22. Porn, Sweetheart

Twenty-Two

Porn, Sweetheart

One month later

Hailey

I’m sittingat my desk, trying to read through a list of ideas for springtime promotions that Jackson sent me. But I can’t concentrate, because I saw Mr. Emery come in about forty-five minutes ago, closing Jackson’s door behindhim.

What the heck are they doing in there for so long? Best-case scenario—they’re playing a Scrabble death match. Worst case, they’re plotting my exit from the company.

Two weeks ago I finished my expansion report. I really nerded out on it, too. The data show in very crisp terms that the Bridle Path expansion is not the next move for us. My research proved we could grow faster as a company if we first grew our margins here in Yorkville, and then expanded somewhere a little less insular. Like Rosedale.

To make my point, I’d created charts in four colors, a killer appendix of data, and an infographic that kept me up half the night to create. If I thought it would have made me more persuasive, I would have written the report in iambic pentameter or choreographed an interpretive dance to get my point across.

Okay, maybe not that last thing. I have my own dignity to consider. But I will not allow this company—my baby—to be stretched to its breaking point by an unwise expansion.

My high-tech office chair creaks as I shift in my seat for the tenth time in an hour. I feel as if I’m at a big turning point in my life, and it isn’t entirely comfortable. Dating Matt is the exciting part. Taking a big risk there is paying off. I poke my phone just to see the new photo on my lock screen—a selfie of Matt and I after last week’s victory against Denver. We’re partying at Sticks & Stones with the team, and I have a red “T” for Toronto painted on my forehead, and he’s kissing my cheekbone.

I could stare at it allday.

But life doesn’t let you choose only the changes you want. I feel my work life coming to a boil in the other room. Jackson and his dad aren’t making any noise that I can hear all the way in my office. But I feel a disturbance in the force. Something’s coming.

“Hailey! You’ve got to see this! Stat!” It’s Jenny’s voice yelling from the bullpen.

Stat? Well, then it must be important. I pick up my coffee cup and duck out of my office toward Jenny’s desk. I find her sitting in her chair, staring at the computer screen with eyes so bright you’d think it was Christmas morning.

“What’s up?” I ask, coming up behindher.

“This!” She points a perfectly manicured finger at the screen.

I bend closer, and gasp. “Oh myGod.”

“Oh my God,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” I say again, my jaw halfopen.

“Oh my God,” she repeats.

“Guys,” Dion calls from his cube/desk. “We just got an emergency request from a priority client. ShouldI—”

“We’ve got this!” Jenny and I shriek in unison. Then we look at each other and burst out laughing.

Softening my tone, I glance over at Dion. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered. Jen and I have been handling this account personally for months.”

And our hard work is finally coming to fruition, because either I’m misinterpreting this email, or…we actually get to meet Mr. Dick this morning.

Subject line: Lubrication neededASAP

MrEightInches: Yo, need a bottle of lube, preferably in the next hour. Willing to pay extra for rush order. Extra-large 64 ounce bottle, warming lube, edible preferred but not necessary.

The address he provides isn’t to the building we usually deliver to, where we just leave his mysterious packages with the doorman. And he included a cryptic set of instructions: “Tell the guard at the door you’re there for Thomas. I’ll come out and meetyou.”

Jenny is practically bouncing in her chair. “He has a name! His name is Thomas! Thomas! And he’s coming out to meet us! We’re going to meethim!”

I scan the rest of the form. He didn’t include a picture this time, but it sounds like maybe he was in too much of a panic to take the time to pose for us. Who can blame him? Lube emergencies sound stressful.

Jenny won’t stop giggling as she hops out of her chair and grabs her purse from the bottom desk drawer. “I am so excited right now,” she declares.

Honestly, so am I. We’ve been responding to this guy’s sex-obsessed requests for months now. I am dying to put a face to the eight-inch package. I wonder if being this excited to meet some random man is considered cheating. No, right? I mean, Matt can’t fault me for wanting to meet such an infamous client, canhe?

“You think Matt will get mad that I’m meeting a man who likes to show me his dick?” I ask Jenny as we leave the office to track down a cab. Normally we’d ride the subway, but Mr. Dick needs his lube in the next hour. We can’t let himdown.

“Um, no. I don’t think Matt is capable of getting mad at you,” Jenny replies, waving at an approachingtaxi.

A few seconds later, we’re in the backseat and directing the driver to the nearest sex shop, because I don’t think a drugstore will have the extra-large, warming, edible lube our client requires.

“Seriously, that man worships the ground you walk on,” Jennyadds.

