Serious Ink

by Ranae Rose

  As she made her way toward the coffee maker, he retreated to the corner where he’d deposited the box containing her desk – or rather, the pieces of it. Assembly turned out to be more complicated than he’d hoped. After twenty minutes of swearing under his breath, he’d produced something vaguely rectangular, and most of the pieces were still spread out across the floor.

  “Want some help?” Zoe appeared at the edge of the disaster area, a cup of coffee in hand.

  Holy hell – from where he knelt on the floor, he could almost see up her skirt.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, forcing himself to divert his gaze back to ‘Piece E’, which as far as he could tell, had no identifiable purpose. “I’m the one who picked out this desk – I made my own bed, now I’ll lie in it.”

  “I feel bad just standing around and sipping coffee while I watch the VP of Marketing and Communications swear at a pile of nuts and bolts.”

  “You’re the company’s fifth employee,” he said. Hell, at the moment, she was the only employee besides him present in the building – a fact that he tried hard to keep a professional perspective on. “We’re not big enough for me to get out of doing stuff like this. Not yet.”

  She knelt beside him, mercifully removing the temptation of knowing he could gaze up her skirt. Sort of. To just above the knee, anyway – not exactly scandalous by normal standards, but with a woman as beautiful as her, a glimpse of thigh was nothing to scoff at.

  “Then we’re not big enough for me to stand aside, either.” She picked up the instruction booklet and began to study it, her dark, finely-shaped brows knitting together. “Besides, I’m used to doing stuff like this – I have a brother, but he’s horrible at reading directions.”

  He didn’t protest – mostly because he was rapidly approaching the point where simply throwing all the pieces out the window seemed like a viable idea.

  “I think that piece needs to connect with ‘K’.” She set down the booklet after a few moments. “No, at the other end.”

  As it turned out, ‘Piece E’ had a purpose after all. And with Zoe’s help, he managed to transform the heap of junk into a frame vaguely resembling a desk. “Looks like I made a smart choice, hiring you,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t have had to assemble this in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”

  He shrugged. “If not for you, we would’ve had to hire someone else. We had a couple other employees back in Buffalo, but not everyone was interested in relocating.”

  “When will I get to meet the rest of the company?”

  “Everyone will be at the press conference today – I’ll introduce you then.”

  “Really – I get to be at the press conference?”

  He shot her a look of mock surprise. “I’m the VP of Marketing and Communications, aren’t I? How could I face such a major event without an assistant?”

  She smiled. “Well I’d love to be here for it, if you think I’ll be useful.”

  “Great. It’s at eleven – the others will be meeting us here at a quarter ‘till. Until then…” He stared at the mostly finished desk, wondering how sturdy it was and trying not to imagine all the things that could be done on top of it. “I’ll move the phone over here. And set you up with a computer – just a laptop, for now. We’ve got some software on there you might want to take some time to familiarize yourself with.”

  “Okay.”

  After they finished the desk, he wheeled a chair over and hooked up the laptop and phone. With that done, the space looked a little more like an actual office. “Tell you what – on Monday, I’ll get some filing cabinets in here. Maybe even a candy dish. Real office stuff.”

  “What about a printer?” she asked.

  “Now you’re dreaming.” He grinned. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking for a copier.”

  “It might be useful, if you plan on having me make any copies.”

  “All right. Why don’t you go online and browse copiers – find a good deal and tell me how much it’s going to hurt. Meanwhile, I’m going to head out on an important executive mission. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  He left on a bagel run. On his first day in the new office space, he’d discovered that there was a great bagel place just around the corner. He’d been back every day since, and figured he could surprise Zoe.

  He was almost there when he remembered – she couldn’t eat gluten, which meant no wheat. Which definitely meant no bagels. That revelation took the spring right out of his step, and for a moment he just stood there on the sidewalk like an idiot. What now?

  He cast his glance around and eventually strode into a café. They had to have something she could eat.

  He was no expert on gluten-free dining, but the display case crammed full of pastries and cookies was obviously a big fat no. There was a little basket of fruit on the counter, but he would’ve felt lame returning with a banana. Beside the fruit, there was a rack of overpriced gourmet chocolates.

  Perfect. Or at least, better – and a lot less creepy – than shoving a banana in his pocket and expecting her to want to eat it when he returned to the office.

  He paid for a box of truffles and walked back to the building, finding her perched behind her new desk on the second floor.

  She looked up at him as he entered, her dark eyes searing him from beneath even darker lashes. “How did the executive mission go?”

  “You tell me.” He approached her desk and presented her with the box. “These are safe for you to eat, right?”

  She stared for a moment, then reached out, taking the box and flipping it over. “Yeah,” she said after scanning the ingredients, “I can eat them. Are they for me?”

  “Yes. Well, I thought we could share.”

  She blinked up at him, and her lips cracked the tiniest bit. He died a little inside as she traced the inside of her glossed lower lip with the tip of her tongue, apparently deep in thought. “Okay.”

  “My big executive mission started out as a bagel run,” he admitted, afraid he’d weirded her out. “Then I remembered you can’t eat bagels. So I improvised.”

