Slayer Nights Backstory #1
Seriously, if Warren thinks that this company would crumple without him, he's even crazier than my stupid brother. Jonathan does all the coding and legal stuff, I do all the designing and strategy ... what does Warren do? Sales? I mean, whatever... so, Yay. He gets to be the "face" of the company, which means that he basically just wines and dines a whole bunch of distributors and suits. But he doesn't do anything. He invests in the stock market. He makes a bunch of risky investment decisions that he makes without me or Jonathan's permission...
"He's a liability," Jonathan said last night, as we watched him fondle a client's leg at a business dinner. "He's making us look bad by treating Jackie like she's a piece of meat!"
I didn't know what to say. I drank my glass of Cotes du Rhone in one go and tried to breathe deeply. Oh god, I needed a massage. I wonder if Sven could get me in tomorrow before my 1 o'clock. Business is stressful. I mean, really. Like, Boiler Room-stressful. Living with your business parters is probably a bad idea, too. Even if my business partners are Warren and Jonathan. They are still my boyfriend and best hombre. The mansion was big enough to accomodate all of us, but... we still didn't get enough space from each other.
If Warren and I started sharing a room, it was going to get even worse. I shuddered at the thought.
On cue, Warren looked across the table and winked at me. I shuddered again as the last of the wine trickled down my throat. God damn him. He was such a fucking flirt! He knew just how to get me, too. He knew that I'd let him treat me like shit in the boardroom if he was attentive/sweet guy in the bedroom. It was a fucked scenario. Why did he need to put his hand on anyone else's knee but mine? He knew how jealous shit like that makes me.
"Do you want to go dancing with me later this week?" I asked Jonathan as he pushed the food around on his plate. He totally wasn't going to eat his potatoes. Why he didn't order for his "special dietary needs" (read: Atkins!), I had no idea. He was trying to lose weight now that he was starting to internet date. After Warren and I hooked up, or at least finally told him that we were hooking up, he'd been more adamant about finding his own dates. I guess it was because he felt left out. Not only wasn't he gay, but he wasn't making out with ANYONE... especially not Warren, like I was. Warren, who -- in the early stages of our company formation, at least -- was kind of our Yoda.
Nope, I was the lucky one who got to make out with Warren. Yep. Lucky me. I watched as Warren gazed into the eyes of our soon-to-be-best-client. Like he cared what she was saying. Like he might go home with her later if she just agreed to our terms. Like he wasn't my boyfriend. Like he hadn't had his mouth on me not 20 minutes before we sat down for this fancy fucking dinner.
"Dancing?" Jonathan looked incredulous. He and I sometimes went to karaoke, but never dancing. He lowered his voice, "At a gay club?"
"It doesn't have to be a gay club, no," I whispered, too. "We can go where you want. Somewhere that has good music and fancy beers. Just you and me. It'll be like old times... even though we never went out dancing, ever. It'll be like the old times that we *should* have had. Just us. You can chat up the ladies. I'll be your aloof, ambiguous companion... and ... it'll be fun."
Jonathan seemed to get more excited about the idea, "Yeah, sure. Actually, it might be good. I've been talking to this girl on Nerve.com and she said maybe we could meet up as friends and hang out. If you and I meet up with her, maybe she'll bring a ...friend? For you?"
"No-ho-ho... no need for that, J. It's cool, bro. I just want to spend some time out and about. Just between you and me, Warren's been driving me crazy tonight." I poured myself some more wine and offered it to Jonathan. He covered his beer with his hand and looked at me like I was on crack. "Ooops, sorry. Forgot. You're drinking beer... Hey! You know what? Beer isn't allowed on Atkins. Beer makes people fat."
"Shut up. Stop talking about my diet. Just because you never put on weight..."
Ugh, the weight argument. Blech. Jonathan was so insecure. No wonder he never got any.
"Well, just saying... you should drink wine," I said, swallowing a healthy portion of the contents of my glass. I raised my glass to the table and cleared my throat. Warren looked at me with dark eyes. Ha! That was his SHUT UP ANDREW expression. But I didn't care. I was almost through my third glass of wine, and my skin was starting to feel tingly.
I stood up shakily and announced that I would like to make a toast. Everyone's eyes turned to me, and Warren slouched in his seat.
"Wine!" The table lifted their various glasses. "It's not just for queers anymore! Slainte!"