by Natasha Deen
The acid went from churning to full boil. She needed to calm Grace down—or at least get her to a more secluded location where she could vent and scream without humiliating Nessie in front of her coworkers.
“Grace—” She reached forward to grip her boss’s arm and lead her back to the office, but Grace retreated.
“I often suspected you’d done something underhanded to get Barry to hire you, and now I know exactly what that was.” Spittle flecked the edges of her mouth and a few drops landed on Nessie’s cheek.
Along with anxiety and embarrassment, anger began to churn within Nessie. “If you’d just calm down, we can go—”
“Why do you want to leave the lunchroom?” Grace’s voice rose again, drowning out the quiet murmurs of conversation that had started up. “Are you ashamed for your coworkers to find out that you tried to have sex with Leo in order to save your job?”
The silence that descended in the cafeteria had an eerie, catastrophic quality. No one moved, no one breathed. Even the air seemed to freeze.
Her face turning redder than the heat lamps, Nessie faced her coworkers. “I didn’t—” She swallowed the rock of humiliation lodged in her throat. “I wouldn’t do that—”
“Are you calling me a liar? I saw you putting the moves on the boss.” Grace hissed the words as she circled Nessie, her gaze full of poison and spite. “That kind of scheming may work on television soap operas, but this is the real world, and you’re going to be fired. Leo won’t let me do it until after the reviews are in, but consider yourself canned. I’m going to spread the word and, by the time I’m done, you’ll be lucky to get a job flipping hamburgers.”
Grace stalked out of the cafeteria, leaving Nessie with sixty pairs of eyes staring at her. Her face flamed with mortification so deep she would have to climb fifty feet just to reach rock bottom. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, and her ears were sensitive to the whispers hissing through the room. She swallowed hard, blinked away the wetness, took a deep breath and looked around the cafeteria. No one made eye contact with her, save one: Candy-Ann Williams, head of HR.
Candy-Ann rose from her table with the grace of Aphrodite emerging from the waves and came at Nessie with the force of Ares about to wage war. Candy-Ann’s name suited her appearance. With her long, blonde hair, curved figure and angelic face, she epitomized sweet. Her personality, however, was like a jaw breaker: hard, uncompromising, and—if she didn’t take kindly to you—liable to smash teeth. She took her position as Human Resource Manager with the seriousness of an oath and could repeat every policy, labour law and government initiative.
“My office. Now.” Candy-Ann’s brown eyes held no quarter.
Olga grabbed Nessie’s hand and pressed another brownie into it. “I have answer,” she whispered, “not yet, but I have it.”
Nessie squeezed Olga’s fingers in response, then followed Candy-Ann.
After they stepped into the office, Candy-Ann dropped the shades of the window which looked into the corridor. Nessie’s palms turned slick with sweat. Candy-Ann closing the shades was never a good thing—it meant she wanted no witnesses. She closed the door with a forceful click and turned to stare at Nessie.
“I’m really sorry, Candy. I didn’t mean for it to happen—”
“After all our years of friendship, you go and do something like this.” She moved away from Nessie and took a seat behind her desk, scraping her hair behind her ear as she did so.
“I feel terrible—stupid and terrible—” Nessie knew this woman held to the policies of sexual harassment with the same zeal and ferocity that priests held to their vows. “It was a rash—”
“How could you kiss Leo and not tell me about it?”
“It’s going to be on my record and my—what?” The image of her being led out the doors of V & V in shackles, currently playing in hi-fi and VHS clarity in Nessie’s brain, paused. She dropped into the nearest chair and asked again, “What?”
“Vanessa, the man is gorgeous. How could you put the moves on him and then not tell me?”
Nessie rubbed her forehead, hoping to stimulate coherent thought, or at least to develop a theory about her friend’s unusual behaviour. “Aren’t you going to read me the riot act on all the policies I violated? Employee fraternization or sexual harassment or something?”
Candy shrugged. “Victor & Victoria doesn’t care if employees fraternize. Did Leo look harassed?”
