Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  Once outside the garage and out of view, she stopped and dialed. After the receptionist answered, Brooke said, “Chase Allman please.”

  “Mr. Allman’s office.” The hair on Brooke’s neck bristled.

  “Is this Ruth?”

  “Who’s calling please?”

  “It’s Brooke Hart. I need to speak with Chase.”

  “Mr. Allman is unavailable. Would you care to leave a message?”

  Brooke frowned and suppressed a grumble. “Yeah, please have him call me on my cell as soon as possible.”

  “Does he have your cell number or would you like me to take it from you?”

  Brooke drew a deep breath and provided her cell number, then poked the off button like she was squishing a bug, nearly losing her nail—and accidently deactivating her phone.

  Brooke pressed the on button—this time with less intensity—then hit speed dial one.

  “Hi Brooke, I’m getting on a conference call. What’s up?”

  “I won’t be able to afford you anymore.”

  “Come again?”

  “I just got fired.”

  After a long pause, Shane said, “Hang on a second. Let me end this other call. Don’t hang up.” Brooke dabbed her eyes. A few seconds later, Shane said, “What happened?”

  “They’re dumping my department and outsourcing it to India I guess.”

  “I don’t understand. Didn’t you just hire a bunch of people?”

  Brooke lost it. Sobbing uncontrollably, Shane tried to pacify her by uttering phrases like: “It’s okay,” “Take all the time you need,” “I understand,” and “Let it out.” This only increased Brooke’s sorrow.

  Brooke blew her nose, then drew a deep breath, and said, “I feel so bad for all those people I hired—they’re all losing their jobs. Ginny has a sick baby and really needed this job.” She wiped her eyelids as a new batch of tears formed.

  “Didn’t you say they just let you go?”

  “Yep.”

  “That company is messed up, Brooke. You’re better off somewhere else. And, do not, I repeat, do not, blame yourself for the people in your department. It’s not your fault. You didn’t let them go.”

  Brooke sighed, then said, “I know, I know. I’m sorry I lost it—I guess I just needed a shoulder to cry on.”

  “That’s better. Give yourself a day to grieve, then we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  As Brooke pressed the off button, she stared at the phone. Why hasn’t he called me back? Is he avoiding me? What an asshole.

  ***

  Parker looked so sweet snoozing on his towel. Building the sand castle had been an all day event that exhausted both father and son. Chase wished he could just nap like that. He could never sleep on a beach or an airplane. Chase glanced at his beach bag, but resisted the temptation to turn on his cell. He didn’t want to wake Parker up just yet—loving the way his son’s breathing blended with the gentle waves. Today had provided the day off he and Parker deserved. He noticed that his son hadn’t asked for his mommy once, hoping his son’s concerns faded like the outgoing tide.

  Tomorrow, I’ll face the inbox flood, but I’m not spoiling the perfect day.

  ***

  “Hi Daddy, sorry to bother you at work.”

  “Don’t be silly, Brooke. I always love to hear your voice. How was the wedding?”

  “Fine.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Brooke sniffled, “You were right. I should’ve listened to you.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “They fired me.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “Pharmical fired me today. They’re dumping my whole division. All the people I brought in too.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. They just hired you. Why would they do such a thing? Can’t they find you another VP slot?”

  “Nope. Chase Allman turned out to be worse than a shark. He’s a…” Brooke almost said boa constrictor. Instead, “Weasel with a fin on his back.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s probably a blessing in disguise. We’ll find something better. I’m going to call Bill Barrister over at GDK. He’d love to have you work there.”

  “Hold off for now. I just found out and I can’t think straight. Give me a few days.”

  “Well, honey, I just hate hearing you so upset after everything you’ve…hey, why don’t you come to lunch with me tomorrow and stay home a few days? We can map out a job search together.”

  Ordinarily Brooke had an excuse ready, a quick no-can-do; but now, she felt a surge of gratitude. “I’d really like that daddy. Tomorrow, I have to tie up some loose ends, but I’ll plan on lunch Wednesday.”

