by R.S. Grey
Eventually, I forced myself to focus on the pile of work I’d left behind the night before. A full cup of coffee and freshly sharpened drafting pencils were almost enough to convince me to concentrate on my sketches instead of replaying the previous night in excruciating detail. Almost.
I stirred from my work sometime later that morning when I heard Beatrice mention my name on the phone.
“Sure, I’ll connect you with Cammie. Let me just put you on hold for a moment,” Beatrice said.
I turned toward her desk with an inquisitive brow. Why was someone calling me on the work line? Brooklyn was the only person who tried to contact me during work hours and she always used my cell phone.
Beatrice connected the call and I spoke hesitantly, “Hello?”
“Cammie! This is Emma. Emma Cole.”
It took me a second to get up to speed. Why in the world was Grayson’s mother calling me?
“Oh, of course. Hi Mrs. Cole. How are you?”
The question was more of an automatic response than anything. My brain wasn’t awake enough to create an actual conversation with Grayson’s mom.
“Oh, I’m good, honey. I’m good. Listen, I’m glad I caught you before the day really gets going. Are you too busy to chat for a moment?”
Even if I had ten deadlines to meet, I could spare a few minutes for the mother of my dream man.
“Sure, I can talk,” I answered.
“Oh good. Y’know I was calling to see if you’ve been able to keep an eye out for Grayson like I asked?”
I nearly choked on my own tongue.
“Um, yeah, well, a little bit. He sort of keeps to himself,” I said, skipping over the rather obvious encounter from the kitchen the night before.
“Of course, of course. I guessed as much. Anywho, are you enjoying your work? Last time I spoke to you, you were a bit overwhelmed with everything.”
I glanced up to check my surroundings. Mark had arrived a few minutes earlier, quiet as a mouse, but Peter and Alan’s desks were both empty still. I could speak freely if I wanted to.
Was I enjoying my work?
“Y’know, I’m not really sure yet.”
“Uh oh.” she answered. “Tell me about it. Is my son being too hard on you?”
“No. No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just a lot more work than I thought it would be,” I admitted.
“Well, I’m sure Grayson knows what he’s doing. I think these first few weeks will be hard until you get adjusted to the work flow, don’t you think?”
I was about to reply when the elevator doors dinged and swung open. I glanced back to check if it was Alan arriving for the day and did a double take when I caught sight of Nicole strolling into the office with her pale blonde hair flowing out around her. What the hell was she doing here? And before 9:00 am no less? Had Grayson bumped their booty call up to brunch now?
“Cammie? Are you there?” Emma asked.
I peeled my gaze away from Nicole and turned back to my desk. “Oh, yes. Sorry about that Mrs. Cole. I actually have to be going. I, uh, have to finish up a few things before my manager arrives.”
“Oh, that’s alright, dear. Thanks for taking the time to chat with me. Tell your sister hello for me when you get the chance, it’s been too long since I last saw her!”
I glanced over my shoulder as the scent of Nicole’s floral perfume hit me. It stretched across the office, announcing her presence even more than the clap of her high heels on the concrete. Over the last few weeks, every single thing about her had come to annoy me, but most of all it was that floral scent that did me in. I wanted to drown her in it.
“Oh, I will. Bye, Mrs. Cole.”
The second the call ended, I watched Nicole step into Grayson’s office, securely closing the door behind her. She was probably unbuttoning her blouse at that very moment. Blech. Just the idea of them together made me want to vomit.
I had a brief moment where an adult version of Cammie warned me to keep my distance and get back to work. Fortunately, reckless Cammie won out. I couldn’t sit idle while he was in there with Nicole. He’d kissed me the night before, really kissed me. He’d gripped my neck with both hands like he’d wanted to devour me whole and now he was in there with her?
No. Not happening. I pushed my chair back from my desk and bee lined for his office. After one sharp knock on his door, I opened it before either one of them could decline my entry. Grayson was perched behind his desk, his black suit jacket and tie still perfectly in place. He was leaning forward on his hands, with furrowed brows and a sharp frown. When he saw the door slide open, he swept his gaze from Nicole up to me and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly unhappy to see me barging into his office.
Nicole sat in a chair on the other side of his desk with her hands crossed on top of her lap. The proper pose combined with her white shift dress and strand of pearls screamed, “Junior-League-trust-fund-baby”, but when she turned to me, there were mascara stains dotting her cheeks and the whole pristine image was suddenly shattered.
She’d been in there all of thirty seconds and he already made her cry? The asshole.
Wait. Why do I care about Nicole?
I glanced back to Grayson with narrowed eyes, prepared to call him out, but he was practically snarling at me by that point.
“Why the hell do you insist on barging into my office, Cammie?” he asked.
My mouth fell open and then I rushed to close it, only to let it fall open again a moment later. I looked like a confused guppy.
“Your mom called me this morning,” I finally spoke, hoping the mention of his mom would cool his jets. “She was checking up on you.”
Nicole pointed her finger out at me. “What? Why is your mom calling one of your employees?” She spat the word out as if she had just accidentally bitten into a non-organic, GMO Honeycrisp.
