A Heart to Trust

by A. L. Brooks

  “Cool!” Jenny also stood. When the men were within earshot, she called, “Want us to clear our desks?”

  “You Jenny Quinn?” The older of the two men glanced at a clipboard balanced precariously on the wide handle of the truck.

  “That’s me. And this is Maxwell Brady, he should be the other name on your list.”

  The man grunted and helped his colleague maneuver the truck around other desks in the vicinity until it could go no farther without being unloaded.

  In the meantime, Jenny and Maxwell lifted their things off the old desks and piled them onto a nearby filing cabinet.

  The noise was ridiculously distracting, and Olivia leaned away from her laptop in annoyance. Why did they have to do this in the middle of the working day? What was wrong with arranging for either last thing in the evening or first thing in the morning? Idiots.

  Twenty minutes later, Jenny and Maxwell had new desks. Half an hour after that, the men from office services reappeared with their truck reloaded with brand new chairs. Once they’d disappeared for the final time, Jenny and Maxwell high-fived each other and settled back down.

  A moment later, Jenny jumped up from her chair once more. “I nearly forgot!” She disappeared in the direction of the supply cupboard in the far corner of the floor. When she returned, she held two items in her hands: a mini football helmet and what looked like a small basketball hoop.

  Maxwell chuckled as she approached. “Of course,” he said fondly.

  “Oh, I love it!” Chrissy clapped.

  “Set this up between us?” Jenny pointed to what was, indeed, a small basketball hoop.

  Maxwell grinned.

  Jenny placed the football helmet next to the framed photo on her desk, then moved her stuffed tiger over to the other corner. This left an empty space where hers and Maxwell’s desks joined, and she placed the basketball hoop there. She ducked under her desk, rummaged in her bag, and appeared a moment later triumphantly holding up a miniature basketball.

  Oh, surely not. Olivia frowned.

  “Game time.” Jenny placed the ball on the desk. “Flip to see who shoots first?”

  Maxwell rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a coin.

  Jenny called heads, then groaned when Maxwell announced it was tails.

  Maxwell wheeled his chair around so that he now looked down the joined line of their desks. He picked up the ball and focused on the hoop a couple of feet away.

  “Best of five, as usual?” Jenny asked.

  Maxwell nodded, his face a mask of intense concentration.

  They can’t be serious. They are not actually going to start playing basketball in the middle of the day and—

  Maxwell took his shot and hit the rim; the ball bounced away across Jenny’s desk.

  Jenny whooped. “You’re going down, buddy.”

  “Must you?” Olivia snapped, her patience depleted. “This is an office, not a playground.”

  Jenny stared at her. “We’re taking a few minutes to have a little downtime. Everyone needs a break now and then, Olivia.”

  “But I’m not on a break, and you are disturbing me. Put that away and get on with your work.”

  Jenny’s eyebrows lifted, and her eyes grew stormy. “You’re not my boss.”

  “Thank God. I can’t imagine what it would be like to try to manage someone so juvenile.”

  “Hey!” Jenny’s face reddened. “Wait just a—”

  Derek walked over. “Everything okay here?”

  “All good,” Olivia said tightly, turning back to her screen.

  “Fine.” Jenny’s voice was equally tight.

  “Cool basketball hoop,” Derek said.

  Olivia snapped her head up, her ire rising.

  “But make sure it only gets used outside of regular hours, okay?” Derek looked between Jenny and Maxwell.

  “Sure thing.” Jenny’s shoulders slumped.

  Derek wandered away.

  Jenny turned and caught Olivia’s eye. There was a challenge in her look.

  “Yes?” Olivia quirked one eyebrow.

  “Next time you want to talk to me, how about you try it without all the insults, huh? We’re all on the same team, and none of us deserve to be talked to that way. By anybody.”

  Olivia blinked as words deserted her.

  Jenny turned back to her screen.

  Chapter 9

  Jenny glared at Carl when he sprinted into their apartment at a little after noon on Sunday.