“No.” She sat back in the cloth-and-wood chair and called her memories to mind. “He looked amused.”
“There you go. No harassment, ergo, no problems.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing in the Employee Handbook of Ethics and—” She gulped at the look of murder in Candy’s eyes. “Sorry. Of course you would know if I violated any policy.”
“If anyone should be in violation, it’s Leo. No man that glorious should be allowed to wear clothing. Did you notice the way his pants hugged his—”
“Yes.” Nessie’s internal temperature rose to heat-wave levels. “I noticed. Heck, every woman in creation has noticed.”
Candy reclined in her chair. “And his butt is—”
“Lord, is it ever.”
The room lapsed into silence.
“So.” Candy roused herself from what Nessie guessed were x-rated thoughts. “How was the kiss?”
“I don’t really know,” she confessed. “Our lips touched, but it was over before it began.”
“Well, how did he feel?”
Nessie closed her eyes and remembered the feeling of Leo’s mouth against hers. “Warm, firm—surprised. God. What am I going to do? I’m fired, no doubt about it.” She jerked from the chair and began to pace the carpet. “Rather than reliving my moment of lunacy, I should be figuring out a plan to get another job.” Her gaze caught Candy-Ann’s. “Would you give me a reference? Help me combat Graceless’ latest plan of destruction?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Candy scoffed. “From what I’ve heard, Leo’s more than used to women making idiots of themselves and throwing everything from their bodies to their panties at him—”
Nessie winced.
“Sorry, that was insensitive. What I mean is that you shouldn’t worry.” She paused, a mischievous light coming into her eyes. “If you are fired, I’ll give you a reference—on one condition.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“You have to go back and kiss Leo. Really kiss him, tongue and everything.”
“Have you lost your policy-loving mind?”
“Come on, it’s not like you’ll have to worry about seeing him the next morning. Don’t you want to know what it would feel like?”
“More than I care to admit,” grumbled Nessie.
“Good. It’s a deal.” Candy gave her a victorious smile. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off. You don’t need to see Graceless the Hartless right now, and besides, if you go it’ll make it look like I came down on you. And that should buy you a couple days’ worth of peace.”
Nessie rose and left the office, heading home and hoping tomorrow would be better.
****
Her mind racing with plans to save her job and avoid Candy-Ann’s requirements for a reference letter, Nessie hurried back to her office. She had collected her jacket and handbag and was in the midst of skulking out of her cubicle when Brittany, one of the company’s gofers, waylaid her.
“Taking an early afternoon?” she asked, sympathy lighting in her dark brown eyes. “I heard about the hullabaloo in the cafeteria. Can’t say I blame you for leaving.”
“Oh, she’s not leaving of her own account.” The serpentine voice of Grace slithered and snaked as she writhed her way past Brittany to trap Nessie in her cubicle. “I got a phone call from Candy-Ann. She’s been given the rest of the day off to consider her options.”
Right. Stick my tongue down Leo’s throat or don’t get a reference letter. Some option.
Brittany glanced at Nessie, empathy darkening her eyes and pulling
her mouth down. “I should get these memos for the employee reviews out. Nessie, if you just give me a minute, I’ll find yours—that’s why I stopped you in the first place.”
“Nessie won’t be receiving one of those letters.” Grace’s smile had enough teeth to make a crocodile jealous. “I’ve already spoken to Leo, and he agrees that we’ve both seen enough of Nessie’s—abilities—to make a decision about her future with this company.”
Grace’s words napalmed Nessie’s seedling plans and turned her hopes into charred grey remains. Avoiding her boss’s triumphant smile, Nessie pushed past the women and hurried for the elevators, but Grace’s cruel laughter followed her all the way home.
Chapter Three
With heavy, weary steps, Nessie made her way up the porch stairs and into the two-story home she shared with Nina. The bells hanging on the doorknob jangled and, right on cue, Nessie heard the scraping of dog claws against a wood floor. Caleb, their seven-year old sheltie, resident guard dog, lap-warmer and furry vacuum cleaner, careened past the foyer table and crashed into the French doors of the living room—woofing all the way.
