INFLUENCED: A Good Girl, Bad Boy Love Story Page 3

  “How about a giant sausage?” I responded back, wagging my eyebrows.

  A new wave of blush tinted her dark complexion, and she slung the purse over her shoulder, marched out of my office, and headed for the elevators.

  Catching up to her pissed off stride, I put my hand on her shoulder to slow her. “You know, you’re going to have to get used to me eventually, Peaches. I have a feeling we’ll be working together quite a bit over the next few months.”

  She remained quiet, acting as if she hadn’t even heard a word I said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, the devil incarnate walked up from our right. Megan’s mother.

  “Good Afternoon, Ma’am” Megan greeted her.

  Ma’am? That was her mother. Seriously her mom didn’t expect her to call her ma’am.

  “Good Afternoon, Miss Reese, Mr. Grant.”

  Miss Reese? Was this the fucking twilight zone? Had I fallen, hit my head, and woken up in another reality where moms and dads were just an incubator to host a child, but when they were born they were raised by a community? Who the fuck calls their mom ma’am and their daughter Miss Reese? It didn’t matter how much my mom pissed me off, or how much my dad’s sense of humor dumbfounded me, I always called them mom and dad, or if I was being formal, mother and father. I could never imagine Ma’am and Sir being our standard greeting.

  “May I have a word with you, Miss Reese?” Megan’s mom said impatiently.

  “Yes Ma’am,” came her daughters reply.

  “I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” I called at her once the doors had opened.

  With a wave of her hand, she brushed me off, as her mother grabbed her upper arm and marched her into the closest interview room.

  Stepping on the elevator and pressing the ground floor button, I thought about what had just transpired. It was true I had never been a big fan of Mrs. Reese, but now it was pronounced even more so. Maybe I was being too harsh, maybe she acted this way at the firm to show she wasn’t going to let Megan be the favorite. Somehow, I guessed that wasn’t the case. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine Marian Reese baking cookies at home with her small daughter, flour and sugar everywhere.

  I felt a little sad for Megan. My childhood had been spectacular compared to what she must have grown up with. I knew her father was slightly less abrasive, but he spent long hours at the office after everyone else had gone home. Although my parents spent a lot of time here after I got out of Elementary school, we always had time to sit together for at least one meal a day. My mom always made sure that Chase and I were ready for our family meal, no matter what activities were going on for that day. She always worked around them. It was times like that that stuck in my memory.

  Landing on the ground floor, I looked around the building I had figuratively grown up in. As with any building, it had morphed from the old school eighties look to a more modern appeal with gray slate flooring and pristine white walls and pillars. The chairs scattered around the lobby were pewter and gray as well. There was no color, no vibrancy, no life. I hated it. I liked a world full of color. A world filled to the brim with possibilities and never ending sunshine. I’d never get that here in the business mogul world. In here, I was stuck with grays and neutrals, and I hated the thought.

  As I drunk in the dull around me, a bright flash of color caught my eye. Stepping from the elevator was the one and only Peaches, sporting her bright pink shirt. She brightened the room around her, which made me smile.

  My grin didn’t last long when I saw the puffiness of her eyes, the evidence of recent tears. What had that bitch done now? She was with me the whole time, she couldn’t have fucked anything up yet, it was only her first day.

  “Peaches? What’s the matter?” I asked her once she approached.

  “What? Oh nothing, I just got something in my eye, that’s all.”

  Bullshit. She was lying to me. I knew she was, but she looked on the verge of more tears, so I didn’t push her, even though I really wanted to. Being as strong as she was, I couldn’t imagine much making her cry, but I hadn’t known the adult version of Megan that long. Maybe she was more fragile than the little girl who had run amuck in the office all those years ago.

  Attempting to lighten the mood, I threw my arm around her shoulder and started walking towards the exit. The sooner I could get her out of there, the sooner she would be free from her parents’ crap, for at least a little while.

