Chapter 19: Harlow

Chapter Nineteen

HARLOW

I decide to tell the truth. To everyone. After breakfast, sex, and showering in that specific order, I march down to Gertie's apartment. Cal strolls along behind me, hands in his pockets, whistling. He's along for the ride, he said, although I think he plans to glare at everyone over my head, which is fine. It's nice not being alone all the time. I kind of feel invincible whenever he's around. That might be bad. Oh well.

Gertie opens the door the length of the chain-bolt latch. We can only see one eye, which makes her look like a cartoon villain. I stifle a laugh. "I'd like to talk about the apartment, Gertie. I'm sure you've had an earful from Mindy."

"It's Sunday. I have brunch in an hour."

"It will take ten minutes."

Cal clears his throat. Gertie purses her lips together and closes the door. We hear her undo three locks, and then she appears in the open doorway. "Take off your shoes," she orders.

We oblige. Gertie's apartment has more knickknacks than Grams'. It's wall to wall curio cases full of plates and figurines and even toys. The living room is crowded with furniture, too. It's as if she lives in an antique shop.

"This is from 19th Century England, and this is from the estate of Sadie Cushman, who is one of the original Mayflower families, and this is from a Rockefeller that I picked up at Sotheby's last year." She's very proud of her collection.

"Nice," I say. Cal's silent.

She finally sits on a flowered sofa that looks like it could have come from Grams' apartment and then looks up at us expectantly.

Cal taps a chair and points for me to sit down even though Gertie never extended the invitation. He hates her. It's a good thing he's not a mafia boss because I think he'd have her rubbed out. If that's a thing mafia bosses still do.

"What do you have to say?" She looks smug.

"I lied. I wasn't engaged nor was I planning to marry Cal."

"I feel like that is a mischaracterization. We did agree to an engagement which is a promise to marry," Cal interjects.

"But it was just for show."

"Not for me."

I throw up my hands.

"Sorry. Go ahead." He gestures toward Gertie, who is watching us with a confused expression.

"I put out an ad for a fake fiancé. Cal didn't mean to answer it, but I mistook him for the guy who had responded to the ad, and for some reason, Cal agreed to act as my fiancé."

"It wasn't an act on my part," he adds.

Gertie's brows grow even closer together. Cal's comments are making it tough for her to buy this story.

"Are you saying it was love at first sight?" she finally asks.

"Yeah, for me. It took me a while to convince Harlow the hard-hearted."

"It's been like a week," I protest.

"That long?" he sighs, looking put out.

Gertie rocks back. "So are you getting married?"

"Yes, next week. We're doing a courthouse wedding with a larger ceremony later.

I promised Aunt Gia. We'll be inviting all the residents of The Grand, of course." Cal smiles. It's our trump card.

The gears inside Gertie's brain start working that out. Cal and I are getting married. It will be one of the major social events in the city. If it got out that Gertie ruined the opportunity to attend for the rest of the residents, she'd definitely lose her position as president of the board.

"Well, even though you planned to deceive us, in the end it appears you are fulfilling the requirements we had laid out. And obviously with your marriage to Cal, there will not be any problems meeting the financial obligations of a resident, so I will recommend that you be approved for ownership of your grandmother's apartment."

"Great. I appreciate it." I stand up and offer my hand.

After a moment of hesitation, we shake. The deal is done. Cal has a shit-eating grin on his face, but I push him toward the door so Gertie can't see it.

"Don't gloat," I order, punching the elevator button.

"This is my natural state."

"So you're always gloating?"

"I do win a lot."

The doors slide open, and out steps Mindy. Because she's smart, she reads Cal's face perfectly. "You convinced Gertie, didn't you?"

"Yes." There's no point in lying. I step inside the car and pull Cal in with me. He's still grinning.

"Wait." Her hand stops the doors from closing. "Why her and not me?"

Cal's face grows hard. "Because she's Harlow, and I can't remember your name." He reaches forward and dislodges her hand. "Never disrespect her again, or I will ruin you, and the only elevator you will be riding is the one to debtor's prison."

"That was…"

"Harsh?" he asks as the elevator car arrives.

"No, actually. I appreciate it. I don't think I would have ever said that to her, but I wanted to."

"It's better coming from me." He tips my chin up. "But feel free to curse your enemies and then tell me about it. That's what I'm here for. Sex, food, and revenge."

I'm laughing when he kisses me. I love it and him.

"Just tell them I'm a delivery person you hired," Cal suggests as I worry how I'm going to sneak him into my office.

"I've got a single box of stuff. Not even a box actually. A plant, a photo of me and Grams, a mug, and a planner that I never used. Maybe some candy."

"Sounds heavy, and I should be carrying that for you."

The driver pulls up in front of the building. "What's the worst that can happen? I get kicked out?"

