Page 7 of My Forbidden Boss
I became entirely exasperated. “What the?! What is this? Some kind of nature show? I came here to manage a chain of restaurants, which I was doing back in Illinois. It was supposed to be the same, just with different scenery and maybe more moonshine than muggers for once. But suddenly, you’re telling me that I don’t need to keep a can of mace in my purse for weirdos on the L Train… Instead, I don’t know… Now I need a red cape or something in case some hairy beast tries to impale me on its horns? Big cows, my ass! I know what a fucking buffalo looks like, Brandon!”
He chuckled and shook his head. “A red cape? Come on, girl. We aren’t fucking matadors here. This isn’t Barcelona or Madrid. No, Tisha… That’s not even why the capes are red, anyway. They’re red because… never mind. That isn’t important. Just forget I said anything, alright? I’ll make sure you know everything there is to know before long. I promise.”
My eyes glanced at him suspiciously as I pretended… mostly… that I was distrustful. We had known one another for less than two weeks, but I already considered him one of my closest friends. I knew Brandon felt the same way about me, and, notwithstanding this sudden news of horned beasts roaming the town perimeter, I felt sure that I could trust him with just about anything. He was too genuine a person to fool anyone, anyway, and far too gentle to not avoid every ounce of danger he could.
I sighed begrudgingly. “Alright, I’ll let it go for now. But this isn’t over. What’re you doing over here, anyway?”
“I told you yesterday! Dinner, remember?”
I slapped my palm against my forehead, having completely forgotten. I had slept in late, relishing the short time without work deadlines and needing my muscles to regenerate before any more unpacking could be accomplished. When I finally did wake up, I had hardly thrown on a pair of sweatpants when the call from my parents had my full attention.
“Right! But…” I hesitated and glanced at my phone, suddenly unsure if my concept of time could really be so skewed.
With my assumption confirmed, more or less, I turned back to Brandon with yet another puzzled expression. “But Brandon… It’s barely noon. Why so early?”
“Early? Honey, first impressions are everything, and I am taking you to the hottest little spot in town. You could get just about any guy from around here on his knees with how pretty you are now, but trust me. Unless you want to spend your time in Tyler wading through a sea of callused hands content to jerk their own broom handle while ogling greased-up pictures of tractor attachments, you need to introduce yourself to the right men. I assume you are more interested in the guys who know that a tongue is good for more than just licking stamps. You feel me?”
I blushed but nodded before realizing that I hadn’t told him if I was interested in dating.
Brandon continued confidently, “Good. Now, to do that, we’re going to have to do something with those beautiful blonde locks of yours. You aren’t in the windy city anymore, darling, and I have yet to see you in anything more glamorous than a ponytail. It’s time to get that mane loose and untamed. Yeah? And I am here to help.”
“Wait, I’m not sure that I even want to…”
“No? Hmm… Oh, I get it. Something more structured? Ooh, that could be fun! I have to be honest; I’ve never really gotten the chance to explore those kinds of options before styling. But who am I kidding? All we will need are some bobby pins, spray, curling iron, and maybe the internet to search up some red-carpet images and maybe some DIY tutorials. Right?”
He was so excited that I hesitated to interrupt with anything short of equal enthusiasm. However, I stuck to my guns and brought him back one step closer to reality.
“No, sweetie, I was going to say that I’m not sure that I even want to start seeing anyone right now. Dating, I mean, I just…”
“Oh, so you have a husband, a fiancé, or a serious boyfriend that you love so much that you have completely failed to mention him even once? Wait, you aren’t one of those people who thinks she’s in love with a ghost or some random inanimate object, are you?”
