Not About Love

Chapter Eleven

The next few days passed in a blur of activity. Julianne had all but abandoned her job at SUBurbia for the duration, bringing me updates on the permitting process, the bands that would play, and badgered me into choosing a date. Our timeline for the whole production was supermodel skinny - I wanted it done before I showed up at the bargaining table in two months.

We settled on a Friday night a month and a half away. Tracy volunteered to make the posters, claiming she could use it as an assignment for one of her classes at FIDM. Four bands on SUBurbia's label had volunteered to play acoustic sets, and five local artists were donating prints to be auctioned off during the event. Julianne had cajoled a local recording studio into lending us sound equipment. Other businesses began to drop in, ask how they could help. We just needed a name.

Derek and Craig threw ideas at each other while I sat in my office, scowling at Untitled Document. I sold books for a living. I talked people into buying things they didn't need or even necessarily want every day. Yet this plan continued to stump me. I could practically hear the derisive laughter as the bastards over at Brennan's heard my meager offer.

And it would be meager. Jules had been right. I wouldn't be able to match or outdo what Brennan's could give. I'd be lucky if I got approval for even a thousand over what the building was worth. With appraisals in hand, I no longer had a reason to put off the loan application process. In fact, the longer I procrastinated, the less of a chance I had of being approved in time for the bargaining session. It wouldn't do much for my professional life if I came in unprepared.

My phone rang, the vibrations sending it wiggling across my desk, and I snatched it up, grateful for the distraction. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby." It was Braden.

Baby? I mouthed. "Baby? Seriously?"

A tired chuckle came over the line. "Thought maybe I'd try something different. I should stick with China, huh?"

"Might be safest for all involved. You sound like you need to sleep for a month." I turned away from my computer and the offending business plan that would not write itself.

"Nothing a quick nap and a shower won't cure."

"There is no such thing as a quick nap. Your brain can't shut down quickly enough in twenty minutes for it to be effective." He'd called twice since I'd last seen him, before his shift started. I wanted more. I wanted to see him. Wanted so badly to see him it was making my skin itch. In the ensuing silence, I wavered back and forth, wanting to see him and wanting to prove I didn't need to see him. The less time I spent with him, I reasoned, the slower this would go.

Reminding myself it might be a good idea to slow down some tossed a bucket of ice cold water over me, effectively dousing the itch. He should sleep, spend time with other people. People who weren't me. I should reacquaint myself with the things I'd done before I'd started seeing him, things I'd loved to do on my own. I spun around in my chair and jotted a note to myself to get together with some of my own friends. Space. Space to breathe without him.

I didn't want any damn space.

"China? You still there?"

The sound of Braden's voice snapped me out of my depressing thought train. "Yeah. Still here. You should go take that nap, Surfer Boy."

"'Kay. Want me to bring Italian? Or do you have a preference for a different cuisine?"

"What does food have to do with you taking a nap?" Outside in the store, Derek and Craig's argument sounded like it was getting a heated, and I got up to check, Braden's voice rumbling in my ear. The two boys were standing nose to nose, and Derek's face was splotchy with barely controlled anger. "Hey! You can't agree on it, drop the subject. Or you go outside and down the block and fight in front of the diner, okay? Not in the store." Scowling, I made my way back to my office. "Kids. What were you saying?"