Power Play Read online

  I dropped my bags off in my cube, grabbed a yellow notepad, then headed to Phil’s office. It was honestly still kinda hard to walk. My thighs felt sore. I’d rolled my eyes at Mira before, the few times she came home on Saturday mornings saying she was gonna be bowlegged for the week.

  Guess the joke was on me. There was your regular virginity, but also a good sex virginity and I hadn’t lost the last one till yesterday. My high school hadn't exactly been big on sex, but I doubted any school taught that.

  Deacon’s tan, self-assured face loomed so clear in my thoughts. I didn’t even have to close my eyes to picture his tall, muscular body, pacing next to me with sensual intent. He was right. He’d wanted me and he’d got me. I had barely felt him pull the strings.

  No wonder he knew exactly all the right buttons to push once my clothes were off – all the combinations to get us to the end over and over.

  I shivered at the memory of his heat unloading in me. I'd stopped at a pharmacy to get the pill on the way back, but it had been foolish. And somehow even now it nearly had me walking into a cubicle wall instead of scolding myself.

  Once was ok. Next time, we’d definitely be more careful.

  Oh god, next time? What was I getting into?

  I knocked on Phil’s door. He was bent over a desk, his bald head glimmering from the Houston sun even through the fogged glass wall.

  “Enter,” his muffled voice rang out.

  I slipped in, and shut the door behind. Phil had straightened behind his desk. Now he was finishing adjusting the collar of his checkered shirt and clearing the mess of paperwork on his desk. I beamed warmly. He always tried to look a bit better for me. I liked to think I inspired him with my work.

  “Kerry,” he said. “How are you? Glad to be back to oil land?”

  “It's always good to be home.” I sat in the rolling seat across from him. “Wish I could have gotten in yesterday though.”

  “You're under no obligation to be here today, you know? I really didn't expect to see you here after you sent in the SkyPower report this morning.” He spread his arms. “Honestly, we can debrief tomorrow. You must be exhausted.”

  “Oh no, that wasn't what I meant.” I paused, steadying my voice. “I got plenty of time in bed last night.”

  “Really? I noticed you didn't get a hotel last night after all. Maybe I missed it. ”

  My face started to heat up as he clicked through something on screen.

  “Actually, the airline put us up,” I said.

  He looked at me warily. “Really? They don't usually do that for bad weather.”

  “Yeah...so, it was really nice of them. The other airlines didn't step up.”

  “Alright, well, good for you, but we should really get someone from the consumer division over there to take a look at that policy.”

  “Good idea.” I calmed and scanned his desk. “Is that my report?” I asked.

  “It is.” He bent in. “You really sure you want to go over it now?”

  “I'm sure. That is, if you have the time.”

  He chuckled and pulled over the stapled sheets. “Honestly, I never need much time for you Kerry. I barely catch even a misplaced comma, and never in anything important like the numbers.”

  Oof, those words got me tingling in a whole different way. All those hours hunched over in the airport lounge were worth it. Praise was so much like a drug. But it was ok to bask as long as I got it for the right reasons.

  “I appreciate that, Phil,” I said. “But come on, the good grammar's cause of Microsoft Word. I made some mistakes early on in this case.”

  “Not in the client's eyes. They gave you a glowing rating for the regulatory bonus you found for them. That's really what counts.”

  “It was good working with them, too. I think they're a really promising company.”

  “I'm glad. You have a real knack for this industry.”

  Clean energy had never even been in my vocab growing up. Heck, even accounting hadn't been on my radar. Switching to it as a major had been hard enough, but the classes had been brutal. The math was beyond anything I'd ever faced before. In some twisted way, it was my past that taught me how to lock myself away and study until I could ace my classes.

  Compared to that, learning about this company or that was cake. It all came down to money. Still, I liked working with wind and solar. They might be underdogs but they had the right idea, and one day, maybe I could help them sprout like I had.

  “Now,” Phil said. “There's room for a little improvement. Nothing you should have called me about, but just some things to consider for your next assignment.”

  I moved to the edge of the chair. “I'm all ears.”

  We spent the next half hour going into the details. Phil was smart and I took in every word. Even Deacon's face receded to a shadow – though it didn't completely disappear.

  “So,” Phil said, swiveling in his seat. “Just small things here and there, but any little thing can be make or break for firms this size.”

  “Got it.” I rolled back the notes to the front page. “So, which company needs a visit from Aunt Kerry next?”

  Phil's brows knotted. “What?”

  I straightened. “I mean do you have my next assignment?”

  “No, I understood you. But are you serious?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  He blinked a few times and shook his head. “You know, sometimes, I forget that you’re gunning to be the first person to make partner in just five years.”

  “No...that would be insane.” The lowest I'd heard was seven and that was for some off-the-charts genius from MIT. Five, five was too low, right? “Wait, has there been anyone who made partner in six years even?”

  Phil chuckled. “No, Kerry, not yet. But, we shall see.” He clicked through his screen. “Yeah, we have a request from an oil supermajor. Just a small project.”

  Not as fun as wind or solar, but I was still learning.

  “Sure. Guess it's in Houston right?”

