Like clockwork, my best friend and the Director of Application Development, Hunter Reeves, knocked on the door. It was time for our daily status update.
"Open. Come in.” I waved him into my office.
"Mornin’, Hoss." Hunter closed the door and sat at the small conference table. He dropped his leather portfolio with a loud slap.
"Good morning. We have an exciting day ahead of us.” I grabbed a notepad from my desk and walked over to the mini-fridge. "Water or coffee?”
"Water, please,” Hunter answered.
I pulled out two bottles of water before taking a seat at the conference table. I pushed one over to Hunter.
"Before we get into it, how was your weekend? Do anything or anyone exciting?" He flashed an enormous grin and waggled his brows. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long swallow.
"Saturday, I did a hard five miles with the running club. I shaved a minute off my mile. After, we hit up a taproom for post-run beers and fries. I spent the rest of the weekend catching up on work."
"You work too much. Enjoy life. I drove home to babysit Glover. Em and Tanner didn't tell me the kid couldn't have dairy products. I fed him an ice cream sandwich. He loved it, but I changed diapers all night. He filled that Diaper Magician trashcan."
"Still ready for a kid?"
"Absolutely. When the kid wasn't shitting, he was a boss. I bought him a bow and arrow set—some kid's toy from The Bargain Spot. I showed him how to shoot it. Right out the gate, he pulled back the bow and let the arrow go. It sailed across the room and hit just short of the fucking bullseye. At eighteen months! Dad and I predict he'll be ready for deer season by the age of nine. He's hilarious. He discovered his dick, couldn't keep his little hands off of it. If I didn't know any better, I would think he was mine."
Pride rippled through his voice, and his chest puffed out a little. My friend was the only twenty-something who actively sought the right woman to settle down with. For him, the perfect woman would clean the house, vacuum, and fold laundry, all while wearing starched dresses. Each day after a long day of work—for him, not her—she would greet him with a martini in her hand. They would have a three-course dinner. Once they finished dessert, he would grant her the pleasure of sucking him off until he fell asleep. Nine months after marriage, she would pop out the first child, a boy. Shortly afterward, there would be a slew of deer hunting and football playing Reeves boys.
In a city brimming with modern women, Hunter encountered difficulty finding one willing to live out his chauvinistic fantasy. I worried because he hadn't prepared himself for the likelihood of dating a woman dedicated to her career. The very nature of compromise meant one person would sacrifice his desires to make the other happy. It was unlikely that Hunter would be the one who would concede on his dreams.
The reality of give-and-take was all too familiar to me. I'd sacrificed everything for Colette while receiving little in return. After three months of dating, she pushed me away, leaving me with damaged pride and a broken heart.
"Gunnar's excited for the weekend. He drove to St. Louis and picked up a half dozen pairs of ripped skinny jeans and a pair of Louis Vuitton sneakers. He'll look like a douche, but you only turn twenty-one once." Hunter laughed. "Shit, I didn't know Louis Vuitton made tennis shoes."
"Your favorite brand is Carhartt."
"Damn right."
"We'll make sure that he's shit-faced and gets laid."
Hunter winced at my bluntness. My best friend wasn't comfortable with his youngest brother being anything but a perfect gentleman.
"Did you catch up on the email from Samir?" he asked, changing the subject. "The automated robotic processes lost connection and threw error messages. The procedures are all screwed up. The entire offshore team spent half of the night troubleshooting and fixing data. We lost a day of testing. That puts the rollout in jeopardy."
"Shit. Why didn't Samir call the analyst on duty?"
"Hell if I know. Kalinda reviewed the backlog. Some items may need to roll over to the next cycle."
"Shit! Shit! Shit! I'd hoped to meet the deadline so that we can concentrate on the audit."
"I know." He fiddled with the edge of his notepad. "It's time for your motivational speech on putting in a little extra effort."