  “So what did we decide on, Peaches, Tacos or Sausages?” I all but shouted, garnering the stares of a few people in the lobby. Damn uptight suit wearing business moguls and their lack of humor. “I told you, I’m not really hungry,” her muffled words came out.

  “Alright, then I’ll decide! I want a nice, big, fat, juicy sausage,” I said to her.

  Looking up at me, I smiled at her. I had always had a weakness for crying woman, and she was no different.

  “Sausage, huh?” she snickered, a little light coming back into her eyes.

  “Oh yeah, I love me some sausage,” I laughed back at her.

  “Well, to each his own,” Megan said, her footsteps getting a little lighter.

  ‘You’re right, to each his own, Peaches,” I said, dragging her into the Atlanta sun and flagging us a taxi. And just like that, whatever problems she had come down on the elevator with, she left at the door, allowing us to enjoy our lunch in peace, while I continued my ribbing. Megan was a breath of fresh air. Working with her was going to be no trouble at all.

  Chapter Three

  Megan

  The ride in the cab was silent except for the static filled radio station the cabbie played. My mind was still stuck on the conversation I’d had with my mother before leaving the office. Of anyone who could bring me down, she always dropped me to the floor. I worked day and night to be the woman she wanted me to be, yet I could never live up to her expectations. One day though, I would be the child she dreamed of, hopefully.

  My mom had dragged me into one of the many meeting rooms in the firm. It was obvious a lunch meeting had recently taken place in there, due to the thick scent of onions that filled the air.

  Smiling was rare for my mom. It appeared as though smiles were saved for specific occasions. When she won a case, when I brought home a perfect GPA, when I got into both Yale and Harvard. Birthdays weren’t much of a time for smiling, nor holidays. I didn’t think joy was number one on her agenda.

  She stood firm with her usual scowl. I wondered what I’d done wrong. The morning had been relatively productive with Spencer and I sorting through my mother’s case files.

  “Heather has informed me that she assigned you to work with Spencer,” she remarked.

  “Yes ma’am,” I answered in the only way I knew how.

  My parents always insisted on respect and one of their preferred ways of showing that was using sir and ma’am. I rarely called her mom, but my dad was less strict when it came to how I addressed him.

  “She says that she picked you purposely. Heather says you are driven and he needs someone around to lead him on the right path,” she scoffed.

  I glanced down at my fidgeting fingers as she spoke. She acted as if these traits that Heather saw in me were a mirage and that I wasn’t driven. I felt small with her in this large room and, with each moment, I shrank.

  “I’m still waiting to see this drive that she allegedly sees,” she snorted. “I will see drive when I see a 4.0 GPA, you ended the year with a 3.8.” She shook her head in disappointment, apparently she’d gotten ahold of my report card. Fuck. I’d done a great job in my first year of law school, but when I originally received my grades, I knew she wouldn’t be pleased.

  Hiding under a table would be nice in that moment. I wanted to get away, far away, from her. That was the best part about college. I was over a thousand miles from her and her constant berating and judgement. I knew being a lawyer wasn’t going to be a piece of cake and she was building up my walls, but there were times I wanted a real mom like everyone else. Someone t
o spend time with, talk about everything from school work to boys. Hell, make some damn cookies with.

  “Megan, look at me,” my mother demanded.

  My head shot up and my eyes met hers. Taking a couple steps toward me, she nearly closed the gap between us.

  “I know you can get talkative and, with working long hours with Spencer, I’m sure the two of you will conversate,” she began, her voice stern. “There is family business to be kept family business.”

  “I don’t fully understand, ma’am,” I noted, my voice shaking.

  “Chase, his brother, and what happened between the two of you. Just like his parents, Spencer is unaware and we are to keep it that way, do you understand?” she kept her voice low, her hand had eased its way onto my forearm, her grip tight.

  “Ouchie,” I groaned at her nails making their way into my skin as her grasp on me tightened.

  “Do you understand?” she growled. It was apparent that she wouldn’t ease up until I acknowledged her inquiry.