  “It is indeed.”

  I spend most of my days in Houston, Deacon's voice echoed in my head. Maybe it'd be good to be home for a bit.

  “I'll take it,” I said.

  Phil squinted at his screen. “Actually, the schedule for this one is a bit accelerated. You just came off a heavy assignment-”

  “I said I'd take it, Phil. I'm a girl of my word.”

  “Right.” He shook his head. “Of course you are.”

  I spent the rest of the afternoon researching background on the project. I really didn't get as far as I'd hoped. Thinking about oil just had me imagining Deacon shirtless, sweating out in some desert flat, swinging a hammer. That was how oil guys worked right? Even if they were directors posing as rig hands.

  Around seven, my phone rang. I nearly flicked to receive before I read the name on screen: Viola Martin.

  It was my mom. I snapped out of my waking dream in an instant. What a way to ruin my evening.

  Why on earth would she be calling now? Or at all? I'd made myself pretty clear the last time I answered a year ago. No, I didn’t want to talk to her. And no, I definitely wasn’t visiting home.

  Sometimes, a panic overtook me that they might find out where I lived. Heck, it wasn’t more than fifteen miles away – which barely covered a third of Houston city limits.

  But so what if they did? It's not like they could cast their spell again. They'd only gotten that to work by making me believe they were right. They couldn’t fool me again.

  I flicked off the call, deleted the voicemail that followed and tried to work, but my mood was too prickly. Even summoning Deacon into my head didn't soothe me. It just brought me back to how uneasy I'd felt before succumbing to him. Maybe it wasn't so great to give him such free rein in my thoughts.

  It was time to head home anyway.

  The ride was against traffic, and it chilled me out. Our apartment was in a nice little corner of Rice Village. You could kinda see the hubbub of the college bars and fo
od plazas a couple blocks down, but the only sound was the swish of the leaves from the trees lining the block.

  I opened the door, carefully. Snowflake had a way of sneaking out. I trusted the little guy to come back, but the apartment complex was pretty tired of the battlefields left from his merciless campaign against the local bird population.

  He'd been a stray I found at my first apartment after switching schools, and slowly I got his trust. I named him Snowflake cause he was hard to catch but melted in my hands once I finally did.

  But when I walked into the living room, the little traitor was purring on Mira's lap, offering her his furry white belly, and covering more than her short shorts did. Mira stroked my cat absently, eyes planted on the TV screen. Two women were screaming at each other.

  “Did you just wake up?” I asked.

  Snowflake leaped out of her lap. Mira startled to me, her long dark hair flinging around her narrow features.

  “Did you just get back?” she asked.

  I smiled and dropped my bags. “I guess we're both just asking stupid questions now.”

  I set my keys in the bowl on the kitchen table, and plopped down next to Mira. Snowflake came winding around my legs, purring: Baby, you know she means nothing. You're my number one, girl.

  I gathered him onto my lap, shut my eyes and stroked his little grey head. The rumble of his chest even soothed my legs. Ah, this guy demanded a lot, but he was so much easier to love.

  “Good trip?” Mira asked, rubbing my near shoulder.

  “Very good trip.”

  “Did you uncover some secret supervillain club of tax evaders or something?”

  “I'm in the corporate finance division, not taxes.”

  “As an artist, I am not obligated to understand any of those words.”

  “You never plan on selling anything you make?”

  “I plan on my parents setting me up with some Indian millionaire.”

  I snorted. “As your friend, I am not obligated to believe any of those words.”

  Mira had been the most fiercely independent girl I ever met. Who else could have gotten me to change the entire course of my life? She’d been my Peter Pan, teaching me to fly, fly, fly.

  But living with her for a year and a half had taught me just how low she flew. She relied on parents an awful lot for someone who rebelled against everything they said. They had a strange push-pull relationship – well, next to my push-push one anyway.

  A thin smile spread over her lips. “If the guy was super rich, I would give him a second look. Every artist needs a patron.”

  “I don't know much about art, but I don't think the guy who sponsored Michelangelo made him spread his legs. Or bear him heirs.”

  “Heirs? Gods, Kerry, my parents are Hindu, not medieval royalty.”

  I rattled her long barely clothed leg. “Whatever, I'm hungry. Let's go eat.”

  “Ugh, no. Let's just cook here.”

  “Fine.” Inspiration struck me. “Actually yeah, it'll be my treat. A little thanks for taking care of Snowflake.”

  Snowflake turned his tawny face up at his name.

  “Sure-” Mira started, but then her brow crossed She shook her head. “Wait, wait, wait. Uh-uh. Those drinks are still in your future missy.”

  I sighed. “Fine, just not tonight.”

  I wasn't good with a stove, and not from lack of trying. My mother had been horrified by that – as if that was the prime injustice in our household. But you didn't need much to boil pasta and toss it up with meat sauce and veggies. I felt victorious against her for the second time that day as I served Mira.

  Mira and I ate quietly watching her reality show. I preferred comedies, but it at least kept her from asking questions. I didn't want to share last night until I was sure what it meant. Once it was out there, it'd be out there. She would not let it rest.