Grayson shrugged, glancing between the two of us. “She likes Cammie, she’s a family friend.
“Cammie?” Nicole bristled.
Grayson stared up at me expectantly. “Is that really the only reason you have for interrupting?” he asked incredulously.
I straightened my shoulders and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I just thought you should know that your mom is asking about you. Maybe give her a call every now and then, Grayson.”
I purposely used his first name.
“Is this why you’re breaking up with me? So you can fuck your jailbait employee?” Nicole blurted out.
Excuse me, we’re having a conversation here… wait, did she say they were breaking up? I was back to looking like a confused guppy as she pushed herself onto her feet and leaned over Grayson’s desk. I should have excused myself at that point, but I couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.
“You’ll never find a woman as good as me. You’re about to lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Wow. She was really confident in her ability to quote movie breakup lines.
“Nicole. Calm down,” Grayson instructed with annoyance.
She reared back as if he’d slapped her. Her hands flew up in the air and I could tell she was about ten seconds from losing it. Should I call security? Nah. Let Grayson defuse the Botoxed bombshell.
“Calm down! Calm down?” she yelled. “You string me along for a year and then just break up with me in your fucking office, Grayson? I never met your parents. I never stayed the night at your place. You said you weren’t ready for commitment?! Bullshit.” Her hands were flying everywhere at this point. “I’m done.”
She turned and rushed past me, making sure to subtly swipe me with her purse on the way out. I stared out after her, mostly to ensure that she wasn’t going to come back and attack me from behind.
When she was at the elevator bank, furiously typing away on her phone, I finally turned back to Grayson.
For two seconds, we stared at one another, letting the last few minutes settle. Then, finally, I cracked and let the edge of my mouth hitch into a
smile. He followed suit, trying to conceal his grin.
“Nice girl. Better watch out though, she's going to start a hate club with that secretary you fired.”
Grayson grunted. “She was exaggerating.”
I narrowed my eyes, thinking back to my experience with Grayson. “You probably did string her along.”
He glanced up and studied me for a moment before nodding. “Probably.”
…
Around lunchtime, Alan left for a job site with Hannah, leaving Peter and I with thirty minutes of freedom. We decided we deserved some good takeout since most of our lunches consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches supplemented by vending machine granola bars.
“Oohh! What about Thai? I haven’t had Thai food in forever,” I said, scrolling through Yelp reviews for a restaurant down the street.
“Nah. Not a fan. What about Italian?” Peter asked.
The idea of eating a giant plate of fettuccini alfredo was almost too tempting to pass up.
“Yum. I can always eat—”
“Peter I need to speak with you for a few minutes. Are you busy?”
We both turned in unison to see Grayson hovering behind my desk with his arms crossed. Since I’d been hired, he’d never once talked to Peter one-on-one, and the visible shock on Peter’s face emphasized that point further.
“Oh, um, sure. I was just going to get lunch with Cammie,” he said, offering me a sympathetic frown.
“That’s fine. I’ll have Beatrice order us something. Cammie can run down and grab herself lunch.”
Oh thanks, asshat.
Grayson completely ignored me even as I stared daggers at him, so I scooted my chair back so that he had to jump out of the way before I slammed into his legs. It wasn’t a very classy move, but at least he finally met my eye. I almost wavered—those blue eyes were a lot to take in when they were aimed right at me—but I held strong.
“Thanks for stealing my lunch date,” I said, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.
“You’ll manage,” he said with a cheeky smile. “Besides, it’s only fair. You interrupted mine earlier.”
…
As soon as I sat down at my desk after lunch, Alan began to ramble. “Let’s go over the design for the competition. We weren’t able to do our usual Wednesday morning meeting, so we’ll do it now.”
I perked up. Over the last few days, I’d become obsessed with the park design competition. I’d brainstormed a few ideas that I knew Alan would agree with. They would add a lot to the project without increasing the budget. As Alan pulled out the drafting paper we’d used the week before, I jumped into my proposals.
“Alan, I know you weren’t in love with some of my ideas last week, but I think I’ve figured out how we could incorporate a few things without blowing the budget.”
I reached for my notebook, where I’d been scribbling down my ideas on the last few pages. The ones I thought Alan should hear were highlighted and circled so that they’d be easy to find.
“I think the changing rooms near the splash pad could fit into budget if we combine them with one of the park’s bathrooms. The building material could be sourced from the recycling facility downtown so that the cost would be nominal. Not to mention, using recycled materials would look really good for the city.”
Alan slapped his hand down on his desk, jarring me. “Cammie, I think you’re confused about your role in this competition. I want you here as more of a silent participant. Maybe you should direct this misguided enthusiasm toward the work I’ve given you, since you’ve had so much time to consider this competition design.”
My face burned with embarrassment. Peter tried to catch my eye, to ease the pain of being reprimanded in front of all of my table-mates, but I kept my eyes trained on my notebook. I had pages and pages of ideas for the park project. Some of them were wild and much too costly, but a lot of them would enhance the park and fit well with what the design committee had asked for in the first place. Despite all that, if Alan didn’t think my ideas were worth mentioning, then fine, I’d stay silent.
