“I hate to end this interview, Mr. Kent, but I have another appointment to go to so I must be going.”
He looked up at me, nodding his head. “Oh, then I won’t keep you further, Ms. Rowland. Have a lovely day.”
Have a lovely day? Was he serious? I grabbed my briefcase and looked at him, thanking him for the opportunity to meet. I knew my voice was indifferent and sounded a bit irritated. After all, I could hear my irritation screaming in my head. It was when Mr. Kent responded with a likewise that I lost it.
Marshall Kent may be handsome and sexy, but his boorish behavior during the lunch was unacceptable. And then there was the even more shocking behavior with his little sexcapade earlier, in which he clearly wanted me to watch. I decided to turn my filter off and unleash the fury of what I was feeling at that moment.
“Actually, Mr. Kent, it was not all that nice to meet you. I’ve never met a more self-absorbed, rude, and boorish man in all my life. That’s really saying something because I’m usually very accepting of people. But having good looks and a body like yours is no excuse for rudeness. First of all you make sure I see you fucking the crap out of a woman in your private quarters and don’t seem to care about any impropriety. Then you put me through this awful waste of time interview while acting like an arrogant prick. All I’ve seen today is a man who doesn’t have any decent amount of people skills and it nauseates me. No wonder why you need a lawyer to manage your affairs and keep you from mishandling your own self. You are completely devoid of any decency. Were you raised by wolves or something?” I finally exhaled, shooting darts at Mr. Kent and challenging him to reply. The fact that many eyes were on me didn’t escape my attention either, but I didn’t care. Surely those people, ass kissers or not, felt the same way.
My heart was racing, but my scathing words barely registered in Marshall’s response. “No, I was not raised by wolves.”
“Well you sure act like it. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that I was right on,” I spat back.
“It was more like I was raised by zombies,” he replied, making me pause. I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion. What was this guy’s angle?
“What?”
“My mother was a doped out druggie, usually acting more like a zombie than a mother,” he said softly. “She made money to buy drugs by prostituting herself, sometimes right in front of me. But that really isn’t your concern is it, Ms. Rowland?”
I was taken aback at the direct honestly and vulnerability that Marshall had shown at that moment and suddenly felt like I was the one who’d been raised by wolves. I’d been rude and inconsiderate just because he didn’t respond the way I felt he should. I didn’t even know what to say and didn’t have to decide. Marshall held out his hand and shook mine. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Rowland. This concludes our interview.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kent,” I said and walked out. Of course once I was in the parking lot I realized that I didn’t have my car there. It was across the busy boulevard at Foothill Studios. Too embarrassed and humiliated to go back into the restaurant I started to make my way to the lights. It wasn’t changing and the crossing signal was burnt out. I seriously debated taking my shoes off to run across the street, risking a cut or whatever just to get the hell away from that restaurant. My head was aching from humiliation and my dismal flop at the meeting.
With no choice left, I did take off my beautiful red lizard pumps and placed them in my free hand, darting across the busy road. It must have been some sight and I got a few cat calls and whistles as I did it. The humiliation was great, but not as bad as what I’d just experienced with Marshall Kent.
No sooner did the guard let me through the gate at the studios than Marshall Kent drove by, not even looking my way. Yah, I’d blown that one, but good. I couldn’t wait to get home.
Chapter 4
By the time I got back home I was fuming once again. I was mad at myself and despite the story about his childhood, I was plenty mad at Marshall Kent too.
The self-directed anger came from knowing that I let someone get the best of me. I think it had been in my first year of law school that I learned that you can never let people get the best of you because your emotions take over and your logic leaves the building. Well, it was safe to say that my logic had left and it cost me a great client…not only me, but my Dad too. What would he say? He’d be so embarrassed of me.
As for Marshall Kent, did he think that a rough childhood meant he could just act so unconventional and use terrible manners? What person in their right state of mind had sex and let someone else watch, invited them to watch? Nobody that I’d ever met before. Still, you watched. I didn’t get it and I briefly wondered why Sophia would sent me over to meet with someone, even suggest dating them, if they were so obviously messed up. He had to have shown that side to others before.
There was nothing left to do but take an indulgent bath, pour a nice glass of wine, and drown my sorrows in my Jacuzzi tub. That was what I needed. I didn’t put the jets on so I could load it up with bubbles and enjoy their fragrant relaxing scent. I had chosen the jasmine blend—guaranteed to calm you. It was my modern version of the Calgon moment that I’d heard many an older woman talk about for years. I couldn’t wait.
I didn’t even take my cell phone into the bathroom, knowing that anybody who needed to talk with me could wait. I needed to diffuse and do it quickly so I could recollect myself and see if there was any way to recover the damage that I’d done.
After about five minutes of soaking I heard my phone go off. I had planned on ignoring it, but then I remembered that Sophia was supposed to call me. I got out of the tub as quickly as possible, wrapping my towel around me and ran out into the living room with little bubbles of foam falling off my body and leaving a trail on my plush tan carpeting.
“Hello,” I said. I could barely breathe from hustling to get to my phone so quickly.
“Hello Ms. Rowland. How are you this evening? You sound…winded.”
My heart sank, recognizing the voice instantly. “Mr. Kent, I wasn’t expecting a call from you.” What in the hell is he calling for?
“Why? Because you were so very rude to me during our interview and even walked out on it; also causing quite the scene in the restaurant, I might add,” he said matter-of-factly.
My fuming anger instantly arose again. He had some nerve. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s the other way around, Mr. Kent. You were the rude one, not me. Me pointing it out doesn’t make me rude, just honest. Something you’re probably not used to from all the ass kissers that flock to you on a daily basis. It’s disgusting and you’re just as disgusting for allowing it.”