  Brooke hung up, set the phone down, and flipped on the radio—Build Me Up Buttercup—the song instantly brought memories. She recalled convincing Tanner to take a dance lesson before the wedding. Buttercup was the song they practiced with—over and over. She could still picture him trying to swing her around with that silly grin on his face. She cranked it up and sang along.

  After the song ended, she considered the irony in the lyrics with her current situation as rain began pelting her Lexus. She flipped on the wipers, but they barely kept up. Brooke slowed and leaned forward, but continued driving. Her happy Tanner memory had washed away like an August storm, and her mind returned to Chase. She checked her phone—nothing. I guess the big CEO is nothing more than a weasel. I can’t believe I slept with that asshole.

  ***

  The flight back seemed long. A storm hovered up ahead in central North Carolina, holding unexpected gusts and thunder and lightning. Though Chase figured he could land, he felt queasy. Parker’s eyes popped as each bolt of lightning descended from the clouds. He asked, “Will lightning hit our plane, Daddy?”

  Nervous laugh. “No son, we’re safe. Our plane has special stuff outside so lightning won’t hurt it.” This was a partial lie, but Chase didn’t want to discuss the real answer and cause his eyes to really pop out.

  Chase decided to divert to the east and allow the storm to pass. He also diverted Parker’s fears, asking, “You wanna fly over to the ocean and look for dolphins and sharks?”

  “Yippee.” He loved how his son’s face lit up. Parker’s enthusiasm was contagious, bringing a huge smile to his father’s lips.

  Flying low, they observed the fraying white tops of the lazy waves, directing the ocean toward land. Seagulls were dive-bombing a darkened area of blue water. “Daddy, look—what are those birds doing?”

  “They’re called seagulls and they’re fishing.”

  Parker eyed his father, “Where are their poles?”

  “They use their mouths and dive in far enough to catch a fish.”

  Parker pondered as his three-year-old microprocessor spun. Chase delighted in Parker’s curiosity. Betsy Stanton at Angel Academy had marveled at Parker’s intellect and verbal skills—developed well beyond his age. Chase needed a Tell Me Why book to keep up with Parker’s inquisitive mind.

  Chase noticed the storm had moved west. He asked Parker to check one more time for dolphins and sharks. After a full scan, Parker cheered as another bird plunged underwater, returning with a fish wiggling in its beak. Moments later, Chase brought the plane down with a bounce, then slid to a stop on the wet jetway of the tiny airport.

  Unfazed, Parker asked, “Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese?”

  “Sure, but then it’s bedtime mister.” He thought, Daddy has to go back to work early tomorrow. He hadn’t worried about work in four days.

  After splitting a cheese pizza, they returned home. Duke greeted them at the garage doorway with wild licks and a tail that nearly knocked Parker to the ground. Chase wondered when Oksana had last walked him and motioned outside for a quick yard relief.

  They brushed teeth together and washed up just enough to avoid Oksana’s scorn the next morning. Chase tucked Parker in. Duke jumped to his usual spot in the bottom corner of Parker’s bed then posed with mouth down, ey
es slightly raised. Father and son recited Parker’s special prayer and a warm glow spread inside Chase. The weekend had been quite an interesting ride—exactly what both father and son needed. As Parker’s eyes fluttered into sleep, Chase brushed his son’s hair back, reminiscent of his carefree childhood.

  As Parker drifted off, Chase headed downstairs. His mind flashed back to early Sunday morning. He could still picture Brooke—how incredible she looked—in light and dark, clothed and unclothed. Hmmm, that reminds me.

  Chase bee-lined to the garage and popped the trunk. There it was—rolled up in the corner. Carefully gripping the lingerie, the feeling returned…her smooth skin, her delicate touch. Smothering his face with the silky garment, he inhaled deeply, groaning as her sweet alluring fragrance aroused him. Holding the small slip like a feather, he headed inside while pressing it to his nostrils each time he needed to breathe.