He wanted me to ask the developers and testers to put in more hours. I didn't mind being the bad guy—often, it was necessary. A lot was riding on this audit. So, if I had to ride herd on this project, that's what I'd do.
"Me? You're too big of a pussy to do it?"
"You are the King of Dynex. Half the office loves you while the other half can't stand you. No matter which side they stand on, they'll work their fingers to the bone for you." He laughed, the sound booming through my office.
"I'll stop by the daily status meeting."
The Scientist's Companion, Dynex's number one product offering, was my primary responsibility. The e-commerce site was not only our product catalog, but a collection of scientific articles, research papers, and gene catalogs. The website's reach spanned across the globe.
During my first year of employment at Dynex, I'd come up with the idea to provide scientific content alongside suggested products. The innovation had catapulted my career along an express path. In eight short years, I'd worked my way from a web developer to part of the executive team. In private, the team frowned upon my self-promotion and arrogance, but they could not deny my talent.
"Have you checked out the consultants from ER Wallace? They've brought out the big guns."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The team's profiles are impressive. I'm concerned that if they inspect under the hood, then we're screwed. Look at how we responded last night. We'll look like morons."
"Don't worry about that. Their feedback and recommendations could be invaluable to the department. Maybe Nic and Jeff will get serious about increasing our budget."
"I'm not holding my breath."
"Neither will I."
There was an unusual silence. I shouldn't care about the future of Dynex. In a little over a year, I'll leave the dysfunction behind and branch out on my own.
"Oh, yeah. Don't fuck the new girls." He took another drink from the bottle.
"Where'd that come from?" I angled my head to the side.
Hunter swiped a finger across his phone and slid the it over. A photo of two swimsuit-clad women seated at a beachside café filled the screen. The women, one petite and the other taller, wore sunglasses, but I could still see they were both stunning. I forced myself to look at their faces and not their bodies. They were both shades of brown—one golden and the other honey-tinged.
My eyes lingered a bit too long on the taller woman. Even wearing the sunglasses, I could see she was attractive—almond-colored skin, full lips, straight white teeth. The curl of her smile was hypnotic, but I couldn't be sure if she was gorgeous without seeing her eyes. For some inexplicable reason, I needed to see those eyes.
"These are the engagement leads. The taller woman is an ethical hacker, and the shorter is a CPA. They're cute and smart—Duke and Penn."
I shuddered at the mention of Duke University. As a Michigan-alum, I didn't like Duke. I'd hoped the tall one wasn't a Blue Devil.
"Cute? Perhaps I should warn you to stay away from them." I’d needed to settle myself. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling in what I imagined was a nonchalant attitude. "Once the dust settles, we could be wealthy men. My eyes are on the goal—seed money for Hamilton and Reeves."
"I think you meant Reeves and Hamilton." We both laughed at our longstanding joke.
"Don't go out and buy a Lamborghini. We have at least a year before we can cash in our shares. The board did the right thing in bringing in ER Wallace. We've shown our commitment to the IPO process and confidence in our products and services."
Eight months ago, the SEC approved Dynex's application to sell shares of our stock on one of the exchanges. Going public would funnel much-needed capital into our coffer
s. Wall Street had projected a minimum of a hundred and twenty-five dollars per share. Hunter and I were swimming in stock options. If the analysts were correct, my stocks would be worth a minimum of two and a half million dollars and freedom to work on projects that interested me.
"The Lamborghini is more your speed. I like the classics—a Chevelle or an early sixties Stingray. But I agree; work today, celebrate tomorrow."
I glanced at my watch and stood from my desk. "Let's meet our new friends."
Jasmine
"Earth to Jasmine."
Lilah's hands waved frantically in my face. My internal thoughts had drowned out her chattering about Lord-knows-what. I'd missed the last two minutes of my best friend's weekend update.
"Yes, I'm listening," I answered, losing patience.
"Tell me what I said." She placed her hands on her hips and pouted.