I feel myself blushing. I think she might be right, though. Ever since The Night of Many Disasters, as we call it, our relationship has been awesome to the degree of amazeballs. We see each other as often as we can. We have the greatest sex imaginable.

He even referred to me as his girlfriend the other day. In front of his daughters! Yup, the other night when June tried to snuggle with me on the couch while we all watched a Disney movie, Matt teasingly swatted her little hand away and said, “Hailey’s my girlfriend, Junebug. Find your own.” But we all ended up snuggling together, anyway, Matt’s daughters curled up between us while he flashed me sweet, tender smiles over their heads every other second.

I like what we have. No, I love what we have. And I think he does, too. The only dark spot in our otherwise bright lives is the growing tension between Matt and his ex. After I told him about Kara’s possible indiscretions, I thought for sure he’d confront her. He didn’t.

No, Matt refuses to discuss the potential affair with his ex. He claims he doesn’t want her to blame me or Fetch for breaching client confidentiality, and that he doesn’t want any hostility to affect their relationship as co-parents, but…the hostility is there. I feel it in the air every time she comes to pick up the twins. I see it in Matt’s eyes every time he’s around Kara. It’s like a thick thundercloud hanging above our heads. Or rather, Matt is the thundercloud.

The resentment is growing inside him, and I’m terrified that one of these days it’s going to explode in the mother of all confrontations.

For now, all I can do is hold my breath and hope that he lets go of that resentment. It doesn’t affect our relationship in the slightest, but I worry that his daughters will start to pick up on the tension.

“By the way, how fun was the game on Saturday night?” Jenny raves, turning to grin atme.

I’d brought her along to the WAGs box, which I later found out isn’t normally allowed. But Katie Hewitt made a special exception when I told her I could just sit with Jenny in the stands. For some reason, Katie and the others have really taken to me. I want to say it’s because I’m awesome, and I’m sure that’s part of the reason, but I’ve honestly never had so many women clamouring to be my bestie before.

“It was a blast,” I agree. “How potent was Estrella’s mango margarita?”

Jenny groans loudly. “Oh Lord. Potent as hell. My stomach was doing the mango-tango the entire day afterward. I think I’m dating my toiletnow.”

I snort. “Speaking of dating, what happened with that guy you were seeing? Hank?”

“Frank,” she corrects, then sighs. “I cut him loose. He was sending too many dick pics. Seriously, it got annoying. I mean, you’ve seen one dick, you’ve seen ’em all, right?”

The cab driver twists around to grin at us. He’s in his late fifties, I think, with a shaved head and white teeth that sparkle as he smiles. “Amen, sister.”

Jenny and I exchange a look, neither of us quite sure what he meant by that. Luckily, we’ve reached our destination. The cabbie waits outside while we duck into Naughty by Nature to purchase our client’s lube, and then we’re back in the taxi heading toward an industrial area near the lakefront.

Jenny claps her hands happily when we arrive at the address provided. “Do you think he’s cute?” she wonders.

“Why? You angling to date him? Because you literally said five minutes ago that you’re tired of dick pics,” I remind her as we get out of the car. “And this guy is the king of the dickpics.”

“King of the Dick Pics would make a great self-help dating book, warning women of the dangers of online dating,” Jenny muses.

I can’t help but snicker. “Tell you what, you write it, and I’ll sell copies on the Fetch website.”

“Deal.”

Like two giddy schoolgirls, we dart toward the entrance of a sprawling, one-story warehouse with a gray exterior and a single metal door. Several feet from the door, Jenny stops and grabs my arm, bringing her mouth close to myear.

“Do you think we’re about to get murdered?” she whispers.

I jerk my head toward our waiting cab. “Don’t worry, our driver will save us if we needhelp.”

“Amen, sister.”

We bust out laughing, and we’re still giggling as we knock on the door. It swings open to reveal a tall, muscular man wearing a tight black shirt and sunglasses. He was wearing sunglasses inside. Weird.

“Hi,” I say in my most professional voice. “We’re here with a delivery. For Thomas?”

The man pops the Ray Bans onto his forehead, his eyes filling with relief. “Oh, good. They’ve been waiting forthis.”

They?

I’d expected Mr. Dick to come outside like he’d stated in his request, but Muscle Man gestures for us to step inside. Jenny and I share a wary look, until he smiles reassuringly and says, “Nothing to worry about in here, ladies. Tommy just can’t come outside right now. He’s naked.”

With that, he turns around, leaving me to gape at Jenny. “Did he just say naked?”

She nods vigorously. “He said naked.”

Dear God. What the heck are we walkinginto?

