Fireworks 3 and 4

Fireworks: Forever Chapter Seven

    Oliver stood near Drake's desk, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. One eyebrow cocked in askance. "Are you sure you didn't need me to stay? Help explain the intricacies of the situation?"

    "If anyone's well-versed in intricacies..." Drake let the sentence trail off with a wry grin as he strode further into the room. 

    Oliver watched as the other man rounded his desk and sank into the chair. A second brow rose to join the first. "Aubrey."

    "I got it, I got it," Drake said, leaning forward until his forehead touched the cool surface of his desk.

    "Will you just let me help you on this?"

    "I know her, Oli. It doesn't matter who the message comes from. The message is fucked and she's going to respond in kind. That will lead her to wondering exactly what she's signed up for, which she's already questioned by the way. That will inevitably lead to her wondering just who she's dating. The Aubrey she knew would never agree to such bullshit. How could I be okay with such a thing? You see where I'm going with this."

    "To a place where no one on this team can afford to go," Oliver stated, a hard edge to his voice.

    "What happened to backing any decision I made, in regards to this?"

    "I realized just how serious those fuckers in concrete castles are," Oliver retorted. "They hold too much power. We can't go toe to toe with them. Since we can't, we have to fall in line. Just like everyone else in the business."

    Drake groaned loudly, his voice slightly muffled because of the wide area of desk blocking his mouth. "I really don't want to have this conversation." Before Oli could respond, Drake raised his head and lifted a hand. "I also don't want you to have to have this conversation. Necessary evil and all that. I know."

    Oliver stared at him for several moments. "Even though you don't need me to help you mediate this conversation, I'm going to hang back here for a while. Make a few calls before taking off."

    Good old Oli. Knows that I need help, even though I'm not communicating that to him. Sticking around, just in case I need him. "I'm a big boy. I'll handle this."

    "If you need help handling it..." Oliver started.

    "I'll be sure to call you up into my bedroom, and we can make it a threesome," Drake promised.

    Oliver's face twisted in disgust before a short laugh crept from his lips. "You don't deserve me."

    Drake powered down his desktop computer, straightened a few documents on the desk that didn't need straightening, and then forced himself to his feet. "I know I don't, Oli," he said, clapping his friend on the back on the way out of the office.

    As advertised, Oliver posted up in the living room with a cell phone to his ear.

    Oli is playing his role of backup. Now it's up to me to head upstairs and have one of the toughest conversations I've ever had to have with anyone. The staircase seemed to go on for forever. By the time he reached the top, it felt like ten minutes must have passed. His hands became clammy, and he balled them into fists to will that feeling away. Words tumbled around in his head as he walked down the hall, possible ways to open up the conversation. 

    Mia was seated on the corner of the bed, waiting for him. Arms folded across her chest, facial expression slightly less taut than it had been earlier. Fully clothed, other than the shoes she'd yanked off at some point. 

    "Hi," he greeted awkwardly. "Shit. Sorry. I'm already making this weird."

    She had the grace to laugh, bless her.