The Difference Between Us

by Rachel Higginson

  I would just work harder to keep my distance. I wouldn’t get caught in conference rooms with him or put myself in potentially compromising positions. And I would make my intentions clear. I didn’t want him touching me. I would definitely tell him that next time.

  Definitely.

  And in the meantime, I would throw all of my energy into Black Soul and EFB Enterprises. I would be the best damn social media strategist in the city. Nay, the state! And I would design the crap out of my logos and promo pics.

  Ezra Baptiste would be grateful he hired me, but that would be it. I could finish his project and then finally be done with him. Plus, his company would look amazing in my portfolio. Okay, it wasn’t ideal to work for Vera’s fiancé’s best friend. But, I would turn this into a positive opportunity.

  Black Soul would be great too. Sure, my part was much smaller in that project, but I would still be able to put all the final work in my portfolio and use it to build the foundation of a stable, lifelong career.

  This was all going to work out. It would be fine.

  I would be fine.

  And starting next month, I would stop lying to myself.

  Chapter Twelve

  My phone buzzed with an incoming email and I resisted the urge to check it during the middle of spin class. I could wait to open it. I didn’t need to know what it said just this second.

  Really, it would be fine.

  It could wait.

  I could wait.

  The sender could wait until after I’d sweated off the three pounds of pasta I’d gained this week from my favorite Italian takeout spot to hear back from me.

  I couldn’t help the small smile of anticipation that lifted the corners of my mouth though or the way I suddenly didn’t notice the pain from pushing up the hill climb at 5:45 a.m. Resisting the urge to pick up my phone, I opted for my water bottle instead. But even after a big, refreshing gulp, I still didn’t manage to lose the smile.

  “Why do you look happy?” Vera panted next to me, her legs moving approximately one thousand miles per hour. “You should be miserable right now. At the very least you should be contemplating puking. No smiling.”

  “I think I see Jesus,” I wheezed said serenely. “I’ve pedaled myself to death. He’s coming to get me.”

  Vann chuckled on my other side. “This is only the warm up.”

  “Stop showing off, Vann.” My smile disappeared. “We get it. You’re a super cyclist. The bike seat up your ass isn’t bothering you at all. Stop bragging.” To Vera, I said, “Why did you invite him again?”

  “Hey!” Vann protested.

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t invite him. I tried very hard to keep this a secret from him. But when he heard we were doing something bicycle related, he invited himself.”

  “I’m here to motivate you,” he said seriously. “This is good for you girls. You both are in serious need of some cardio.”

  “Your face is in serious need of some cardio,” Vera snarled back. At my look of not-the-best-insult-you’ve-ever-come-up-with, she shrugged. “My brain is still sleepy.”

  Vann leaned forward on his bike, lifting his bum off the seat and adjusting his bike to make it harder for himself. Because he was crazy and liked weird things- like exercise. This was the end of our friendship forever. I officially hated him. His overachieving did nothing to motivate me to work harder. This was it. This was as hard as I spinned. Spun? My brain was sleepy too.

  My phone buzzed again in the holder thingy next to my handlebars. I realized I was the irritating person that brought her phone to class with me, but juggling two major clients wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Especially because of the two clients I had to juggle.

  Black Soul wasn’t terrible. Our big meeting with them was still a ways off so Henry was the only one that dealt with them directly so far. Meanwhile, Ethan and I had been coordinating on kick ass campaigns that were bound to blow their socks off.

  On the other hand, we also had to work with Henry. And he was a giant pain in my ass more difficult. He made things doubly more complicated. No, it was worse than that. Triply. Quadruply?

  He was always up in my business. Always. And not just with his work ethic and slave driver tendencies. He was hands everywhere, body everywhere, coffee breath everywhere all day every day.

  I was over him and how uncomfortable he made me. His bad jokes, his creepy stares, the way he always, no matter what I was wearing or how vigilantly I tried to disguise my boobs, stared at my chest, were out of control. I avoided him the best I could, but since we were on the same project, it was impossible to completely evade him.

  The worst part was that he was probably going to get me fired in the end. Yes, he was the creep, but I was about one more unwelcomed back rub away from punching him in his throat.

  And then on the other side of things, I had to work with Ezra. The man was completely insufferable. He emailed at all hours of the day or night because apparently he never slept. And who could blame him when there was so much work to do?

  Just kidding. I could blame him. I could totally blame him.

  We were different in this way. Where he was a complete and utter workaholic, I was a very strong proponent of beauty sleep. I had lost count of the number of emails I had sent him encouraging him to get those eight hours or hey, even six hours. But he was stubborn and determined to drive me crazy.

  He also never seemed to get tired of emailing. No matter when I sent mine, he always responded within a half hour. I got that he was spending money on this project and he really wanted it done well, but the amount of attention he wanted was silly. We sent at least a couple a day and sometimes he sent multiples in a row before I got the chance to get back to him.

  They would always start very early in the morning with a simple hello and have you made any progress? Then they evolved from there into back and forth verbal duels. We didn’t just email, we sparred, we went head to head and refused to let the other person win.

