"So, they keep it pretty well stocked in here," Ashley continues, opening cabinets and drawers to show me their contents while I giggle inwardly at the notion that I'm now a suit, "but if there's anything you want added to the supplies, just put it on the shopping list and we'll get it next time we have someone do a shopping run."
I'm pretty sure I could live off the contents of the managers' kitchen for a month with all the stuff already stocked in the cabinets.
Nodding absently in acknowledgment, I follow Ashley out of the kitchen and down the hall to the gym.
Well, it's not exactly a gym I think when we walked into the room filled with a long row of treadmills facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then Ashley takes me around the corner and I see the weight machines.
It's definitely a gym.
The treadmills are all outfitted with fold-down flat desk tops and one of my new co-workers is busy typing up a storm on his laptop while walking at a brisk pace.
He's wearing shorts and a t-shirt and has a set of cordless, white ear buds sticking out of his ears. He gives us a courteous nod as we walk within his peripheral vision.
He's good looking.
With muscular legs and tanned skin and I ought to want to check out his ass as we walk behind him.
I'll leave that to Ashley. I still can't think of any man but Colter. And believe me, I've tried.
"So you get a permanent locker," Ashley shows me the full length locker with my name already on it, "and we get our own ladies locker room complete with Jacuzzi and sauna," she says as she gives me the whirlwind tour of the women's locker room.
"You could totally live here," she says with a laugh as she turns off the light on our way out, "and the accountants usually do during the end of year stuff."
Meyers-Armstrong had a great campus. Their offices were certainly not lacking, but it was a non-profit and Colter wasn't a fan of non-profits that used their proceeds to makes their employees rich instead of putting that money into the cause it was raised to fund.
Colter's Foundation paid competitively, but everyone there was there because they believed in the Foundation's purpose.
Mission Royalty Labs is a for-profit medical device research and manufacturing company. It brings in billions of dollars in revenue every year and the 3 full floors of office space in the premiere industrial park outside of Las Vegas shows it.
Floors 14, 15, and 16, to be exact.
My office is on the 16th floor. It's small, but it's private and it does boast a nice view of the mountains to the west.
Back at Meyers I shared a space with 3 other managers. Our "office" was a large, open area in the center of the floor that made it easy to interact with our co-workers. And we weren't segregated from the "lower" ranking employees. It felt a lot more like family there.
"And, of course, you've already seen your office." Ashley beams triumphantly as she opens the door for me.
Actually, I've already seen the entire floor. James gave me a full tour when I came in to sign my paperwork and pick up my employee ID and card key.
"Thanks Ashley," I tell her politely as I try to push her out of my new office without being rude. "If there's anything I need, I'll buzz."
She bobs her head in the affirmative and heads back toward her desk as I close the door to my own office.
It's only my first day and I'm already behind.
When I turn around and finally get a good look at my new desk, I see the flowers.
My heart leaps and lands in my throat.
It's an enormous bouquet of exquisitely arranged white roses and pale lavender orchids in a crystal vase. The kind of arrangement that cost hundreds of dollars from a high end florist.
There's a tiny envelope showing among the greenery and Baby's Breath and as I walk toward my desk, I see my name printed on it in careful handwriting.
But when I open the envelope and pull the tiny card out, my heart drops.
"Welcome to MRL, we're excited to have you on board. James, Alex, Stephanie & Co."
It's so thoughtful.
I shouldn't be disappointed. After all, what would make me think the flowers came from Colter?
He didn't even want me to take this job, remember? And I broke up with him over it. And I haven't returned any of his calls.
Of course he wouldn't send flowers to congratulate me on my new job.
I feel stupid for even entertaining the thought that they might be from him.
The flowers are almost as heavy as my heart when I pick up the vase and put it on the small table that's near my desk. They'll get good light here by the window and I can see them from where I sit.
Sitting down at my desk, I take a moment to get situated. I look through the drawers and take mental stock of what I have and what I'll need. I fire up the desktop computer to my right and log in to the company's network using the info Ashley gave me so I can personalize my settings and check my company email.
And while I get started on day 1 of my new job, I see the flowers out of the corner of my eye and try very hard not to wish they were from Colter.
Colter
Mission Royalty has 2 Vegas locations, a Silicone Valley campus and corporate headquarters outside of Chicago.
They also take security seriously.
That means that, while it was relatively easy to find Rachel's bio on the website, seeing as how she's the new Field Research Liaison, it's been a lot harder to find out which location her office is in let alone try to get in to see her.
After 2 weeks of not getting a response to any of the messages I've left for her, I'm starting to think she's really not coming back.
Not coming back to get her things from the apartment. Not coming back to have the last word. Not coming back to say she wants to come back.
I haven't given up hope entirely yet, but I am trying to get used to the idea that I might have to start over from scratch.
If that's the case, then so be it, but it's going to be damn hard to "accidentally" bump into her if I don't know where the hell she is.
