It's a Work Thing

by Michelle Karise

  She stood tall in black stilettos, around five foot ten. Fuck. She wore sheer black hosiery—I'd looked at her thighs for any hint that a garter held them up. If I had to place a wager, I would guess that she wore a black lace bra and panties. I could imagine that tight, brown body sprawled across my all-white bedsheets with her hair fanned around her.

  I shifted in my seat to conceal the rise in my pants and steeled my face into a stern expression.

  With a look that could drill holes in my head, she spoke in a firm and confident voice.

  "Good afternoon. As requested, the status of Project Orion is as follows." She used a presentation remote to advance to the next slide. "On the first day, the ER Wallace team presented the goals and objectives of the engagement. After the meeting, the Wallace team attended a lunch with Nic Sewell, the chief officers, and members of the board of directors. We spent the rest of the afternoon on a tour of the headquarters."

  I rolled my eyes. I was there, and I remembered it perfectly. Jasmine clicked the remote again. If looks could kill, I would be stretched out on a slab.

  "Day two, Delilah Monroe interviewed two members of the pricing team while I met with Jeffrey Cagle, the Chief Financial Officer. We'll discuss the contents of both discussions in the official report given at the end of the engagement." She tightened her eyes and clicked the remote again.

  "Finally, today. Delilah Monroe, Hunter Reeves, and I spent the morning reviewing data. We assigned an action item to the Vice-President of Network and Applications. That would be you," she stated as if I didn't know my job title. "You must deliver updated data diagrams by the end of the day Friday. The ones provided were three years old."

  She advanced to the last slide. An enormous question mark image filled the screen. "That's the status. Are there questions?" Jasmine asked in a bored tone. With a brow raised to the heavens, she silently dared me to respond. The heat blazing behind her tortoiseshell glasses sent waves of excitement through my body.

  Outside of Hunter, no peer had ever gone toe-to-toe with me. I'd never had a colleague put me in my place with such professionalism. It was a warning. She'd pretty much let me know not to fuck with her. At that moment, I had a newfound respect for Jasmine Carmichael.

  I shook my head in response and lowered my gaze to my laptop to add the task to my to-do list, but Jasmine was far from done. She cleared her throat to gain my attention.

  "I'll schedule time with you to understand the frequency of updates. I've filled our schedules with meetings. Lilah and I don't want to respond to more impromptu requests for updates from team members. Also, we must have an updated diagram before the rest of the team joins on Monday. Do we have a commitment to the completion timeline?"

  Fuck. That meant I had three years of updates to make in two and a half days, potentially requiring weekend work. I couldn't balk or push back because I would look like a bigger and lazier bitch.

  The half-smile on her face told me that she knew the amount of work required to change and review those documents. Even if I had one of my direct reports do it, I would still have to burn the midnight oil to review and sign off. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of making me look bad.

  "This is a last-minute request." I ignored her raised eyebrow and the twist of her lips. "I'll have the diagrams for you by the start of business on Monday."

  "Very well. Thank you." She flashed a phony smile that dripped saccharine and marched to her chair. She nudged Lilah with her forearm as they shared sly smiles.

  Well, well, well. Jasmine Carmichael was fucking with me.

  I liked it.

  Club Elysium was the city's newest and flashiest nightclub. With its luxurious interiors, beautiful waitstaff, and top-shelf drinks, the club prided itself on appealing to the discriminating customer.

  Dark blue, ripped skinny jeans, black t-shirt, and black tennis shoes were casual for a weekend visit to Elysium, but I didn't care. I was there to find a woman who would fuck a drunk man.

  The crowds were relatively light for a Saturday night. The cavernous club was usually hot and hedonistic, and tonight was no exception. A scantily-clad performer twirled and performed acrobatics from aerialist silks suspended from the ceiling. Dueling DJs spun from an elevated stage, intertwining and colliding loud rap music against each other. In the VIP section, large CO2 canisters intermittently blasted fog on the partygoers below.

