Boss I Love To Hate Read online

  “She’s different,” I repeat. “That’s why I pursued her as hard as I did.”

  “Different how?”

  “You remember – she’s always been so passionate,” I remind him. “She’s full of fire, and she’s tough. She takes zero shit.”

  “Yeah, I seem to remember her almost beating the shit out of somebody who grabbed her ass once,” he laughs.

  The memory makes me join his laughter. “I remember that. The guy looked shocked as hell that this pretty little girl was about to kick his teeth in.”

  We laugh for a minute and recount some of the other things we remember about Berlin – as well as about our college days in general. Things seemed a lot less complicated back then. My main goal was just having a good time. I knew I’d eventually have to take over and run the company my father built but, I didn’t expect that to happen until I was much older than I am now. My father’s death changed a lot of my plans, and I feel like I’m still running to catch up.

  “You really like Berlin, don’t you?” Rider observes.

  “I don’t even know her.”

  Rider turns to me, pursing his lips and gives me a considering gaze – a considering gaze I long ago dubbed the ‘X-Ray’. I hate it when he gives me the X-Ray because he can usually see straight through me, cut through all my bullshit, and get to the heart of things – which is annoying as hell. It makes it difficult to keep secrets from the guy – not that he’s right about Berlin. Just in a general sense.

  “When you talk about her, you get this sort of dreamy gleam in your eye,” he says. “Come to think of it; it’s the same look you had back in the day.”

  “What?” I wave him off. “That’s bullshit.”

  He grins. “And you’re getting so defensive. I mean, look at the way you’re sitting there all hunched up and shit.”

  Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I don’t move – until the waitress arrives with a fresh round, and he looks away. I quickly sit up and correct my posture, so I’m not sitting there, as he said, all hunched up and defensive looking. When he turns back to me, I see the small smile cross his face as he obviously notices that I’ve changed position.

  “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he muses. “I usually see everything.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That you’re actually into her,” he goes on, “as like more than just a conquest.”

  I take a drink of my beer and try to ignore him as I try to organize my thoughts. Seeing Berlin again after all these years definitely stirred up a lot inside of me that I wasn’t expecting. I need to take a minute to unpack it all.

  I mean, it’s not like I was in love with her or anything like that. I didn’t know her well enough, even back then, so it’s nothing that complicated or messy. But there is definitely something there – something I didn’t see until it was too late to do anything about it, and something that I’ve never quite let go.

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” I deflect. “I’m always into beautiful women.”

  He laughs. “Come on, who are you talking to right now? You know I know you better than that.”

  I give him a wolfish grin and take a drink of beer. I can’t deny that even back then, I had a powerful attraction to her. Seeing her tonight definitely brought a lot of those old thoughts and feelings back to the surface. She was different than any of the other women I was with, and that was something I liked about her. A lot.

  Berlin always seemed like somebody who knew herself inside and out, was comfortable in her own skin, and would never settle for less than she wanted. She was a fighter. Still is. And Berlin’s intelligence might even rival Rider’s, which is a feat, but it’s something that makes her even more attractive to me.

  The most attractive thing about her, though, was that she didn’t need me. I knew whenever I hooked up with somebody that most of them were in it not because they liked me for who I was – but for what I had. Ninety-nine percent of the women I’ve been with in my life have been looking to grab on to the money train and all the status and privilege that comes along with it. Which is exactly why I’ve been single for as long as I have – and have no plans to change that status anytime soon.

  But Berlin was never like that. I know she came from a background similar to Rider’s – a family without a lot of money. I know she had to work a menial job and rely on scholarships and grant money to get her through college. But she did it – and apparently even went on to law school after that. And I respect the hell out of her for it. That sort of determination and sheer will is rare in people, but I can see that she’s got it in spades.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that you actually had feelings for her?” Rider asks. “I mean like, genuine feelings.”

  I shrug – there’s no use denying it to Rider anymore since he can see through my bullshit. “Because I knew pretty early on that Berlin was going to be a dead end for me.”

  “A dead end?”

  “She was never going to be into me the way I was into her,” I explain.

  “Maybe it’s because she thought you were just looking for a piece of ass?”

  I shrug again. “Maybe,” I admit. “Maybe I came on a little strong. I don’t know. But it was pretty clear she wasn’t interested.”

  “But you cared about her?” he presses. “I mean, like actually cared about her.”

  I hesitate for a moment, still uncomfortable talking about all of this. I’m a private person. Intensely private and opening up to somebody – even somebody I consider my brother – isn’t something I’m comfortable doing. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Yeah, I mean, I guess. I didn’t know her all that well, so it wasn’t like this deep love or anything,” I admit. “But I liked her. A lot. I felt things for her I never felt for anybody before.”

  He nods and takes a drink of his beer, absorbing my words. Over the years, I’ve learned to share more of my inner monologue with Rider. I’m still not crazy about it, but I’ve grown more comfortable sharing more of myself with him. He’s usually got some keen insights to share. But even still, there are doors inside of me that remain locked. Even to him.