Which is the thought that occupies 80 percent of my attention 90 percent of the time and is exactly what is keeping me from concentrating on whatever Dionne is yakking about this morning while we wait for the little coffee truck operation that recently took up residence in the parking lot of the building next to the Foundation's campus to fill our order of 17 lattes for the office staff.
It seems like a cruel thing to do to such a small business. It's just a young couple working out of a food cart that's been converted from a small horse trailer. They have to hustle to get the orders ready for us fast enough that the hots are still hot and the colds are still cold when we come to pick them up, but they make a damn good cup of coffee and I love supporting the little guys.
Dionne and I started buying coffee for the team every week as a way to support Jake and Carolyn's new coffee business when they opened up the cart, but also as a morale building exercise for our weekly marketing team meetup.
I hear Dionne's voice but not her words as I nod absently at whatever she's saying while I look at my phone.
I'm still trying to figure out how to get a personal meeting with Rachel. I figure if I can make an appointment to see her, they'll tell me how to get to her office.
So far, no go. She does most of her work in the field, so she goes to people, people don't go to her. Besides, I just don't have a plausible excuse for doing business with Mission Labs.
Yet.
Dionne is extensively qualified for the marketing lead position that I was hoping Rachel would take. She's smart, she's creative, and she's an enthusiastic supporter of the Foundation's causes.
She's also young and bubbly in a high school pep rally way that makes me glad I only work directly with her a few hours a week.
The team loves her though and the board members are warming up to her, but she's not Rachel.
Maybe that's the real reason I can't seem to get excited about working with her.
"Oh E
m Gee!" I hear her voice cut through the white noise of the rest of the people around us. She's not talking to me any more and I feel vaguely guilty for not having noticed that she's not even standing near me any more.
When I look up I see that she's back by the trailer, loading today's order into the cart we got for just this purpose two cups of coffee at a time as Carolyn sets them on the ledge outside the "pick up" window.
She's got her usual pep squad smile on and is talking a mile minute to a scowling brunette that doesn't seem at all interested in what she has to say.
It's all I can do to get to her before she has time to turn on her heel.
"Rachel!" I holler louder than I need to. She's only 6 feet away from me, for fuck's sake, but it comes out like I'm shouting for help to helicopter from a deserted island.
"Oh hey, there you are," Dionne says to me as she loads the last cup of coffee into the cart, "Look who I found, Colt!"
Rachel's lips twist in a tight smile that's anything but sincere and her narrowed eyes dart from Dionne to me and back.
"I was just telling Rachel how I'm her replacement," Dionne gabs in a sing song voice, "and saying how grateful I am for the opportunity to try to fill her shoes."
Rachel's eyes venture down to Dionne's feet.
"Well I'm sure you'll do a great job of it," Rachel's voice is ice cold but Dionne doesn't seem to notice.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Dionne double checks her job of packing the cart and then stands and shoots Rachel one of her award-winning cheer leader smiles, "all I hear about from Colt is how great you are and how much he misses you. I'm sure you'll always have an open invite if you want to come back."
"Dee," I start to make some excuse to send her back to the office without me but she butts in.
"Oh don't worry, Colt, I need to get these coffees delivered pronto. You go ahead and catch up."
Dionne winks in my general direction, gives Rachel a cutesy little homecoming queen style wave, and then grabs the handle of the cart and heads toward the office complex where her marketing team is waiting in an under-caffeinated coma.
"At least she's not actually wearing my shoes," Rachel mutters as soon as Dionne is out of hearing range.
"I can't believe I came down here to see you," she says, not entirely to me, "I guess I should have figured it out when you stopped calling."
Her head shakes from side to side as she stares at the ground somewhere between me and her.
"You came down here to see me?" I don't even care how she knew I'd be here, all I know is that she's still in the Vegas area and she came to see me.
"You know what, Colter? Never mind," she turns her back on me and orders a raspberry green tea latte without whip cream from Jake.
"You came down here to see me?" I repeat, sounding a little stunned and not too sharp.
"I don't know what I was thinking," she says as Carolyn hands her drink to her from the pick up window of the little trailer, "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that you moved on, I just didn't think it was going to be so fast."
She says thank you to Carolyn and drops a dollar in the tip jar.
"But seriously? You told her all about me? She knew exactly who I was as soon as I walked up, Colt, she says you still have my picture on your night stand? Talk about your douche-bag moves."
Night stand? How would Dionne know what's on my night stand?
Mentally, I take inventory: lamp, alarm clock, cell phone charger, photo of me and Rachel from the after party for the Oregon ground breaking. The first thing we did together as an official couple. So yeah, there's a picture of Rache on my nightstand, I just don't know how Dionne would know that.
"Wait, Rachel!" I jog a few steps to catch up with her. She's walking out to the parking lot, away from me, which is the opposite of the direction I want her to be headed in. "Why did you come looking for me?"