  Two months ago, Hunter and I had promised his kid brother, Gunnar, that we'd take him out for his twenty-first birthday. We'd promised him the night of his life, and we'd accomplished it. The three of us, along with their older brother, Tanner, had started out the evening feasting on Wagyu steaks and drinking bottles of red. Now, we were finishing the festivities at Elysium.

  I took the chair pulled up to a clear table lit from underneath by purple and pink LED lights. A silver tray contained several kamikaze shots and a bottle of vodka. The Reeves boys sprawled across the fur-covered booths. Watching the three brothers bounding and falling over each other like puppies, I longed for a relationship with my brother, Kyle. Distance and career choices had fractured our brotherhood, and I missed him.

  Laughing at their childhood stories and avoiding all discussion about my personal life was all an act. Well-adjusted and happy people made me nervous. Couple my friends and all the smiling faces filling Elysium, and I was in my own personal hell. I sought the pleasure that lay at the bottom of a vodka bottle. Premium vodka was dangerous. It went down like silk, making it easy to consume large quantities in a quick time. I was on my third shot and feeling a lot better than I had when I walked in. Now, all I needed was to find a member of the opposite sex to take home.

  I walked to the railing of the VIP section and stared at the dance floor below as I tossed back another shot.

  Hunter approached, draping a heavy arm around my shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing over here acting like a weirdo?"

  "I'm good."

  "No. You're thinking about a woman. She's gone. You'll find someone better." He stretched his arms with a dramatic flourish. "Look at this bevy of gorgeous women. There's someone for tonight or for life. You decide."

  "I'm good!" I yelled over the music. "I can't believe that I'm out with a Hunter, Tanner, and Gunnar. Fuck my life."

  "Don't be so jealous, Garrett. When you disrespect our names, you disrespect our mom. And we don't take too kindly to disrespecting our mother. We can't help that she's a fan of cheesy romance novels. Get your ass together. You're ruining Gun's day."

  We both turned to look at the birthday boy who sat in the booth surrounded by a group of sorority girls. Each girl balanced a drink and plates with slices of birthday cake that we'd had delivered to the club. A curvy redhead sat on his lap and fed him forkfuls. Cheeks reddened—from the attention or the liquor—and curly hair mussed, he didn't look disappointed by my sour mood.

  "He doesn't look sad."

  "You're right. Gunnar looks happier than a pig in shit. Tanner's sexting Emilia. He thinks we don't know." Hunter laughed. "Hey, listen. I've struggled with how to discuss this with you, but why were you a dick to Jasmine and Lilah?"

  "I had a bad meeting with Nic, and I took it out on them."

  Not the entire truth, but not a lie.

  "Stop it. Monday morning, you make it right with them." He poked me in the shoulder. He was bigger and my only genuine friend in the city, but I would fuck him up. I ignored him and took another sip of my drink.

  Where's the loyalty? I'd known that my best friend had developed a friendly working relationship with the women quickly. After the status report fiasco, the three gathered for lunch. Though I was the odd man out, they had extended an obvious last-minute lunch invitation. By last minute, I mean they'd been heading out the door, and Jasmine casually threw the invite out. Her tense body language told me that she didn't want me there, and I figured that Lilah, and possibly Hunter, felt the same. I'd begged off by saying I had other plans. Instead, I'd retreated to my office to update the diagrams.

/>   I had gigantic brass balls questioning his loyalty when I'd somehow entangled him in my drama with Nic. Hunter was smart, and we relied on him to suggest the perfect solutions. He could come up with a resolution for this blackmail, but now was not the time or the place to tell him. I would share when I was sober and not with his brothers.

  "I mean it. If you aren't in lockstep, then it fucks with everyone. Make it right," he said—no, demanded—then walked away. My friend left me alone with my thoughts and an empty glass.

  The next morning, I awakened to an alarm blaring from my phone. I winced as a sharp pain shot from the left side of my head to the right. I stumbled to the bathroom for much-needed relief. As I washed my hands, I glanced in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed my bloodshot eyes. My head pounded when I flinched at my reflection. I remembered little from the previous night. My last memory, a directive from my best friend.