His misjudgement didn’t faze him for a millisecond. Ignoring the wet nose imprint on a glass panel, he twisted himself around and came at Nessie in a whirlwind of black and white fur, pink tongue and canine grin. He leapt against her legs. Knowing his sensitive feelings, she knelt down in surrender so he didn’t think his security measures were ineffective. Bolstered by this successful guerrilla move, Caleb initiated the final action in his sentry roster. He licked, kissed and made a wet, sopping mess of Nessie’s face. She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her cheeks, but as fast as she dried, his tongue continued to flick out to undo all her work.
“Some guard dog you are,” Nessie said, shoving the sheltie back on his hind paws and ending his security shift. “I can only hope that should a burglar ever enter the house, he’ll have the foresight to stand in your way so you can knock him down like a bowling pin and lick him into submission. If those offensive strikes don’t work, trust me, your breath will prove to be the ultimate offensive weapon.”
Caleb apparently took this to mean his mistress was pleased, because he promptly rolled over and demanded a belly rub.
“You’re so cuddly,” she cooed as her fingers delved into his soft, long fur. “Look at all of these fatty layers. You may have to rely on them in the next few months while I look for another job.”
“He won’t have to rely on anything.” Nina came into the foyer, complete with her after-workout yogurt cup. She sat down, Yoga-style, and used her toes to peel off her leg warmers. “Did you really get the axe, or are you just doing your Chicken Little impression?”
“I haven’t been fired, but it’s a matter of time.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past week.”
“That was before The Disaster.”
“What disaster?”
Silence.
Nina looked up from her snack cup. “Come on. You’ve kept me up to date on every soap-operatic episode at V & V. Don’t give me commercial breaks now.”
“I may have—that is, I inadvertently—oh heck, I accidentally kissed my boss.”
Nina’s mouth fell open, displaying masticated granola and yogurt. “Oh, my God. You kissed Grace?”
“No! Leo.”
Nina’s mouth closed, though her eyes stayed open and unblinking for what seemed like an inhuman amount of time. She chewed the food in her mouth with the concentration of a placid dairy cow.
“You accidentally kissed Leo.” She spoke the words with careful deliberation, rolling each sound around her tongue like a tasty spoonful of blueberries, granola and yogurt.
“Yes.”
“How do you accidentally kiss someone?”
“Well—”
“Did you slip and fall? And Leo saw you trip, and rushed to your aid—” Nina’s supposition picked up speed as her energetic hypothesis brought a fevered glimmer to her eyes, “but he slipped as well and fell under you. So, instead of a face plant onto the floor, you planted your face on him.”
Nessie grimaced. “Not exactly.”
Nina’s eyes grew wide at this latest bit of information. “Your face got planted on another part of his anatomy?” She whispered the words with an intensity that begged Nessie to say that this was precisely what had occurred.
“Of course not!”
“Oh.” Disappointment made Nina’s shoulders droop and took the feverish light from her eyes. She scooped another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. “Then what happened? How did you kiss him? Did he like it?”
Nessie waved her hands to put a halt to the barrage of questions. Caleb chuffed in irritation as his rub came to a momentary halt. Resuming her massage, she began to tell her sister about the kiss, the lunchroom, and the review.
With each new detail, Nina’s eyes grew larger. If her gaze got any wider, Nessie would need to knock out the doorjamb just to get her out of the house. When Nessie hit the climax of the story, the spoon clattered to the floor, spraying blotches of blueberry yogurt on the floor.
“You kissed Leo—just reached out and grabbed yourself a tasty morsel of man hunk. Nessie, you really are going all Mata Hari on this!”
“I thought you said that I was Chicken Little,” she grumbled, continuing to pet Caleb, who snored in blissful ecstasy.
