Page 4 of Maid for My Billionaire Boss
I held her hair, wondering if this was something she would have wanted back. Tonya was on her way over and I wasn’t sure why, but I felt having a random female’s ponytail in my office would be one of those things which fell into the “hard to explain to your girlfriend category.” I panicked and dropped the hair like it was a hot potato into the trash can.
I picked up my phone and called Evan because even though I had texted him an hour ago, he hadn’t gotten back to me. Evan was a buddy of mine I’d had since college. We had shared the same major, as well as dorm room. Also, he’d never admit to it, but I suspected we might have also shared a girlfriend. My evidence was when I tripped over a pair of pink skater shoes on the front doormat one night when I came home a day early from break. Pink shoes weren’t his style, and there was only one girl I’d ever seen who wore them.The girl I was casually dating. It’s fine, though, and she wasn’t my type. We literally had only dated a couple weeks while Tonya and I had taken a break. I mostly dated her to make Tonya jealous—which worked because we quickly got back together.
Now Evan had his own computer shop and he stayed only busy enough to be able to close by noon every day so he could go to the beach. He seemed to live life as one big party, void of responsibility. And almost like he did it to cement the stereotype even more, yes, he still lived at home with his mom. Even though I became rich, he remained my closest friend because he’s the only one who really knew me before I had my tech company—well, besides Tonya and Damion. Evan answered on the first ring with the nickname we always called each other: “Amateur.”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and send me over another laptop?” I greeted him.
“Useful people get used.” His voice rolled out in a smooth tone. “I prefer to be beneficial.”
“I don’t want to hear about your benefits.”
“So,” he started in a curious tone. “What happened to the computer you just picked up?”
“My new maid dropkicked it to the floor and poured coffee all over it.”
“Maid. Is that code?”
“No, it’s not code.”
“Is she hot?”
“I only got to look at her scalp, but it looked healthy. I didn’t see any flakes or fungus or anything if that’s your standard.”
“And . . . Why exactly were you looking at her scalp?”
“Evan,” I stated firmly, redirecting his focus. “Computer.”
“You’re super rich. How come you don’t have dozens of fancy prototypes in your office?”
“Well, because I just moved here and because you’re my computer guy. You don’t give me fancy prototypes. So, computer.”
“Don’t rush me. I need to make sure I’m getting something fair out of this deal.”
“Since I’m your only customer, my loyalty should be enough.”
“Funny guy, better watch it or I’ll make your laptop run slower than a 1997 Presario with a 56k modem.”
I chuckled because I remembered that piece of junk. My first computer and it only took me four paper routes to afford it. Keeping with the serious tone of this conversation, he added, “Would you like me to bill you for the extended warranty on our friendship or do you want to pay over the phone?”
“What?”
“This abuse is starting to be too much. I’m going to have to charge you.”
I didn’t respond because I heard Tonya’s sultry voice at the door. “Trey.”
Waving her inside, I spoke back into my phone, “Same computer as last time, but I have to go.” Ending my call, I turned to greet her. The smile I was beginning to etch on my face from the sound of her voice was instantly diminished when I saw her expression. “What’s wrong?” I asked, walking to meet her, but instead of embracing her, I stopped an arm’s length away.
“I got your message about the dinner reservations for tomorrow night.” Her tone was edged in a way that irritated my ears, tipping me off that she was unhappy.
“I made reservations at your favorite restaurant for ten of your closest friends and family so we could celebrate your birthday.”
“It’s not my favorite restaurant,” she quipped with a hand perched on her hip in a manner which made me want to take a step back. “But it is a place I enjoy. You know my favorite place is in LA.”
“Right.” I closed my mouth, trying to maintain an indifferent look. When the truth was, we both knew her frustration had nothing to do with the restaurant at all. She was growing bitter over my choice to move back to the East Coast. We were both from Long Island—high school sweethearts. She had always spoken dreamily of moving to the West Coast. I never wanted to stand in the way of her dreams. She had been the sole reason I had moved my offices there in the first place, even though I never wanted to leave my friends and family.
I tried itfor her.I’d try anything for her, and I don’t regret it.
However, this last year my life had taken an unexpected tremendous downhill slide where I almost lost everything. Almost losing everything is abitof an understatement. My business partner died, my business lost millions, my employees backstabbed me, and I ended up on the brink of a total nervous breakdown. It was either check into a psych ward and wait to die or start over.
