Page 81 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Truth?”

“Yes.”

“O’Hara’s down by World Trade. I love greasy food on a night like this.” I lift my glass to indicate the kind of mood I’m in.

“You think you wouldn’t mention what’s happening to one of the bartenders?” She does a fair impression of me when she mimics, “Man, Nancy’s looking for a new job. She’s good, but not all that sure since she blew the whole Brendan Blake thing.” Abruptly, Ursula gives me a hard look. “Anyone looking to take you down is going to find out you said shit about your employee. They’re going to make Nancy feel bad so she says worse things—such as the crap with Brendan.”

“Goddamn it, Ursula!” I shout. For the last few hours, we’ve been getting along beautifully— so well, it’s felt like a perfect night to talk. Then she strikes out.

She leans forward and grabs my face. “I’m not saying it, you ass. Pretend Nancy is. If you think your employees won’t—or haven’t— bashed you, you’re absolutely crazy. People stay at a job for three reasons: money, co-workers, and job satisfaction. Beyond that, motive becomes a possible risk. What are you doing to ensure your second most important employee—since technically you are an employee of your own company—doesn’t become your biggest liability?”

Ursula closes her laptop before reaching for her drink to finish it off. “Ultimately, as the owner of StellaNova, the choice is yours to make. As a consultant, I can only advise you on the pros and cons.”

She stands and makes her way into the kitchen to place her glass in the sink. Setting her laptop on the counter, she picks up the vase of flowers. Much to my shock, she takes them—vase and all—and dumps them in the trash before vacating the space. Swiping the card off the counter, she starts to head into her suite.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I eyeball her as if the woman I just listened to for the last three hours has suddenly gone loco.

Ursula lifts her wrist and waits a moment. When she finally answers, I feel cold spear through me. “The flowers were a lovely gesture from Angie and Ward to let me know they love me.”

“I gathered that, but—”

“I don’t need a reminder of the day my mother died. I’d have thrown them out hours ago if I hadn’t got caught up trying to help you realize you need to find some compassion for the people around you. You see, that’s the problem. You don’t remember the important things about people. By doing that, you cause them a world of hurt.”

I gape at her as she executes a small bow. “If you’ll excuse me, it has been a rather long day. I think I’ll retire early. I just need to get out of this outfit.”

With that, Ursula heads into her suite to drop off her laptop and to change. It’s then I realize she’s dressed in head to toe black.

I’m left wanting to punch my hand through the nearest window for being so insensitive.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT

Wildcard Music announced legends Small Town Nights will be sliding into semi-retirement.

The press release read earlier by Paula Stone had me choking up. “On behalf of Shane and Amanda, they want to thank you for a lifetime of memories. As they move into the next phase of their lives together with their children, they want you to know you will always be a part of their family.”

Small Town Nights is the music of my childhood, the songs of my youth. I still remember dancing to “Fool Like You” at my senior prom.

I’m in mourning.

It’s the end of an era.

—StellaNova

I’ve stayed up watching televisionto give Ursula time to fall asleep. By the time I follow her, I’ve polished off a goodly portion of the remaining bottle of bourbon, trying to shove away the guilt eating at my gut.

I thought it worked until I enter the room and find Ursula curled up in a tiny ball near the center of the bed, tear marks still evident down her face.

But what utterly shocks me is her hand clutching my shirt as if she doesn’t mean to let it go.

I lean against the bedpost and watch as her lips move. Her brow furrows. Her nose scrunches. Then she scoots closer to my tee.

The minute her head touches the edge of the shirt, her face smooths out.

Calm.

Serene.

Just the way she used to sleep when her head was lying on my chest.