It's a Work Thing

by Michelle Karise

  The bartender returned with our drinks. “A Coke and a Seven Deadly for the lady and a Tito’s soda for the gentleman. Have you two figured out your orders?”

  “Yes, I have. How about you, Garrett?” I asked. Garrett nodded, so I ordered. “I would like a bacon mushroom with American cheese, medium, hold the tomatoes, and steak fries. May I have a side of mayonnaise for the fries?”

  “Hardcore. I like it.” The bartender smiled appreciatively. “For you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the same. Make mine a double, and I’ll have ketchup.” He pointed to a neighboring bottle.

  He held up his vodka soda. “Here’s to work—may we never be without it.”

  “Here, here!”

  I took a taste of the wine and instantly loosened up.

  “Your turn. Tell me about your family. Do you have siblings?” He took a sip of his drink and smiled, laugh lines highlighting his face.

  “My father is a federal judge. My mother is a homemaker. I have a sister, Alexandra. She’s married to an attorney and a mother of twin boys.”

  “So, your mother and sister are both married to men of the law.”

  “Yep. That’s why Alex is the favored child.” I didn’t mention that I’d tried to go down that route and had failed miserably.

  “Oh, please. You’re a parent’s dream; you’re hard-working, smart, and well-liked.”

  “I was the eccentric, smart child. Alexandra followed the path my mother laid out for her. She’s three years older. We’re almost twins, but we couldn’t be more different. She made good grades in high school and college, met a nice guy, and got married before the age of twenty-four. During my junior year in high school, I became a pot-smoking, computer geek who preferred robotics to beauty pageants and computer programming to shopping.”

  “Pot?”

  “Yes. In high school and the first couple of years in college. Took the edge off.” I winked and swirled the wine glass before taking another sip.

  “You and Lilah are close.”

  I chuckled. Lilah was loyal to a fault. I knew that she liked Garrett but wouldn’t allow herself to show it until I liked him.

  “She’s my best friend. Five years ago, we met at the new hire orientation. We were the only women in our class, surrounded by several young, eager hotshots. We gravitated to each other and vowed that we would work together to dominate the training seminar. We achieved the highest scores on the exit exams. We’ve been kicking ass at ER Wallace ever since.”

  The waiter returned with our plates. “A single and a double. Please let me know if you need another Tito’s or Seven Deadly.”

  “I’m okay for now, but I would like another pour later.”

  Garrett gave a little sliver of a grin. “Same here.”

  I took care to cut the burger in half and bit into one semi-circle of what smelled like heaven on a bun. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. The burger itself was juicy and savory. A buttery, crispy bun wrapped and caressed the layers of meat and vegetables.

  “Mmm. This is one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. Great choice.”

  “I told you.” He bit into his burger.

  Between bites, I asked, “Are you excited to begin the IPO?”

  “I am. I joined this company when I was fresh out of college. I’ve worked sixty-hour weeks with minimal vacations and no significant pay raises for the last eight years.” He stopped eating and stared at me. “I did it because I believe in Dynex and The Scientist’s Companion.”

  There was an awkward pause in the conversation. We both stared at the television monitors overhead. I saw Garrett scan the bar before flagging the bartender out of the corner of my eye.

  “Two more, please.” He waved toward our empty glasses and turned his body to face me. “I know about your nerdy childhood, pothead early adult years, traveling, and ambition-filled twenties. What’s next for you?”

  “I am up for partner. I’ve spent the last five years traveling across the globe. I’m ready to slow down a bit, travel for enjoyment, and see the life outside of the conference room.”

  “Life outside the conference room . . . You’ve been here for a month. Have you visited the Museum of Science and Industry?”

  “I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t had time.”

  “We’ll go together. It’s the perfect place for geeky girls.”

  I turned to face him, placing my foot on the footrest at the bottom of his barstool. My leg briefly touched his, and I nearly jolted from my seat. I didn’t remove it from the footrest but made sure that our body parts didn’t touch. We sat with his legs flanking mine and talked about bad haircuts, prom dates, and embarrassing moments. At one point, I laughed and instinctively touched his chest. I pulled my hand back like I had felt a hot oven. His chest was so hard. Seriously, no one’s chest could be that hard. He smiled, his amber gaze refusing to leave mine.

