“It’s minimalist,” he says with an edge to his tone as he takes a seat behind his desk. His elbows rest casually on the chair arms, his long fingers intertwine and hang in the space between him and the desk. He looks like he’s in no hurry. Yay for me.
“I actually think you went a step beyond that, this is more like nothingness.”
“I like to keep things tidy. It doesn’t appear that is one of your attributes.” Barrett’s eyes drop to my blouse. For a moment, I think he’s checking out my boobs until I look down to discover there’s a smudge of chocolate on my camisole from the warm, gooey cookie I ate on the way here. I couldn’t not get a cookie for myself. That’s disrespectful to the cookie gods. I pull my pink cardigan farther over to cover the chocolate stain.
I pick up the single pen that is on his desk, the only thing besides his computer and phone, and offer it to him.
He doesn’t take the pen so now I’m awkwardly holding it out and it weighs more than any writing utensil should. It’s got to be encased in gold or lead or something.
“Pitch it to me,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest in a power pose that is both arrogant and sexy at the same time.
“What do you mean?” I say, my eyes narrowing.
“The reason I should donate my hard-earned money to Books 4 Kids.”
A choked laugh escapes me.
“You already pledged the money for the sponsorship.” I can feel myself getting worked up. If Barrett thinks he’s going to mess with me by withdrawing his sponsorship, he’s ridiculous. Books 4 Kids is JoAnna’s pet project. He’ll have to explain to her why he withdrew SCM’s donation. Although, if I come back without a check, I’ll have to explain that, too.
“I want to hear where my money is going. Why I’m donating a million dollars to your cause.”
“That’s a good question. Why are you only donating a million dollars? You’re a gajillionaire. You could afford to donate more.”
He smirks, but doesn’t say anything. Again, silence is his weapon of choice.
“It’s not my cause. It’s a charity organization that your mother created and sits on the board for. She asked you to pledge the money.”
His reaction is a nonreaction. I realize I’m not going anywhere with that check unless I comply with his request. A frivolous demand that only makes me realize how much of an ass he really is.
“Fine,” I say. I can barely refrain from slamming the pen down on the glass tabletop. “Books 4 Kids NYC is an organization that donates millions of books to children each year, and provides literacy programs that reach at-risk and lower income families throughout the city. Funding from grants and donations like yours will allow Books 4 Kids to introduce a new online platform that will reach more children and help promote early literacy.” I pause. While the stats are great, I sound like an infomercial. I take a breath in, and ignore Barrett’s silent disapproval. “Do you remember the power that learning to read gave you? The independence that reading a book on your own allowed? The places that reading could transport you on a rainy day when it was too wet to play outside? I would devour book after book. That’s the excitement that we want to give to kids. The ability to read and having resources that provide kids with books isn’t frivolous, it’s a lifeline.” I turn to find Barrett’s hazel eyes intently staring at me. “So, are you going to sign the check or not?”
He clears his throat, his gaze lingering another moment before he slowly reaches for the pen. Feeling like a badass now that I’ve put him in his place, sort of, I decide to press my luck.
“We need a few more celebrity readers for the story time slots.”
His eyes flick up to mine, his hand gripping the pen holding steady over the signature line.
“And you’re telling me this because?” he asks.
“I’m asking if you’ll fill one of those slots. It’s for a great cause, which I just explained. Not to mention it would be supportive of your mother and the signage will have SCM written all over it. It would be good publicity and it’s not that hard.”
“No.” He drops his gaze and finishes signing the check.
“It’s only fifteen minutes,” I press. “You can pick the book. I’m sure your deep baritone would lend itself nicely to There’s a Monster Under My Bed or Creepy Underwear.” Or hot phone sex but that wouldn’t be appropriate for a children’s story time.
“I’m busy. Have Bea help you pick someone from the executive team. That should suffice.”