For a moment, my mouth bobbed open and closed as I searched for the words to form an articulate thought. "You were describing the recent shoe collection at Neiman-Marcus."
"No. That was three minutes ago." The frown on her face was a dead giveaway that she was fast becoming annoyed with me. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer over at my cell phone. "Who are you texting?"
"I'm not texting anyone. I'm listening to you." I moved the phone closer to my body, out of Lilah's line of sight. That was a half-truth. I was in the middle of a romantic crisis caused by a text message that I hadn't received.
Three nights ago, I'd had a second date with a man I'd met on a dating app. The date had been perfect. He'd prepared shrimp scampi with linguine at his place. Then, we made our way to the living room where we laughed and chatted until the morning's wee hours. Our evening had ended with a long kiss that made my heart palpitate. He'd promised to call.
He didn't.
Our potential romance turned into horror with each second that passed. The tall, dark, and beautiful man transformed into a phantom—an apparition that would torment me before joining the others in the murky recesses of my mind.
"I'm sorry. I'm adding last-minute additions to my opening remarks." I looked into her eyes and knew that she would not let this go. I revealed what I didn’t want to reveal to myself. "I met someone."
"And?" She took a seat in a neighboring chair, brown eyes staring at me expectantly.
He wasn't into me.
"I think he ghosted me. He said he'd call. I don't understand what happened. I thought the date went well."
"That's messed up."
"I'd hoped that it could have been the start of something wonderful. It's hard finding men who want what I want. Our travel schedules don't leave a lot of time to play childish games. I want a man that loves me as much as I love him."
"And when we are on the client's site, it's tough finding time to nurture a long-distance relationship. That's why your promotion is important to us."
"Us? Lilah, I wouldn't have any influence on assignments. I doubt if there would be any significant bump in pay." I laughed. The sole heir to the Santamaria Broadcasting Group didn't need a job. With her family's wealth, I never understood why work was so important to her.
"Yes. Us," Lilah emphasized the word with humor before she sobered. "You didn't reach out to him, did you?"
I shook my head.
"Good. Don't send that jerk a text message. And don't call. Now hand me your phone." She extended her hand, palm upward.
"Why?" I eyed her suspiciously, pulling the cell phone closer to my chest.
"Come on. Be a big girl. It's time to block him. In less than an hour, you’ll stand at that podium and outline your vision for preparing our client for an initial public offering." She stood back and stared into my eyes. "The future partner in a global consulting firm shouldn't waste time obsessing over a man. She needs to put on her game face and prepare to kick ass on this presentation and project. Do you hear me? Besides, blocking isn't decapitation. We'll send him to a land where he doesn't exist, so you can concentrate on work. Once this hectic week is over, we'll check if he called or texted, then we can take it from there."
My eyebrows raised at her use of the word "we." She instantly knew my objections.
“Yes, we. I'm with you every step of the way. Now hand me your phone."
I reluctantly plopped the phone in her outstretched palm and said his name. Her fingers slid across the screen before she returned the phone. She dusted her hands off.
"No muss. No fuss."
I took her by the hand and shook a silent thank you. I straightened my back and checked my reflection on my phone. "Okay, Lilah. Make me laugh. Tell me what you picked up at Saks."
"Not Saks, Neiman's. You didn't hear a word I said, did you? I wanted to share details on a guy I met." She huffed with an air of mock insult. After a moment, her expression changed to thoughtful. "We're smart, career-focused, and cultured women. Why are men always on our minds?"
I nodded in agreement. "I bet you right now there are men out there catching up on their weekends or making deals. Men don't spend their time obsessively talking about women. Men enjoy discussions regarding men's things."
I was talking shit. I didn't know what men talked about in their spare time. I just assumed they used their time to dominate the world.
"You're right. Let's start with this dress. It was on sale." She posed with her hands in the air.
"Very cute." The iconic cut and pattern of the navy and white designer wrap dress emphasized Lilah's curvy figure. My simple navy pencil skirt and short-sleeved jacket were plain and respectable compared to my best friend's bold fashion choice.
