by A. C. Meyer
“Miguel, I told you to leave Mariana alone. I can’t lose my assistant just because you can’t control yourself near women.”
“Okay, okay, bro! I won’t do anything.”
“Did you want to talk to me about something or is this call just to chitchat?”
“I did that tech research from our branch office in São Paulo, like you asked.”
“And?”
“We’ll need a few adjustments to install the tracking software, but I think it’s possible.”
For a few months now, I’ve noticed that some of our stories are very similar to the ones our competitors are publishing, especially the ones produced by our branch in São Paulo, making me feel like something isn’t right and that someone may be trying to trick us. So, I asked Miguel, who manages the IT department, to check if we can track e-mails, online chats, and transmitted data to see if we can find out who’s selling our information to the competition.
“Great. So, get ready cause we’re flying to São Paulo tomorrow to settle this,” I say and he agrees.
“Okay.”
“I’ll have Mariana book us tickets in the afternoon. I won’t be in the office tomorrow morning; if you need anything, call me.”
“Sure, buddy. I will,” he says, and we finish the call.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: Tickets
Mari,
Book two tickets to SP fr me and Miguel living today (Tuesday) rigt after lunch.
I hate typing e-mails on my phone. I always have typos and misspellings. I’m too lazy to correct it after it’s typed. Just as I’m about to hit send I type:
Will you be ok?
Cadu
Mari
My head hurts.
This is what you get from mixing ice cream and tequila on a Monday. But according to Lais, that was the medicine I needed to start hating my idiot boss. If he was responsible for the horrible headache I had, I already hated his guts.
When I get to work, I find an e-mail from yours truly.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: Tickets
Mari,
Book two tickets to SP fr me and Miguel living today (Tuesday) rigt after lunch.
Will you be ok?
Cadu
Argh! I don’t know what’s wrong with him, he can’t type anything right in his e-mails. It gets on my nerves!
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: Tickets
Dear Carlos Eduardo,
I’ve bought your tickets and done your on-line check-in. You’ll find the boarding pass and documents in your e-mail.
I’ll be fine, of course. I’d be better, though, if you were able to use the correct spelling and punctuation that are so vital for communication.
Have a nice trip.
Mariana
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: Tickets
Mariana,
I’m sorry for the informality. I really jst send the message and I didn’t even read what was in it. Your answer makes it seem like you’re in a bad mood. I was wondering why and here are my conclusions:
a)U didn’t like I called you Mari
b)U’r pissed at me cuz I asked if u’r gonna be ok
c)U’r a grammar nazi and was offended that I hat typing emails on my phone and never type it right cuz punctuation and stuff r so hard to find on this small keyboard
d)U’r still pissed at me
e)A.A.A.
Sincerely,
Carlos Eduardo
I’m glad you-know-who isn’t in his office or I would’ve punched him. Can you believe an answer like that? So cocky! Who does he think he is? I click to answer immediately and I type hard, transferring all my anger to the keyboard.
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Tickets
Dear Carlos Eduardo,
For a person who hates typing on his phone and uses such weak arguments to justify his laziness and lack of grammar, you sure write big e-mails. Big and confusing, if you consider it lacks the basic punctuation for a clear understanding of the message.
Amongst your options, I’d say C is the one that comes closest to my current feelings.
That will be all.
Sincerely,
Mariana Costa
Assistant to the Editor in Chief of Be Magazine
The week was busy. Though I’m grateful that you-know-who was away from the office, I can’t deny that it’s much harder to work like that. We are still not speaking on the phone. It seems that we’ve reached a silent agreement about that. We prefer e-mailing. But I feel like he’s trying to tease me, I’m just not sure why.
On Thursday right after lunch, the door opens suddenly scaring me. Lynn comes walking in like she’s on a runway. You don’t know who Lynn is? Wow, where have you been? Lynn is the “new face” of the moment. She’s the paparazzi’s and the stylists’ princess, and she’s also a complete bitch to poor mortals like myself. Oh! Did I mention she and you-know-who had an affair?
“I’m sorry, Lynn, he’s not here.” I run ahead of her, preventing her from going into his office. She looks down on me, which isn’t hard, considering that she’s a giant-legged bitch and I’m only five feet four inches tall.
“It’s all right, darling. I’ll wait for him,” she answers with an air of disdain. Argh! I want to drag her out by her hair! Jeez, I am way too angry!
“He’s not coming back. He’s on a business trip. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in if he’s not here. I’m sorry.”
She looks at me with total indifference and takes her cell phone from her bag with a flourish.
“Hey, sweetie. Are you okay? Aw, baby, I miss you,” she moans into the phone; anyone listening would think she’s on the verge of an orgasm. “I came in to see you,” she says, then listens silently, pouting a bit.
