Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  Getting in my car, I gunned it in the direction of my apartment. According to the radio, traffic was gridlocked around my office so I decided to work from home the rest of the day. My apartment had the added advantage of having no one there to distract me.

  I had no more meetings today and needed space to think. Despite Marissa’s interruption earlier, I was determined to get those blueprints done. If I could get back into the zone I was in before she marched into my office, I thought I might even be able to get something to the client within the week.

  Just about halfway home, I realized I’d left the blueprints I wanted to work on at the office. Fuck.

  Chapter 31

  Marissa

  After Layton stormed out of his office, I stood there gaping in the doorway. I knew I had screwed things up between us, but I hadn’t expected him to be quite such an asshole about it. On second thought, I really should have seen it coming.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to come up with a different plan. The office was still quiet and it would be a little while before anyone came in and found me standing like an idiot half in and half out of Layton’s office.

  I was surprised by how much his cool, dismissive attitude hurt me. When I saw him last week, he was just as cold. I guessed I thought he might have thawed out over the weekend, for some reason. I had hoped he would, given that our first conversation after I’d told him we were done was over and the ice was broken.

  Sadly, I had let myself believe that the first time would be the worst and that it could only get better from there. It looked like I was wrong. Clenching my fists, I bit back a flood of anger.

  Yes, I had screwed up with him, I got that. Which was exactly why I’d decided to apologize after all. I wanted to try to fix what I had broken.

  The more I thought about what Denise said at the aeronautics museum, the more convinced I became that repairing things with Layton felt right. I didn’t want to ask him to go back to where we were, I just wanted to fix the rift that existed between us.

  But he hadn’t even given me a chance to say more than two sentences before he raced out of his office. Looking into his eyes when he told me there was nothing to fix was painful. What we had wasn’t nothing, even before we slept together there was some kind of relationship there. Even if it was only mutual respect—grudgingly on his part—and professional courtesy.

  What we became was so much more than those things. To stand there and listen to him say it was nothing unexpectedly slashed through a corner of my heart.

  For however brief a period of time, what we had was good. At least, I thought it was. I knew he felt it then, too, so I was confused why he would deny it now.

  Because you told him to. A little voice shouted from the back of my mind, becoming louder as it continued. You told him he was nothing more than your boss to you. He promised to forget the rest. He’s only keeping his promise.

  For the first time in my life, I hoped someone would be willing to break a promise they made me. One I’d practically begged for.

  I didn’t know if we could rewind all the way back, but I wanted to try. If nothing else, I wanted to be his friend. The little voice snorted. Yeah, right. Like you could ever be his friend.

  Sighing deeply, I looked around his office and wondered if the annoying voice of reason was right. I didn’t even really know what I wanted from him, only that I didn’t want what we had now.

  Avoiding each other and talking in curt sentences with tones so cold it was like no warmth had ever existed between us wasn’t an option for me. Not anymore.

  I regretted that I had pushed things to this point, but that was why I had to fix it. Layton and I seemed to gravitate naturally toward each other. Or maybe we were being pushed by forces beyond our control, but I couldn’t stay away from him anymore.

  Denise was also right about things not having to be this way between us. Unfortunately, the other person involved in a falling out needed to be present so you could apologize to them.

  Layton didn’t appear to have any intention of being present long enough for me to apologize to him. I knew from previous experience that once he took off to a site, he mostly stayed away for most, if not all, of the rest of the day.

  Sometimes he visited more than one site and the visits kept him occupied. Other times he went to meetings with clients, investors or suppliers and sometimes, he just went straight home. I knew these things about him precisely because it wasn’t true that there was nothing to fix.

  There was definitely something.

  Chewing on my lip, I wondered what I could do to make him see that. My eyes strayed from the blank nothingness I was staring into now that Layton had disappeared down the hallway, and ventured a look around his office instead.

  As I caught sight of the blueprints just lying there on his desk, a new plan sprung to mind. He had been hard at work on that project when I arrived this morning. He was too obsessive over his work to let the design lie overnight if he wasn’t coming back to the office.

  If he did come back to the office, it would most surely be either to collect the blueprints or to continue working on them here. Whichever way he was leaning today, be it office or home, he was going to need those blueprints.

  Pivoting to cast a look around the office, I found it still mostly empty. I had come in super early in the hopes of catching Layton here and alone. I knew he liked working in the quiet of the early morning hours, so I’d decided to surprise him.

  I thought if I could catch him off guard, early and with coffee, I might have a chance at convincing him to hear me out. My reasoning was sound, or so I thought. Since Layton preferred working while it was dark out, he was more productive and therefore usually in a better mood.

  As for catching him off guard, I thought if I didn’t give him time to prepare an argument, he would have to hear what I had to say. If for no other reason than to be able to adequately argue his point of view.

  Obviously, that approach didn’t work. The plan I was hatching now was more devious, but its chances of success were relatively high.