  For instance, two weeks ago, I’d emailed this:

  Ezra Franklin Baptist

  Ezra Festivus Baptist

  EFreakingB

  Ezra,

  How comfortable are you with selfies?

  MM.

  He’d written back,

  Molly,

  I’m not.

  ~EFB

  P.S. When are we going to meet again? As your most important client, I feel neglected.

  I’d rolled my eyes at the screen and then proceeded to send him thirty emails and seventeen text messages the rest of the day just to make sure he felt important.

  That night he’d replied with:

  All right! You win. You’ve exhausted me.

  ~E

  P.S. How about next time you let me take you to lunch so we can avoid the spam.

  Apparently, I’d exhausted him so thoroughly he could only sign his name E.

  I’d replied:

  Ezra,

  I just wanted you to know, as my most important client, that you were well taken care of.

  MM.

  How about next time you bring me frites from Lilou so I can work through lunch.

  The next day, a runner had shown up with steak and frites from Lilou. My entire office had been jealous. I’d sent him an email thanking him for lunch, but he hadn’t responded to that one.

  Molly,

  Not a big fan of the color scheme. How many pictures do you want me to post a day? You can’t be serious. Also, it’s still a hard no on the selfies.

  ~Ezra

  P.S. Do you mind if I pass your name along to a friend? He’s apparently impressed with my recent social game and wants to know what my secret is. I told him that I’m being innovative and he laughed in my face. He wants my secret.

  He’s sixty by the way. He just became a grandfather. He also owns a bakery.

  I had been flattered that Ezra’s acquaintance had noticed all the work I had been doing to bring Ezra’s business into modern day. The man had zero talent for the in
ternet. I had no doubt that he was a business genius and knew his way around the industry, but getting him to post a picture of tonight’s special or a behind the scenes look at one of his kitchens was like pulling teeth.

  Ezra,

  I’ll rework the graphic tones if you promise to try for at least two pictures a day. Three would be better. You have to trust me a little bit, but I think you’ll be happy with the results.

  As far as selfies, I’m going to need you to get over that asap. You should practice. Send them to me and I’ll give you pointers. Use filters. Avoid pouty lips.

  Once you get that down, we can move on to stories. If you think selfies are bad, just wait.

  MM.

  Feel free to pass along my name! It doesn’t bother me that he’s a grandpa. I can work with any demographic. I’m versatile like that.

  I’d gotten a reply approximately three minutes after I’d pressed send.

  Molly,

  I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to set you up. I know you hate that.

  ~E

  I might have had a glass of wine before I responded. I also might have felt like poking the bear as usual again.

  Ezra,

  I’m into grandpas. I want you to set us up. Also I’m really into baked goods. So, I might just use him for his pastry connections.

  MM.

  He’d emailed back immediately.

  Molly,

  Duly noted.

  ~Ezra.

  I had been irrationally disappointed with his email, expecting more from him. But then the next day he’d sent a box from one of the coolest French bakeries in town filled with macaroons, chocolate croissants, fruit tartlets, and several different flavors of eclairs.

  The note that accompanied the box said, I have connections too, ~Ezra.

  I’d grudgingly shared with the people around me and tucked the note away in my desk. And then spent the rest of the day trying not to overanalyze pastries.

  Last Saturday, he’d sent a work-related email that required thought and effort, and a whole gamut of skills that I pretended I didn’t have during the weekend.

  I’d shot back a quick email that had said:

  Ezra,

  Dear Mr. Workaholic,

  I know you have heart palpitations when I don’t let you work, but it’s the weekend! Take a break. You deserve it. More importantly, I deserve it.

  XOXO

  MM.

  He’d written back almost immediately.

  Molly,

  There is no rest for the wicked. The weekend is when I make the majority of my money.

  ~Ezra

  But you do deserve a break. I’ll talk to you on Monday. Unless you wanted to stop by Bianca tonight so I can stay in business. I’ll save a table for you.

  I hadn’t stopped by Bianca because I didn’t think it was a real offer, even though my insides had gone squishy and I’d been unable to stop smiling for the rest of the weekend. Plus, I knew it was almost as popular as Lilou, so walking in the door without a reservation was not even an option. I probably would have been assassinated by vengeful foodies up in arms that I cut the waitlist. They would have poison-darted me from the bushes.

  It was now Monday. And when did Ezra email me? At 5:45 in the morning! He was crazy. And obnoxiously adorable. And apparently had no life outside of work.

  I had always found that an annoying quality when I’d been setup before. I didn’t understand why men always seemed able to commit to their jobs, but not a woman. Wasn’t a loyal life partner better than paperwork or promotions or prestige? Wouldn’t they prefer to get laid rather than meet deadlines? Wouldn’t they rather have a family than a corner office?

  And yet, with Ezra, I found it endearing. He’d built this empire out of blood, sweat, and a hell of a lot of work. So for him to pour himself into his different businesses was admirable.

  It didn’t mean that I was changing my opinion on workaholics. But he always seemed to be the exception and not the rule. It was annoying frustrating.

