by Kait Nolan
~*~
“Would you add a shot of caramel to my drink, please?” Drew Turnbull pushed his to-go cup back across the counter toward the barista. “I’ve been assured that it’s fantastic.”
The barista busied herself behind the espresso machine, while he craned his neck to look out the large front windows of the café, unable to keep from watching the woman retreating down the sidewalk. Spunky, spirited, fun—that was the kind of girl he wanted in his life, not the boring girls his mother tried to pawn off on him or the simpering, empty-headed arm candy that he encountered at work.
Too bad your not-so-smooth line didn’t even work, he thought. If you can’t manage to talk properly to the right kind of girl, how the hell are you going to date one? You didn’t even get her name, moron.
The truth was that he barely had time to meet people at all, let alone anyone specific. His job saw to that, keeping him behind his desk for long hours and even longer days. When he wasn’t at the office, he was practically chained to his laptop. His impromptu trip to Java Jones was a rare and much needed break in his afternoon to feel a little sun on his face and get a boost to last him into the evening.
He scrubbed a hand across his tired face with a sigh. It felt like it had been months since he had a conversation with someone that didn’t revolve around work. No wonder one sassy little exchange had him daydreaming about doing more than just buying coffee for his caffeine fiend of a mystery girl.
“Here you go, sir.”
Drew accepted his doctored coffee from the barista and took a long inhale of the delicious smell wafting from the hot liquid.
“Thanks so much, I appreciate it.” He stuffed a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar and took a deep pull from his cup. The subtle flavor exploded on his tongue, the slight tinge of sugar and salt enhancing the deep, dark roast of the coffee.
Thanks, Caramel Girl. I wonder if those bright red lips taste that sweet.
He couldn’t help but search for a glimpse of pink hair when he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Knowing his luck, he’d never run into her again, but at least she’d be unmistakable when he did. His phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, dragging his attention back from his wandering thoughts. His mom’s cheerful smile flashed across the screen, reminding him that he hadn’t answered any of her emails or texts in the last couple of weeks. The guilt made his shoulders slump slightly as he swiped his thumb across the screen and began walking toward the edge of the square where he parked his car.
“How’s the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“Glad you’re still alive, considering I haven’t heard from you in days.” Her words were sarcastic, but her tone was warm. So he wasn’t totally in the doghouse…yet.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just been so focused on this latest big acquisition. You wouldn’t believe what kind of stuff we’re having to slog through.”
“You never know, I might. I’m slogging through my own pile of shit to keep the center on its feet.”
“Speaking of, how did the board like the PR plan I put together for you? Do they want to move forward with the fundraiser?”
“They do, in fact. Not a moment too soon, either—if we are going to make that career training program happen, we’re going to need the funds to do it. And we need to make it happen. Half the girls who come here out of a bad situation don’t know what to do next to land on their feet.”
Drew could practically see the steely determination in his mother’s eyes over the phone line. He loved her fighting spirit, always determined to help anyone who crossed her path. “Well, the plan is pretty aggressive, but I have no doubt that the two of us can pull it off. You’ll be training your girls to take over the world before long.”
“I thought I’d ask Caroline to help us out. She’s been instrumental on some of the smaller marketing projects, and she’s so creative. I really think you’d like her, sweetheart.”
Drew stifled his irritated groan, bracing himself for the hard sell. His mother had been on and on about this Caroline girl for months, ever since she started working at the women’s center and making herself indispensable.
“Look mom, I’m sure she’s a nice girl and everything, but I’m just too busy to date right now.” It wasn’t really a lie, after all.
“And apparently too busy to call your mother. But I’ll forgive you if you come to dinner tonight.”
“I’ll try, but you and I both know that I can make no promises.”
“You’re not going to give me any better offer than that, are you.” It was a statement, not a question. She knew him too well.
“No, as much as I’d rather tell Chad to take this job and shove it up his orange-tanned ass, they warned me that it might be a late night. Until we’re past the acquisition, they own me.”
His mother’s snort of derision crackled over the line. “They own you anyway, sweetheart, and they will until you either break down or decide you’ve had enough. I’m preparing for the former and hoping for the latter, in case you were wondering.”
He tried not to sound as defeated as he felt. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby boy. Keep fighting the good fight.”
Drew clicked open the door to his sedan and sank down heavily into the cushiony leather seat, leaning forward to bang his head against the steering wheel. He knew she was right—he couldn’t remember the last time he had a free night to himself, let alone a vacation. Hell, it was hard to even get a silent moment to think sometimes.
But he was almost done putting in his dues. And once he was finished, he’d have the collateral to go out on his own. Then it would all be worth it.
The drive back to the office took less time than he would have liked, and all too soon the gleaming silver monolith of Strong Man Comics’ headquarters loomed over the horizon. He plodded even more slowly than usual as he made the climb from the parking garage up to his office on the 21st floor, but nobody else noticed. The office was in a near-constant state of frenzy, the public relations department especially. There was always some kind of crisis, whether it was the big-name star of the latest feature film getting into a fistfight with the paparazzi or the company’s notorious CEO running his mouth at the latest convention in front of a bunch of kids. Nobody had any time to notice anything.