  The one thing I knew about him for sure was that the man was the ultimate perfectionist about his work. If he started with these blueprints, which a quick peek confirmed he had, he wouldn’t start over.

  What he was busy with would eventually become the perfect work for his client. Starting over wasn’t an option, because it was just right the way it was. Or it wouldn’t have been at all.

  And that was where Plan B came in. Walking to his desk with as much confidence as I could muster, so I looked like I was exactly where I was supposed to be just in case someone came in to ask what I was doing in here, I carefully rolled up the blueprints and tucked them under my arm.

  I carried them to my office, hid them safely away from potentially prying eyes and grabbed one of my sticky notes. After scribbling a quick message, I went back to his office and stuck it on his desk where his blueprints had been.

  It was simple, but it was bound to get his attention. L, I have taken your precious blueprints and will be holding them hostage until we fix this. M.

  Satisfied with my handiwork, I hurried out of his office before his assistant arrived at work—which was likely to be any minute now. Back in my office, I felt a tiny shiver of anticipation run through me.

  Hours later, I was immersed in cost estimations for a client who was afraid he was going to run into financial trouble on the project if they weren’t spot on when my office door banged open.

  Let the games begin. I looked up, blinking innocently at a thunderous Layton. His eyes had gone an almost poison green—as opposed to the usual emerald—and his brows were pushed together so tightly I was half afraid they would never go back to normal.

  His short, jet black hair stood up a little on one side as if he had tugged on it. He was impeccably dressed as always, but it looked like he was seconds away from rolling up his sleeves and throwing down.

  That was how angry he was. I wasn’t afraid of him, though. As
pissed as he was, he wasn’t the kind of guy who got physical about it. Well, not physically aggressive in a fight sort of way. In bed, well—no, not now. I ordered my mind to stay on track. We were fixing things, not about to go at it up against the wall. Again.

  The naughty bits of my mind sighed in disappointment, but no. That wasn’t the way to fix this. Especially not since it was just after mid-day and the office was packed.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, fighting back a grin.

  “Where are they?” He gritted out, turning stiffly to shut the door behind him. “I want those blueprints, Marissa. Now.”

  “No,” I replied simply, watching his cheeks flush with anger. “I told you the terms for getting them back.”

  “I’m not playing games with you. I don’t have time for this shit. That client is waiting for me to deliver, as are many others. I cannot do this with you. Not now, not ever. It’s juvenile and unprofessional.” Ouch.

  I raised my shoulders, casually letting them drop again as if his accusations meant nothing to me. “Unfortunately, it’s not a game.”

  It was true. It was the furthest thing from a game to me, despite how I was going about making him talk to me. “To be fair, I did give you a chance to talk to me like a normal person. If holding your blueprints hostage is juvenile, so is running away from a conversation.”

  “I had a meeting to get to,” he told me, his tone as sharp and cutting as an arrow.

  I raised my shoulders again, letting my head fall to one side. “Do you have a meeting to get to now?”

  “I. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This.” He enunciated each word carefully, his eyes burning holes into mine. “Just give them to me and let it be.”

  “Sorry,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. “No can do. I meant what I said in that note. You can have them back once we fix this.”

  Some of the anger burned out in his eyes, leaving a hard gleam behind I wasn’t sure I liked. Anger was better than nothing, right? What was left in his gaze looked an awful lot like nothing to me. My heart lurched in my chest.

  “You can have them back if you have dinner with me tonight,” I blurted out, grasping at straws in sudden desperation to see any kind of emotion flickering back into his eyes. Dinner wasn’t part of the original plan, but perhaps if I could get him to dinner I could remind him of why he did feel something for me. Anything.

  “Dinner?” He said the word like it was a curse, but then he nodded and held out his hand. “Fine, tonight. Give me the blueprints now, please.”

  I shook my head firmly. “No sir, not yet. If you show up to dinner at Alem Seafood at seven tonight, I’ll give them to you, but not a minute before. I’m keeping them as insurance that you’re not just saying yes to get them back without ever actually planning on showing up.”

  Puffing up his chest as he inhaled a deep breath, he exhaled slowly as he nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll see you at seven, Marissa. Don’t forget the blueprints.”

  There. As he started his sentence, I thought I saw something flash in his eyes. I suppose I would find out later what it was, when we talked over dinner. But it was definitely something.

  My lips started smiling of their own accord as he turned to leave. Score one for the home team.

  Chapter 32

  Layton

  Alem Seafood was an interesting choice for someone who supposedly wanted to talk. It was well-known enough, with reasonably priced, good food. Plastic table cloths covered white plastic tables yellowing with age.

  The multicolored tablecloths got replaced often enough and were practical given the amount of butter, garlic and other drips that came off the food. They were either green or red and white checkered, giving the place a real old-timey feel.

  It was almost always packed with locals, which made it an odd choice to pick for any kind of serious talking to take place. Alem was loud and lively, almost always having a live band playing into the night.