Can someone tell her that it’s impossible to see her over the phone?
“Yeah, your odd little secretary told me that. She won’t let me into your office,” she complains and I’m shocked with her boldness. What a bitch! “And when do you get back? Oh, okay. I’ll check my schedule with Lucy and I’ll let you know. You should consider hiring a better secretary, darling. This one you have here is totally not magazine material,” she says, pissing the hell out of me. Then she walks out smiling. “See you. Au revoir!” Bleeergh!
As the afternoon drags on, I feel melancholic. I try not to let her mean comments get the best of me, but I’m oversensitive this week. And Lynn, the bitch, made me feel ugly, fat, clumsy, and inferior. Damn it. When it’s almost time for me to leave, I get a new e-mail.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: Fort
I heard you’ve been holding down the fort. Thank you
I won’t be back until Monday, okay? Before you leave, can you send me the contract for By Kyra? Oh! I had an appointment with Lucca tomorrow. If you can cancel it, I’d appreciate it.
C.
That’s all I needed. That woman crushes me and he says I’m taking care of his fort. It’s really all I need to feel like a female version of that Viking, Hägar, The Horrible. I want to kill him for making me cancel his dates. Lucca was another model I’ve seen around here several times. This borders on office harassment, right? And what’s with that crap of signing with the first letter of his name? It must be PMS; everything is annoying me!
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: Fort
Dear Carlos Eduardo,
You’ll find the contract you request
ed attached to this e-mail.
I’m not authorized to let anyone into your office when you’re not here. Not even your girlfriends. I’m just doing my job.
Speaking of, I’ll cancel your date, but I’d like you to manage your social calendar on your own. It’s not part of my job to deal with your romantic engagements.
Sincerely,
Mariana
I get up to start getting my things together when I hear the e-mail notification ping, and I can’t help but read it.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: Fort
Mariana,
That’s why you’re my personal and trustworthy assistant.
Don’t worry. My social calendar is currently closed. The “date” I had scheduled with Lucca isn’t personal, but a work meeting to decide the next issue’s cover, which she’ll be on. Lynn isn’t my girlfriend either. I would never have let things get so far with you if I was seeing someone else.
You’re like a chameleon; did you know that? Every time I talk to you, I see something that wasn’t there before. Maybe when I’m gone, you let Mari take over Mariana, and she’s much more passionate than my assistant.
Thank you for the contract. You just missed the chance to tell me if you’re going to miss me until Monday
C.
He’s trying to kill me, right? What does he mean, “miss him?” And people still say that us, women, are confusing.
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Fort
Carlos Eduardo,
Thank you for your trust.
I don’t know what you mean by your last comments. I’m doing what you asked me to. Being professional. I apologize if I’ve been somehow impertinent in my e-mails. I didn’t mean to.
Yes, yes, I did! But he doesn’t need to know that.
I’m on my way out. Do you need anything else?
Sincerely,
Mariana Costa
Assistant to the Editor in Chief of Be Magazine
I receive his answer immediately and I nearly fall off my chair.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Fort
Oh, Mari . . . What will I do with you?
Cadu
Time to go home ASAP!!
Cadu
After a week away, I finally get home. I’m tired and . . . confused. Yes, confused. I know I put an end to whatever that thing with Mari was, but she still gets under my skin in a way I can’t explain.
We spoke the whole week through e-mail. I thought it would be easier for her. Okay, I’ll admit it, easier for me too. But then she showed a side of her I didn’t know. A bold side that made me laugh out loud at every e-mail, imagining her expression while she wrote it. Those last few messages were the worst. I was pissed at how Lynn spoke about her on the phone and I tried to make it up to her. But at the same time I wanted to push her away, I couldn’t resist her. She’s so different from all the other girls I’ve known or dated. She’s not frivolous at all, which is something very, very rare in the world we work in.
The telephone rings and takes me away from my thoughts.
“Hey, Rodrigo!”
“Hey, Cadu! Are you back yet?”
“Just got home.”
“Great! Take a shower and meet me at Michelle’s. It’s her birthday today.”
“Man, I think I’m going to stay in. I’m tired and . . .”
“Don’t be such an old lady, bro. I’m taking a date, but there will be plenty of women there!”
Hm . . . it could be a way to get that girl out of my head. “All right, I’ll go. I’ll be there by nine.”
“Thanks. I’m going to pick up my date.”
“Is it serious, man?” I ask. Rodrigo isn’t the type who dates seriously, and taking a girl to a party is totally unlike him.
“Oh, not serious, serious. We’re getting to know each other. But . . .”
“But . . .”
“I don’t know, Cadu. I like her, you know? She’s different. She’s fun, and lovely. She’s super smart, she’s got an answer for everything. And she makes me laugh.” Of course his description makes me think of her.