  She laughed. “And here I thought you were trying to romance me with fancy chocolates.”

  He arched a brow. “Is it working?”

  She smiled as she slid a hot pink nail under the edge of the box, breaking its seal. “Of course it is. It’s not like I’m the one woman on the face of the planet who can resist a man in a suit bearing a box of truffles.”

  She was obviously teasing him, but his dick hardened a little anyway. God, it was going to be hard to leave her alone long enough to let her do her job. It’d only been an hour since she’d started, and already he was wondering just how he was going to keep from making an ass out of himself. He easily could’ve spent the day hovering around her desk, finding stupid little reasons to keep talking to her.

  By the time the other three guys arrived, he and Zoe had decimated the entire box of truffles.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much chocolate,” she said. “Or coffee. I feel like a live wire. How many people are going to be at this press conference, anyway?”

  “Just us and a handful of reporters. You don’t have anything to be nervous about. Here, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  He introduced her to Jay, Darrin and Andy – Eastern Elite’s other co-owner, finance manager and event coordinator, respectively. They were a small crew, and none of them had objected when Noah had told them the night before that he’d found a part-time receptionist.

  Everyone was polite, but Noah couldn’t help but notice the admiring – even curious – looks Zoe garnered. Jealousy sprang up inside him, instant and surprisingly strong. He hadn’t mentioned that Zoe had been his date the night before. He would mention it, later, when Zoe wasn’t around – he wouldn’t want to embarrass her.

  He wouldn’t want any of the other guys to get any ideas, either – he may have just met Zoe, but he was sure about one thing: he wanted to do more than assemble de
sks and eat fancy chocolates with her. A lot more.

  * * * * *

  Three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon was prime visiting time at the Azalea Hall Care Center, which made it a depressing time to be there. Way too many of the residents were just as alone as ever, lingering in their rooms or in the halls, drifting through the day with no company to relieve the monotony. It broke Zoe’s heart every time.

  “Hey, Herb,” she said, waving to an elderly man who sat outside his room in a wheelchair, bundled in a thick blue terrycloth robe.

  Herb didn’t say anything, but he did raise a hand in acknowledgement. One corner of his mouth lifted in what might’ve been a smile, or only a tremor.

  “Nice robe,” Zoe said. “Is it new?”

  Several moments ticked by in utter silence. “My granddaughter sent it,” Herb eventually said, voice rasping. “For my birthday.”

  “You had a birthday – when?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Well happy birthday, then. How old are you?”

  “Eighty-six.”

  “Wow. Happy birthday.” She knew she was repeating herself, but what else could she say?

  Herb looked so frail wrapped in his plush new robe, and even if his granddaughter had mailed a gift, Zoe knew he rarely got visitors. The thought of his birthday passing by with only an acknowledgement from the nursing staff made Zoe feel like her heart was shriveling. If only she’d known – she could’ve brought him a card, or something.

  Instead, she left him with only good wishes, retreating farther down the hall. Eighty-six… Herb was twenty years her father’s senior, and yet, he often seemed more lucid – more alive – than the younger man. That knowledge weighed in Zoe’s chest like an anchor as she entered her father’s room. “Hey, dad.”

  Her father sat in a wheelchair too, also wrapped in a robe – his was a deep forest green that at one time would’ve complemented his dark hair. Nowadays, it was salt and pepper, silver strands interspersed with glistening black that reminded Zoe just how young he really was.

  Sure, he’d been older than average – thirty-eight, to be exact – when he’d married Zoe’s mother, who’d been ten years younger than him. They’d started a family though, and for years, things had been great. Even now, a picture of Zoe’s mother rested on the bedside table, the largest portrait in the room – and the most cherished, Zoe knew.

  Her father didn’t respond as she pulled up a chair, sitting close beside him. She kept talking anyway. She was dressed differently today, in her skirt and heels – had he noticed? She’d taken on a new part-time reception job, and she really liked her boss…

  Of course, she didn’t mention the money troubles that had prompted her to seek out another twenty work hours a week. Instead, she talked about the company, the building … and the news that was public, now that they’d gotten through the press conference. The Elite East Championship Tournament would include a series of events strung out over the next few months, culminating in the championship rounds in August.

  The event was expected to draw fighters not just from local areas, but all over the country. The possibility of winning a twenty-five thousand dollar prize purse at the end of it all would call to hardworking and cash-strapped fighters like a siren.

  Zoe’s jaw had just about dropped when Noah had quoted the prize amount during the press conference. Twenty-five thousand dollars was way more than anything Paul had ever won in the various cage matches he’d participated in throughout the Mid-Atlantic. In comparison, he was fighting for mere pennies. If he managed to fight his way to the top of the Elite East Championship Tournament… Well, the prize money would put them back in the black with Azalea Hall.

  Zoe tried not to think about it too much, not to get her hopes up. Paul was good, but what were the odds, really?

  “You look nice today.” Her father’s voice – raspy and a little shaky from disuse – echoed throughout the room when Zoe paused after finishing her explanation of the tournament.

