Ceasefire by Scarlett Black Page B

figured the less I said, the less
I’d have to remember.  That’s how liars get caught.  They try to fill in too much detail and then have trouble remembering the grandiose complexities of
their stories.  “First date jitters.  I’m shaking like a leaf.”
    “Been
there before.”  He smiled and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.  Small
wire frames with thin lenses that were likely more for show than correction.  I
remembered that two years ago he was prematurely losing his hair, and now he’d
shaved his head razor-bald.  It was a good look.  Under different
circumstances, extremely different circumstances, I could see myself
going out with him.
    For
a moment, I worried that whomever my “date” for the evening was would walk
through the door and get offended that I was talking to another man, so I
glanced past Eric’s shoulder to make sure I wasn’t getting any jealous glares
from a lone male.
    Satisfied
I was in the clear, I turned back to Eric.  “Congratulations on your sale.  I
always knew PayGrowth had potential,” I said, politely making small talk while
I waited.
    “Thanks. 
Yeah, it almost didn’t happen, but some guys came through at the zero hour and
I walked away with an all-cash deal.  And , the best part was, I managed
to save everyone’s job in the takeover.  It couldn’t have gone better.”
    “Are
you staying on to help run things?  It has to be hard letting someone else take
control of your baby.”  My words hit me hard in the stomach when I thought
about Joey at home with Gertie—who, as wonderful as she could be, was a
complete stranger.
    “Staying
on?  Pffft .  No way.  I’m done with it.”
    “Really? 
Why?  I thought you’d always stay down in the trenches.  You were so passionate
a couple of years ago.”
    “Hah,
well, that passion gave me two heart attacks before I was thirty-three.”
    “Oh
my God, seriously?  Are you doing okay now?”
    “Couldn’t
be better.  I took the money and walked—figured I had to before I croaked, you
know?  The way we structured the deal, I get a smaller payout each year to
reduce the tax burden.  It’s basically like winning the lottery and then taking
the twenty-year payout instead of the lump sum.”
    “Smart,”
I said.  I hadn’t discussed business since I walked across the stage at
graduation.  The familiarity of it was a welcome distraction, considering my
date was now fifteen minutes late.  But, Roman had said that the guy enjoyed it
when people waited on him, so I didn’t mind hanging out with Eric until he
showed up.
    It
never occurred to me that I was already talking to the man I was supposed to
meet.  Not until Eric said, “Hey, look, I don’t want to bore you with this
stuff,” and then sidestepped over to the hostess.  “Ariana, can you show us to
our table, please?”
    She
grabbed two menus, smiled a big, bubbly smile and said, “Right this way, Mr.
Landers.”
    My
toes went numb.  The sound around me dulled to a quiet hum.  I could barely
breathe.
    Oh
no.  No, no, no.  Eric Landers?  God, I should’ve known this would happen.
    I
felt a mixture of shame, revulsion, and that unwelcoming sense of being caught
doing something you shouldn’t be.  I was angry, too, with Roman for putting me
in this position.  But was it misguided?  Maybe he hadn’t known about my
history with Eric.  Maybe it was all coincidence.
    Or
maybe it wasn’t.  Was that why he didn’t tell me who my first client would be?
    Eric
had to have seen my photos, recognized the bright girl from Stanford, and then
informed Roman that he knew me and wanted the opportunity to meet.  And
considering my boss’s penchant for the almighty dollar, he’d most likely
instigated the bidding war in an attempt to squeeze a few thousand more from
Eric.
    The
bastard had used me.
    I hated feeling used.  I hated feeling like a tool in Roman’s arsenal, a
bargaining chip to fill his coffers.  Yes, I realized that I’d