  The casual dinner felt like a date, and I wondered how I got here. Three weeks ago, I hated the guy, and now I had a massive crush on him. Feeling a lot braver, I threw caution to the wind and asked a personal question.

  “You’ve not mentioned a girlfriend. Are you dating anyone?”

  He stiffened and sat back in the chair. A shadow crossed his face, and he stared at the television monitors overhead. “We broke up months ago.”

  Well, damn. His answer was short and to the point. So, his relationship didn’t end well. Breakups were challenging, but I sensed his was off-limits.

  “I broke up with my boyfriend last year. Now I’m navigating the world of dating apps. I hate it.”

  “The Lonely-Hearts Club sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” I cocked my head to the side. Lilah’s gossip connections had said nothing about him actively looking for love. They’d described him as committed to bachelorhood. Maybe Lilah got it wrong.

  He imitated my expression. “What’s that look for?”

  “I’m surprised is all.”

  “Jasmine, don’t evade my questions. What are you thinking?” He placed a hand on mine and gazed deeply into my eyes. Sparks radiated from the place where our skin touched. I felt a combination of warmth and slightly drunk. The two glasses of red wine had done their job of relaxing my brain, but I couldn’t become too comfortable with Garrett.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to drop it.” I slipped away my hand, that uncomfortable silence hitting us again. This time, I didn’t allow it to linger. “Garrett, thank you for the burgers and drinks. I had a great time. I need to get back to the hotel.”

  “I have work to catch up on tonight. Let’s do it again.”

  He settled the bill, and we walked to the entrance of the restaurant. We both lingered. Expectant stares passed between the two of us. I wasn’t sure what he thought, but I needed to run my fingers through his hair and feel the full length of him against my throbbing body.

  Yes. Throbbing body. From head to foot, I ached for him.

  “I should go.” I stared at the lips that I desperately desired to taste.

  “I’ll hail a taxi.” He walked to the curb and raised his arm, flagging down the first available cab. He opened the door and gave the driver directions.

  I walked to the opened door. Garrett tentatively moved closer as if he would embrace me but caught himself. Instead, he extended a hand, which I gladly accepted.

  “Sweet dreams, Jasmine.”

  Garrett

  The first week in the war room, the team got to know each other. Everyone was kind and polite. We maintained a consistent low hum, the only sound was the tapping of keyboards. Everyone set their cell phones to vibrate, and we took calls outside of the space. We related all conversations to work. Even then, we’d leaned over and whispered while collaborating.

  We were now in our fourth week of being trapped in the hot room. We’d stopped being polite, allowing our real personalities and quirks to come through.

  By the time we added folks from the Wallace and Dynex teams, there were twelve of us seated arou
nd a table suited for ten.

  Each of us centered our days around the room. The only time someone left was for executive updates or interviews with the different departments. We ate breakfast and lunch in the room and filled the cabinets with snacks. I even moved my beloved French Press into the conference space.

  “Hunter, is it necessary to manspread? Your legs are taking up your space and drifting into mine. Have you heard of social distancing?” Lilah nudged his leg over with hers. Like a mountain, he didn’t move. Instead, he clasped his fingers behind his head and reclined in the chair.

  Lilah followed his gaze to the ceiling. Exasperated, she squeaked. “Is it necessary to encroach on my personal space?”

  “Lilah-putian, you don’t need a lot of space.” Over the last three weeks, the tiny, most energetic member of our team had gained a new nickname. The name was a play on the word, Lilliputian. She had a love-hate relationship with it.

  “I don’t need your leg bumping me. You’re tall. I get it. However, I need a six foot bubble of peace and serenity.” She folded her hands and nodded her head. “Namaste.”

  Jasmine snorted.

  “What is that about?” She turned to Jasmine’s smirking face.

  Hunter sat up in his chair and dove right in. “Jasmine, please, allow me.”

  Jasmine nodded, resting her chin in her hand as she waited expectantly.

