Page 53 of So This Is War
These motherfuckers. All around me, they’re in love because of me. Rubbing it in my goddamn face while I’m over here living a fucking nightmare of blue balls and semi-hard-ons with no relief. Not to mention, a live-in assistant who I can’t fuck. A girl so fucking hot, so fucking perfect for me that the night I met her, I wept myself to sleep from not being able to bury myself between her legs.
How is this fair?
“Oh, here is your protein shake, Mr. Posey,” Wylie says as she hands me my shake.
“You make her call you Mr. Posey?” Halsey asks with a disgusted look.
“No,” I say and then glance down at Wylie, who now has a coat of mascara on her lashes, making her light gray eyes stand out even more. “We went over this. You can call me Levi.”
“Ooo, Levi, that seems so personal,” Blakely says while her arm is still wrapped around Halsey.
“She didn’t want to call me Posey. I didn’t want her to call me Mr. Posey. So we settled on Levi.”
“I don’t know anyone who calls you that,” Blakely says.
“Only when he’s in trouble,” Halsey says.
When it comes to Wylie Wood, I’m in a whole lot of trouble.
“I didn’t want to seem disrespectful at work,” Wylie says.
“Call me Levi at all times. There’s no need to be fancy around these guys.”
“What does that mean?” Blakely asks. “Are we not upper crust enough for you?”
“Not even a little.” I take my protein shake from Wylie. “Thanks for this.”
“Do you really have her fetching you drinks, Posey?” Halsey asks. “You’re better than that, dude.”
Yeah, I fucking know!
If it were up to me, Wylie would be sitting pretty in my guest room, playing around with her art while casually making social media posts for me. But thanks to her dictator father, I have no choice but to have her fetch me things. If the way her dad pulled me into the office today isn’t an indication of the tightrope he has me on, I don’t know what is.
“I don’t mind,” Wylie says. “I’m here to help Levi with whatever he needs. Which, by the way, when you get a chance, will you send me access to all the team photos and video clips?” she asks Blakely.
“Yes, I’ll talk to the team and get you a login this morning.”
“That’s amazing. Thank you.”
“Not a problem,” Blakely says. “There are some clips of Posey I’ve never used, but they’re solid gold. Have fun.”
“Just don’t embarrass me,” I say, wanting to clarify that.
“You embarrass yourself on your own terms,” Halsey says. Look at this motherfucker, coming out of his shell now that he’s found happiness. He wouldn’t have even said two words to Wylie a year ago, but now he’s making jokes at my expense.
See what I’m talking about? Ungrateful friends.
“And with that, I’m taking off. You coming, Wylie? Lord knows these two want to share a donutLady and the Trampstyle.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Blakely says as she leans into Halsey.
Rolling my eyes, I leave the office with Wylie trailing. Once we’re down the hallway, she says, “They’re really cute together. They got married this past summer, right? I think I remember seeing a picture from their wedding.”
“Yeah. This summer. It was an intimate wedding in Banff.”
Halsey and Blakely kept the guest list to a minimum and celebrated the wedding at Silas’s cabin in the Canadian Rockies, where they said their vows in the backyard. Silas’s private chef catered the event.
I offered up the great idea to have bologna sliders as an appetizer, but they didn’t take the suggestion, nor did they listen to me about bringing Sherman—their bonsai tree—to the wedding, which I thought was flat-out irreverent. That tree was one of the main reasons—besides me—that they got together. Because of those two huge misses in their event planning, I knocked their wedding score a full point. They didn’t care when I told them.
