“So…” I said after a few minutes of quiet. “Do you usually drive people around for Damon?”
“Usually? I rub his feet. Oil him down before photoshoots. Sometimes I’ll massage the little knot he gets out of his ass cheek.”
I stared.
Dick waited a long few seconds before he grinned. “Those were supposed to be jokes. It’ll be less uncomfortable for both of us if you laugh when I try to be funny.”
I found myself smiling with him. “Sorry. Everything has been so crazy since I took the job for Damon. I’m having trouble keeping up.”
Dick nodded. “I can relate. I was there myself when he took me on.”
“I’ve always wondered,” I said suddenly. “How do you get Dick from Richard, anyway?”
“Oh, it’s easy. Just buy me dinner.”
I spurted out a surprised laugh, then tried to compose myself.
“So,” Dick said, shifting his eyes my way. “What’s with all the yellow?”
I self-consciously looked down at my outfit. Okay. It was possible that I took Daria’s advice a little too far when I got myself ready tonight. Almost every article of clothing and jewelry I had on was at least a little yellow.
“It was just what I threw on,” I lied.
“You look like the man in the yellow hat from Curious George. Minus the hat, the dick, and with a pair of knockers.”
I let out a sigh and stared out the window. “Someone told me Damon likes yellow. I wanted him to be a little nicer to me for a change.”
Dick let out a hacking laugh. “Someone was fucking with you.”
“What?”
“He hates yellow. Rumor is he fired a guy for wearing a yellow tie once. Went on some long tirade about how only a tasteless, half blind idiot would wear a yellow tie to work.”
I swallowed.
Dear Daria,
You suck.
Sincerely,
Me
I arrived at the fundraiser in one piece, thanked Dick—the driver, not the anatomy that had gotten me into this mess in the first place—and headed inside.
I mostly ignored the fancy decorations, swarms of attractive, well-dressed people, and headed straight for the bar. I figured I could probably sneak in a pleasant buzz before Damon found me, and God knew I needed a little liquid courage to get through this event without trying to strangle him.
Halfway through my second drink, a guy about my age with an English accent leaned in towards my ear. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”
I smiled politely, which was the universal signal for not being witty or with-it enough to figure out what he was talking about. I hoped he wasn’t going to bring up my outfit.
“These people,” he continued without missing a beat. “They prance around like it’s all some sort of competition. Bet you ask half of them what cause we’re raising money for and they’d have no idea.”
I smiled again, or more like cringed. I was that half of people he was talking about. “Clueless. All of them.”
He tipped his glass toward me and clinked it against mine. “You said it.”
I cleared my throat, surveying the room. “You come to these things often?”
“I’m Mace. I’m an agent and I represent some of the athletes here.”
“Mace? Like the anti-perv spray or the medieval weapon?”
He smiled crookedly. “Like my parents picked my name from a book of ‘cool’ baby names for boys.”
Within a few minutes, Mace and I were smiling and laughing about a story involving one of his soccer players and a stolen mascot’s mask from an opposing team. That was precisely when Lucifer shat all over what was shaping up to be an enjoyable night.
“Mace,” Damon said. I was reminded of how tall and imposing he was. Until Damon had arrived, I would’ve classified Mace as a big man. He was strong and tall, but Damon made him look smaller. “That’s my personal assistant, so, if you don’t mind.”
Mace crooked an eyebrow. “Your employees aren’t allowed to socialize at social events? I’d heard you run a crooked ship, but that’s low. Even for you.”
“I don’t want you trying to fuck my employees. She has the best healthcare money can buy, but I’d rather not have my staff riddled with your STD’s.”
Mace snorted. “You’re just as charming as always, Damon.”
Damon signaled the bartender for a drink. “You should ignore everything he says, Chelsea. This man is a snake, and he’ll bend you backwards and fuck you dry if you let him.”
I snorted into my glass. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
Damon choked on his liquor and had to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. My little quip had Mace’s eyebrows nearly above his hairline. “You two…”
“No.” Damon snapped.
“Are you still—”
“Stay away from her.”
Mace and I both gave Damon curious looks.
He seemed to bristle. “I don’t need outside agencies fucking with my employees. That’s all.”
Mace wore a grin that didn’t seem quite as kind as the ones he’d given me. “I would expect a man with your reputation to have thicker skin. She happened years ago, but you’re still cowering from the memory of it, aren’t you?”
“You can leave now.”
“I was invited, asshole.” Mace smiled at me a little sadly. “Good luck with him. And he does bite. Keep your distance.”
“I can handle him. Thanks, though.”
Damon made an annoyed sound and then gestured for me to follow.
“Grandpa Dick. Really?” I asked once we passed out of the main lobby area and into a smaller, less crowded side room. What I really wanted to ask about was the mystery woman Mace had mentioned, but Damon was pissed enough that I knew he wouldn’t answer.
Couches lined the walls and a few quiet groups of well-dressed individuals sat with drinks and cocktails.
Damon ran his tongue across his teeth in a way I thought might be meant to mask a smile. “He has been with the company for a long time. You made it here in one piece, didn’t you?”
Chris shouldered his way through the crowd and tapped Damon on the shoulder. “Hey, did you know she-who-must-not-be-named is here? Want me to sneak you out the back?”
Damon’s expression darkened. He shook his head. “No.”
“What about that thing you said?” Chris lowered his voice, doing his best Damon impression. “If I have to set eyes on that woman again, I’ll throw up so hard you’ll have to push my feet back in my mouth.”
“I’m nearly certain I never said that.” Damon crossed his arms, eyes scanning the room. “And no. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chris shrugged. “Fine with me. I did my brotherly duty, now it’s on you.” With that, he headed back where he’d come from, leaving Damon and I alone again.
“Who is ‘she?’”
“Nobody you need to worry about.”
I admittedly wanted to argue with him. I wanted to bug him until he gave me every delicious little detail of whatever drama he and his brother had just skirted around. Part of me liked the friction between us. I guessed if all you ever had was peace, it would be hard to appreciate the quiet moments when they came. God knew there was no peace around my bosshole, Damon.