  “I know!” He ripped off his messenger bag and flung it to the floor. “I just need ten minutes to change, okay?”

  “Fine!” She’d guessed this would happen. “But at least tell me it was worth it!” she called after him as he rushed to his room.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied over his shoulder.

  She grinned. Well, okay then.

  She danced a little jig in the middle of the kitchen floor, delighted for Carl and all the good things coming his way in the last week or so. The new man in his life, Solomon, definitely being one of them. When Carl had messaged her on Saturday afternoon to say his picnic date would probably last until this morning, she’d obviously teased him about saving himself for marriage, but she’d secretly been thrilled for him.

  “Okay, so let’s finish this.” She turned back to the cooler bag she’d been filling and continued her task. The bag already contained a six-pack of Roz’s favorite beer along with two pots of the guacamole Tamara couldn’t resist. To those she added a pack of grated cheese and a pot of sour cream. Her mouth watered at the prospect of lunch. Roz had promised them tacos, something she hadn’t been inclined to cook for a while. Jenny loved Roz’s tacos and she hummed a happy tune of anticipation as she packed the bag. She placed an ice block on top of the stash then zipped up the bag. Next, she stuffed two large bags of corn chips into a reusable shopping bag, then carried both bags to the front door.

  She slipped her feet into her waiting Tevas and picked up her crossbody bag, checking it held her keys, phone, and wallet before slinging its strap over her head.

  “Come on, lover boy! We’re gonna be late.”

  “Coming!”

  Carl appeared from his room a minute later. He looked super cool in fresh shorts and a white T-shirt glowing against the dark brown of his skin. He’d clearly taken the time to shave again; his scalp was beautifully smooth.

  Jenny whistled. “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna go out with me?”

  Carl sauntered over and gave her his most sultry look. “Well, that’s the best offer I’ve had all afternoon.”

  “Oh, ha ha. The afternoon’s only about fifteen minutes old.”

  “Come on, then, let’s go.” Carl picked up the cooler and slung it over his shoulder.

  They walked the six blocks to Roz and Tamara’s place. The weather was warm and although there were plenty of people out and about, the walk was comfortable, even with the two bags.

  Tamara met them at the door, dressed in her usual weekend attire of shorts that came to her knees and a tight-fitting tank top. She pulled them inside and wrapped them in big hugs. “Come on through, she’s cooking.”

  They followed Tamara to the small kitchen where Roz stirred something in a large pot on the stove. “Hey!” She leaned in to kiss Jenny on the cheek, then stretched up to offer Carl the same.

  “That smells so good.” Jenny peered over Roz’s shoulder into the pot. The ground beef and taco sauce mix sent wafts of delicious scents straight up her nose.

  “Good.” Roz pushed Jenny away. “Now get your nose out of there so that I can finish it off.”

  “Where do you want the cheese and stuff?” Carl set the cooler bag down on the floor and unzipped it.

  “Refrigerator. It’s, like, ninety degrees in here right now.” Roz’s forehead glistened with a light sheen of perspirat
ion, and the neckline of her tank was a little damp.

  “Do you need any help?” Jenny unpacked the bags of corn chips and laid them on the counter.

  “No, I’m good. You can all chat while I finish up.” Roz pushed back a strand of hair from her forehead and stirred the pot once more.

  “Yeah, grab a drink, and then come out to the fire escape.” Tamara walked to the end of the kitchen where a door stood pushed open to the outside. It let in what little breeze there was, but that wasn’t saying much.

  Jenny accepted a cold beer from Carl, who still had his head in the refrigerator, then followed Tamara. The small area of fire escape outside the apartment was currently shaded, and she gratefully leaned against the railing.

  Tamara raised her beer; they tapped bottles and drank.

  Carl joined them a minute later, a glass of white wine in his hand. “Cheers!” He clinked his glass against their bottles.

  They chatted about their respective Saturdays, but when Carl started talking about Solomon, Roz called from the kitchen, “Hey, no juicy stuff until I can listen properly too!”