"I suppose." That would be humiliating for most people, but Cal's ego is so solid you could probably kick him in the balls in the middle of the street, and he'd laugh in your face. I'm going to learn that from him. Not allow other people to tear me down.

With that in mind, I march onto my floor with my head up. I was fired unjustly, and no one is going to make me feel bad today.

Stacy is standing next to my desk, watching me the whole way with a smirk on her face. The smarmy look falters when she catches sight of Cal over my shoulder.

"Did you bring your lawyer?" She sneers, but the way she's wringing her fingers together tells me she's nervous.

"Damn, better idea than bodyguard," Cal murmurs.

I swallow a giggle and start gathering up my things. I had a few more items than what I'd listed for Cal earlier but not much. He places everything in the box for me while the rest of the office looks on. As Cal places the last item—my candy jar—into the box, Mavis appears.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," she says.

"I'm not." I lift my chin. A couple of weeks ago, I would've been near tears, saying "I'm so sorry, too." That's not the person I want to be. "I didn't do anything wrong. My project was stolen from me. I asked you to check the CCTV footage to clear my name, but you refused, so I'm glad I'm leaving. I don't want to work at a place where coworkers stab you in the back and your supervisors don't stand up for you."

Mavis' jaw drops. "Are you accusing us of wrongdoing?"

"If the shoe fits," I quip, lifting the box. Cal takes it right from me.

"Who the hell are you?" Mavis directs to Cal.

"It's Calix Line," Nate Bell calls from across the room. He's part of the graphic design department. He runs over to shake Cal's hand, but since Cal is holding my box, they just sort of stare at each other. "Sir, I'm a big fan. I've been dabbling in real estate investments and wondered if you had some advice on the high-end flipping market."

"Find someone with a good track record, ten years or more, and invest in him," Cal says.

"R-r-right," he stutters in shock. He did not think he was actually getting a response.

"Who's Calix Line?" Stacy asks, saying his name like it's odd or weird.

Nate is offended. "You don't know who Calix Line is?"

"Richest man in the city," yells someone else.

"Any stock tips, man?" from another corner.

Pretty soon, we're surrounded by a bunch of fanboys along with several women looking Cal up and down like he's a tasty treat they're going to devour. I step closer to him. That's my man they're undressing with their eyes.

"You can't beat a market index fund if you're a casual investor," Cal says, "which you all probably know, but I'll give you one tip, and that is, I looked at acquiring this company, but all the reports say that it's got management issues and you're losing big client after big client, so my recommendation is you find new jobs before this ship sinks. You're always more attractive as a new hire when you're coming from success rather than failure."

"As if Harlow's not a failure," scoffs Stacy.

"Stacy, hush." Mavis tries to save her ass.

Cal cocks his head, and I can see him about to unleash hell onto Stacy, but I lay my hand on his arm. This is my fight. I want to stand up for myself, not hide behind him.

"If I'm such a failure, why did you log into my computer and change the metadata on my proposal to make it look like yours? If you were good enough, you could have created your own ad proposal, but you suck, Stacy, and so all you could do was steal mine. Mavis firing me is also not my failure, but hers. She should have investigated this instead of jumping to conclusions. Like Cal said, a company with this kind of management is never going to succeed, and I'm glad I'm out. You can take your failure insults and stick them where the sun don't shine. Let's go, Cal."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're very sexy in leader mode," he tells me as we walk away. "It's a good thing my hands are carrying the box or I might embarrass both of us in front of your ex-coworkers."

"Stacy and Mavis don't deserve to see any of your skin, so yes, keep your clothes on."

"But me flashing your other coworkers might be okay?"

"It depends on how much they pay me for the right," I joke.

"I'll try to keep the Line fortune intact so you don't have to resort to selling parts of me online."

"There's a big market for feet pics." I look down at his boots. "I'll take a good look later to see if you have some value there."

"I will pay you all kinds of money to not do that."

"Just trying to secure the future for our children, babe." I grin.

"You can only do this because you know I'm a jealous freak and would not even sell a photo of your elbow."

"Yes." I'm full-on laughing now. I didn't realize love would make me laugh like this, make me feel free like this. While the sex is amazing, this is why I want to be with Cal. He makes the whole world appear brighter, better, more livable. I throw my arms around him and hug him tight.

He gazes down at me and hugs me back. "Should we go home and inspect each other's parts to see what is sellable?"

"Yes, let's." I rise up on my tiptoes and tug him down so I can give him a proper kiss. He willingly, happily relents.

"I love you, Harlow. You know this, right?" he says, backing up slightly.

"Yes, I love you too. Now, kiss me," I order.

He does, immediately, filling me up with light and joy and love, and not even the three people who yell for us to get off the street, get a room, and that we're embarrassing could have moved me from this spot, this moment. That's love for you. It makes you not care about anything or anyone else in the world. Just that one person.