“Well, no, but…”
“I know it sounds crazy, but those people really do exist. I saw this documentary one time about this woman… She was literally in love with the Berlin Wall. I’m dead serious. She would pay to sleep in one of the old guard towers along the side that separated the city. Somehow, she got ahold of a piece of the wall and brought it home with her. I have no idea what she would do with it… I guess she could have slept with it, in the literal sense, or made some sort of shrine, I suppose. But there are others like her, too. Apparently, some guys even take an attraction to sports cars to the extreme. I’m talking exploratory probing in the tailpipe kind of extreme… ‘take her by the bumper and turn on the defogger, tilt the seats back and make her use the windshield wipers kind of extreme.’”
I shook my head, grimaced, and tried unsuccessfully to shake the resulting images from my mind. “Brandon, shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear that shit! No, there’s nobody I’m holding out for. My last boyfriend was an asshole. It hasn’t been very long, and unfortunately, it took me nearly three years to figure it out, but…”
“Well, alright, then. Honestly, if you did have someone and failed to mention him after all the time we’ve already spent together, that would almost have been even more of a reason to get you back on the prowl. You are much too brilliant for some boring slouch that you forget to even mention.”
I was getting a little irritated. It seemed like Brandon was only listening to the first few words out of my mouth, just enough to hear what he wanted before continuing on with his own agenda.
“Did you not hear me, Brandon, or are you, like all men, just inherently incapable of listening? Let me spell it out for you: I. Just. Went. Through. A. Relationship. I. Am. Not. Looking. For. Another.”
He looked flabbergasted. “Who said anything about a relationship? Tisha, darling, I do like it when you get feisty. I can’t wait to see you come toe-to-toe with Big Bertha at work on Monday… Remind me to bring popcorn, okay? Hey! Come on, honey, don’t you walk out on me already. Listen, nobody said you have to sign on the dotted line. There’s no down payment to put out and, besides the drinks, there’s no admission fee. In fact, the whole mission is to find some hunk with pecs like trampolines who’ll buy the drinks. If you don’t want to worry about the fine print, darling, then don’t! You don’t have to notarize a contract just to check out the three B’s, baby. What’s wrong with a little browsing?”
“The three B’s?”
He grinned slyly and leaned forward knowingly. “Oh, sweet girl. The three B’s: biceps, butts, and bulges, baby. You can’t tell me the thought of that, and a few extra-dirty, extra-dry martinis doesn’t sound like a reason to shear off the stubble, throw on something gorgeous, and wait for that first, ‘Hey there, beautiful… you new in town?’ … ‘You come here often?’ … ‘You have stunning eyes, you know that?’ or ‘Excuse me, miss, but you’re too pretty to be drinking alone. Let me get that next round, and we’ll see where the night goes from there.’”
He winked, and again, I blushed. I opened my mouth, ready to keep arguing until last call had long been sounded and avoided. He could tell that only more excuses were soon to follow. So, annoyingly, Brandon cut me off before I could say a word.
“Tisha, do you want to be friends with me or not? Do you want me to stay single forever? Am I supposed to die alone? Is that what you want?”
He was being so dramatic; I couldn’t help but grin sheepishly and let go of my lingering apprehensions. He could see me warming to his side, and, attentively, Brandon doubled down the theatrics, a smile sliding across his face that only just betrayed the fun he was having amid the torturing and teasing.
“If you don’t want the dick, Tisha, that is perfectly alright. Sure, it doesn’t vibrate, but it’s essentially a dildo with a pulse. If the first one that you pick isn’t to your liking, don’t worry! It probably won’t last nearly as long as you might’ve hoped it would, and you’ll be free to feign fulfillment, fly the coop, freshen up, and find his friends, fully loaded and ready to fuck.”
I gasped in pseudo-shock, trying my absolute best to simulate some kind of expression promising my own proud modesty to the contrary or, at the very least, a fundamental position of prudery. I was pretty positive that the effort proved pointless but didn’t particularly mind one way or the other… My attention was still pointed toward Brandon, who was pressing onward without waiting to observe my reaction either way. Besides, he was practically promising that his definition of ‘permissible’ was taken at least as far as my own and, probably, pushed even farther into the realm of promiscuity.