CHAPTER2
LARISA
June was one of my favorite months in New York City. With school being out, many people escaped to their summer destinations. There was more room to breathe in the city, and best of all, I could do it outside in the warm weather.
If I wasn’t chained to my computer like I was right then.
I pointed at my screen and opened to a program that had a 3D floorplan of the interior of the house I was working on.
“Look at that,” I said to Brittany. “There’s no space for freestanding storage units in that room. I’ll need to custom design a solution for them, maybe something that can fold away, but the man is insisting on having cabinets.”
“I thought we were having dinner, not working,” Brit said from the kitchen, where she was getting started on our food while I finished my design proposal.
She used to live here with me before she got married to her uber-rich, cybersecurity guru of a husband, so she knew where everything was. I didn’t feel bad about having her start without me. I’d cooked my best friend dinner more times than I could count.
At least the kitchen was open to the living room and we could talk, but I was still feeling just a little sorry for myself for having to work instead of relaxing with her.
“I meant to get this project done earlier, but the clients are being particular,” I said, clicking into a different room to work on it instead of trying to find a way to make cabinets fit where cabinets just did not fit. “Seriously. You know how much I love a challenge, but this is getting ridiculous.”
“What’s the problem?” she asked, peering over to me from where she was tossing a salad on the counter. “It’s not like you to complain about your clients.”
“My biggest issue is the guy’s attitude. His wife is okay, but he thinks money can buy everything and that, because he’s got a few million in the bank, he can be rude and get away with it.”
Brit was beautiful, no matter which way anyone sliced it. Her dark blonde hair was cut into a sleek, shoulder-length bob and her blue eyes were gorgeous and framed by the longest lashes I’d ever seen. She looked like a doll, and many people had taken that to mean she was delicate and fragile, but nothing could be further from the truth.
The chick was sharp as a tack and brutally honest, able to dish it out like a pro and take it even better. She had a core of steel and a reputation within our circle of friends from college for having a tongue like a samurai blade and not being afraid to use it.
She demonstrated that quality again now, arching an expertly plucked brow as she stared at me. “So he’s a millionaire with an attitude problem? That doesn’t exactly make him unique, but it also doesn’t mean he’s wrong. The fact that you, of all people, are still working for him even though you dislike him so much shows that his money can buy you, if not everything else.”
“True.” I sighed, conceding her point even though it made my mood plummet even lower. “It just gets to me, you know? Rich guys are always throwing their money around like it’s worth no more than a used tissue, even if most of the time they might as well have just dumped their cash in the trash for what they actually achieve by throwing it around.”
“First, my husband is a rich guy,” she warned jokingly, “and Trevor never throws his money around. Second, it’s theirs to do with what they want. Why does it piss you off so badly?”
“Most of what this guy wants in his house is insanely expensive for absolutely no reason. A lot of it will have to be scrapped and updated every few years if he wants to keep up with whatever the current trend is, and he will want to. It’s a waste. Take the cabinets, for instance. He only wants them in his study because he’s having some older guys come in for a meeting next month. So he wants that old-school feel to his workspace to impress them. He’ll want to convert it to a more modern, cleaner look before they’re even out the door. I guarantee it.”
“Okay, so he’s going to keep updating every few years and redesign his study according to what he thinks will be best to lure in the people he wants to sign deals with.” She shrugged. “I don’t really see what your problem is with that. It means more work for you, doesn’t it? If you keep him happy this time, he’ll keep getting you in whenever the time comes for a fresh new look. That’s more money in the bank for you. I’m really struggling to see the downside, even if it means he’s wasting some of his own money.”
“The downside is that he could help a lot of people with that money instead of spending it on crap,” I said. “Who needs a neon green, designer toaster that costs almost five hundred dollars? It’s insane, but that’s what he wants because he saw it featured in some magazine.”
“No one ever said money can buy good taste,” she joked but then got serious. She walked around the kitchen counter and leaned in the doorway between the two rooms, folding her arms loosely across her chest. “Okay, so the toaster is a waste but let’s get real. People with that kind of money usually donate a lot to charity, and there’s nothing wrong with them having some fun with the rest of it sometimes. Why should they donate everything?”
“I’m not saying they should donate everything.” I wrinkled my nose. “I just think about the mouths he could’ve fed with the extra four hundred dollars if he went for a toaster that cost a hundred, and that’s already going to get you a nice toaster. I mean, it heats up bread. It doesn’t bring you the newspaper in the morning.”
“It could if it had a touchscreen and Wi-Fi.” Brit looked around, then flicked a finger back toward the kitchen. “You have an eight-hundred-dollar coffeemaker, and that doesn’t bring you the newspaper in the morning either.”
“Sure, but the stuff that comes out of it saves lives,” I said. “Without the caffeine, I sure as hell wouldn’t be here anymore. Neither would any of the idiots I encounter on a daily basis. I get that mornings are hard, people, but does everyone have to come down with a serious case of the dumbs until mid-day?”
She chuckled. “No one is taking your precious caffeine away from you, but do you feel guilty for buying the coffeemaker instead of donating that money to charity?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’m probably just being grumpy because this guy has made me redo the design one too many times.”
I blew out a breath and clicked save before hooking my elbow over the back of my chair and turning to face Brit more fully. “My mom’s also having money troubles again, so I guess I’m just in a bad mood about everything.”
“I get it.” Her expression softened, and she jerked her head toward the fridge. “Come on. Let me get you a glass of wine and you can gripe to me all you want while I make the pasta.”
“Wine, pasta, and free rein to complain?” I teased lightly as I closed the lid of my laptop and resigned myself to finishing the proposal over the weekend. “You’re too good to me. If you weren’t already married, I’d have wifed you so damn hard.”
“I don’t have the equipment you’d want in a spouse,” she joked. “Speaking of which, you should get out more. Get your mind off of work and your family’s troubles. All work and no play makes Larisa a bitch.”