The atmosphere was strange when he stepped into the common area—almost too quiet. Drew rounded the corner to his office and skidded right into Macy, his assistant and basically the only reason he didn’t set fire to the place daily. She was carrying a big box and heading for the elevator bank, with dried mascara tracks on her cheeks that immediately made his hackles go up. Without a word, he grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her into the tiny conference room off the hallway. No sooner had the door shut than she began to cry again, dropping the box at her feet and burying her face in her hands.
“Hey, hey, what happened? What’s wrong?” He slung a comforting arm around her and led her to the nearest chair.
“Chad…Chad fired me.” She could hardly get the words out around the sob in her voice.
He felt all the blood drain from his face. “What? You’ve got to be kidding me! He didn’t even call me. Mace, I didn’t know, you have to believe me.”
“After you left, a bunch of us heard a commotion in Chad’s office and got up to see what was going on. He came storming out with his tablet in his hand and almost threw it at the wall. He grabbed me and marched me into the office and demanded that I tell him how Entertainment Express got word of the Station 8 acquisition before we had a chance to put out our press release.”
Drew had a moment of queasy, oily dread wash through him at her words. Every PR person’s worst nightmare was having news break before you were ready for it to be known, because it was even harder to spin the angle once it was out of your control.
Macy took in a long, shuddering breath. “I tried telling him that Greg was the one handling the execution on that, while we were strategizing and working on tying it in
with our other PR ventures. He told me that it must be my fault, since I’m the youngest member of the team. He said that I could pack my things and go, that I was done in this industry.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He resisted the urge to pound the glass conference table with his fist. Chad was, without a doubt, the worst boss he’d worked for in his entire career. It was a mystery as to how he was even the boss, really—he didn’t understand how the entertainment industry worked, let alone the best PR tactics in a post-Internet world. He was out of the office frequently, which let Drew ignore him most of the time, but when he was occupying his corner throne of glass and steel, the shit usually started hitting the fan on the regular.
“Take the rest of the day off,” he instructed Macy, grabbing her box of possessions and standing. “These are going back on your desk where they belong, and I’m going to go have a talk with Chad. Unless I call you and tell you otherwise, plan on tomorrow being a normal day—but only if you want it to be. If you want to use this opportunity to walk away, you have my full support and an excellent recommendation.”
Macy smiled softly, shaking her head. “You jump, I jump, and not a moment before. That’s the deal, remember?”
“I don’t want you staying here being miserable just because of me. When I go out on my own, there’s a job waiting for you, even if you’re not here anymore. And I plan on going as soon as I can possibly make it happen.”
She shook her head more firmly, starting to look like her strong, assertive self again. “Nope. No deal. We’re a team, and I don’t want to leave you to manage the douche brigade alone. Even if you do have proper equipment to make them listen to you.”
Drew grimaced, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll make this right. You’ve been the best assistant I could ever hope for, and you’re smarter and more capable than every single one of those yahoos.”
Macy plucked her purse out of the box, fishing for her car keys. “It’s a mystery to me how you even ended up working in public relations, or how you’ve managed to hang on to your humanity doing it as long as you have at a place like this.”
“You and me both, Macy. You and me both.”
Chapter Two
“Caroline! Thank God you’re here.”
Monica Turnbull, the director of the women’s center, met her in the doorway with a worried expression on her face and a laptop clutched to her chest.
“Since your tone of voice says more ‘Help me, Caroline, you’re my only hope’ than ‘You’re late, Caroline, is coffee really that important,’ I’m just going to ask…what’s broken now?” Monica was great at the intricate ins and outs of managing a nonprofit, but when something on the technical side of things decided to go haywire, she went into full-on panic mode.
“I was working on the presentation for the new board inductees and it gave me another blue screen.” She thrust the offending laptop toward Caroline with a grimace. “This thing hates me, I swear.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s time to get a new computer before you listen to me, Mon? This one is barely limping along. I wouldn’t trust it to surf porn without crashing, let alone edit important business documents.” Caroline threw up her hands in defeat and then held them out. Monica dumped the computer into her arms with a sigh of relief.
“Well, it may not have to for much longer. I just got the budget for the new fiscal year approved,” Monica said. “The board didn’t even bat an eye at your proposed technical improvements. I don’t know what I would do without you, seriously.”
“Probably never get anything done,” Caroline teased. “You’re lucky I’m part of the generation that grew up with Google.” She shouldered past Monica to thunk her bag down on the front desk, flopping into the well-worn chair with a sigh. “Please tell me the board approved the fundraising proposal as well.”
“They were thrilled about it, in fact. Of course, that means we have less than a month to pull off a successful event. Are you up for the challenge?”
