by Nella Tyler
Eventually, I had to sit down and I buried my head in my hands.
There were so many unanswered questions.
The most pressing of which was why Dexter was playing Santa Claus in the first place.
I was certain that it was volunteer work, but the entirety of the Myers family wasn’t one to volunteer. They would hold charity galas and formal events that looked good for their constituents, but playing Santa at the local mall was hardly a high roller event.
In fact, there was a good possibility that Dexter wouldn’t have seen anyone he knows.
Maybe that was the point, I considered since he looked every bit as surprised as I was. But why would he do something like that?
The Dexter I knew wouldn’t be caught dead out in public without a suit and tie.
With a shuddering breath and an almost complete breakdown of my nerves, my mind wandered away from Dexter and back to my problems. I thought about how utterly ridiculous I must have sounded and felt sick to my stomach.
I must have sat in that room for close to an hour without moving.
Eventually, I decided that I should probably go home and pour myself a nice, big glass of wine in an attempt to try to forget this whole fiasco.
So, I mustered up my courage, gathered my belongings, and bolted out the door, power walking past everyone I saw, trying to pretend I was on a mission.
By the time I made it to my car, I was out of breath, but I didn’t care. At least I was alone, in my car.
On the way home, I tried to drown out my thoughts with the radio, but holiday songs of Santa Claus and his reindeer, rooftops, and jingle bells were all haunting reminders of the day’s events.
Halfway into my fifteen-minute drive, I couldn’t take it anymore and snapped off the radio completely.
Sitting in silence, listening to the hum of the car engine, I couldn’t help but think that running away was a perfectly acceptable option.
Don’t be ridiculous! I finally told myself before I made a decision that blew the embarrassing event even further out of proportion.
Still, as much as I tried to reason with myself and get over it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Later that evening and about a half a bottle into the Chardonnay I was supposed to be saving, but needed it now for the preservation of my sanity more than I ever would for any impromptu celebration, I received a text from an unknown number.
Hey, Mazie, the text read, this is Dex.
My heart leaped into my chest as the wine helped my head to spin faster with the shock. It took me a minute to continue reading, and when I did, I focused heavily on each word.
Listen, you can’t tell anyone that I was Santa. I got in some trouble and am doing community service. If my dad finds out, he’ll fire me. Please, I’m counting on you.
Your secret is safe with me, Santa, I texted back, with a smiley emoji for good measure.
At first, I was satisfied with what I said, but after a minute, a sense of paranoia started to sink in, and I wondered if I should be worried.
So, after erasing a few texts that I started, I finally settled on sending him something simple: I promise, I won’t tell anyone, but are you okay? You know you can always talk to me.
Yes. I’m fine. It was stupid…but if you want, I could explain the whole story over dinner? Saturday night?
There was no emoji attached, but that didn’t stop me from getting excited about the invitation. I wasn’t sure what to make of it and didn’t want to overthink it, but I was curious about what he meant by dinner.
After a short deliberation, I told him that would be great and to pick me up at seven.
However, after hitting send, the mortification returned, and I no longer wanted to continue the conversation.
So, I quickly turned my phone on silent and went into the bedroom, snuggling up with Mittens, who wasn’t the least bit happy, so that I could try to fall asleep and put this strange day behind me Between the events that took place today and the wine that was buzzing through my system, all I wanted to do now was forget this day ever happened.
I thought I might have trouble going to sleep but to my surprise, I was knocked out cold the second my head hit the pillow and I slept soundly the entire night.
In the morning, though, when I woke up, the first thought I had was of what had happened the day before and how terrible it was.
However, my second thought was of how Dexter had asked me out, and I couldn’t help but grin at that.
Excited to see if he had responded, I turned over, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and illuminated the screen.
My stomach tied in excited knots as I read Dexter’s name across the screen, signaling another text.
A boyfriend from Santa is a lot to ask for, don’t you think?
After contemplating that for a moment, I texted back, I guess that depends on which Santa you ask, before I got all giddy and refused to look at my phone for a good portion of the day.
Dexter
Back at work on Friday, I had casually mentioned, via email, that I was sitting down with Mr. Wilson next week and that I had already booked my travel accommodations. In the email, I expressed how I was hopeful that we were nearing the close of the deal but I didn’t expect anything from it.
My father enacted the no news is good news motto to the fullest. If I didn’t receive a raging email in response, or worse, an unstable phone call through which I start to question my father’s sanity, everything must be good.
God, forbid I ask him if he received the email. The dissertation I received because of that mistake equaled the time it took to complete nearly a half a day’s work, through which time I was terrified he was going to fire me for incompetence.
Thus, I never asked him about the status of a correspondence again.
So, after not hearing anything from the email, I went ahead with my travel plans and started the presentation.
That was at the beginning of the week, and now, I was readying myself to finish up the presentation after double checking my plane tickets.