  For a few seconds, Zoe was stunned into silence. “Thank you,” she hurried to say when she’d gathered her wits. “It’s for my new job…” She retold what she’d said in the first place, in case he didn’t remember. Early onset dementia combined with the effects of the stroke he’d suffered meant that he probably didn’t, and she wanted him to know her news – wanted him to know she was happy.

  For the rest of her visit, he was silent, but Zoe’s spirits were buoyed by what he’d said. Lately, he’d been having a string of bad days – days where he didn’t speak at all. This was a definite improvement. She stayed as long as she could, rising to leave at four-thirty, knowing she’d have just enough time to get to Hot Ink for her shift there.

  “Love you, dad. I’ll be by again soon with Paul and Britney.” She leaned down and hugged him, breathing in the familiar scent of his Old Spice aftershave. He’d used it ever since she could remember, and the scent brought memories of before flooding back – before the onset of his illness, before her mother’s death… Remembering was bittersweet. “Bye for now.”

  Herb was still sitting in the same spot when she emerged into the hall. She bid him goodbye – and happy birthday again – before retreating to the parking lot and climbing into her aged Honda. The car was reliable – she had to give it that – but the heating system seemed to be on the fritz lately. As she pulled out onto the street, it refused to work, blasting out frigid air instead of warmth. She shut it off, not even thinking about having it repaired as Azalea Hall loomed in her rearview mirror, reminding her of her mounting debt.

  What would happen to her father if they didn’t get caught up on bills – if they couldn’t afford to keep him at Azalea? The care there was above average – way above average. Some of the other nursing facilities she, Paul and Britney had visited two years ago, when it had become clear that he absolutely needed professional care, had depressed and even scared her. Azalea Hall wasn’t like that. Though she didn’t like leaving him alone, it wasn’t because she worried about how he’d be treated. She knew he’d be taken care of.

  She couldn’t lose his place at Azalea Hall, no matter what.

  * * * * *

  When Zoe arrived home around ten-thirty, there was more than just a new stack of bills on the kitchen table. As she shrugged out of her jacket, something else caught her eye – a flyer, printed in bold black and yellow.

  She picked it up, simultaneously sinking into a chair. After visiting her dad, she hadn’t had a chance to change clothing, so she’d worked her shift at Hot Ink in her heels. Now, her feet ached. Next time, she’d at least change shoes.

  The flyer bore the name and logo of her new part-time employer, Elite East MMA. Below it was information on the tournament. In the center of the flyer, $25,000 stood out bright and large, an unmissable figure that had no doubt induced Paul to bring home the advertisement.

  That had to be where it had come from – how else would it have gotten there?

  When Zoe had ended her first shift at Elite East early that afternoon, Noah had mentioned that he was planning to spend the rest of the day spreading the word at local gyms and martial arts centers. He must’ve dropped off flyers by the stack at places like the gym where Paul trained. In a way, this took the fun out of the news – Zoe didn’t get to tell Paul. But the important thing was that he knew and was, no doubt, excited.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Zoe looked up, lowering the flyer.

  Paul stood at the end of the hall, leaning against the doorframe beside the stove.

  “Yeah. Are you planning to compete?”

  “Hell yeah, I am. The first rounds are in a month, and registration opens this week. I’m gonna start training tomorrow, sign up as soon as I can.”

  So far as Zoe could tell, Paul was always training, especially since he’d lost his job. She just smiled. “Still heading to Philly next week?”

  “Yeah. Gotta scrape together some money in the meanwhile. I’ll probably only bring home a few hundred bucks
, but it’s something. Twenty-five thousand dollars, though…” A look of longing flashed in his eyes, and Zoe recognized it easily: it was the exact same way she felt whenever she let herself fantasize about Paul winning. “We’d be back in Azalea Hall’s good graces, with that kind of money.”

  Zoe nodded, careful not to let him see the same look in her eyes. Giving and taking beatings for a living was hard enough without so much pressure. The last thing Paul needed was to feel like their family’s entire future depended on the outcome of a tournament that he might not win. Not that she didn’t admire and respect his fighting ability, but twenty-five thousand dollars wasn’t chump change. Fighters – fighters just as experienced as Paul – would come from all over to participate.

  Noah and the others at Elite East were counting on it. There’d even been a reporter and cameraman from a local news station at the press conference that afternoon.

  “It’s cool to think about,” Zoe finally said, sensing that Paul was waiting for her reply. “By the way…” Finally, she filled him in on what she’d held back yesterday: the fact that her new part-time job was with Elite East.

  Paul seemed impressed. “Seriously? That’s awesome, Zoe. What’s the company like?”

  A hint of heat crept into her cheeks as she remembered sitting on her freshly-assembled desk with Noah, gobbling up chocolates and downing coffee while half-heartedly exploring the software they’d installed on a company computer for her. “The company is pretty small right now, and the work environment isn’t too stiff or formal. My boss is great. I think I’m really going to like it there. I can’t believe I lucked out enough to land a second job I actually like.”

  Working at Hot Ink was awesome – she’d been happy there for the past three years. When she’d decided to take on a second job, she certainly hadn’t expected to find another exceptional employer.