Despite our apprehension, we follow Muscle Man into the warehouse. Which turns out to not be a warehouse. It’s…a studio, I realize as I take in the lighting setup and various cameras. And the set. There’s an actual set, designed to look like a classroom, complete with teacher and student desks and a chalkboard.

“Fetch saves the day again!” a deep, jubilant voice shouts.

The next thing I know, a very, very, very naked man jogs toward us. He jogs naked. Jogs. Which causes his impressive man parts to swing around jauntily as if they’re waving hello tous.

“Oh. My. God,” Jenny breathes.

Her dazed response matches my own. At least she’s able to get words out. Me, I’m speechless. And staring. Yes, I can’t help but stare at Mr. Naked as he approaches us with a big smile on his face and an even bigger erection down below.

“Ah. Sorry.” He notices us staring and glances down at his junk. “Viagra just kicked in.” When we continue to gape, he offers a shrug. “It’s an eight-hour shoot, you know? Gotta stay hard or there’s nothing topump.”

“Pump?” I say stupidly.

“You know, pump the pussy.” Now he’s the one staring at us. “What do you think we’re doinghere?”

My mouth falls open. “Um. What are you doinghere?”

His grin dies. “Porn, sweetheart.” He waves a hand around the large, well-lit space. “Dark Door Studios—I own this company. You never heard ofus?”

“No,” I answer, at the same time that Jenny says, “Yes.”

I swing my gaze toward her. “You’ve heardofthem?”

“Of course,” she says airily. “Their teacher-student scenes are top-notch.” Jenny steps closer and pats Mr. Dick on his thick, oiled-up arm. “Good work. And everything makes so much more sensenow.”

He cocks his head to the side. “It didn’t make sense before?”

“We, uh, get it now,” I stammer as all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

He’s still frowning. “All this time you didn’t know those deliveries were for a porn-production company? I put that information into my client file at Fetch.”

Jenny and I exchange a loaded glance as I realize that my strict approach to client confidentiality has its downsides.

“But your account is set to private, sir. The people working on your requests don’t have access to those notes. Maybe that’s, uh, a flaw in the system,” I admit. “Sorry.”

“Well, hell,” he says, his smile returning. “I made a lot of those pictures extra silly on purpose. I thought if you were in on the joke, it would be funny.” He chuckles ruefully. “But if you’re not in on the joke, it’s just kinda awkward.”

“I loved the joke,” Jenny insists. “And we brought your stuff. Sixty-four ounces.”

“Thanks!” His smile warms. “I really appreciate you getting here sofast.”

I’m about to hand it to him when a naked woman strolls past us. She’s got long red hair, a pair of double-D’s, and legs I’d kill for. “Where are the horn-rimmed glasses? I thought we were doing a librarian scene?”

“Hailey,” Jenny hisses.

I snap out of my stupor. “What?”

“The man needs his lube,” she prompts, gesturing to the bag in myhand.

“Oh. Right.” I jerk my arm out. “Here you go, sir.” Sir? For Pete’s sake. You’d think I’d never spent time on a porn set before.

Um, because I haven’t!

Mr. Dick, a.k.a Thomas, a.k.a. Porn Star accepts the bag gratefully. “Thanks again.” Then he spins around and marches toward the teacher’s desk, providing us with a candid view of his tight, roundass.

“Great ass,” Jenny murmurs tome.

I finally manage to close my mouth. “Can’t arguethat.”

I’m still flushedfrom laughter when we get back into the office. My giddiness lasts about two minutes. Maybe three. I’m just diving into my email inbox when Mr. Emery sticks his bulbous nose into my office. “Miss Taylor,” he barks.

I make myself count to three before I look up, just to piss him off. For the record, he referred to me as “Miss Taylor” for the duration of my marriage to his son. His refusal to acknowledge me doesn’t even make the top fifty of the crappy things he’s done to me, though. So I brace myself.

“Is there something you need, Herbert? Where’s Jackson?”

“Handling a client emergency.” He steps in and closes the door, and my stomachdips.

Here it comes, my jumpy gut warns.

And my tummy has called it correctly, because his first words are, “I want to buy you out of Fetch.”

“You, what?” Ugh. Smooth, Hailey. “My half of Fetch is not for sale.” I’m flustered already, damnit.

“Everything is for sale,” Mr. Emery says, proving himself to be a walking cliché as well as an asshat. I’m pretty sure I heard that line in a gangster movie this past weekend. “For a half million you could walk away a very richgirl.”

“If you think a half million makes me ‘a very rich girl,’ then you haven’t noticed that the price of real estate in Toronto is pretty cray-cray,” I snap. Also, I’m a little old to be a girl. But I keep that to myself.