  Carl held up his hands. “All right, I’ll save it for when we eat.”

  “How was work this week?” Jenny asked Tamara.

  Tamara grimaced. “Busy. A little stressful. It’s not an easy climate to work in right now.”

  “I can imagine,” Carl said.

  Jenny threw Tamara a sympathetic look. She knew Tamara sometimes pulled long hours at the investment bank office where she’d been based for the last four years. While she loved her job and had always wanted to work in finance, the challenges the market had faced in the last few years soured Tamara’s love for her career a little.

  “Oh, hey.” Tamara’s eyebrows rose. “How’s your new job?”

  Jenny grinned. “I think that comes under the heading of juicy stuff I can’t talk about until Roz can hear properly.”

  “Damn right!” Roz yelled.

  “But if you heard that then—” Tamara began.

  “Don’t go there!”

  Tamara shook her head. “She’s so bossy.”

  “I heard that too!”

  Fifteen minutes later, the tacos were ready. They all helped to transfer everything to the table in the living room. Next to the table stood a tall fan that definitely helped with keeping the temperature down.

  “I know cooking something hot in this weather isn’t that sensible,” Roz said as she carried the big plate of freshly prepared tacos to the table, “but I ate salad every day this week and I couldn’t face it again on the weekend.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Jenny pulled out her usual chair and sat.

  Sunday lunch at Roz and Tamara’s was a twice-a-month tradition the group had started when they first all moved to New York. At that time, Jenny and Carl lived in a tiny place in Astoria with no room for entertaining guests. Somehow, even after they’d finally found their current apartment nearby, the lunch dates hadn’t changed. Besides, it’s not like Carl or I can even cook properly, so it’s probably best Roz handles that. The deal was always that Jenny and Carl would bring drinks and whatever accompaniments Roz requested for the main meal she was preparing, to share the cost and effort.

  They tucked into the tacos with gusto, and only after polishing off two each did they start talking again.

  “Okay, so who’s this Solomon guy?” Tamara asked Carl as she grabbed her third taco.

  “I met him in a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. I was working on my laptop, and he walked by and commented on the design I was finalizing.” Carl grinned. “He was very cute, so I invited him to sit. Turns out he knows quite a lot about design in general, something he’s always been interested in.” He stopped to take the last bite of his third taco; he was always way ahead when it came to eating.

  “And?” Tamara made a circle motion with her hand.

  Carl took his time, earning a tut from Roz. “We swapped numbers, and he invited me out for a drink a couple days later. And then we went on a picnic in the park yesterday—”

  “And he,” Jenny thumbed in Carl’s direction, “never came home last night.”

  Tamara and Roz feigned shocked expressions, and then all three women laughed as Carl said, “Whatever,” and picked up a fourth taco.

  “So, this could be something?” Tamara asked. She’d always been the most romantic of all of them, wooing Roz with flowers and cute little love poems all through college.

  Carl ducked his head. “Maybe.” He looked up at them all again with fear in his eyes. “I like him, so let’s see.”

  “I’m so pleased for you!” Tamara tugged on Carl’s arm. “Just think, you could be bringing him to one of our lunches soon. You know, meeting the family. It’s an important step.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Carl held up both hands. “Whoa! Slow down. It’s been three dates.”

  “We’ll see.” A smug smile pulled at Tamara’s mouth.

  Carl grunted then stuffed the remainder of his fourth taco in his mouth.

  Jenny loaded up her third taco. Before she took the first bite, Roz placed a hand on her arm.

  “And what about you, the new job?”

  “Oh, yeah. Hm, where do I start?” Jenny leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her beer. “Well, here’s the short version: Chrissy is nice, Olivia is a stuck-up bitch, the new boss is tricky to read, and the project we get to work on together is a sexist pile of crap.”

  Three wide-eyed faces gaped as she finished speaking.

  Roz pushed back from the table and stood. “And I think we’re all going to need another drink for this.”

