“Sorry,” she said to me. “Please continue. You had drinks…?”
“Right. We had drinks and spent a couple of hours catching up. In public,” I added for Trip’s benefit. “No one got laid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he said.
Mindy had made a subtle pass at me as well. I’d told Christy but didn’t feel the need to mention it to Trip. The business opportunity was more important than a potential swinger connection.
“Anyway,” I went on, “her fiancé’s a baseball player.” I’d never heard of him, but Trip’s eyebrows went up when I mentioned his name, “Brett Kincannon.”
“For real? He just started playing for the Braves. Last season. He’s good. If he keeps it up, he’ll be Rookie of the Year.”
“Exactly. And he just got a big salary bump. He wants to build a house.”
“Cool,” Trip said, although he hadn’t made the connection yet. “So, he wants to stay in Atlanta? That’s great news for us. I mean, the Braves were 63–97 last year. Maybe this year they’ll do better than sixth in the NL West.”
“They might even make the Final Four.”
“Got it,” he chuckled. “You don’t care about baseball.”
“No. But I do care about building houses.”
“Ahh,” Trip said. His second drink arrived and he drained the first. He handed the glass to the waiter without looking at him. Wren rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.
Christy spoke up, “Excuse me, may I have one of those? Only, do you have any Irish whiskey?”
“Yes, ma’am. Bushmills.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Protestant whiskey. I’ll have a Johnnie Walker Blue instead. Neat, please. Times two, but in the same glass.”
My right hand ached all of a sudden, and I couldn’t help but feel a moment of déjà vu.
Wren smiled at Christy. “Looks like someone else likes the new salary too.”
“So sue me.” Then she remembered why we were there, and she lowered her eyes. “I can live without it, though.”
“So, that’s what this is about?” Trip said. He’d drunk enough to make him mellow and agreeable, but his mind was as sharp as ever.
“It is,” I said quickly. “You know I’m not happy at mega-corp.”
He nodded.
“You’re a rising star,” I continued, “but I’m slowly going crazy. I don’t get to design anything, I hate my boss, and we just hired an intern who’s the Antichrist. The little shit hasn’t stabbed me in the back, but my shoulder blades itch every time I see him.”
“So?” Trip said. “Fire him.”
“I wish I could.”
“Okay, then I’ll fire him.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Wren leaned forward and said to him, “The point is, you don’t like it either. You’re turning into an asshole, Trip. I see it every day. You come home and order us around like we’re your employees. Or worse, your servants. That isn’t who you are, but it’s who you’re becoming.”
“So?” he said mulishly. “You like the perks and the salary enough.”
“I do, but not at the cost of losing you.”
“So… what?” he said. “I’m just s’posed to quit and build houses? Is that it?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
He snorted and took another long drink. Christy’s whiskey arrived, and Trip saluted her with his.
“At least you understand,” he said. “Right?”
“She’s on our side,” Wren said.
“So it’s three against one?” He snorted again. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a democracy.” He heard it himself that time. “Shit,” he said quietly. “I am turning into an asshole.”
Three slow-nods did more than words could.
“That isn’t who you are,” Wren repeated quietly.
Trip sighed and set his drink aside. Then he inhaled a slow, deep breath to clear his head.
“So,” he said at last, “tell me about this plan of yours.”
Part 2: Aug 1990 – Jun 1993
Trip and I started our new company on August 1, 1990.
A day later, Iraq invaded Kuwait, although we didn’t think anything about it at the time. Why would we? We planned to build houses in America, not oil refineries in the Middle East.
So we signed a contract with Brett and started designing his house. We became friends with him in the process. He was only a few years younger than us and had a similar personality. Even better, especially for Trip, he loved talking baseball and got us tickets to all the home games.
He didn’t have a problem with Mindy showing off, either. She wore skin-tight dresses that revealed plenty of cleavage. And she never wore a bra, so her nipples were always stiff when she walked into the air-conditioned office. She wasn’t exactly a trophy—they seemed to love each other—but she was definitely the kind of the perk that came with a Major League career.
She also made another pass at me, although she was testing the waters more than anything. She couldn’t possibly expect me to have sex with her in my office. We didn’t have a receptionist or any other employees, but her fiancé and my business partner were in the next room.
Still, I played along and didn’t stop her when she started rubbing my dick through my pants. Then she unzipped them and extracted my hard-on, although she was in for a surprise if she expected me to freak out. I relaxed as she began stroking me. I even decided to see how far I could get. I pulled her dress aside and bared her breast. She sighed with encouragement when I stroked her nipple.
She didn’t seem worried that Brett and Trip might walk in, so I lifted the hem of her dress. She shifted to give me better access. I slid her panties aside and teased her pussy as she jerked me off. She knew what she was doing and made me come fairly quickly. She even had a wad of tissues ready for when I did.
“Next time you can come on my face,” she whispered as she cleaned me up.
She laughed softly as Mr. Big swelled at the prospect of another round. Then she straightened her dress while I stuffed my semi-hard dick into my pants. We walked next door to Trip’s office like nothing had happened. Ten minutes later we wrapped up our meeting and said goodbye.
I told Trip what had happened.
“For real? Dude! Okay, next time you go over the budget, and I’ll ‘show her the sketches.’ Is that what we’re calling it these days?” he laughed. Then he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re batting a thousand. Base hit, every time you step up to the plate. Maybe not a home run—I mean, you didn’t fuck her—but still…”
“Yeah, but this also puts us in a bit of a pickle.”
His eyebrows rose with amusement. “Did you just use a baseball analogy?”
“It was a metaphor. An analogy is— Never mind.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“This puts us in a pickle,” I repeated. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, but now I am. Mindy’s hot and Brett’s cool, but this is a pretty big job. And right now it’s our only job.”
“Oh, that.” Trip waved away my concern. “I have two more lined up already.”
“Seriously? And when were you going to tell me… partner?”
“Calm down. They aren’t official yet. But you remember the Buckhead couple? And the guy that owns the car dealerships?”
“Yeah,” I said cautiously.
“They both accepted our proposals. They’re sending us checks to get the work started. I found out this morning. And I’m pretty sure the doctor and his wife are gonna go with us. So that’s three jobs right there, plus whatever else I can drum up between now and whenever. Have I mentioned this was a good idea? Well, it was. You were right.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But that still doesn’t solve our little ‘problem’ with Mindy.”
“Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “Listen, dude, Brett’s been dropping hints for a couple of weeks. I’m pretty sure he’s a swinger at heart, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. I mean, you’ve seen the way Mindy dresses whenever they come to the office. You think that’s for his benefit?”