“Mata Hari meets Chicken Little—coy, seductive, and with just the right touch of hysteria to keep men interested.” Nina turned her rainbow-colored legwarmers into makeshift sponges as she used them to mop up the splattered yogurt. “Speaking of which, how did Leo take the kiss—did he kiss you back? Why—”
“In a word, shock. And no, he didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t fire me on the spot, but he didn’t kiss me back.”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Nina said. “You’re not fired, and as for Grace, you should know better than to believe anything she tells you.”
“This has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me,” Nessie clarified. “If I was in Leo’s shoes and had an employee kiss me, I would get rid of him. That kind of behaviour is unprofessional.”
Nina shrugged. “Maybe, but Leo doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’s easily ruffled by a woman’s kiss. Besides—” she leaned over and tweaked Nessie’s ear, “he did say that he was partial to elves.”
Nessie batted her sister’s hand away. “Don’t tease me.” The idea that he found her pointed ear delightful rather than deformed was a fantasy too precious to voice.
Since Caleb wouldn’t allow her to rise without complaint, she took a more comfortable position on the floor, stretching out her legs and kicking off her shoes. “Okay, let’s say I’m not fired. Then why wouldn’t I be pulled in for a review—optimistic reasons.” She fell silent as positive explanations eluded her.
Nina snapped her fingers. “Simple. He overheard you talking about Grace stealing your ideas. Those jelly shoes have been such a hit—he doesn’t need to talk to you, because the sales figures say it all.”
The tight band around Nessie’s heart loosened. “That sounds plausible enough. So let’s pretend he doesn’t care about the kiss, knows about the jelly shoes and wants to keep me on. It still doesn’t change the fact that he brings in his own managers, and they in turn bring in their own people. What I need is a plan to really wow him—make me stand out in the crowd and keep me at Victor & Victoria.”
“You don’t think shoving your tongue down his throat doesn’t already make you stand out?”
“I didn’t shove anything down his throat.” She scowled at Nina.
“But you did kiss him.”
“Our lips may have met—but I assure you, they’re not on intimate terms with each other.” Nessie followed her words with a self-righteous tilt of her chin.
“Maybe,” Nina conceded, “but you also called him The Lumberjack within his hearing.”
“Is it my fault he chose to sit next to us?”
“You also threatened to fling brunch foods at him—”
“Are you trying to see me perform Chicken Little: The Sequel?” Nessie glared at her sister.
“No, only saying that, in his books, you’re already unforgettable.”
“I meant,” Nessie huffed, “unforgettable on a work level. Impress him with a new design, innovative creations—heck, perfect attendance!”
“If that’s the case, then I won’t offer any ideas.”
“I already know your suggestions: wear something tight and low-cut.”
Nina looked at her, askance. “I would never offer you that kind of plan.”
Nessie sighed with the hope her sister had some secret agent idea that would guarantee her job.
“You’ve already kissed him—what’s the point of cleavage? I was going to say wear black lace underwear—not to show him, mind you. It’s just that a girl can’t help but feel confident when she’s wearing sexy undergarments.”
“I suppose you wear lace every day.”
Nina rose to her feet with a wicked smile. “As if. I don’t wear underwear.”
“Oh, that I could bleach my brain and disinfect my memory.” Her fingers scratched a circular path around the silky fur of Caleb’s ear. “There’s so much to sort out—not the least of which is a new shoe design. What do you think of a high-end sneaker?”
Nina’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Define high-end. Are you talking price or heel?”
“Neither. The athletic shoe industry is exploding. Between Nike’s waffle-sole shoe and Puma’s Velcro fasteners, there’s a lot of room for innovation and design that wouldn’t put a dent in a person’s wallet.”
“So what are you thinking? Of merging waffles with fasteners?”
Nessie frowned as the next great shoe idea danced in the wings of conscious thought but refused to take center stage. “I don’t know; I need to clear my head. Maybe some fresh air will help.” She glanced outside, where a bright sun held court in a blue sky.
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” she said, then in that same instant wished she’d never spoken at all.