  “I still want to know why you thought you couldn’t talk to me about it,” he states flatly. “I mean, back then, you never said a word to me about how you felt about her.”

  Holding his beer mug in hand, Rider leans back in the booth and stares at me, the look on his face telling me we’re not going anywhere until he gets some answers. I chuckle and rub my jaw. Rider can be a stubborn ass at times, but I can tell the fact that I didn’t open up and share my feelings is bothering him.

  “Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about it with anybody – it wasn’t just you. It was something I felt like I needed to keep to myself – and no, it had nothing to do with the fact that she shot me down,” I insist. “But you know I don’t do emotions well. I don’t like talking about them.”

  “Still afraid your emotions make you look weak or something?” he questions.

  “Not necessarily weak. I just know how easy it is to let my emotions get the better of me,” I correct him. “I don’t like not being in control like that. You remember what happened with that fucking paparazzi asshole.”

  Rider nods, a grim expression on his face as the memory comes back to him. A few years back, a group of us were out on the town. Some prick with a camera got in my face and wouldn’t let up. I told him to back off more than once, but he wouldn’t listen. The pot boiled over pretty quickly – I ended up knocking the guy out. Then I proceeded to smash his camera and equipment before I went about the rest of my evening. If Rider hadn’t been there to talk me down, who knows how far I might have gone.

  A few days after the incident, I was asked to come down to the police station. The goddamn leech of a photographer was trying to press charges against me. And although I wasn’t ultimately charged with a crime – my family’s lawyer is very good like that – I did end up having to pay something in
restitution. It wasn’t much, but I resented every goddamn penny of it.

  But it taught me that I needed to keep a tighter rein on my emotions and that I can’t afford to let myself get caught up in their wild currents or I risk getting pulled under. So, after that incident, I started to lock myself down rather than give in to the whims of my emotions. I taught myself to keep everything on the surface and to avoid feeling anything too deeply unless I can control it. It’s not perfect – emotions are a hard thing to keep a complete check on – but it’s helped keep me out of some trouble over the years.

  “Well, whatever happened in the past is in the past,” he shrugs. “And it seems to me like you’re being given a second chance.”

  “Second chance?”

  He nods. “Berlin’s sudden reappearance in your life?” he grins. “She gave you her number, dude. Maybe this is your chance to get right what you fucked up so horribly back in school.”

  A wry grin touches my lips. “I wouldn’t say I fucked it up totally horribly.”

  Rider laughs. “You weren’t seeing it from the outside. I’ve seen plane wrecks with less fire and carnage.”

  “Eat shit.”

  I laugh along with him, but his words are really resonating with me, simply because that was my first thought when I saw her step to the lectern. When I realized who she was, the surge of those old emotions hit me and almost knocked me on my ass. I had to do something.

  Rider’s laughter trails off, and his expression grows serious. “Honestly man, if you still have feelings for her, I think it’s important that you explore them,” he says. “I think you should call her, Sawyer. Get together. See what sparks.”

  I nod. “I’m not getting my hopes up, but I plan on it.”

  “Good, go ahead.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll get to it. Right now, I just want to enjoy a beer with my good buddy.”

  “Don’t be a pussy. Call her.”

  “I will. Don’t you worry about it.”

  He keeps laughing and shakes his head. “Fine, fine,” he says. “Have it your way.”

  “Thanks. Your permission means the world to me.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  We laugh together for a minute, but it eventually tapers off. Rider looks at me again, a weird look in his eyes. I can tell he has something to say.

  “Spit it out,” I say.

  His smile is wry. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, but it just occurred to me that you and Berlin are on a nasty collision course.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you think she’s going to react when she realizes you’re Compass Development, and it’s your project forcing those people out of the Atwell?” he poses. “Given how – passionate – she was in front of the borough board, I can’t imagine how big the new hole she’ll rip you will be.”

  I sigh and sit back in the booth, processing what Rider said. I guess I was so caught up in the novelty of seeing her again and all the emotions it stirred up, the fact that Berlin and I are on opposite sides of this massive divide never even entered my mind. But now that he’s brought it to my attention, I want to kick my own ass for not realizing it myself.

  “Well, I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I state.

  Rider raises his glass to me and grins ruefully. “Good luck to you, my friend. You’re going to need it.”

  An hour later, Rider and I call it a night and say our goodbyes. And after that, I went on home. Where I’m now standing on the balcony of my condo with a beer in my hand, overlooking the heart of Manhattan. I’ve always loved it here – the city is so vibrant and so alive, it fills me with life-affirming, electric energy. Way better than any drug I’ve ever taken.

  The lights of the city sparkle in the darkness, and the sound of the streets below float up to me. Most people think New York is too crowded, too loud, and too dirty. Yeah, like any major city, it has those areas, but that’s not what defines it. And maybe it’s because I grew up here, but I see it differently. I see a certain beauty everywhere, in most everything. It’s dripping with history and culture – art, food, music from a hundred different countries on every street corner. What’s not to like about it?