  In one of his emails, he’d mentioned wanting to hire his sister. I mean, right? How could you not find that completely swoon-worthy?

  Not that he was swoon-worthy in general. But maybe he wasn’t a totally intolerable person. And maybe there was a possibility that he knew what he was doing in business.

  He for sure still needed my guidance.

  But he wasn’t totally helpless.

  Spin class ended with a groan from me and an enthusiastic fist pump from Vann.

  “Vera, do something about your brother,” I huffed. “His energy is getting on my nerves.”

  Vann grinned at us, hopping off his stationary bike like he had no issue with taking the next class or moving or standing in general. Meanwhile, Vera and I weren’t going to be able to walk for two days, just in time to drag our carb-loving asses back here and torture ourselves all over again.

  “Listen, brother of mine, this class is for people that hate exercise, hate losing weight and in general, hate themselves. And if you can’t respect that, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

  He blinked at us. “This class is for experts. This is an advanced level class.”

  Vera waved at some other spinners and tipped her water bottle in salute. “I want to look good in my wedding dress,” she murmured more to herself than anyone else. “I want to look good on my honeymoon.”

  “Why are you here?” Vann asked me bluntly.

  I shrugged. “Team spirit? Also, I live off of take-out and Hot Pockets, and sit at a desk all day. I have to do something to counterbalance my lifestyle.”

  “Thanks for the great class,” Vera called to the instructor as we walked into the hallway.

  I didn’t feel the pressure to suck up to our evil instructor like Vera did. She was all about being nice to him because of the theory that he would be nice to her in return. I was all about googling how to make a voodoo doll that gave him temporary paralysis of the legs.

  But in a nice way. And only in the early morning.

  We waddled walked out of the room as a trio, Vann perfectly fine, Vera and I dying on the inside. And outside. And all the sides.

  “We need protein shakes,” Vann announced.

  Vera’s face scrunched in disgust and she shook her head back and forth quickly. “Don’t make me. Molly, make the bad man go away.”

  “Let’s make a run for it, Vere. We won’t stop until we’re safely inside the girl’s locker room. On my signal…”

  Vann let out an exasperated sound. “There’s something seriously wrong with you two. I don’t know how you have any friends.”

  “Well, for starters, we don’t force them to drink protein shakes,” Vera countered.

  Vann’s head tilted, considering. “I’m doing you a favor. They speed up your metabolism. Also, they don’t taste gross. They make them with peanut butter and chocolate.”

  Vera and I shared a look. “It couldn’t hurt to try them,” she said.

  “I mean… we might as well see what the fuss is about.”

  Vann turned around and led us to the café, muttering the entire way. I pulled out my phone and finally checked my email, careful not to trip over rogue weights, random jump ropes, or air.

  Molly,

  Call me when you get into the office. We can discuss the email you ignored over the weekend.

  ~Ezra

  P.S. I went to brunch with Dillon on Sunday and then we caught a movie. I can take breaks. I’m the best at taking breaks. What did you do?

  “You’re smiling at your phone again,” Vera pointed out.

  I cleared my throat and wiped the goofy look off my face. “Am I?”

  “What is going on with you?” she demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Molly Maverick. If there’s a man in your life, I should be the first one to know about him. Maybe even before you do!”

  I rolled my eyes and looked at Vann for support, but he was as curious as his sist
er. We stepped up in line at the café that was teaming with protein-shake drinking crazies.

  “It’s a work email,” I told them. “It’s just from Ezra.”

  Vann’s eyebrows shot up. “Ezra Baptiste?”

  “He hired me to do some work for his company. It’s not a big deal.”

  “You’re smiling again!” Vera pointed out. “Vann, she’s smiling about work!”

  “So?” I shrugged. “I like working for him. I’m the only one on his project so I get to do whatever I want. It’s nice.”

  Vera’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were afraid of him.”

  I felt my cheeks heat from their unwanted attention. I didn’t need the third degree from these two this early in the morning. Mostly because I hadn’t had coffee yet and I didn’t think I’d be able to deflect their accusations with the kind of expert ninja skill I usually had. “He’s not so scary once you get to know him.”

  “I thought you were working for him,” Vann pressed. “Why are you getting to know him?”

  “Oh, my gosh. I’m getting to know him because I’m working for him.”

  The siblings shared a look. “I’ve known him as long as you have,” Vera argued. “I haven’t gotten to know him. Not really.”

  “Stop,” I begged them. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”

  Vera attempted to hold back a smile. And failed. “I said the same thing about Killian.”

  Vann smiled now too. “He’s cool, Molly. You could do a lot worse.” He thought about it for a second. “You have done a lot worse.”

  “Thanks for your approval, guys, but seriously, we’re just working together. That’s it.”

  I didn’t even have to lie to them. That was the truth. Ezra had hired STS to help him with marketing. And I was the designer that he’d handpicked happened to get picked for the project. Hardly a romantic fairy tale.

  Vann stepped up to the counter to order for us while Vera continued to smile at me, her head practically exploding with unsaid well wishes. “He’s just so perfect for you.”