Maybe it was a good thing he ignored my comment about his masturbatory habits.
“As for whether or not you’re forgiven for losing our largest client, the answer is no. In fact, as punishment, you’re going to represent Champion Security at the Licking Nuthatch Gala.”
I tilted my head and peered at him. “I’m sorry. You want me to lick your what?” Licking Thicket jokes never got old.
Champ ignored me, except for that telltale twitchy eyebrow, and continued.
“It’s a fundraiser for a cardiac wing at our regional hospital. It’s being put on by the Rogers family. They’re an old-money family from Nashville. One of the men in the family moved to Nuthatch and took over a cardiology practice, and the family is celebrating his move to the area with a charity fundraiser. They want to endow the new wing in his honor.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. Must be nice to have that kind of money. The kind that said, “Oh? You’re moving to nowhere, Tennessee? Here’s a hospital wing to give you something to do with yourself.” When I’d moved to the Thicket a few months ago, my family had given me every single novelty mug they could find with the words “licking” or “thick” on it. I now owned enough mugs to open a very inappropriate cafe. “Must be nice.”
“You’re going to find out tonight at the gala. And no hooking up while you’re there. I know it’ll be rough for you, but try to stay off Grindr for at least a few hours.”
Those were fighting words. “Do you have any idea how rare it is for me to hook up with someone these days? All I do is work. Last weekend was the first weekend I’ve had off in months, so I swiped right just one time—”
He held up a hand to shut me up. “Save it, Riggsy. I don’t want to hear about your lonely dick. I’m still pissed. I’ll get over it eventually…” He smiled in a way that was not at all comforting. “But today is not that day, my friend.”
I sighed. “I’m just trying to reassure you, there’s no way my dick’s getting any less lonely while I’m at the party. You know how I feel about high-maintenance guys.”
Or really, any-maintenance guys. But I was especially not into the rich, privileged, gala-throwing type.
“Yes, that’s very reassuring. And speaking of high-maintenance guys, I neglected to mention you’re also going to babysit the cardiologist as your next assignment.”
“No! What? No! I hate personal protection.”
“I know,” Champ said gleefully. “The doctor’s your new principal, and he’s headed out on some kind of charity stint in South America. It’s all in the file I just sent to your email. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”
Okay, this was going down a road I wasn’t interested in traveling.
He continued. “And, given that you’ll be busy in a jungle outside of Caracas working off the consequences of your poor Grindr hookup choices, you’re officially out of the auricle implant program. Until further notice, you’re our resident rich-guy babysitter. Congratulations.”
“What?” I breathed, feeling a slight head rush as my brain dried to wrap itself around his words. There was no way he meant what he was saying. I’d busted my ass researching implant comms tech in order to qualify for that elite training program in Arizona. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re taking me off AIP to send me to the fucking jungle to babysit a rich do-gooder? All because I made one little mistake?”
“You lost us the Horn of Glory!”
“It sounds so dirty when you say it like that,” I lamented.
“They’re the biggest client we’ve ever had, Riggs. And you heard Kandi! Horn of Glory is the hottest handheld video game in the world right now. They’re expanding globally at light speed. Do you have any idea what that contract would have done for Champion Security? Do you? We were this close to expanding from personnel background checks, on-site guarding, and security monitoring to doing the big shit—location assessment, security systems consulting, and executive personal security. And then you decided to fuck it all up with a quick chat in front of some horny stranger. If you can’t be professional, I can’t justify the expense.”
Okay, maybe I couldn’t just take this reaming quietly.
“I took a call from Jacob Horn, the CEO!” I retorted angrily. “That’s all! I answered the phone when the important client called. Was I supposed to not answer while I took the time to find pants and exit the room? And I can’t help it if the man screams every word he says on the phone loud enough for the Grindr dude in the bathroom to overhear.”
Champ crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. I tried not to look at them because they truly were porn-worthy.
He sighed in exasperation. “Riggs, you need to learn that not everyone is your friend. Not everyone is trustworthy. Learn to keep your fucking mouth shut in general, and especially about client information. Have a hookup, fine. But don’t fucking tell him your life story while you’re at it. You share too much. Just fuck the guy and be done with it. No emotions necessary unless you’re looking for a spouse. You looking for a spouse, Riggs? Because I gotta tell you, that wouldn’t exactly gel well with your job. I’m not sure your Grindr husband would want you flying off to parts unknown the next time you’re lucky enough to get nominated for something like AIP.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d cautioned me against my big mouth. I had a tendency to overshare, and it had gotten me into plenty of trouble in the past, like the time I’d told a guy I was dating where I worked and he’d marched into Champion Security to declare his undying love for me in the middle of the lobby right in front of a client—like there would ever be a time when I would be cool with PDA in my workplace.
But that was in the past, and it had no bearing on this current mess. I hadn’t spilled any fucking beans, and my boss needed to know that.
“No, I am not looking for a spouse.” I valued my freedom way too much. “And just so we’re clear, Jacob Horn was the one who said he was laying off thirty percent of the local development team. I didn’t say a word. My only crime was taking a call at the wrong time.”
Champ lifted that fucking eyebrow again. The Eyebrow of Accusation. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been fucking a HOG employee in the first place. Maybe then Mr.… what was his name again? The missing developer?”
“Buck Nutter. And I don’t know why you keep making me say his name when it gives you that constipated look every time you hear it. Just so we’re clear, Buck wasn’t my hookup. The Grindr guy’s name was Dim. Ding. Dino. I can’t remember. And working a food truck in the HOG parking lot doesn’t make him an employee. Besides, we didn’t fuck. I kicked him out as soon as he came out of the bathroom. But by then it was too late.”
He ignored me. “Maybe then Buck Nutter wouldn’t have taken off with this mystical porthole code thing and put the cybersecurity of millions of gamers at risk.”
“Seed,” I corrected. “Buck Nutter’s Magic Seed. It’s an asset inside the game. When you have the magic seed, you get backdoor access—”
“Every word you say just makes this worse,” Champ said before turning away and heading to his office. “I’m living in a nightmare,” he muttered under his breath.