  I take a swallow of my beer and look down at my cell phone. Still thinking about the different sides of the divide Berlin and I are standing on. While there’s a small piece of me wondering if that gap can even be bridged, the other part of me doesn’t care and figures we can deal with it when – and if – the time comes.

  Without giving myself another minute to think about it, I punch in her number and press the phone to my ear. It rings once, then twice – and then an automated voice picks up, informing me that the number I’m attempting to reach has been disconnected. I look down at the phone again, feeling the rueful grin cross my face.

  I hang up the call and slip my phone back into my pocket. I stare out at the city lights again as I drain the last of my beer, amused by the fact that she gave me a bum number. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but I was so caught up in the moment with her, I didn’t even think about it. It was a rare oversight on my part. One I wouldn’t have normally made with a woman.

  But that’s okay. I’m a man who gets what I want, and what I want right now is Berlin Roth.

  “The chase is on,” I mutter, laughing to myself.

  Chapter Five

  Berlin

  “You gave him a bad number?”

  “Well – yeah. I mean, it’s not like we were ever close,” I admit. “I thought he was a cretin back then, and that probably hasn’t changed much. How do you even know who he is, anyway?”

  “Please,” she scoffs. “Sawyer West is in the tabloids like every other day.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s a great selling point.”

  My best friend Gabby is sitting across from me a couple of days after the meeting with the borough board, her jaw on the table, and her eyes so wide they’re practically falling out of her head. We’re sitting at a small café outside the office where I work as a public defender. It’s not glamorous, it doesn’t pay very well, and it’s not my ideal job, but the experience is invaluable, and it gets me closer to where I eventually want to be in life.

  But I have to admit, as I sit here looking at Gabby in her beautiful Prada business suit, carrying her Gucci handbag, glancing out at her sleek candy apple red Lexus out in the parking lot – then contrast it to my off the rack budget suit, knockoff handbag, and my ten year old Camry that I drive as little as possible – I can’t help but feel a hot shot of jealousy. Gabby is making quite a living for herself, and I’m struggling to get by – I think being a bit jealous is probably normal.

  Not that I begrudge her the fancy suits or nice cars – she works hard and has earned everything she has. And her path – corporate law – wasn’t my path. I was actually offered a job at her firm coming out of law school too but knew I’d be bored stiff negotiating contracts, mediation, and whatever else she has to do.

  I’m proud of Gabs, and I know she loves what she does, but I wanted to leave a different mark on the world. I want to be known as somebody who defends the innocent. The sort of lawyer who is willing to stand between the people and the gears of the justice machine that perpetually spins and grinds people to dust. I’ve found that all too often, actual innocents are caught up in the teeth of that great machine and get chewed up along with the guilty.

  “My God, Berlin,” she gasps. “He’s a beautiful man – not to mention the fact that he’s filthy rich. What’s not to like?”

  “He was also a pervert who only wanted to get into my pants back in college.”

  Gabby shrugs. “Time moves on. People change,” she notes. “Except for you – you have remarkably stayed pretty much the same.”

  I give her a small grin. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

  “I’m not sure, either,” Gabby says, bursting into laughter.

  I throw my crumpled-up napkin at
her and laugh along, but her words echo around in my head. Am I really the same today as I was back in college? I don’t feel the same. I think I’ve grown and changed in a thousand different ways. I think I’m wiser and nothing like the naïve girl I was back then. But maybe I’m wrong. I must be if Gabby doesn’t see any change in me, since she knows me better than anybody else on this planet.

  My thoughts are interrupted when Gabby takes my hand and gives it a squeeze and favors me with a small smile.

  “I honestly didn’t mean that as an insult.” Her tone is serious. “All I meant is that you’re one of the most steady, consistent people I’ve ever met. We always know what we can expect from you. And that’s not a bad thing.”

  I know she’s trying to be reassuring, but it still feels like she’s trying to make me feel better about what she perceives to be one of my flaws or shortcomings.

  “Am I like, boring and predictable?” I ask.

  “No, of course not. It’s not like that.”

  There was a moment of hesitation before Gabs spoke – it was super brief, but I noticed it. It’s surprising to know she thinks I’m boring and predictable – and maybe a bit hurtful. But in my life, I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’ve always had to be steady and keep an even temperament. I’ve always had to be a rock who couldn’t afford to let herself break down.

  It’s been that way since I was young. After my mother died, my father fell to pieces. He drank a lot, spent most of his days losing money at the track, burning through everything they’d put away for their retirement, and racking up bills he has no way of paying. And that was all before the Alzheimer’s struck. Now, his medical bills make the money he was drinking and gambling away look like pocket change.

  I guess maybe taking on the responsibility for all of that has forced me to become a bit – stagnant. But I have to keep my head about me. I have to be the one who plans things out to the letter, and I have to be the one who keeps the entire ship afloat. I don’t have a choice.