When I finally finished the last of my presentation and sat back to admire my work, I grinned.
It was a lot of work, but if this deal was successful, I would be gaining so much more than a huge client. I was also certain that if Mr. Wilson entrusted his company’s marketing to my father’s firm, he would have no choice but to respect me.
I would have accomplished a feat that was insurmountable by seniors at even larger marketing firms than my father’s company.
It would be the lead into partnership and worthiness that would be undeniable. I would be an instant irrefutable asset to the company.
However, as I walked by my father’s office on my way out, I decided to try to be cordial to the man, considering after my meeting with Mr. Wilson, we would probably be spending a lot of time together.
The proposal had heavy tones of upper management, ensuring the best for this high-value client. That meant that like it or not, my father would have to work with me to strategize.
Mr. Wilson wanted the best of the best, and I was certain that the promise of having both the senior and junior Myers working on their business would increase our chances of landing this deal.
So, I knocked, popped my head into the office, and waved.
“I’m getting out of here now. Have a good night.”
My father was buried in paperwork since the old fool was paranoid about certain computer uses, and when I spoke, he barely looked up from what he was working on.
“I don’t need to give you permission to leave, Dexter. I don’t know what on earth you’re waiting for,” he grumbled.
“I know,” I replied, trying to hide the aggravation in my voice, “I was simply telling you goodnight.”
Before he could say anything else, I pivoted around and hurriedly walked away, too aggravated to worry about if he called after me or what he said.
By the time I got to my car, I was fuming.
Asshole, I thought,
shaking my head with aggravation and huffing.
I felt my teeth ground together as I peeled out of the parking lot, remembering that I had to go to the gym to meet Garrett.
Fortunately, instead of being angry, today I was pleased. I needed to let off a little steam and instead of getting drunk, working out would be a healthy and probably far more suitable alternative.
When I walked into the gym, Garrett didn’t even bother to tease me. He could tell by the look on my face that if he said the wrong thing, there was a good possibility that he would get punched in the face.
“Dude…you okay?” he asked cautiously.
“Do I fucking look like I’m okay?” I spat, glowering at him in warning.
“Well, no. You don’t,” his eyes grew wide as he stepped back, reacting to his thought. “You didn’t lose that client, did you?”
“Oh God. No. I didn’t lose anything,” I huffed as my tone softened, realizing that the situation could, indeed, be far worse. “It’s my father. I can’t take it anymore.”
“What happened?” he asked, sounding somewhat relieved.
“Only the same old shit. I’m tired of trying with him. Every accomplishment I’ve ever made or anything that I’ve been proud of, he makes me feel as though it was completely expected. Like failure wasn’t an option.”
“Well, not for nothing, but with your father, failure kind of isn’t an option,” he replied, which only made me angrier.
“Yeah, well, I’ve done all this shit for him, I’ve made him billions, I’ve brought more clients to his business than any one employee has ever achieved, and I’m about to land this deal that will set him up for life. What more does he want from me? I try to talk him, that’s it. All I want to do is have a conversation with him, like a normal human being, and he treats me like shit, and that’s even if he bothers to acknowledge me in the first place. I’m sick of it!”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, losing steam as the reality of the situation hit me, “It’s not like I could quit. I could get another job, but I would lose all sense of loyalty, which is important in this business. Besides, I like the company; I just wish I could find a way to live up to my father’s expectations…or at least figure out what the fuck they are.”
I huffed with ire as I dropped the weight back onto the rack.
“Have you told him any of this?” Garrett asked, and I almost burst out laughing.
“Have you ever seen anyone try to tell my father something? He would find it all funny and tell you that you’ve officially shredded your balls. I can’t talk to him about anything without hearing a lecture about how his way is the best and only way to get anything done.”
“How’d you get the time off the other day for the Santa thing?” Garrett asked as though he had only recently remembered that he had meant to ask me.
“Same way I do everything. I told him that I planned to take the day off and he didn’t even bother to ask why, as a boss or as a father.”
“Well, the way I look at it, you can be angry that he didn’t pry, or you could take it as a good thing.” When I glared at him in askance, his shoulders rose and fell with ease, “You could’ve had to lie to him because I’m sure he wouldn’t take too kindly to the news that you were arrested.”
Seeing his point but not wanting to admit it, I rolled my eyes and growled through bared teeth.
“Jesus, Garrett, don’t remind me. I’m trying to put that day behind me, and you have to go bringing it up, in public no less.”
“I dunno…I thought it was kinda fun.”
My glare turned pugnacious, which made him back off a little.
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry. It was a terrible, terrible day,” he insisted, though I knew he was being snide.
At this point, I didn’t care. I simply wanted him to shut up about it, and thankfully he did.
“So…did you ever get Mazie’s number off Laura?”
Unfortunately, he dove right back into something else that I didn’t care to discuss.
