending him an overly saccharine smile, “This is all under control. You can go now, Tim.”

Tim took one last look at me and I nodded. There was nothing that he could do to help me now. This was all my own doing. He closed the door and Jennifer and I were alone again.

“I'm trying my best to be patient with you, Lola. I really am. You've provided us with some great ideas and you're a good writer, but I just can't stand for this level of unprofessionalism. I think we will have to talk about termination if this situation isn't rectified,” she said. I knew what that meant.

I had to do the interview by Monday or I was out on my ass. I was so desperate to stay that I didn't even bat an eye when she told me the interview had to be with Vince.

“I would ask someone more capable to undertake the interview in your place, but he doesn't seem interested in talking to any of us. You had a good rapport with him so I thought you could handle it. I really don't want to proven wrong here.”

That was all she had to say to me. I assured her that I would get the interview as if my life depended on it. Jennifer dismissed me and told me that there was no need for me to be in the office today. Besides, she said, you'll need all the time you can get.

Vince

The one day I decided to sleep in, my cell phone wouldn't stop ringing. I ignored it for as long as I could, figuring that it was probably Brett calling about the shop or Sophie calling to be a psycho. Whoever it was, they could wait.

They were more persistent than I expected. The ringing just wouldn't stop, so eventually I forced myself to get up. I walked across the room, dressed only in a pair of boxers and grabbed the phone. I didn't even check the caller I.D.

“Hello?” I said groggily.

“Vince! You finally answered me!”

Jesus Christ, it was Lola. I'd given up hope on her ever contacting me again so to actually hear her voice felt really odd. Nice, but odd.

I wasn't sure how I should respond so I just let her speak.

“Look, I'm sorry for calling you so much but I really needed to get through to you,” she said, before adding, “I almost got fired today. I'm still in trouble, unless you help me out.”

Had I been expecting her to tell me that she loved me and couldn't possibly live without me? No, not quite. Yet her words destroyed any delusions I had that she wanted me for more than just career reasons. It was my own fault for getting my hopes up.

“Are you serious? I already did you a huge favor by agreeing to the shoot and you were rude as fuck to me. Why should I do anything else for you?” I said, my voice gruff and uncaring. I felt bad being so rude to her, but I was mad.

“I'm sorry, I know I was rude. That was wrong of me. I was just stressed out that day. But  I'm not stressed out any more and I really need you to answer a few questions for me. Please, Vince?” she pleaded. I still wasn't feeling generous.

“I'm busy you know. Really fucking busy,” I said.

“I know, but please! I just need to ask you a few questions. It won't take any longer than ten minutes,” she said. Her voice was so desperate, she obviously wasn't lying. I would be a total jerk to hold back on her. Though I was still angry, I agreed to answer her questions.

“Come by my house today at five. We can talk then,” I said. Lola paused. She hadn't been expecting that.

“I could just ask you the questions over the phone,” she said, though I could tell from the way that her voice had dissolved into a quiet mumble that she knew that wasn't going to happen.

“No, I'm too busy for that. You have to come over.” She reluctantly agreed.

Lola

Vince was being plain manipulative by inviting me over. He knew that it would make me uncomfortable and difficult to concentrate on my interview questions. He would try to seduce me again, no doubt, but that wasn't going to happen tonight. I would go in there, ask my questions and leave. I had promised myself so many times to never see him again and each attempt had been fruitless. It really did seem like fate was forcing us to see each other. I just hoped that this truly would be the last time.

I approached Vince's house in my car at about five minutes before five O' clock. I hadn't planned on being early but worried that he might be offended if I was late. I waited in the car for a few minutes before finally forcing myself to pull up into his garage. Vince had left the door open for me and was waiting for me when I got inside.

He looked good. Vince always looked good but today he was wearing a white t-shirt and pair of jeans that made him look like a tattooed James Dean. I couldn't help but check him out, though I forced myself to look him in the eyes after I had a quick peek.

“Hi Lola,” he said. I couldn't read his expression. I wasn't sure if he was mad at me or not, but I had to assume that he wasn't. If he was there was no way that I would get a good interview out of him. That was all I was here for. A good interview.

“Hi,” I said. I wondered if I should shake his hand to establish a professional atmosphere but I wasn't given the time to do that. Vince turned around and walked into the house without a word.

I followed, a sense of unease in my chest. I hated being here but I had to get over that. I didn't want to be fired. I couldn't afford to be fired.

We walked through the kitchen and into the living room. Though the black leather sofas and polished glass coffee tables made the room rather sterile, there was a roaring fire burning in the fireplace that made it seem more inviting. Vince sat down on one of the armchairs by the fire while I stayed standing, not sure where I could sit.

“Sit down, please,” he said, gesturing to the armchair across from him. It was as far away as I could sit without sitting on the floor. I felt relieved that he wasn't trying to put the moves on me but disappointment at the same time. Had he really gotten over me so quickly? Maybe this interview was as mundane as any other meeting he did. I had tried to make it that way for myself, but it didn't work. My heart was pounding, my hands were trembling and I could feel my palms sweating.

I took his invitation and sat down in the chair.

“Thank you for agreeing to this. It was really helpful. You're getting me out of a bad situation,” I said. I was relieved when Vince shot me his trademark smirk.

“Jennifer's on your ass again?” he said knowingly. I nodded. He'd only met her once and already he understood.

“Yeah. I'm kind of surprised she hasn't fired me yet to be honest,” I said, “I guess I'll have to see if she likes this interview or not.”

“That women needs a good fucking,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Vince's professional demeanor had gone down the drain pretty quickly. It was annoying, but I couldn't say that I wasn't relieved. “That's your answer for everything,” I said. Vince shrugged.

“Well it's a good answer. Most shitty people in the world would be a lot happier if they just got laid a little more often,” he said, “You can use that quote if you want to.”