  “Delilah, either play the music for everyone to hear or turn it down. I speak for the team when I beg that you stop mouthing the words to the songs. Also, nobody cares for Maroon 5. Find another playlist.”

  “I like Maroon 5.” Jasmine raised her hand. Lilah reached over, and the two high-fived. “I’m more concerned with the sheer volume of snacks consumed during an entire day. I try to be nice, but when you guys open those french onion chips, I can’t take it. The smell fills the room, and I get nauseous.”

  Hunter then turned to Jasmine, “Now, as for you, Miss Sigher. You sigh at least five times an hour. Why? Why do you sigh so much?”

  “We’re seated shoulder-to-shoulder. The room is hot. I sigh because I’m a hostage to this space. I have to delay the onset of the Stockholm Syndrome. Soon, I’ll identify and sympathize with each of you.”

  Everyone laughed, several heads nodded in agreement.

  This morning’s weekly status update with Nic was tenuous. I needed a stiff drink and laughter—anything to dissipate my stress and free it into the air.

  “Hunter, I think it’s time for a field trip,” I called over.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  “Yep. Mi Hacienda time.”

  “Mi Hacienda?” Jasmine asked.

  “The best Mexican food in the Chicagoland area,” Hunter spoke up and shut his laptop.

  “I can’t. You all go without me. I have so much work to do.” She looked at the never-ending to-do list near her laptop. She spent more time adding to the list than scratching off completed items.

  “Why are you a fun buster? Consider this is a team-building activity. If you don’t go, we don’t go. We’re all for one.” Lilah moaned.

  “Yep. All of us or none of us. I’m requesting a driver now. Wrap it up, Carmichael. We’re leaving in thirty.” I pulled out my phone and began searching through the apps.

  All eyes in the room stared at Jasmine. She raised her hands in frustration and sighed. “Okay, I’ll be ready.”

  Thirty minutes later, the twelve of us piled into the awaiting Sprinter van. After a brief drive on the Dan Ryan Expressway, we arrived at the Mexican casita themed restaurant.

  Raul, the owner, met us in the waiting area. “Hunter! Garrett! My favorite people. I’ve reserved the private dining area for you.”

  We followed him to the secluded section as the waitstaff buzzed around the table, setting down glasses of water and baskets overflowing with chips and salsa.

  Each team member marched into the room and found a seat at the large table. I maneuvered to sit next to Jasmine, pulling her chair out, and she sat in it, smiling appreciatively.

  Not surprising to anyone, Lilah and Hunter sat next to each other.

  Our waitress, an attractive woman, batted her eyelashes and smiled a thousand-watt smile. I pretended not to notice.

  “I’m Marisol. I’m your waitress today. What can I get you all to drink? How about a few pitchers of Sangria?”

  Before we could begin deciding our drinks, Raul stopped by with a tray of shot glasses. He’d filled each glass with clear liquor, the rims topped with limes.

  “Any friends of Garrett and Hunter are my friends. Shots! It’s on the house.”

  “I shouldn’t.” Jasmine shook her head.

  Most of the table groaned while a few people jeered, “Fun buster.”

  With his hand clutching his chest in mock horror, Raul said, “You’ve hurt my feelings.”

  Jasmine cautiously agreed. “Okay. I’ll have one shot.”

  Marisol walked the tray around the table. Each person licked their hand before sprinkling salt on it. Once everyone, Raul included, had a shot in their hand, he yelled out the countdown, “On the count of tres… Uno. Dos. Tres!”

  Everyone licked their hands, tossed their glasses back, and squeezed the lime juice in their mouths. Each person turned their glass upside down on the table in a dramatic group clatter. Everyone, except for Lilah. She winced as she slowly sipped the tequila. Jasmine began the chorus of boos.

  Flushed with embarrassment, Lilah raised her shoulders. “I’m petite. I have to pace myself.”

  The shots did their intended work. We loosened up. One person ordered a Cadillac Margarita, and the rest of the table followed. I ordered an assortment of appetizers.