  Once in bed, he inhaled the lingerie one more time, smiled, then placed it beside his pillow. Though physically exhausted, his mind was playfully awake. He replayed the night with Brooke with crystal clarity. She had ignited his mind, body, and soul—and now, even the memory thrilled him. He fell asleep thinking about her and awakened early the next morning to her aroma.

  After inhaling once more, he called Duke from Parker’s room. “We gotta do a quick run today. Can you handle that?” Duke’s head cocked slightly.

  ***

  The drive to Starbucks flew. Chase peered at the lingerie on the passenger seat and grinned. Parking nearby, he glanced in the rearview mirror and slid his finger back and forth against his front teeth, then patted his hair. He glanced at the lingerie and decided to leave it in the car—a good excuse to get her alone. Chase then jumped out and scanned the street for the Lexus. Crap.

  Once inside Starbucks, he did a quick search—no Brooke yet. He squinted at the counter and caught Marcus’s eye, drawing a nod. The line was lighter than usual. With one more person to go, still no Brooke, Tonya said, “Hi Chase, where have you been?”’

  “Hey Tonya, took some time off with my family.”

  “Looks like ya got some sun.”

  Marcus strode over carrying the usual two coffees, and said, “Damn, A-Man, you trying to look like me?”

  “Hey Marcus. Did I get that much sun? I wore thirty.”

  “No, you look good. I’m just messing with ya.”

  “Remember the young lady I was here with a couple a weeks ago?”

  Marcus said, “You mean Brooke the babe?”

  Chase noticed Tonya’s frown. “Yeah, Brooke. Did she come in yet?”

  “No. I haven’t seen her since last week. You supposed to be meetin’ her?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be glad to give her a message?”

  Chase considered Marcus’s question longer than usual, then said, “No, I’ll see her at work.”

  One 175 degree espresso down—and still no Brooke. Chase decided to leave. Scanning the street one more time, he wanted to return her lingerie so he could remove it again. Bringing it into work was out of the question; he wanted to keep it anyway—at least until her fragrance faded.

  Though he lingered at Starbucks longer than usual, Chase was still early for work. The parking lot was fairly empty, but he circled the garage, searching for the Lexus—nothing. Each time he realized she wasn’t where he was looking—first Starbucks, now the parking lot—he sighed. He passed the entrance and glimpsed over his shoulder, hoping to catch her pulling in, but still no Brooke.

  I hope Ruth didn’t set up any lunch meetings.

  Chase loved this time of day. Empty office, one quad espresso down and still one to savor—at the ideal temperature. He whistled while flipping on his light switch, then winced at his inbox. He spotted Ruth’s neat deck of notes on top of his chair. He leafed through each one as if checking his hand in a game of cards. Then, he spotted the ace of hearts: Brooke Hart called. Please call her on her cell (704) 867-5309. Dated yesterday, 9:07 a.m.

  Chase tossed the other notes across his desk, then sprang from his chair. He peeked his head out. Coast clear. Perfect. Chase clicked his door tightly shut and twisted on the lock.

  He drew a deep breath, but couldn’t impede the heartbeat thumping into his throat. Realizing his time alone was limited, he dialed…please answer, please answer, please answer—his cadence matched each ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Brooke? I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

  “I was wondering when you were going to finally call…” Chase didn’t pick up her sarcastic tone. His hands trembled like a nervous sixth grader calling his first crush.

  “I looked for you this morning…I wanted to give you your pink slip.”

  The silence sounded like a lost line.

  “You still there?” Chase’s voice cracked.

  “Oh yeah, I’m here alright… I can’t believe you just said that. You’re an asshole!”

  Silence.

  “What?...Brooke?...Brooke?...You there?...Brooke?...Brooke!” Chase squinted at the screen on his phone and the realization struck like a flaming arrow to his chest. What is up with her? Asshole? I can’t believe she just called me an asshole. Chase began redialing, but hung up, and stared into the earpiece.

  Chase’s head spun. Thoughts of rabbits boiling on the stove from the movie Fatal Attraction came over him. He gulped his coffee and grimaced—and not because it was too cold. He clicked on his email and scanned for something from her—maybe her guilt infected her heart and she sent me an email. He scanned his inbox and spotted her name. What the hell?