  I was washing up, when my phone rattled with a number. I sighed and prepared to flick it off, but it wasn’t my mom. I didn't recognize it. Then, with a flash I understood. I hurried off into the bedroom and shut the door.

  “Evening, Darlin,” I heard, the moment I picked up.

  “Hi, who is this?” I asked.

  “You're hilarious, you know that?”

  “You sound familiar, but it's way too soon for this to be that call.”

  “You can't expect me to wait with a night like that on my mind. What is this, middle school?”

  “I wouldn't know. I didn't go out with guys till late in college.”

  “That makes sense.”

  I clenched the phone tighter. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Your pussy's still got that new car smell to it.”

  I nearly turned away from the phone. “Jesus, Deacon.”

  “Seems we cleared up that spell of amnesia.”

  “New car smell? Do girls actually like that line?”

  “Wouldn't know. I only date women.”

  The word 'date' exploded in my head. “Oh.”

  “Oh? You distracted over there? Still at work?”

  “No, no.” I cleared my head. “What do you want?”

  “Another chance to see you.”

  I took a few breaths. Another night would be fun. Maybe there was nothing wrong with that. But the day had left me with a sour stomach. My family still lay too close to my mind and now Deacon was pulling too.

  No, he was different. Another night was just another night.

  “Ok,” I said. “I'd like that.”

  “Good. Tomorrow at eight? I'll come to you.”

  “You want to have dinner then?”

  “Too late? I can do earlier. I'm a very busy man, of course, but I can do that for you.”

  “I just...” What was wrong with me? I was getting invited to a date and I was only interested in the part that came after? That wasn't who I was.

  That was the problem though. I wasn't myself around Deacon. He’d mesmerized me in the airport. What could he do to me, if I gave him more time?

  “Tick-tock.”

  “I can't,” I said. “I have a massive case to work on this week.”

  “Jesus, how are you this busy?”

  I shrugged in the empty room. “I'm pretty new. I need to make a name for myself.”

  “Your body should handle the task just fine.”

  “Believe it or not, my brain's even better.”

  “I can believe it. Fine, let’s meet up this weekend then.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Could I call you back later this week? I may be busy then, too.”

  He exhaled like a breaching whale. “You are a very unique brand of crazy, you know that?”

  “I think I do, actually.”

  He said nothing. The digital red clock ticked over to eight o'clock.

  “Ok,” I said. “I'll let you know soon.”

  “As a rule, I'm not a man who's kept waiting.”

  “Maybe, but you also seem like a guy who breaks rules.”

  I could actually hear his lips crease up on the other end. Despite everything, it made me tingle.

  “That's fair. Make sure you bring that tongue wagging back ASAP, you hear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hung up, and stared at the blank screen for a minute before going back out.

  Mira had her hair up in a bun and was finishing up the dishes on her own, a small miracle. She looked over from the sink.

  “More work?” she said, scowling. “You really need to relax.”

  “I do. I really do.”

  But not so much that I lost track of who I was.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Deacon

  I sat in my leather throne, one leg folded on top of the other, gazing out the giant window behind my desk. The Houston office of Stone Holdings was outside the city, up north in the Woodlands.

  My room was set in the top floor, of course, but that was just ten levels up. It was no tower of Babel. When they talked about everything being bigger in Texas, they mostly meant girth not length.
But we still stood taller than the half dozen other oil majors nearby.

  With the sun dropping from noon, the windows had lost their tint and I could gaze out at the radiant blue waters of the vast pond we had installed on this side. That was a proper salve on the mind.

  I'd need something stronger after the project meeting. Even if things lined up perfectly, squabbling with my family always split my head in half. A date with Kerry would have been a fine thing to look forward to, but it wasn't in the cards.

  Some employee's wife had taken a rowboat out on the pond with her three little kids. I couldn’t tell their genders for certain, but they wore hard reds and browns under their lifejackets. They scrambled up and down the shallow deck, pointing at the water.

  What did they tell each other they saw down there? Probably something bigger than the crawfish and trout actually filling the space.

  I could just imagine them shouting down each other’s lies, squabbling to outdo each other. Even now, I had dim memories of Jesse and me in a yacht, trying to convince each other that we’d seen a shark fin as we coasted through the Gulf.

  We must have been no bigger than the three in there. Still too young to truly grasp the prize that our father had set between us. Too young to understand that only one of us would ever grab it.

  The chair squeaked back at the conference table. I whirled back to my desk. Trey must have finished analyzing the deal I was bringing to my meeting. It would decide whether I could stay CEO or not, but my heart didn’t even beat a pulse faster. My play was solid. It was the right call.

  Trey stood, adjusting the navy suit over his lanky NBA frame as he came over. It faded past a salmon shirt into his brown skin. The colors were sharp. He was not a guy that let his profession dictate how the world saw him. It was a small thing, but I appreciated it at work as much as when we went out on the town.

  “That a new suit?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He tugged the lapels. “A little treat I gave myself after my last promotion.”

  “Well, show me you earned that VP title. What’s the verdict?”

  He fanned the sheets. “This thing is hot.”