“Only if you fund my trips to Java Jones to keep me alive.” She took another long sip of her coffee. “Who needs sleep anyway?”
Monica’s face softened. “I’ll understand if you can’t, sweetie. I know you’re burning the candle at both ends trying to help your mom.”
“No, seriously, I want to help,” said Caroline. “You can’t do everything alone, either. I want it to be a success. Plus, maybe then I can get a new chair. Just let me know what I can do.”
“You’re an angel.” Monica flashed her a relieved smile. “A highly caffeinated angel. Let me make you dinner tonight as a preemptive thank you for fixing my laptop.”
Caroline raised a wary eyebrow. “This isn’t another attempt to fix me up with your son, is it?”
“Now why would you think a thing like that?” Monica’s face was a picture of innocence, which Caroline didn’t buy for a second.
“Because every time you invite me over you’re hoping that Drew is going to show up, too.”
“Can I help it if I wish that my son had the time and taste to find himself a wonderful girl? It’s every mother’s right to try and find herself the ideal daughter-in-law, and you’re already family. It’s perfect.”
Despite her grumbling, Caroline was really touched that Monica thought of her as family. Her relationship with her own mom was strained for reasons that started well before the money problems, and sometimes she was sick of being the grown-up. It was nice to be mothered a little.
“I wish I could, but I’ve got an editorial meeting at the magazine tonight. Hopefully this will be the week that I finally pitch something that Shelby will like.”
Monica’s mouth pinched in at the mention of her editor’s name. “I think that girl is wasting both your talents and your time. Blogging for free isn’t fair.”
Caroline sighed. “I know, believe me. But I just need one break with her, and then it’ll be easier to get assigned one of the juicy features that actually pays something. She’s like this with all the new writers.”
“I just hate to see you work so hard to please someone who does her level best to be the most unpleasant person on the planet.”
“That’s the journalism biz, unfortunately. Maybe someday I can be an editor who says no to everything.”
“Dare to dream.”
Caroline plugged in the laptop and waited for the boot screen to flash. She never imagined when she answered the “Girl Friday” ad for the women’s center that she’d be acting as marketing, tech support, receptionist, and party planner, but Monica needed the help. Plus, she was as flexible as Max when it came to working around her writing and taking care of her mom.
Monica glanced at her phone, heaving a sigh. “Looks like my matchmaking plans would have been in vain anyway,” she said. “Drew is working late again. Some emergency with the latest campaign. I swear, as much as he’s at the office, he barely needs an apartment.”
“What does he do again? I know you’ve told me a million times, but I’m usually too busy panicking about the wedding bells I know are chiming in your head when you look at me.”
“He’s in corporate PR at a media company. He hates even talking about his job because he thinks people form an opinion about him that’s totally inaccurate.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “I know he’s your baby boy and all, but maybe he doth protest too much? Stereotypes exist for a reason. I mean, there’s usually only one way to survive in the frat house that is corporate life, and that’s to fit in with the rest of the Brooks Bros.”
“Such a little rebel.” Monica’s tone was fond. “You know nonprofits and small businesses can’t run the world.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a cog in the machine.” She hated the idea of being stuck in a job she hated, forced to do rote work that turned every day into drudgery. If no one was going to pay her to be fabulous, then she wanted to do work that made her proud, like helping women make their lives better. What Monica did at
the center was meaningful. Hell, even what Max did at Limited Edition was a lot more meaningful than the options that were available to her when she had graduated college. He was chasing his dreams, and that’s what she wanted to do, too. At least she was using her humanities degree…sort of.
“There’s no way you could do anything and manage to not stand out, my girl.” Monica looked at her watch and got the panicked look back on her face. “Shit! I’m running late, per usual.” She grabbed a sheaf of papers off of a nearby filing cabinet and stuffed them into a leather folder. “I’m due to meet with Richard about the board inductees. Are you good here?”
“By the time you get back, I’ll have your laptop ready for more abuse.”
“You’re my favorite!” Monica rushed out in a whirl of light jasmine perfume and swinging silver hair. Caroline pushed up the sleeves of her gray cardigan and reached into her bag for her iPod and earbuds. Knowing what Monica’s laptop was like the last time it broke down, she had a feeling that this repair was going to take a while. The last thing she needed was to be late to her next job.
~*~
“What the hell, man? I leave the office for an hour and you fire my assistant? If there’s a problem, you come to me. Don’t take it out on her.”
Drew planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward, staring eye-to-beady-eye with Chad Michaelson. The man had a serious case of Napoleon syndrome, and he hated feeling put at a disadvantage of height—which Drew didn’t hesitate to use against him. Of course, Chad thought he fooled everyone with his bluster and had them running in fear, instead of looking at him in silent pity and disgust. It was typical for someone who was so enamored with himself to be completely out of touch with reality.
“I did what had to be done, Bull.” God, Drew hated that nickname so much.
