Page 98 of My Grape Crush
We actually have two meetings on the agenda today, and I chose this coffee shop on purpose for our first tussle.
Brett will seethe when the low-profile tires on his precious Maserati touch rubber on the grimy streets of the downtown east side. Plus, Rhys can fly under the radar. In this neighborhood, the residents are on the lookout for their next fix, not an Internet personality.
I down the coffee in two gulps, just as Brett rolls in at noon on the dot. Suit impeccable. Two-hundred-dollar haircut and million-dollar ego. He struts over like he owns the place, heels of his hand-tooled tasseled loafers clicking on the tile floor. It gives me immense pleasure when his smug smile curdles, recognizing Rhys.
I accidentally forgot to mention that he would be at my side today.
“Is this your legal counsel?” He throws a disdainful look at the mesh tank top I asked Rhys to wear on purpose.
“Yes and no,” Rhys takes the lead like he wanted to. “No, in that I don’t hold a law degree. Yes, in that I have enough cash to drown you in lawyers if you don’t back off.”
Brett whips off his sunglasses and scowls, the emerald green of his eyes I once found alluring flashing with indignation. “Is that a threat?”
Rhys stares him down, zero submission. Giving no shits. “Absolutely.”
“Why are you doing this?” I demand. “Slow news day? Time to kill?” I cut to the chase just to annoy him. Brett has an infinite capacity for combat. He loves to bicker as much as he loves to play power games.
In response, Brett shrugs, likeduh, do I have to ask? “Any businessman protects his assets.”
“You know those designs are mine. Created on my time, not yours.”
“No, actually,” he flips back, “I don’t know. And if your hobo friend here wants to waste his money in court, bring it on.”
“Are you that thirsty for attention?” Rhys shakes his head, beyond appalled. “Why else would you throw shade on Dani other than propping up your crushed ego?”
In the sticky silence, they size each other up.Brett is smaller than Rhys in every way. Uglier and meaner. A malignant little tumor. Hair blacker than his soul.
“Last I heard,” Brett says with a snigger, “your artwork embarrassed Dani and an entire town.”
Like a snake uncoiled, Rhys strikes. “Are you going to claim ownership of my drawings too?”
Brett laughs like it's the funniest thing he’s ever heard, his bone-white teeth on full display. “I’m not interested in amateur hour from a fucking influencer who’s eating my sloppy seconds. Is this the best you can do, Dani?” he asks. “Your version of ‘Reach for the stars’?”
I feel the air between me and Rhys shift, his entire body tensing. Brett's abominable behavior deserves a punch in the face, but we promised each other to keep things cool. Yet it still feels like I’ve been slimed. At one point, I swallowed my pride for this fool. Now I fight back bile.
And try to keep my voice steady.
“You used me, for my work. For your own pleasure. And then you replaced me when you got bored. We both know I could have come after you, and still could, for the bullshit lay-off.”
“But you didn’t,” he flips back. “And you won’t.”
“Because I’ve realized my worth.”
Finally, his air of doing us a favor evaporates. “And you think this airhead stud muffin is going to bow down to your precious altar for the rest of your life? Better and younger is always around the corner. Right, dude?”
I’m not the kind of person who gets violent. But Rhys proved the other day that, when push comes to shove, his fists could do the talking. What he and I have brewing together is too big for a tiny annoyance like Brett, but it all happens so suddenly, it's beyond my ability to stop it.
Rhys stands, his chair screeching across the hardwood floor. His fingers twitch into a fist. I watch his arm swing and brace myself for the crunch of knuckle against bone.
But there’s nothing but silence.
Between the curtain of my fingers, I peer out to assess the damage.
Rhys’s fist hangs just shy of smashing Brett’s pompous nose. Thank god for restraint. And I’ll take to my grave the endless enjoyment of witnessing Brett cower.
“Why don’t you spread your dirty dogma somewhere else, asshole?” Rhys bites out. “Dani is my person. I plan to make her morning coffee for the rest of her life. We’re going to get old together. And you’re just going to get oldandugly because that's who you are on the inside.”
Brett adjusts his blazer, red-faced. Uncomfortable that he didn’t live up to his personal standards of cutthroat idiot. This is a fitting place for him to go down: in a sketchy coffee shop, emasculated by an Adonis in board shorts who doesn’t take shit from anyone.
