Page 18 of So This Is War
“Good.” He picks up a piece of paper and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” I ask, staring down at the paper.
“Yes, ground rules.” He picks up a piece of paper as well and starts reading. “Rule number one, you are not to become friends with my daughter. You are her boss, and that is it.”
“Yup. Understandable. Establishing a?—”
“Rule number two.” Okay, moving on. “You will pay her minimum wage and offer her no bonuses.”
“Bonuses, pffft, who likes those anyway?”
“Rule number three,” he continues with a force in his voice. “You will not offer her a place to live.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. But just so I’m aware, will she be homeless?”
“Rule number four,” he booms. Okay, so possibly homeless. Good to know. “There will be no perks to the job. No feeding her. No car service. No transportation. No credit card. She will have to figure all of this out on her own.”
“So you want me acting as a ruthless dictator. I haven’t practiced such a thing in my life just yet, but I’m up for the task. There’s always a time for a first.”
“And most importantly, rule number five. Under no circumstances will you have any sort of physical contact with my daughter.”
“What do you mean?—”
“Fucking her. You will not fuck her, Posey.”
“Ahh . . .” I smile. “Well, no worries there. Pretty sure if she looks anything like you, there will be no need for rule number five.”
His brow lifts, and I realize what I just said.
“I mean, shit, I didn’t mean that. You’re actually, wow, you’re a good-looking guy, very attractive. The bald thing really accentuates your . . . uh, steely eyes, and the tan you’ve been able to procure while coaching a winter sport is really impressive. Not to mention your physique, just oof, what a bundle of muscles that are not wrinkly. Some people your age might lookwrinkly, but not you. You’re firm. Firm in all the right places. So much firmness. Just look at those forearms and the sinew and firmness. Lots of firmness. And you know, just to throw it out there, not that you asked, but if I were a woman, then hell yeah, I would be talking to you about a date, or maybe a kiss or?—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Yup.” I nod. “Thank you for that.” I bow my head as a courteous thank-you.
“There will be no fucking her. No touching her. Don’t even look at her if you can avoid it.”
I make a check mark in the air with my finger. “Got it. No plans to go anywhere near your daughter. There will be no touching, no sexual encounters, completely and utterly platonic.”
He eyes me suspiciously, then finally says, “Good. Now sign on the line at the bottom.”
“You want me to sign this?” I ask.
“Yes, I want you to agree to these terms and sign it.”
Jokingly, I flip to the blank back page and then to the front again. “I don’t know, sir. I think I might want my lawyer to look this over. Possibly my agent.”
“Sign the fucking paper, Posey.”
“Yup,” I say, nearly jumping out of my seat from his booming voice. I grab a pen off his desk, sign quickly at the bottom, and then hand the paper back over to him. “Should we shake? Hug it out? Grab a whiskey and cheers?”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Sooo, that’s a no on the celebration?”