  I looked over at Jasmine. She smiled and laughed with Kim, one of the business analysts on my team, talking about reality television shows. Hunter was eager to prepare for the deer season. He showed Lilah pictures of the buck he’d shot with a bow and arrow last year. Tears trailed down her cheek, and he paled at her reaction.

  She sniffled. “Poor Bambi.”

  “More like Bambi’s father.” He scrambled through his phone, searching for another photo, “Here’s a picture of my nephew, Glover. He'd had his first cupcake. It took days to get all the frosting out of his ears and hair. He's cute, right?”

  Marisol and Raul carried in two large drink trays. After we had drinks in hand, I raised my margarita glass. “A little toast. May you live as long as you like. May you have all you like as long as you live.”

  In unison, the table responded with cheers and clinked the glasses. I held Jasmine’s gaze, looking her straight in the eye for the first time since we’d interacted at HeidelBurger. That had felt like the perfect first date, even though it’d been a friendly dinner with a coworker. I hadn’t wanted it to end. Our conversation lagged, but eventually, we chattered like friends. We’d laughed at the same jokes and shared the same values. I had wanted to continue to sit at the bar and sip drinks and learn about her. I’d wanted to gaze into her eyes. I’d wished to nibble along the track leading from her earlobe to her shoulder.

  Once home, I couldn’t think of anything but her. Unable to sleep, my hand had sought out my cock and stroked from base to tip as I’d replayed details of our evening. I rode out the feeling for as long as I could before I came hard in my hand.

  Did Jasmine feel the same? I hoped that the chemistry wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Because if she did, I would not hesitate to call her mine.

  We spent the afternoon laughing and talking about life, movies, and upcoming vacations. Three rounds of shots and a large margarita later, Jasmine’s skin was flushed, and her eyes were slits. She smiled and laughed at one of Lilah’s stories. I was too taken by Jasmine’s smile to pay attention to the tale.

  Raul sent out another tray of shots. This time, there was no need to coerce anyone. Each person eagerly grabbed a glass, and we repeated the countdown ritual and guzzled the drink on the count of three.

  Four hours later,
the Sprinter dropped us back at the Dynex headquarters, and the team members headed to their cars and hotels. Lilah and Jasmine were both drunk, and their hotel was the furthest away. They swayed and chattered a hundred miles an hour. Thankfully, they’d switched out the tall heels for flat shoes, but with those big purses, I wasn’t going to let them walk back to the hotel alone. In Chicago, a person had to keep their wits about them, or risk being mugged.

  “Delilah, do you know the directions to your hotel?” Hunter asked in a gentle tone and placed a hand on her back.

  “We’re at The Langham. It’s over there.” She pointed in the opposite direction of the hotel.

  “These two can’t walk back by themselves, and we can’t put them in a cab or Uber. Some maniac would hurt them. It’s only a few blocks, we can do it. The fresh air would do them justice,” Hunter mumbled.

  “Yeah.” I said to the ladies, “You two shouldn’t walk back alone. Hunter and I will escort you to the hotel.”

  “We’re big girls; we can take care of ourselves. I’m street savvy. You guys go ahead.” Under the fading daylight, I saw that Jasmine’s eyes were glassy, and her honey-colored skin glistened with perspiration. The margaritas and shots were doing their job. She was drunk. We’d had three shots. How many margaritas did she have? Two? Three?

  “No argument on this. We’ll walk you back.” Hunter presented an arm to Lilah, and she looped hers through it. They led our foursome on the walk to the hotel with Jasmine and I following closely behind.

  The dry, late summer air whirled around us as we made our way through the early evening commuters and tourists that filled the streets. Each time the breeze flowed, I caught whiffs of her shampoo and perfume, which I aimed to commit to memory.

  Jasmine and I walked the first block in silence. Several times, her shoulder bumped my forearm. Each time, she scooted back over to the right side of the sidewalk.

  “Oops. Sorry,” she hiccuped. She stopped and turned to me. “So, remember when you and Hunter met Lilah and me? You were so nice, but then you weren’t. I didn’t know why you hated me, but now I feel like you like me. I had fun at the burger place and today, too. You do like me, right?”