“I don't want to.”

“Right, that's probably a good idea. I want to present myself a little better than that. It's good for the brand,” he said, “But you know, if Jennifer doesn't like the interview just let me know. I can fuck her and she'll probably mellow out. She might even give you a raise if I asked her in the middle of it.”

I rolled my eyes again.

“I'm pretty sure she's married. Not every woman wants to fuck you, you know?” I said. Vince laughed at me.

“You did.”

That irritated me but I knew that was why he said it. I didn't want to show him that I was as easily upset as he pegged me to be.

“Yeah, I did. Should we get on with the interview and stop wasting time? I'm sure that you have things you'd rather be doing that sitting here talking to me,” I said.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, without missing a beat. What a jerk. I could feel my nerves evaporating and being replaced with anger, but I bit my tongue. I needed this interview and I would shut the fuck up and take whatever he gave me until it was over and I had what I needed.

“Right. Good. Let's get this over with, then,” I said. I reached into my handbag for the questions that I had prepared. My hands were still shaking.

Vince waited expectantly. I quickly scanned the page to psyche myself up and suddenly the questions I had seemed stupid. Still, I went ahead.

“I hope you don't mind, but I have to record this,” I said, pressing the record button on my phone. Vince didn't object.

“OK, thanks again for agreeing to this. So, Vinny's Bikes is known internationally as one of the biggest custom bike chains in the country,” I started.

“-And one of the best,” he said. I tried not to let the irritation show in my voice when I responded. “Yes, well maybe. You've recently launched a new line of motorcycle accessories, which includes gloves, bags and a whole number of other things that can be used by people who love the open road like you do, or by people who just want to make an edgy statement with what they are wearing. What inspired you to design this collection?” I asked, feeling proud of myself for keeping my composure. He couldn't rattle me. No matter how much he tried I would stay professional. Vince looked taken aback at my question, as if he didn't quite understand it. Had I finally stumped him? “Um, nothing inspired me,” he said. Nothing? Was he fucking kidding me? I imagined Jennifer's face when she saw that answer. She would fucking murder me. One sentence answers weren't exactly ideal in a two page interview. The few people I'd interviewed before Vince had barely been able to shut up.

“Nothing? OK. Right. But what were you thinking when you came up with the designs?” I asked. Vince still looked perplexed.

“Nothing.”

“Is that gonna be your answer for everything? Nothing, nothing, nothing? You know I have to publish this, right?” I said. My voice was soft but my tone was sharp. He knew that he was getting to me now.

“Yeah, I know and I'm just being honest. I didn't design anything. My buddy Brett though it would be a good idea to release some accessories so that people who can't afford our custom jobs might still spend some money. We hired someone to design everything. They just showed me a few pictures of what they had done. Nothing was horrible, so I signed on the dotted line and so far it's worked out OK,” he said, grumpy now, “I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't give a shit about fashion. I think it's boring and pointless and people waste way too much time on it.”

“Wow, that's so fucking edgy. A straight guy who doesn't see the value of fashion. You're so cool, Vince,” I retorted. Now I was getting his goat too. It felt good that our disagreement was no longer one sided.

“Sorry that I don't get up an hour early every morning to make sure that I'm wearing what some rich old fuckers in Paris say I should be wearing,” he said, “I'm my own man. It would be good for you to take a leaf out of my book and be more independent.”

“I've taken enough leaves out of your book to build a whole forest of regret. I think I'm done with that, thanks,” I snapped.

Vince blinked.

“You really are a writer, aren't you?” he asked. Of course I was a writer. I couldn't say that it surprised me that Vince would say something so stupid, but I couldn't help being offended.

“Yeah, I am. I know you don't exactly care about the brains of the girls you fuck, but I have one. I'm talented and I don't need dickheads like you to confirm that for me,” I said. For once in his life, Vince seemed to actually be speechless. He just looked at me and said nothing. Neither of us did. We just stared at each other in silence while the fire crackled in the background. I tapped the record button to stop my phone from recording anymore. I hadn't gotten what I needed but I knew that it was a lost cause now.

It was Vince who eventually broke the silence.

“Do you really think that I don't give a shit about your brain or your talent?” he asked, his voice low. I felt embarrassed but didn't back down.

“Yeah. I really do.”

“OK, well I won't argue with you anymore. It's pointless. I think we've done all that we can here,” he said, then noting the alarmed look on my face he added, “You have my permission to make up some good answers for your interview. I'm sorry that I couldn't help you there.”

“Thank you,” I said. I should have felt relieved, but I didn't. I hadn't expected this to end so soon. Maybe I had taken things too far, but he had annoyed me so much that I just couldn't seem to help it.

Vince stood up and I followed suit. This was his way of dismissing me. He reached out his hand and it took a moment for me to realize that he wanted me to shake it.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. I took his hand and the memory of his touch flooded my mind. This couldn't be the last time, it just couldn't. My relationship with Vince couldn't end with a handshake that he probably gave one hundred times a day. I wouldn't let that happen.

I stepped towards him.

“That's not your real goodbye, is it?” I had hoped he would take this as an invitation to kiss me, but no luck. He just looked at me.

“How should I saw goodbye to you, Lola?” The way he whispered my name made me shiver despite the fact that I was standing next to the heat of the fire. He was so sexy that I couldn't resist leaning in for a kiss though I was terrified that it would be rejected.

“Like this,” I whispered, and I pressed my lips against his. In that moment my feat completely subsided. He pulled me into his arms and then his body was pressed against my body and I remembered everything that I had missed so much about him.

Vince ran his hands up and down the contours of my body and I could tell that he was feeling the same way. We couldn't do this again, of course we couldn't, but there was no reason why the two of us couldn't savor this moment together.