  From David Greenberg: “Brooke Hart has elected to pursue another career opportunity. We here at Pharmical Solutions wish her well in her new endeavors.” Chase detested the template send off. He glanced at his watch and wondered if his HR SVP was in yet. With waves of dread and confusion pulsing, Chase dialed.

  “Good morning boss. Where’ve you been?”

  “Hi David…I, uh, I took a few days off.”

  “That’s what I figured—smart of you with what’s going on. Don’t worry though, I handled it all yesterday. After Brooke Hart, the rest of the day was a snap.”

  “What happened with Brooke?”

  “Well, she didn’t handle it well. I had to call security. But, you’d be proud of me—I offered her a lowball severance and she didn’t balk. I still haven’t heard from her so we may have gotten by cheap. I dispensed pink slips to her entire department by noon and handed it over to outplacement. So far, so good.”

  Pink slips? Chase’s eyes rolled to the back of his head; if it weren’t for his chair’s sturdy backing, he would have fallen to the floor.

  “Chase, you still there?...Chase?... Chase, can you hear me?”

  Chase had dropped the phone and could hear Greenberg squawking through the earpiece while he raced through his emails. Then he spotted it—Greenberg’s email to Henry Stoddard, cc: Chase Allman: “Good news, Mr. Stoddard. As of noon, I have personally met with the entire Integrated Client Services department. Aside from Brooke Hart, I don’t anticipate any issues. Phase two is now in Stuart Jacoby’s hands.”

  Phase two? What is phase one? Why wasn’t I aware of any of this? I need to make a call—she can’t possibly think I meant…

  After five rings, a generic voicemail, then a quick beep, “Brooke, it’s Chase. Listen, I really need to talk to you. Please call me as soon as you hear this. Even if I’m in a meeting, tell Ruth to interrupt me. Please call.”

  I wish she’d pick up…She couldn’t possibly think I meant…I have to talk to her.

  Chase’s temples pounded as he picked up his cell. Maybe she’ll answer if she doesn’t recognize the different number. He dialed Brooke. I’ll straighten this out before it gets blown out of proportion. I’ll explain the misunderstanding and get her a job in another department. Five rings, same voicemail. Dammit, why won’t you pick up? She sure is stubborn.

  An email flashed in the bottom corner of his screen—from Henry Stoddard.
He’s in early. I’ll ask him what’s going on. Chase pulled up Henry’s empty Outlook calendar and sighed. Chase remembered his boss never used Outlook.

  Chase opened his door and Ruth’s desk was still empty. He considered leaving her a note, but didn’t want to waste the time—he had to hustle over there.

  Henry’s office towered on the other side of Pharmical’s campus, about a ten minute walk. The building was used for Research and Development, and Security; Henry occupied the penthouse. Chase hoped he’d catch Henry early enough to grab breakfast together. He needed another coffee—even if it wasn’t Starbucks.

  Once outside, birds chirped lovely harmonies. A strong breeze from behind whisked like a wind tunnel on another humid Carolina day, lifting a sweet blend of jasmine and magnolia into the air. Ominous clouds swirled, shielding the sun’s early rays. Chase power-walked with head down, oblivious to nature’s delights.

  Inside the building, sweat beaded on Chase’s temples around windblown hair, causing the security guard to take notice. Chase retrieved his handkerchief and wiped his brow, then proceeded to the elevator. Security cameras scanned his every step like birds in a Hitchcock movie.

  At the sixteenth floor, Chase marched across the dimly lit corridor, then advanced toward the light in the corner. Henry’s door was closed but Lucy stood guard—she’s here early.

  Lucy peered up over her reading glasses and bolted upright, “Chase, what a pleasant surprise. My, you look tan.” Lucy’s cheeks flushed.

  “Hey Lucy. Looks like he’s in a meeting.”

  “He’s been on the phone with London for a while.”

  “I was hoping to catch breakfast with him.”

  “Oh, he’s already eaten—I brought him take out from Le Peep.”

  “Wow, you need to train Ruth for me.”