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand,” I whined. At once, she let me out of her monstrous grip.

  “Off you go. Remember, tonight we are having dinner with the Petersens. I’m working late as I have a late appointment, and your father is in court until late. Dress accordingly and meet us at Chez Fleur at 8 PM.” She dismissed me easily. We’d gone from a deeply intense moment to discussing dinner plans in a split second.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I acknowledged quickly, before making my escape.

  Rubbing my sore arm, I rushed to the elevators to get down to the lobby to meet Spencer for lunch. I pressed the button, and luckily for me, the doors opened without me having to wait. I jumped inside and slammed my finger on the button to close the doors promptly.

  At the slam of the doors, my tears began to flow. My mother’s mention of what happened all those years ago with Chase, it brought something up inside me. I choked out a sob. The memories of that night, when I was sixteen, were ones I tried to forget and leave in the distant past.

  I peered up to see what floor I was on. Watching the numbers drop, I worked to wipe away the moisture left on my face. “Emotions are weakness,” my mother always said. I hid my weakness behind an artificial smile and, as the doors opened to the lobby, I worked to wipe away my past and my lingering feelings.

  Spotting Spencer was easy and his smile brought me a cheer that was different. For once, I wasn’t working to prove myself. With him, he showed there was nothing to prove. We worked great together. From the instant we began to work together, I felt secure in who I was and my abilities. That feeling was rare and I didn’t want to give it up.

  * * *

  In the early summer heat, I was grateful that Spencer flagged down a cab instead of us walking anywhere. The humidity in Georgia could be something special, though I knew there were places it was dramatically worse, such as Florida. You would imagine I would be used to it, but I’d spent most of the years since I was 18 up north.

  “Alright, Peaches, let’s get some big sausages,” Spencer announced, breaking our silence.

  The cab had stopped right outside of Centennial Olympic Park, which wasn’t terribly far from our office located in the Peachtree Center, but walking there in this humidity wasn’t my idea of a good time.

  Tossing the driver the fare, plus, from what I could see, a generous tip, Spencer slid out of the cab and presented me with his hand. He was quick to take my hand into his as I wiggled across the leather seat of the taxi.

  Pulling me up and out of the cab, Spencer closed the door, allowing the car to drive off. I moved to walk, but Spencer pulled me towards him.

  “What’s up?” I asked, confused. My eyes spotted his gaze, which was latched on my arm. The four plus one from my mother’s grip had made an obvious bruise.

  “Where’d this come from?” he questioned, anger rising in his voice.

  “Nowhere,” I spat, yanking my arm away from him. “Where are these sausages you keep talking about?”

  He stood still for a moment. He was thinking about his next move, I knew it. He let out a sigh before he began to walk into the park. I did my best to keep up with him in my seven hundred dollar shoes.

  “Spencer,” I huffed. “Wait up.”

  “Gotta keep the pace, Peaches,” he said as he slightly turned and gave me a wink.

  That name was something.

  Normally, I absolutely despised nicknames. My parents raised me to respect names. My dad always said, “You own only two things in life, your degree and your name.” I guarded my name and very few people were allowed to call me something other than my given name. Spencer had become one of those people, the other was my best friend Jaylesha.

  “And here we are,” Spencer declared.

  We’d walked about a half mile into the park and were stopped in a picnic area where there was a lone food truck. I’d assumed we were going to a restaurant.

  “This?” I questioned as I stood with my arms crossed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “One thing you will learn about me, I don’t kid when it comes to a good sausage,” He avowed. I couldn’t help it, I burst into a fit of giggles at his sentiment. It took no time for him to join me in laughter. Opening my eyes, I wiped away a few tears that escaped during my moment of hilarity. I spotted Spencer’s eyes on me and, biting my lip, I turned away and began toward the truck.