“That’s nice, man. I hope it works out.”
“Yeah, I went to my brother’s this week and he told me not to screw it up this time,” he says and laughs. We say goodbye and I go take a shower, trying not to think about her while I get ready for the night.
The party is packed with people. Michelle lives in a townhouse, and she’s got a huge backyard. Her parties are always very exclusive and there’s always something new to see. This time, she hired a band to perform for her guests.
I say hi to a few people I know and then I go to the back of the house, where the concert is happening.
The guests are happily dancing. I look around in search of Rodrigo and I see him hugging a girl who looks very familiar. He sees me and invites me to come over.
Next to them, a woman dances. She has her back to me, but her legs are really something to look at. My eyes go up her body until they reach her waist. Then she turns to me and I look up, watching her curves. When I see her face, I curse quietly, while she sings to the music, turned to me with her eyes closed.
Before I can do anything, a guy who is obviously a player approaches her, holding her by her waist and whispering something in her ear. She stops dancing and smiles at him, and everything turns red. What is she doing, showing off to a guy she doesn’t even know? All I want to do is punch that jerk’s face and take her away from here.
I walk like a man on a mission. I go to them, walking purposefully. I go past Rodrigo, whose mouth opens to greet me, but I don’t even give him a chance to talk. I stop at Mari’s side and grab her hand, pulling her to me.
“Hey!” she protests. When she turns around and sees me, her jaw drops. Then I tell him off.
“She’s got a date, dude.”
He raises his hands, apologizing.
“I do not!” she yells at me.
“Yes, you do!” I yell back. She looks baffled and starts to laugh.
“I. Do. Not,” she says, emphasizing every word as if I were a child, and tries to step back. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she screams at me, taking a few steps back, but I won’t let go of her hand. “You’re out of your mind!”
“You’re the one who’s driving me crazy!” I scream back, and she laughs.
“You don’t even know what you want! You dump me on Monday and now you want to stop me from flirting?”
“I do know what I want!” She looks annoyed, reminding me of the daring Mari, the one with spirited answers that make me laugh at her crazy logic. She tries to pull away, and I know what I need to do. I pull her to me, hold her close, and kiss the argument away.
Mari
You know those kisses you see in movies? The ones that capture your attention completely when you see them? The type of kiss that makes your legs shake and leaves you breathless? Never mind those! This one was a million times better. Cadu showed me his sweet and seductive side last week, but this? He’s like a hurricane. I have never been kissed like this. Ever. He pulls me to him, grabs my hair and kisses me. I don’t even know if I can call it a kiss. It’s almost like he’s assaulting my mouth with his tongue! I forget everything around me, I don’t know where I am, who I am, I don’t know anything anymore. All I can do is feel his hot body against mine, feel my legs shaking, and his lips that taste better than hot fudge.
It’s such a deep, sexy, and wonderful kiss that he uses his free arm to hold my waist and nearly lifts me off the ground. Still holding me, he pushes me toward a wall, never stopping the kiss. When we can move no farther, he presses his body against mine.
<
br /> But then I remember. I remember it all: all the tears I cried on Monday, all the pain he put me through when he got my hopes up, just so he could kill every last one of them later. I remember the sorrow and despair I felt throughout the week. This is when the rebellious Mari comes to life again. I bite his lower lip hard and he lets go of me, groaning loudly.
“Ouch, Mari! What was that for?” he asks, taking a hand to his mouth and cleaning some of the blood that starts oozing from it. He had it coming!
“I told you to let go of me, jackass,” I say, feeling brave.
“Jackass? You kissed me back!” he complains, looking confused. Cute!
“And you said you didn’t want anything to do with me. What the hell are you thinking? When we’re in the office I owe you respect and you call the shots. But out here, you don’t. I don’t owe you anything, and nothing gives you the right to grab me like you did. Or to stop me from kissing anyone I feel like.” As I talk, I point a finger at him, poking his chest.
“Kissing? Were you really going to kiss that moron?” he asks, annoyed.
“That’s up to me to decide, don’t you think?” I start walking away. Then I turn around and hit him one last time. “At least he knows what he wants.”
Touché!
I turn to the exit and I leave, not even bothering to say goodbye to Lais.
I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I woke up to all the symptoms of a horrible hangover, despite the fact that I didn’t drink anything. I got home last night, calmed Lais down—who freaked out when she realized I’d left without telling her first—and I went to bed. When she saw Cadu at the party, she called him a loser and Rodrigo wanted to know why. Then he said Cadu is his best friend and everything stopped. Yeah, did you know that? We certainly didn’t. We were so caught up in our own private little worlds that this “small” detail just ran right past us. She thought about getting away from him as a sign of friendship, but I told her to give him a shot, because he looks like a nice guy and he can’t be blamed for having a stupid friend.