“Five hundred and fifty grand,” he says quickly. “My final offer. Take a vacation, Hailey. See the world. And you’ll be well compensated for letting my son run his business the way he seesfit.”

“His business,” I echo, my tone flat with disbelief. This man is the most tone-deaf human I’ve evermet.

“His idea. Therefore his rightful business. Take the cash, Hailey. If he doesn’t want you in his bed, why do you suppose he wants to see you at work everyday?”

SPLAT. That’s the sound of my patience bursting against the four walls of my office, just like my Aunt Linda’s pressure cooker did all over her kitchen one Easter.

“You are a pushy…jerk!” I yell, reigning myself in just in time. Obscenities will only make me sound coarse. Since he’s always believed I’m not good enough for his darling boy, I’m trying not to help him prove his point. “I built this place right alongside Jackson. It’s half mine because I show up here every day and work my…hiney off! So please remove yourself and your suggestions from my office. Rightnow!”

The door flies open, and Jackson is standing there. “What the hell, Dad? Why is Hailey demanding you leave her office?”

“No idea?” The asshole shrugs and stands up. “She’s out of line. All I did was suggest that she should take a buyout from me. The company should be back in the family where it belongs.”

Jackson’s face flushes with anger. “I told you I didn’t want to buy herout!”

“You’re not. Iam.”

“No effing way,” my ex-husband sputters, and my heart lifts. “There is a zero percent chance that I’m partnering with you. You’ll just try to steamroll me at work the way you steamroll me everywhereelse.”

“Jackson Herbert Emery! That is seriously ungrateful. You know I’ve been a businessman about twenty-five years longerthan—”

“Doesn’t matter!” Jackson interrupts. He’s on a serious roll. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so upset. “You and I are not running a business together. Ever. And Hailey isn’t going anywhere. Stop pushing her around. Stop pushing me around. And we’re not renting that overpriced spot on the Bridle Path! Enough already!”

His face is bright red and I’m getting a little scared for him. I grab a file folder off my desk and fan some fresh air in his direction. “Breathe, honey.”

Mr. Emery gives me a glare, grabs the file folder from my hand, and throws it against thewall.

Then he storms out, tossing my door aside with such force that the papers from the folder skitter across the floor. My office looks as if a literal storm just blew through. And I suppose onedid.

“Wow, Jax,” I say a moment later, still trying to get over my shock. “You didn’t have to dothat.”

“Yeah, I did,” he says, sagging into the visitor’s chair. “That was a long time coming. And I apologize I never did it sooner. Like, five years ago. I can’t have him insulting my best friend.”

My throat is thick all of a sudden. “Best friend?”

“Of course! Christ, Hails, we’ve known each other since we were six years old. Maybe we weren’t meant to be lovers. But we sure as hell are meant to be friends.”

“And…” I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. “Business partners?”

He lifts his hands. “Well, duh. Otherwise I don’t know what we’re been doing these past five years.” His forehead crinkles. “You don’t think I’d seriously want to buy you out, right? That’snuts.”

Oh, shit. My eyes are watering now. Because I did think he wantedthat.

“Hailey!” He jumps out of his chair and comes around my desk. “Jeez, Hails.” His slim arms wrap around me. “I don’t want you to go! Shit. You think I want to run this place myself? What fun isthat?”

I gulp back what might have been a sob. “I heard him say it months ago. Thought maybe you were actually consideringit.”

“I swear that’s the worst idea I ever heard. Noway.”

“No effing way,” I say, and it’s a half laugh, half hiccup. “You really showed him with that e-bomb.”

“Shut up.” Jackson pinches me. “That’s me goingwild.”

I giggle.

He giggles, too.

“This year is all about going wild, I think.”

“Yeah. It’s the best.” He smiles at me, and the smile is a little crooked. It’s so familiar my heart aches. “You’re, uh, going wild dating a hockey player. Am I allowed to bring that up for a second?”

“Sure. And it’s still going great. There’s an event next week—family skate. I’m going to skate with the wholeteam.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “That sounds amazing.”

“And you’re going wild with…” Suddenly a memory of the sex toys from that box I unpacked leaps into my brain. “Uh, I’m glad you’re…having fun with Melinda.”

He straightens and sits on the edge of my desk. “She’s adventurous,” he says, his ears reddening.

“That’s…great,” I say, fighting laughter. “Those handcuffs…”

“Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Right!” I agree quickly. “Let’s talk about springtime promotions instead. They’re going to be awesome.”

“The springiest,” he agrees.

“In springy colors like…pink leopard print,” Isay.

“Hailey!”

We both break up laughing. Again.