  If it was an intimate discussion you were after, you weren’t going to have it easily at Alem. But perhaps that was the point. Marissa was bubbly and boisterous and fun, just like the restaurant she chose.

  I wondered if she was more comfortable at this neighborhood favorite because it was more suited to her personality than the places I used to take her to. Then I wondered why I was even thinking about it at all.

  It didn’t matter why she chose Alem or if she liked the places I took her to in the past. Because that was exactly where that was staying—in the past. The only reason I was here was to get my damn blueprints back.

  Grudgingly, I admired her for having had the balls to pull off something like that to get me to agree to come to dinner. Marissa had always been different, special. She wasn’t like the girls Craig and I met in bars or clubs.

  There was nothing fake about her, and I’d seen and felt just about every part, it was all gloriously real. But it wasn’t just her body that was real, it was her personality, too. She was a confident, assertive individual with a wild streak about a mile wide. For very obvious reasons, she was comfortable in her own skin and did pretty much exactly what she wanted.

  That was what I used to think anyway, that nothing could get the woman down. When she laughed she did it from her belly, when she worked, she excelled well beyond her peers, and when she had sex—

  Let’s just admit you were getting mildly addicted to her, shall we?

  I ignored the snide voice in my head as I reached the one event that had gotten her down. It beat her to the ground and after that, she did the same to me. As swiftly as a powerful kick in the balls would have bowled me right over, she managed to do it in a couple of sentences.

  The day her daughter, which she conveniently hadn’t told me about, came to the office and was ill, was the day I saw a side of Marissa I didn’t know existed. It was more than being a mother, more than being caring and so devastated that her friend had to bring her sick daughter to the office before they could go to a doctor.

  I always knew she was caring, and being a mother, it was easy to imagine why she was devastated. It was the sudden seriousness that was unexpected, the complete almost laser like focus she displayed as soon as the girl stepped into her field of vision.

  None of these were bad attributes. As that day progressed, I found myself worried about Marissa and her kid. Plus, I was annoyed and confused about why she wouldn’t have told me something as crucial as the fact that she was a mom. But her attitude when she came in the next day bowled me over and completely threw me for a loop.

  Gone was the carefree, brightly dressed bubbly woman I knew. In her place was a mom who appeared to blame me for her child’s illness, which was ridiculous. A woman with a sharp tongue, who told me in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing more to do with me beyond a strictly professional relationship.

  This afternoon just before I left her office, she was the woman I thought I knew again. The one who had the balls to pull off a stunt like this, and who stood up and started waving the blueprints at me from across the packed dining room, the minute a walked into the restaurant.

  I didn’t get it. I had honored her wishes and pretended like nothing happened. I treated her like I would any other coworker whose existence I wasn’t entirely aware of. Just another body in the office who didn’t mean anything to me other than the work I was counting on them to do.

  And yet, now she claimed she wanted to fix things. Fix what? I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed her mind, if anything had.

  As I strode to the table she, and my blueprints, were standing behind it as I contemplated my father’s video. Marissa was a piece of something larger, he said. A plan he put in place. When I first met her and felt like she was being forced on me, I wondered what his game had been. Why he had put me in that position over a woman who did her job well, yet was just another of his long list of employees.

  I still had to figure out her part. If she was going to make me have dinner with her to get back what she took from me, I was at least goin
g to try to get a little something extra out of the deal. Making a silent vow to myself to find out if she knew what Dad had been referring to, I came to a stop next to the table. “Marissa.”

  “Layton,” she said, mocking my businesslike tone already. I sighed, but took my seat and poured a glass of white wine from the bottle she had ordered before I arrived. Meanwhile, she pinned me down with a stare. “So here’s the deal, you have to stay for dinner. Not just a drink, but the actual meal. While we eat, we talk. When we’re done, you can have your pretty drawings back.”

  I bit back the urge to roll my eyes and fought a smile. I didn’t know why she had that effect on me, but it was hard to deny that she did. This girl anyway, not the person she’d been the last two weeks. “I’m aware that I agreed to dinner in exchange for the blueprints. I wouldn’t dare sully the deal by trying to skip out after a drink.”

  “Scout’s honor?” She teased, lifting her fingers up to press her four fingers together before separating them down the middle with two on either side.

  I frowned. “You were never a scout, were you?”

  Marissa looked down at her fingers, then smiled and shook her head. “Nope. What gave me away?”

  “That was actually the Vulcan salute,” I told her, feeling the corners of my lips twitch. “Unless they’ve changed something in the scouts over the last few years, I don’t believe that salute has anything to do with them.”

  She dropped her hand, shrugging. “Busted. Anyway. How are you?”

  My brow lifted. “How am I?”

  “Sure. It’s this thing called polite conversation that people do sometimes,” she teased lightly, clearly trying to act like nothing was wrong. When she realized I wasn’t going to bite, an awkwardness descended onto our table.

  She fidgeted with her hands, her eyes firmly on her nails as if she hadn’t seen them for years. This was a waste of time. “Let’s just order dinner, shall we?”