  There was something strange about spending time with the guy I’d had a monster crush on since I was 13. We obviously weren’t the same people. I’d grown up and he appeared to have as well. My crush was years ago, I was barely into puberty and my hormones were out of control, yet I discovered myself experiencing the same butterflies I’d had then. Those little creatures had lain dormant in me, but their hibernation was over and they’d sprung back to life.

  From the crushing of the gravel, I knew Spencer was sprinting to keep up with me as I approached the line for the truck. I glanced over their menu of gourmet hot dogs.

  “They sell some of the best hot dogs outside of New York City,” Spencer noted in my ear, his breath hitting me in such a way that made me shiver. I hoped he didn’t notice. “Any ideas of what you’d like?”

  “The Georgia Peach Dog sounds good,” I mentioned as my eyes continued to scan over the menu board.

  “Living up to your nickname, eh, Peaches?” I simply shook my head in response, he was something else.

  After ordering and receiving our food, the two of us found seats at an empty picnic table. I took a bite of my delicious hot dog; he was right, their hot dogs were amazing. I peered up to see Spencer digging into one of his two dogs.

  “Did you really need two?” I asked of him once I was already halfway through with my one and beginning to feel full.

  “I’m a growing boy, aren’t I?” he gave me that wink of his. I remembered as a kid he was always the fun one and the fun normally got him into a little bit of trouble.

  Lingering in my mind was the question of why or how I was going to be a good influence on him. It appeared as if nobody remembered how incredibly intelligent he was; he’d graduated high school two years early, from what I recalled, and his IQ was through the roof. I had my own drive and abilities, but Spencer was an entirely different beast.

  There were no indications that he needed a babysitter or someone to influence him. In our morning together, he was dedicated and worked hard. He seemed to fly through the cases with no difficulties. He was good at his job and I admired him for it. He could have a laid back attitude about him, but when it came to work, he was focused.

  “So, Peaches,” Spencer began. I rolled my eyes, I knew he wasn’t going to stop calling me that. “Earlier, I asked you about dancing, what happened with that?”

  “I don’t anymore,” I replied easily.

  “Why? You were so good.”

  “You remember me being good at it?” I hadn’t seen him since one evening when I was 15 and he picked me up from class when my parents were working late as usual. Eight years was a lon
g time and yet, he somehow remembered that I was a decent dancer.

  “I was decent,” I shrugged.

  “No, you were really fucking good.”

  “Well, I don’t dance anymore. I was on a dance team at Yale for my first semester, but mom said it was interfering with my studies and I quit,” I explained. Truthfully, I missed dancing. I sometimes danced when I was alone for exercise and for the feeling of those moments when it was just myself and the music.

  “That mom of yours,” he started.

  “She wants what’s best for me,” I added right away. My mom was hard on me, but she desired to see my thrive, possibly in ways she never did.

  I swear I spotted Spencer’s eyes roll before he took another huge bite of his food. “Do you want to dance?” he mumbled, his mouth full. He sounded like he was having an intense competition of Chubby Bunny, I giggled.

  “Sometimes. My best friend is attempting to convince me to join her dance troupe and help her teach a class. She teaches Hip Hop dance classes at a community center in Decatur and they are doing this big fundraiser at the beginning of August. She wants me to join, but I don’t think I will have the time. I’m dedicated to this internship,” I resolved, before taking in another bite of hot dog along with peach jalapeno salsa.

  “Sounds like an awesome opportunity and there is plenty of time outside of the internship,” Spencer noted as he unwrapped his second dog.

  “Mom won’t approve,” I stated.

  “Guess you do everything that mommy dearest tells you?” Spencer’s sapphire eyes were piercing me as he awaited my answer.

  It wasn’t true. I didn’t do everything my mom said, but I knew making her happy was much better for me in the end than if I’d displeased her in some way.

  “I don’t,” I argued.

  “I call bullshit on that, but sure, let’s say you don’t,” Spencer declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he finished off his last bite.

  “You inhaled that thing,” I gawked.

  “As I said, growing boy.”