Page 4 of The Cruiser
“Interesting. We don’t have any clients in that market.”
“Exactly,” he says. “That’s why you need to have dinner with him tonight.”
“What?” I’m already halfway to my living room couch with a bucket of KFC and a sappy Hallmark movie to cry my eyes out to. My brain is filled with rocks. The last thing I need is a night of schmoozing. “No, I can’t. I—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupts. “And you will. He’s only got one more night in town and asked to meet with you specifically.”
“Why me?”
Vaughn tilts his head, a You’re really asking me that? expression all over his face. “Because you’re built like Gisele and make Kate Beckinsale look like the girl next door. Back in her prime, of course.” He winks and saunters back to his desk, jamming files into his bag. “He’s staying at the Fairmont in Santa Monica. It’s your ‘hood, so probably better you than me anyway. I’m too old to be dealing with hyphenated Monaco princelings.”
A tingle runs up my spine. “He lives in Monaco?”
One of my dream destinations. Derek promised to take me there for our anniversary, but that was last year, before work took over his life.
“Apparently. And he mentioned something about you traveling there for an event. November, I think.” Vaughn’s unusually distracted today. He never lets important details like that slide.
“Why wouldn’t he hire someone from Europe?” I ask.
Vaughn pauses his busy work to give me his full attention. “Is everything okay? Or have you forgotten we are the fucking best when it comes to luxury PR? That’s why he’s after us. You’ve been itching to land a monster client for months. This is an opportunity on a silver platter, darlin’. And I’ll only say this once,” he adds, in a fatherly tone, “but you haven’t had your head in the game lately.”
We share revenue fifty-fifty, although our bonuses are based on the billings we bring in as individuals. Vaughn reels in most of our big fish clients. All of them men, the old boy’s network. I’m no slouch in securing new business, but he’s right. I’ve lost focus and can’t pinpoint the reasons why. Morgan sounds like a potential whale. One I can land on my own. But tonight of all nights?
“Okay, okay. I’ll meet with him.”
“Great,” he says. “I’ll check in with you next week to see how it went.”
“How? You’ll be off-grid on safari.”
He pauses, so busted. “Lindsay doesn’t know about the sat phone, okay? Don’t spill the beans.” In reaction to my suspect look, he quickly adds, “Technically, it’s not a lie if she doesn’t know about it.”
I wave a warning finger at him. “If you start calling every day, I’m going to ignore you.”
“Vans,” he says, “you know it’s never a crisis of belief between us. I trust you more than I trust my own children.” Our mutual gazes zero in on the silver photo frame atop his desk. Janelle and Aaron in younger, less troubled years. Back when they both held so much promise. Vaughn’s ability to avoid what he doesn’t want to deal with is legendary, but both kids landing back on the streets is taking a toll. It’s written all over his face. “I’m trying, okay?” he says, quietly. “This holiday is me trying. A month is insane though. How many fucking elephants can one man look at?”
Hollow fear shines in his eyes. A man about to leave behind the only thing that keeps him afloat.
“I know you’re trying,” I say, making my way over to console him. “But for Lindsay’s sake and yours, forget about work. I’ve got your back.”
After our quick hug, he pecks me on the cheek. “This place would fall apart without you. That husband of yours is one lucky son of a bitch. Did he go with you last night?”
The persistent pulse at my temples fires harder. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because he’s been MIA for the past four months and most of this year. He needs to man up and take the reins.”
I laugh tonelessly. “Is it just me, or did my mother reincarnate into you?”
“Listen up,” he says. “I know you can do it all, you’re a flawless fucking machine, but the point is, you shouldn’t have to.”
The softness in his voice, the truth in what he says; my lip trembles as I try to keep it together. “Maybe when you come back from vacation, I’ll go on one,” I say. “I could use a break.”
Vaughn searches my face and must attribute the emotions I’m hiding to work. “If you don’t want to deal with yacht boy, I’ll figure it out. Say the word.”
“It’s fine,” I reassure him.
My business is the last thing standing. Hell if I’m going to let that crumble too. And there’s no way I’m telling him about Derek. Not before his trip. He’ll use it as an excuse not to go, and Lindsay will be crushed. She confided in me that this is her last-ditch attempt at fixing their marriage.
With a final, mournful sweep through his office, Vaughn slings the Tumi over his shoulder and sighs. “Talk to Quigley for some intel before you head out tonight. He knows all about yacht boy. Damn near pissed himself when I told him he might become a client.”