“Wow, you’re full of comments and subjects that I’d rather not talk about today, aren't you?”
Again, his shoulders rose and fell indecisively, but with a twinge of an apology in his stance.
“Sorry. I was curious. You know, lately, you’ve been chock full of danger subjects. It’s starting to get annoying.”
I let out a deep, slightly aggravated breath, realizing he was right.
“Okay. Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, I did get Mazie’s number off Laura, and I am going to dinner with her tomorrow night after I finish up my community service.”
“Hell yeah! That’s my boy!” Garrett exclaimed, grinning widely as his large fist bunched to collide it with mine.
“Yeah, I just wish it wasn’t as a result of the sighting,” I rolled my eyes.
Garrett was aware of what had happened the other day, and he had a good laugh about it. Currently, I could tell he was still trying to hide his humored expression.
“Yeah, well, if you had taken my advice before you dawned the red suit and rang her surprise bells, you wouldn’t have this problem,” he jeered.
“I know, I know, but chances are I’d still have an explanation to give,” I retorted.
“Fair enough, but the conversation wouldn’t be directly related to this instance.”
“Still, a big part of my conversation is and would always be, please don’t tell your father that got arrested and have to do community service or you could cost me my job. That is certainly not a conversation you want to have with a woman that you haven’t seen in two years.”
Garrett brushed it off.
“Dude, you got arrested for getting in a bar fight, not murder, and besides, you’re more…guilty by association…but if you want to play it off, she might be into the bad boy.”
“I’m not trying to play anything off, Garrett! I really just want to keep her from telling her father about what happened.”
“Then, I guess you’re going to have to give her a little something to keep her quiet,” he answered, his eyebrows raising with suggesting as he thrust his pelvis out, holding himself in a sexual position. “Show her how Dexter Myers does business.”
“Stop it,” I grumbled, averting my eyes away from him, “You and I both know that she isn’t like that!”
“She might not be now, but when you get done with her, she’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand,” his sneer was crude and raunchy, “among other things, of course.”
“Shut up, Garrett!” I hissed, getting far too protective, considering we hadn’t even gone on a date yet, but I didn’t care. “I’m going there to talk to her, catch up, have a nice dinner, and hopefully persuade her not to ruin my life. That’s it.”
“That doesn’t have to be it, though. Dex, she’s fucking hot! If you’ve got the chance, why not?”
I felt my jaw tighten as my eyes darkened.
“Mazie isn’t that kind of girl, and I have no intention of making her into anything other than what she is,” I answered sternly, meaning every word but if the situation did arise, I knew I certainly wouldn’t mind.
I wasn’t about to tell Garrett that, though.
“Pussy,” Garret muttered, but I chose to ignore him, thus resulting in us finishing our workout in silence.
Mazie
Oh, dear God, what the hell have I gotten myself into? I thought as I changed out of yet another outfit into something that I thought might garnish a little more attention.
I could hear Laura’s voice in my head as I slipped into a black dress and searched around for the accompanying black high heels that I hadn’t worn in ages.
“You’re going on a date with the man, not a damn job interview!”
While I hadn’t actually told Laura or anyone about the date with Dexter, I knew her well enough to know what she would say if she were here.
I wanted to call her but didn’t want the questions that came along with the he
lp she would undoubtedly provide. This feeling made me certain that I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of having to relive the trauma via a story if this whole thing crashed and burned horribly.
Sifting through the wreckage of my emotional state would likely be damaging enough. I didn’t want to have the added torment and Laura’s well-meaning brown nosing to deal with on top of all that.
I sighed as I finally found my shoes, slipped them on, and stared at myself in the mirror. I played with my hair, a style I had settled on an hour ago, fixing it properly before my fingers danced to my neckline. I gracefully eased over the string of pearls I thought would complement a first date as my eyes sank down to my cleavage.
The pearls were the bait, but the valley of skin that sank between my exposed bosom, made decent by a scantily fashioned halter top. I ran my hand down the form-fitting fabric that covered my flat stomach before turning around to see how closely the back molded to my frame.
It fit perfectly, teasing allure with proper discretion. I looked like a lady who knew what she wanted, though I felt like a child who was now unsure.
Much like the children who were excited to see Santa but nervous to hear what he would have to say about their behavior, I held the same reserve about my date.
It wasn’t that I felt the least bit worried about Dexter judging me, but this night seemed to be such a long time coming that I wanted it to go right.
I had harbored a crush on Dexter since we were children, and while the remainder of that spark was unbelievably jubilant, the adult I had grown into was cautious.
After all, we had both grown and eased ourselves into two different lifestyles. While he seemed to understand my life choices, where few in my family did, I wasn’t sure I could completely support his.
Plus, the political retribution of this date, whether it went well or not, could have lasting implications for both their families and the company.
While being friendly didn’t do anything to our families’ strict plan for continued success, if we dated, the arrangement would become complicated.