  Jenny slid in her chair a little. She was mellow after consuming three tacos, a slice of chocolate pie—dessert was always chocolate pie, Tamara’s favorite—and three beers. Getting everything off her chest about the first few days working for C&V also helped her mood.

  “And I guess, as you’re just,” Tamara made air quotes around the word, “one of the PAs, you can’t object to the entire premise of the project, can you?”

  Jenny snorted. “Not at all.”

  “Really?” Roz’s eyes narrowed. “Not even if it is such a dumb idea? Like, couldn’t you present an alternative? And wouldn’t that make them see you in a better light? Show you have something more to add?”

  Jenny shrugged and sat up straighter. “If I had an idea, then maybe. But even then, I don’t know.” She sighed. “Derek is not Adrienne; that much is pretty obvious. With her I’d feel totally comfortable expressing my opinion about this, especially after all the encouragement she’s given me in the last couple of years. And C&V are much bigger than TC. Much bigger. There’s a whole hierarchy I don’t know yet, and all the politics too. Never mind I’m scared if I step even one inch out of line, Derek will use that as ammunition to say, ‘Oh, sorry, you’re out.’”

  Tamara tapped her chin. “Yeah, I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re kind of on probation, and no one wants to rock the boat in that situation.”

  “Exactly.” Jenny pointed her beer bottle at Tamara. “I just have to suck it up and get through this, doing the best I can, and hope that I get that job at the end of it.”

  “And make sure you don’t let that Olivia woman get to you either,” Carl said. “You have to be the better person in this.”

  “Yes,” Tamara agreed. “Whatever her problem is, you just have to rise above it.”

  “While still playing nice and being all ‘yay for the team,’” Roz added.

  “Oh sure, no sweat.” Jenny chuckled.

  “And she’s British, you said?” Tamara asked.

  “Yeah. No idea what her story is, though. And can’t imagine I’ll ever get told it.”

  “Is she hot? Those icy women always are. It’s like a cruel joke of the universe or something.”

  Roz and Carl mad
e noises of agreement, while Jenny’s mind threw her, unbidden, an image of Olivia staring at Jenny at the end of the meeting on Monday morning.

  She was, Jenny had to admit, gorgeous. Olivia had a heart-shaped face with pale skin, a small, upturned nose, and naturally pale-pink, full lips. With that amazing skin, she didn’t need any more makeup than enough to emphasize her hazel eyes. In that strange moment after the meeting, those beautiful eyes had held Jenny’s gaze in a way that made it impossible to look away. Olivia’s hair had fallen forward as she leaned in, and Jenny had wondered whether it was as soft to touch as it looked.

  Jenny had no idea what Olivia sought in that searing look; she just knew she had to pull away before she did or said something really dumb.

  “Earth to Jenny?” Tamara’s voice brought her back to the present.

  “Uh, yeah?”

  Tamara grinned. “Oh. I see.”

  Chapter 10

  “Oh my God, she’s a nightmare!” Jenny gratefully accepted the cosmopolitan Adrienne handed over. “It’s only been three weeks but I have no idea how I’m going to last until Christmas without appearing on America’s Most Wanted.”

  Adrienne chuckled, then lifted her glass of champagne and tapped it against the rim of Jenny’s drink. “Cheers.” She took a sip. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

  It was the last Thursday of July. They were in Fitz’s, a cozy, old-fashioned cocktail bar two blocks from the TC offices, where Adrienne hosted drinks after completing her final day at the company. She had generously offered to buy everyone’s first drink and had waved off Jenny’s attempts to order a light beer.

  Jenny drank from her cocktail, then placed her glass back on the bar. “I don’t know.” She groaned. “I think what makes her so infuriating is she’s actually good at her job. If she was this uptight and crap, I could ignore her. But she has such good ideas! And she’s, like, a demon at planning. You should see the schedules she’s put together already for this joint project.”

  “So, what makes her such a nightmare?” Adrienne frowned. “Yes, you’ve mentioned a couple of times that she’s a little snooty, but surely that’s simply part of her personality. Rather like Maxwell’s penchant for throwing strange facts into a conversation.”