The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

“Yes, sir?” I called out.

“I want more water,” he replied. He sat on the edge of the couch, busy doing whatever it was he did on his phone. It wasn’t like he responded to any fan mail unless I insisted, and he didn’t pay his own bills, or do his own posts on his social media websites. That was my job. What exactly he did was beyond me.

I didn’t care enough to snoop.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” I replied, trying to remember where I’d seen the break room.

It took me a lot longer than I expected to find the vending machines because, of course, no radio station employee happened to be roaming the hallways in my time of need. But I bought two bottles with the cash I had on hand, and found my way back to the green room.

“Did you go all the way to Fiji to get the water?” Aiden asked abruptly when I entered.

Umm.

What?

I frowned and then blinked. I focused in on my boss and the fact there were two women sitting on the couch perpendicular to him now, catching a glimpse of boobs in a low-cut blouse, and too much makeup. I wasn’t worried about them. The only thing I was paying attention to was my boss. My temporary boss. My temporary boss, I reminded myself.

“Is something wrong?” I made myself ask carefully as I stood there, staring him right in the eye even as the two women seemed to squirm in their seats, like when you’re a kid and your friend’s parents scold them right in front of you; it was that awkward.

He watched me right back, his answer more of a pop than a statement. “No.”

No.

Why did I bother asking stupid questions? Really. For a moment, I thought about keeping my mouth closed, but this moody crap was getting old real quick. His usual grumpiness was one thing, but this was a total other. The fact he was being an asshole again in public hummed a quiet song that was too easy to ignore and push away before mulling over because I didn’t know the women in the room, and I would never see them again. What he’d said in front of Christian had been a different story.

Picking at the material covering my headband, I glared at that whiskered face and that whiskered face alone. “I know it’s not my position to say anything, but if there’s something you want to talk about…” My voice was rough, anger tinting each syllable.

His sole focus was on me. The big guy straightened his spine and set his phone on top of one of his thighs. He wore his usual baggy shorts and T-shirt. “You’re right. I don’t pay you for your opinion.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I balled up the sensation burning my esophagus and willed myself to keep it together. I knew what it was like to be picked on. I knew what it was like to be treated like crap by the people you were supposed to care about.

I wasn’t going to cry over Aiden. I didn’t cry over people who didn’t deserve my tears, and Aiden—especially not fucking Aiden—wouldn’t be the person to break me. Not now, not ever.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

He was right. I was his PA, and that was what he paid me for no matter how hard I grit my teeth. I was leaving soon. He wouldn’t be my business any longer. Biting the inside of my cheek, I made myself let the moment go even though I would later on look back on it, and realize it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

In a calm, even voice, I set the bottles of water on the table, maybe slightly breathing like a dragon. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” the rude bastard muttered.

I smiled at him even though I was positive my nostrils were flaring, and kept right on ignoring the women who had gotten to their feet. I didn’t need to ask to know that they had invited themselves in, and were now regretting that decision. Good. “I’ll be out here then.”

I got out of there and leaned my back against the wall right next to the door, my fists clenching at my sides. A second later, the two strangers who had magically appeared, were out of the room, two dark heads pressed together as they walked down the hall and out of sight. It wasn’t the first time women had tried to approach Aiden and gotten shut down immediately; either way, it wasn’t like I even cared. I was too pissed off to give a crap about anything other than the asswipe in the green room.

What the hell was his deal?

I hadn’t told him about the multiple e-mails he’d gotten from angry fans in San Antonio over the cancelled signing—he wouldn’t have given a crap about them either way. Trevor and Rob hadn’t been blowing up my phone or his about anything lately. He didn’t seem to be having any issues with his tendon either. What was it then? He had everything and anything he wanted.

What the hell could possibly be wrong in his nearly perfect little world?

This was the last year of his contract and he’d been putting off talking about what he wanted to do after it was over, but he had options. Probably too many options, if that was possible. Getting bent out of shape over that didn’t make sense, at least this early. Aiden focused on the now. I could see him worrying about the future once the season was at least halfway over.

So what else could it be?

“Hi, miss,” a voice called out from down the hallway with a wave. “We’re ready for Mr. Graves,” the radio station employee said.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded. “Okay.” I dropped the smile before peeking into the room and giving Miranda a flat, expressionless look, as everything in me raged at the sight of his face. “They’re ready for you.”