I bit my tongue for the rest of the meeting—if you could even call it a meeting. It was mostly Alan blabbering on and on to himself.
What gave him the right to treat me like that? I would have assumed he was a misogynist, but he wasn’t any nicer to Peter or Mark either. No, I think he was just a crotchety old man, stuck in the old way of doing things. He thought that his title as a senior associate meant that his word was law. I was all for respecting authority and learning from those with more experience, but Alan wasn’t a teacher. He was a dictator without a throne, and I was sick of putting up with him.
By the time our “meeting” was over, I’d decided to do something wild. No, actually, something insane. The decision would jeopardize my relationship with Alan, my career at Cole Designs, and potentially my future in the architecture world.
Despite all that, if Alan didn’t want my help with the proposal, then I really only had one choice. I’d just break the rules and enter the competition on my own.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hurry!” I yelled back at Hannah as I took the stairs two at a time.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe you’re actually getting to leave work on time. This is the best. We should go grab dinner for once,” Hannah said as I pushed through the doors of the Sterling Bank Building. Alan had a meeting with Grayson just before 5:00 pm, which meant he hadn’t had time to assign me extra work before the day ended. As soon as the clock struck five, I’d bolted out of the office with Hannah in tow.
“Yes! Let’s go, we deserve it,” I said.
We ended up finding a little bistro on the way home from the office. It was packed to the brim—as all good restaurants are in LA—but we managed to find two seats at the bar.
“Y’know I lied to Grayson the other day,” Hannah said with a little smile as we perused the menu. “Alan is the worst.”
I laughed. “Um, duh. I’m glad we can agree on that now. I thought Alan had hypnotized you for a while.”
She laughed and I went back to browsing the menu. The restaurant had everything from pasta to hamburgers so I knew I’d have a hard time picking just one entree. I glanced over to see if Hannah was having the same problem, but she was fidgeting on her seat and glancing around the restaurant. Either she was nervous about something or really hungry.
“You okay?” I asked with a chuckle.
Her eyes lit up. Clearly, she’d been waiting for me to ask.
“You’ll never guess what happened at work today,” she said, dropping her menu and glancing over at me with dreamy eyes. She looked like she’d just been struck by Cupid’s arrow.
“What?” I asked while simultaneously wondering if I was hungry enough for an appetizer or not.
“Grayson invited me to go to happy hour with him,” she said, her voice brimming over with excitement.
I slapped my menu onto the bar.
What?
“Excuse me?”
That lying bastard.
…
I barged into Grayson’s office on Thursday morning like a bat out of hell. I pushed his door open so hard that it slammed back against the wall and shook the books on his shelf. Everyone in the office would have been able to hear the racket, but no one was in yet. I’d purposely arrived early to kill Grayson in peace.
“Looks like I chose the perfect day to install a new deadbolt on that door,” he remarked, keeping his focus down on his work.
I ignored him and shoved the door closed behind me.
“You realize that I’m trying to work, right?” he asked.
I scowled, crossed my arms, and waited for him to acknowledge me.
“The least you could do is bring me a cup of coffee when you interrupt me.”
“I’m not your secretary,” I snapped.
He rolled his eyes and pressed the intercom on his phone.
“Beatrice?” he asked. Silence.
She hadn’t arrived ye
t, which meant he was on his own with the coffee. He stared up at me expectantly, but I arched a brow and held my ground.
It was his move.
With an annoyed groan, he pushed his chair back and stood, his full height threatening my confidence for a moment.
“God. Fine, I’ll go get your damn coffee,” I hissed, turning on my heels and heading toward the kitchen. I ran through every ingredient that I could sprinkle into a mug inconspicuously enough so that Grayson wouldn’t notice. Did we keep cayenne pepper stocked in the cabinets?
“Get out of my way, Cammie,” Grayson hissed as soon as I opened the kitchen cabinet to reach for a mug. He moved up right behind me and reached over my head to get to the cabinet.
“I said I’d make it!” I snapped.
Grayson laughed. “I’m not drinking your spit. Now, move.”
I hadn’t had the confidence to tell him how I felt a moment before, but now his attitude made it all too easy.
“So, which of your two faces are you wearing today, Grayson?” I snapped, spinning around and pressing my hands onto his chest to push him away from the counter. “All of that bullshit about not dating employees and then you invite Hannah to get drinks with you? What the hell is that?”
“What are you talking about? And can you keep your voice down?” he hissed.
He slammed the cabinet door closed and moved around me to turn on the fancy espresso machine.
I hated that he was ignoring my outburst so he that he could continue on making his damn coffee.
“Let me speak slower for you,” I dragged out. “You. Invited. Hannah. To. Drinks.”
He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak.
“I understood the whole Nicole thing, but seriously, Hannah? Is this all just a game to you?” I asked.
Grayson slammed his mug onto the kitchen counter, practically shattering the ceramic in the process, and then he grabbed my arm just above the elbow and dragged me out of the kitchen. His grip was tighter than necessary and his fingers pinched the back of my arm so that I had no choice but to follow him. He pulled me after him as he walked to the side stairwell near the kitchen, an exit hardly anyone ever used.
