Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Harvey, it’s not your fault that guy broke into my office.”
“No, but it is my fault that I wasn’t here when I should’ve been to stop that from being a possibility.”
“Harv-”
“I accept responsibility for all of my actions – or more accurately my inactions – today and in the past. I also accept that…” another wave of displeasure discos through his stare, “I will never mean to you what Wahl does.”
To be fair…no one has ever meant to me what Slater does.
And in spite of how our new…dirty…kinky…side may or may not work out, I know no one else ever will.
A small throat clearing precedes a polite grin. “However, I would like it if we could at least have some sort of cordial relationship. I understand being ‘besties’ is obviously out of the question-”
“Could hearing you say besties be out of the question too?”
“But perhaps casual friends? Work friends? Or working friends? I’m sure it’ll take work to get there, but I’m up for it if you are.”
“You mean you want us to get our Ri Ri on?” I lightheartedly poke, yet, when there’s no retort, I find myself cautiously stating, “Okay, so that may not have been my best musical one-liner-”
“That was a music reference?”
Shock can’t be kept from overtaking my face, “Wait. Are you saying you don’t get the song reference or that you don’t know who Ri Ri is? Or both? Tell me, it’s not both.”
“Then I won’t tell you the thing that it is.”
“Seriously?!” The pen launches itself onto my desk. “You don’t know who Rihanna is?!”
“Is it necessary to become so violent about it?” Harvey jocosely investigates. “Should I be banning this person’s music for aggression it can ignite in personnel?”
“No, Sum 41 causes more disturbance in me than Ri Ri ever could. I mean between the headbanging and air guitaring and mosh pitting-”
“You host a mosh pit in your office?”
“For me, myself, and I, yes.” Giggling is attached to me springing to my bare feet. “Now, get up. There’s no sitting down to this song. That’s counterintuitive.”
His resistance isn’t a surprise by any means. “You want me to stand to the music?”
“I want you to dance to the music,” I correct, searching for the song on a different playlist. “However, listener’s choice.” No movement occurs prompting me to continue speaking. “I will be dancing because it has this way of centering me. Freeing me. Helping me make peace with the mistakes I’ve made and refocusing on what I can control. And correct. And all that I’m capable of doing.” Pausing at the song is followed by momentarily meeting his gaze. “Baking often has a way of doing that, too, but I can’t exactly whip up a Blueberry Angel Dessert around verifying case assignments and altering the risk analysis algorithm.” Harvey’s small chortle encourages me to wink and press play. “Meet Rihanna aka Ri Ri.”
“You keep calling her Ri Ri. Are you two personally acquainted?”
“In my office…” casually strutting around to the front of my desk where I can dance but also reach for the firearm if necessary, is executed in the middle of the announcement, “I am Ri Ri.”
Louder chuckles bounce his frame at the same time I begin to sing along to the tune.
Large, bright, block lettering slowly pops and locks its way to landing in front of me, whispering to the lower half of my figure to do the same. With one hand lingering on the edge of desk, I swivel and sway my frame around in place, swiftly swept up in the spinning and swirling and snaking lyrics seducing my body.
Quieting my mind.
My anxieties.
My fears.
Around the time the chorus hits – finally arriving at the title of the song – Harvey finds the courage to not only stand but move his shoulders.
Awkwardly.
So awkwardly in fact that I’m not actually sure if he’s dancing or trying to stretch out a sore muscle until he leans backwards a bit to try to put some hip into it.
Rather than laugh or discourage his embrace of new to him music, I simply smile and continue to sing along. Allowing my eyes to open and shut as I surrender to the sounds successfully shifts me away from the stress of the search. The pressure for answers. The straining of my mental capacity that’s struggling to sort through what’s truly relevant and what’s not.
Yet again, I find myself spiraling into serenity when the door to my office abruptly swings wide open except this time, I’m prepared.
Of course, by prepared I mean the firearm is grabbed, the safety turned off, and the loaded gun is aimed at whatever assailant is stupid enough to try the same shit his predecessor did.
While pride is the initial response I spot on my cowboy’s face, it’s almost instantaneously replaced by disapproval over what I’m sure he feels is a lack of distance between me and the man I’m fairly certain I just gently let down for good. “Explain.”