  "Monday morning, you make it right with her."

  Jasmine

  “Mister Wallace, I’ve developed the plan for the analysis of the financial systems. The only risk we have is with the Chief Financial Officer, Jeff Cagle. He’s responsible for several tasks and has not committed to our timeline. There’s a risk that we will not meet our November end date. I am working with his direct reports to see if I can shorten that timeline.” Lilah folded her hands and sat tall in her chair. She tried to hide her proud smile, but it was hard to miss.

  Parker Wallace Junior’s round face, encased in black-rimmed glasses, filled the large television screen. He nodded while scribbling notes on a notepad. I knew Lilah’s update had impressed him. She’d used charm and influence to get what she wanted.

  “Good job, Miss Monroe. Outstanding job. Let me know how I can assist. Miss Carmichael, how is the technical audit progressing?”

  Lilah sat back in her chair, resting her forearms on the armrests. Both turned their attention to me.

  Lilah and I usually had complete independence with client visits; there were only mandatory monthly check-ins with the Wallace management team. Given the revenue potential with the Dynex project, Junior subjected Lilah and me to weekly, Monday morning, teleconference meetings.

  Junior was old school. Or he’d like us to believe he was. I’ve asked him to address me by my first name. Against my wishes, he’d continued to refer to me as “Miss Carmichael.” He’d like everyone to believe that he was a gentile, southern gentleman. The heavily accented southern dialect and exaggerated manners were an act. Junior had aspirations to be perceived as a modern-day Rhett Butler, but it came across as Foghorn Leghorn.

  “Miss Carmichael, what is your update?”

  “We’re gathering system documentation. There have been moments when I’ve doubted the team’s commitment to the effort, but I aligned everyone’s expectations.”

  Now, I needed to understand Garrett Hamilton’s investment in our success. He was a dick. The kind of dick that you hate, but can’t stop admiring. At seven fifty-nine this morning, he’d strutted into the conference room. I’d ignored his sly smile when he’d dropped the rolled-up printouts next to my laptop.

  “As requested, the updated diagrams,” he said coolly.

  I’d avoided eye contact as I choked out a thank you. My voice sounded like I’d swallowed a bullfrog. I hated being a bitch, but I equally hated sharing any nicety with him.

  I knew that I was supposed to go high when people went low, but I’d learned that you couldn’t be nice to some folks. They only respected you when you were a bitch. I’d noticed how Garrett shied away when I stood up to him. Yet, being an unapologetic bitch was cold; it wasn’t a part of my nature. I believed in collaboration, teamwork, and supporting each other. I liked to make alliances, but that asshole was not deserving of my kindness.

  He’d wanted the hard-ass bitch, so that’s what he’d get.

  After rudely plopping the documents on the table, he’d strolled to his chair. As he unhooked his brown leather bag from his shoulder, his shirt strained against his sculpted arms, and the sunlight from the neighboring window hit him at just the right angle. The beams highlighted and enhanced the magnificently chiseled lines of his facial features. I wanted to trace a finger along his masculine profile and stubbled chin.

  A wave of disappointment flowed through me as I’d pried my eyes away. Why were all the assholes so good looking? Why was I so damn attracted to him?

  “That’s good to hear. Keep up the good work. It’s important to impress our clients with our service. There’s a lot on the line. We don’t want them happy; we want them wildly impressed.” Junior’s booming drawl knocked me from my thoughts. He resumed writing on his notepad. “Same time, next week? Miss Monroe, I’d like to speak with Miss Carmichael in private.”

  “Yes, I’ll leave you and Miss Carmichael to your meeting,” she answered in a chipper voice. She pushed away from the conference table and made a big show of walking to the door. Instead of exiting, she stood next to the television screen to eavesdrop on our conversation.

  “Miss Carmichael, I want to remind you of The Pillars.”