She stops and looks back at me. Her face is a mask of hate but she can't hide the sadness in her eyes.
"It doesn't matter," she tells me. "After all those emails, I guess I just thought maybe you..." she sighs and her eyes drift off somewhere in the distance like she's looking at the future, "but I guess not."
And then, as if she wasn't just saying something that sounded like hope to me, she switches it up instantly to a cool, business tone, "I don't see any point in coming back to get anything I left at your place--" she resumes her walk with quick, purposeful steps till we're standing beside her car, "it's all stuff you bought for me, I don't feel right keeping it."
"Can we just talk, please?" I beg clumsily as she opens her driver side door and leans in to put her tea in the cup holder, "We could go somewhere quiet and sit and talk about things? Rachel, I miss you."
"Yeah, that's what my replacement said," she says, rolling her eyes as she gets into the car and starts the engine. "Good luck with that, she seems a lot more like what you're looking for."
And then she's gone. Pulling out of the driveway and away from me without even looking back. Leaving me standing in the parking lot feeling like I just got spit out of a hurricane.
Rachel
I can't believe I drove all the way across town to see that motherfucker.
I can't believe I was going to tell him how much I miss him. That I was going to apologize! To that asshole! That I was actually thinking I was going to spill my guts out and tell him that I want to see if we could maybe work things out without the sugar baby status hanging over our heads.
What the hell was I thinking?
What on earth made me think he would even still be interested?
I figured he'd move on, I just didn't think he'd do it so soon.
Just last week he was still emailing me every day.
I should have known something was up when he stopped trying to talk me into getting together to talk.
Back in my office, I close my door without acknowledging Ashley's greeting.
I should have brought her a coffee.
That was rude of me. I have to remember to bring her a coffee tomorrow.
Taking a minute out of my internal tantrum, I set an alarm for tomorrow morning to remind myself to bring my admin assistant a coffee.
It's just an excuse to distract myself from my real thoughts though.
After looking at the welcome-to-the-company flowers from the boss for the 10 days that they lasted and feeling my heart fall every time I remembered they weren't from Colter, I finally faced the fact that I miss him.
I miss him a lot.
Once I admitted to myself that I missed him, I started back tracking our entire relationship, thinking that maybe I was a little over dramatic about ending things.
Maybe I got my feelings hurt and maybe I over reacted, and maybe he didn't deserve all the accusations I threw at him about being a controlling asshole.
Then I sat down in my new apartment and read all his emails.
Which only convinced me that he's a really great guy and I had a really great thing and that I'm a total idiot with a stick up my ass.
Then I started thinking about all the ways I could tell him that.
I could email him back.
Or I could text him.
Or I could show up at his place wearing nothing but thigh highs under a trench coat.
Then I stopped getting messages from him.
I thought maybe he'd try something new. Maybe he'd given up. Maybe he got hit by a bus.
That's when I started checking his social media like a teenage stalker.
He doesn't have accounts for his personal life, but he keeps a feed for the Foundation and that's how I found out about the Java Trailer where he's been getting coffee for the last couple of weeks.
It went a lot differently in my imagination. I thought it'd be like running into an old friend. That if I could just see him in person and watch his expression when he saw me, that I'd know for sure from that. Then we could go from there.
I did not factor in the bouncy blonde.
Ugh.
/> She's so exactly opposite of me.
Younger, skinnier, blonder.
And the way she recognized me right away. How creepy is that? And totally without shame, she just came right up to me, asked me if I was really who she thought I was and then acted like she was meeting a celebrity.
Going on an on about how much she'd heard about me and how I was so much prettier in person than in the picture Colter has of me on his night stand.
That's what she said, "night stand." So nonchalant, like she sees it every day.
She probably does.
And the way she was so proud of telling me she was my replacement!
Laying my head down on my desk, I stifle the urge to cry and take a long breath instead.
Why wouldn't she be proud to replace me?
Who wouldn't take the opportunity to rub it in if they got the chance?
Colter is rich, hot, kind, great on the dance floor and even better in bed. He can even make a decent grilled cheese and he looks great doing it naked.
He's amazing.
And I dumped him.
Of course any woman would want to gloat a little if she ran into the woman that was stupid enough to let him go.
Maybe it doesn't bother her that he still has my picture up because she knows she's the one that's with him.
It would drive me bat shit crazy though.
Probably just another way I'm not right for him after all.
At least my clothes won't fit the skinny tart.
He's probably already boxed up my stuff and had Goodwill haul it off to make room for her shit.
I should have gone and gotten my stuff.
There's no way I'm getting any work done today. Fortunately I don't have any appointments on the book today, it was all just reviewing client files and trying to memorize marketing plans anyway.
"Hey, Ash?" I call out as I head past her desk, "Can you hold down the fort for the rest of the day? Just forward anything that can't wait but otherwise, take a message and I'll get back to it tomorrow, OK?"
Ankle Deep in Sugar Page 6