"I also picked up a pretty gown for opening night at the opera—nude with a ruby red lace overlay. Mamá will hate it. That's why I bought it," she added with a mischievous smile.
Lilah and I always joked that our mothers were long lost twins. Their expectations were similar, as it was their concern that our eggs would dry up and turn to dust. The only difference was Lilah's mother was of Panamanian descent, and mine was African American.
"Alexandra picked up a couple of dresses and pants for me. I asked her to select fashion-forward pieces. Well, except for shoes. I make time for shoe shopping." My sister, Alexandra, was a married housewife and mother. While I traveled for work, she handled my shopping and checked on my townhouse a few times a week. She had impeccable taste, and I trusted her. I wished my look wasn't so appropriate.
"Have you caught any interesting shows on Netflix?"
"I haven't had the time for anything, let alone television shows. I spent the better part of the last two months traveling between Atlanta, Charlotte, and Toronto. I barely knew I was coming and going."
"Girl, same. The last two trips to Berlin were a bear. I crashed until it was time to come here."
Lilah and I spent at least seventy-five percent of our lives on the road. On rare occasions, we worked together. More often than not, we worked on separate projects with different clients.
There was an awkward silence as we both searched for the next topic.
"Okay, this is boring. Let me tell you what else I picked up at Neiman's. A man. A big, strapping man was at the La Mer counter. No wife and he likes to take care of his skin. Aside, I didn't think that was an important trait in a man until I met him. He's soft and smooth everywhere, but where it matters. He plays recreational hockey. So cute and big. Big personality. Big muscles. Big hard, veiny di—"
"Lilah! We are on the client site!" I hissed.
"Oops." She slapped a hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh. Her cleavage-length hair bobbed as she chuckled. I handed her a stack of informational packets and nodded to her to distribute. We walked through the small auditorium and placed a folder on each navy upholstered chair.
I arranged the coffee bar and pastry tray. Lilah continued to place pens and notepads on each chair.
"Oh, Jazzy. Well, his pursuit was fun while it lasted, but it was a one and done." Her mouth curved into a charming smile that belied the tempestuous topic. "He dropped m
e when I didn't promptly return his text messages while I was at work."
"We're better than any of these guys. We'll always have each other. When I'm old and gray, make sure that I get good dentures. Implants. Not the kind that you have to soak in a glass."
"You make sure that I get good bras. Or at least wear a bra." She poked her chest out for emphasis. We both giggled.
"I've missed you, my friend."
"I've missed you too. Why don't we work together more?"
"Junior knows we would have too much fun."
Parker Wallace, Junior, was our direct manager. A self-serving chauvinist who liked to take credit for brilliant ideas that weren't his. Lilah and I ignored him, mostly, but he was always behind the scenes sucking up to the client.
"Oh well. If we have to endure Chicago for the next five months, then I hope it will be with hot guys. We should go visit a nightclub and see what the local offerings look like." I'm not sure why I said that. We had built our friendship on a foundation of beach vacations, musicals, and dinners out. We didn't go to clubs or raves.
"The world's biggest scientific website should have scores of hot scientists. Picture it—a company filled with a cadre of young, hot Jeff Goldblums."
"That would be nice. At worst, you'll meet a corporate scientist—in the business of making money."
A tentative knock at the door prompted the two of us to put on our professional demeanors. We'd scheduled the meeting to begin in twenty minutes. I hadn't expected the Dynex team to be so punctual. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to queue up the presentation and audio-visual equipment.
With a smile plastered on her face, Lilah walked over and opened the door. There was a moment of silence before she straightened her back and ran a hand through her hair. Like magic, the strands cascaded down her shoulders into perfect chocolate-colored rivulets. I instantly recognized her mating ritual. The poor guy on the other side of that door didn't stand a chance.
It's a Work Thing Page 2