  Not this shit again. The Pillars were ER Wallace’s outline for achieving partner-level status. The guidelines emphasized a commitment to customer service and community, bringing in new business, showing professionalism, and achieving high ratings from the teams and client. From day one, the Wallace team drilled The Pillars into each employee.

  Junior had mentioned that I was so close to achieving partnership status. If I’d worked a little harder or put in a few more billable hours, I would be a shoo-in, but each conversation moved the end goal further.

  “You’ve done well with mentoring and community service. I’m impressed with your client relationships. Your previous clients love you. You’re trailing the other nominee in business sales by ten percent. If you secured the long-term contract with Dynex, that would give you more than enough points to put you over the top. Nail this project, and the partnership is yours.”

  “No pressure,” I joked. The truth of the matter was that I felt all the pressure. I knew that I would kick ass on each performance area but high client ratings. Not if I had to work with Garrett Hamilton. I was sure that he would make my life pure hell.

  “I appealed to Mister Wallace to make you the leader. He wanted to give it to someone more senior, but I told him that you were the best fit, and I had confidence in you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Referring to his father as Mister Wallace allowed Junior to believe that his hire was not the result of nepotism. Not that I blamed him. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want everyone to know that I worked for my daddy.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “Good. I’ll be in town in a few weeks for the executive briefing. You have my cell phone number. Call me for anything. Have a good day.”

  “Same to you.” I navigated the mouse over the red disconnect button and ended the teleconference.

  “Shit, Carmichael. Are you sure this is what you want?” Lilah walked back to the conference table and sat in a chair.

  “Well, yeah. I’ve worked hard for the partnership. I’m ready to receive the perks.”

  “I don’t know, Jasmine. Hearing Junior explain it, it sounds like making partner ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. It seems like a lot of hoops and hurdles for more hours and the same pay. Like the mafia, once you’re in, you’ll die to get out.” She imitated Marlon Brando from the movie, The Godfather. “Eh. Carmichael, remember The Pillars. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse. Bring in new business. Sacrifice your life for membership. In return, we’ll give you more hours, more responsibility, and in many cases, the same salary.”

  “I want to make the years of travel and long hours worthwhile. My parents made such a big deal of Alexandra’s marriage. I thought that I’d leveled the playing field when I graduated and started working here. I want to prove something to myself and them. I want to be an owner.”

  Yet, her concerns with what happened aft
er achieving partnership status didn’t escape me.

  After a long, grueling day of meetings and purposely ignoring the beautiful asshole, I practically moaned with pleasure when five o’clock rolled around. It was my favorite hour of the day—happy hour. Lilah and I engaged in a little retail therapy after work. Being the movers and shakers we were, we checked out a large Italian marketplace, wandering up and down each aisle with sparkling rosé filled glasses in our hands.

  “Lilah, I don’t have an answer.”

  “If you had a choice of one night with one of the Dynex guys, who would you pick?”

  “I would be alone.”

  “There are two attractive men, Garrett and Hunter. Garrett is hot, but not my type. Hunter is an inferno. I don’t think he has any clue how hot he is, and that makes him magnetic. The stubble. The smooth voice. His height. Everything about him is smoking. He is the epitome of a hot nerd, and his vibe sets me on fire. He’s been helping himself to my snacks. So much, that he put ten dollars in my cookie box. Little does he know that I have a tiny box. It accommodates all sizes. Even extra-large.”

  She continued to shop, leaving me in stunned silence. Once out of my stupor, I caught up with her.

  “Jasmine, lighten up. My witty banter is my best feature. Well, one of my best features.” She puffed her chest out and looked down at her cleavage. “You know what they say about nerds, don’t you?”

  “Be nice to nerds, for they may be your boss someday?” She rolled her eyes, so I lobbed another quip. “The geek shall inherit the earth?”

  “No. Nerds are freaky in bed.” She deadpanned and held up a jar of marinated artichokes. I frowned and shook my head.

  “Garrett is sexy as fuck, but he’s an ass.”