by Winters, KB
With a fresh cup of coffee I went back to my desk.
I jumped back when I looked up from my cup to see the gigantic bouquet of flowers I had seen in the arms of the delivery man moments before, now sat straight in the middle of my desk. I swooped into my cubicle, sat my coffee mug down, and ripped the tag off the vase.
“Thank you.”
I flipped it over. “Really? That’s it?” I asked out loud to no one in particular, seeing it was blank on the other side.
My racing heart knew exactly who they were from, but I still wanted confirmation, in writing, that this was all really happening.
Wait? What was happening? Technically, nothing. But it sure felt like more than that.
A group of people walked by and I had the strangest sense that they had already gone by once before. They all started whispering to each other as soon as they passed me. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I saw their heads all bent together. One shot a glance back in my direction and I hurried to duck back into my cubicle.
I sat down on the edge of my desk and let out a sigh.
“What the hell am I going to do with you?” I turned to see Bryce staring at the flowers and then back to me with a stupid grin on his face. “Three days in and you’re already the center of the entire buzz around here.”
“Yes, I’m quite proud. Such an achievement.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed and sat on my chair. “It’ll blow over, trust me.”
“What are they all saying about me?”
He paused for a moment, as if considering how best to break the news. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep your chin up.”
I frowned at him, unsure why he wouldn’t elaborate. I wanted to pry for more information but I was suddenly reminded that while Bryce and I were acquaintances, he was still technically my superior and it probably wouldn’t be the best thing to sit around gossiping on the clock.
Bryce seemed to sense my unease and offered me a lifeline to change the topic. “I’m assuming by now, he’s blown up your email account with a laundry list of problems that you need to fix. Immediately, of course.”
I nodded and opened my inbox to show him. He leaned over me and silently scanned through all the pages.
“Need any help?” he asked when he finished reading the last one.
“Well we should probably order me a new liver. ‘Cause I can already tell you, this man is going to drive me to drink. More than usual, I should say,” I added with a quirked smile.
Bryce laughed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do on the liver. But seriously, Allie, this would be a lot for even our most senior employees. The phrase thrown to the wolves doesn’t even begin to cover what’s happening here. I’m furious with Rita for letting this happen in the first place, but until I can deal with her, what can I do to help?”
I buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know. He wants me to meet with the design team this morning and tell them everything I said yesterday when we met. But I don’t know how to do that without being a total bitch. When I made the comments yesterday, it was to prove a point to him, that I knew more than he’d expected.”
“I’d say mission accomplished. The real problem with that strategy is that you made Rita look bad when you attacked her department and their previous work, and she’s pissed. She probably would have fired you on the spot except for the fact that her biggest client insists you, and only you, work with him now.”
“Fuck my life. Three days in and I’m already on the shit list. Spectacular.” It took a moment, but slowly the picture shifted and I could see what happened. Rita had been in charge of the team, and in charge of trying to bring Mr. Brighton around to their concepts and ideas, and in one fell swoop, I’d destroyed all her work and humiliated her team of designers.
No wonder she had handed me over to Mr. Brighton without a second thought.
Another realization popped into my head and I gasped. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I hope this didn’t damage your reputation, since you got me the job and all.”
He hesitated and I could tell he was holding something back, but all he said was, “I know you didn’t mean to cause any harm. Right now, it’s my job to make sure you have the tools and resources that you need to fix things with Mr. Brighton. Once that’s done, we can all relax. So consider me your new Mr. Miagi.”
I laughed at the reference. “Thanks, I needed that.”
“No problem. Now, let’s get to work. Otherwise, Mr. Brighton will have both our heads, and we’re both going to be unemployed, and last time I checked, that doesn’t look too good on a mortgage application.”
“Are you buying a house?”
Bryce nodded and sank into the chair next to mine. “Well, condo actually. My boyfriend, Clay, and I have our eye on a new development downtown.”
“Your boyfriend?” I asked, not able to mask my surprise. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Not a lot of people here even know. I try to keep that part of my life to myself.”
I nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I’m not ashamed of being gay, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just don’t feel that it’s really anyone’s business. I keep my private life, private. If people have an issue with me, I want it to be because of my management style or business decisions, not because of my lifestyle.”
I nod again. “Trust me, I totally get it.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me.
I glanced out the doorway of the cubicle and then, seeing the coast was clear, removed my jacket and pushed up the arm of my shirt to reveal my tattoo sleeves. “This is why I always wear long sleeves. I have more, but they are in places that would be tricky to show you here in the middle of the office.” I studied his face for a moment, deciding that he looked more interested than horrified. “I got my first one at sixteen and it kind of grew from there. The weekends are really the only time I get to be myself.”
“Why is that?”
“My friends accept me for who I am. I don’t have to deal with judgment or condescension. People usually see tattoos like mine and assume things about me based on that. They think that I’m a trashy party girl who doesn’t have dreams or ambitions for my future.”
“I would never think that,” Bryce said, suddenly solemn. “I’m mostly surprised I didn’t notice when you worked at the coffee shop. Or were they not allowed there either?”
“My boss wasn’t a fan. I also didn’t get nearly as much in tip money with the tattoos out on display.”
“That’s awful.”
I shrugged. “It is what it is. I learned a long time ago that I can’t control people’s opinions.”
“So, is there a sweet motorcycle or hot rod that goes with all this?” Bryce smiled mischievously and I instantly appreciated his effort to make me smile again.
I laughed, but indulged his question. “As a matter of fact, there is. Cherry Bomb—and she’s pretty freakin’ hot.”
“Naturally.” He laughed. “I think that’s really cool. We should ride someday.”
“You have a bike? You don’t seem like the type.”
“Go look in the mirror, girl and then tell me the type.” He chuckled and we were silent for a moment, basking in the freedom of sharing our secrets, before the chirping of the computer brought us back.
“Oh, Lord, it’s him, again.” I said. I hurried to pull my jacket back on before opening the email.
Bryce leaned over again and we read together:
Miss Rand,
I trust you received my delivery this morning. On further thought of the matter, I would like you to join me for dinner tonight. I can send a car to pick you up at eight o’clock.
Cooper H. Brighton
“Oh, shit.”
Bryce’s mouth was hanging open.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now? Everyone around here already thinks I’m up to something. I can’t go to dinner with the man! I don’t even know if this is a profess
ional or a personal invitation.”
“Judging by the way he was staring at your ass yesterday, I would guess the latter.”
I shot a horrified look at him. “Well, then, I definitely can’t go!”
“Right. But then again—” he started to laugh.
“What?” I demanded, finding it impossible to see the humor in the current situation.
“Oh, I was just imagining the look on Mr. Brighton’s face if you pulled up to the restaurant on your bike, all leathered up with tattoos.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Not exactly his type, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know firsthand, but word around here is that he likes his women blonde, thin, and easy.”
“Charming.”
I hit reply and answered:
Mr. Brighton,
Thank you for the invitation, but I am afraid I won’t be able to make dinner. I will be in touch as soon as I meet with the designers to pass along your concerns about the ads.
Allison Rand
“There,” I said, before pushing send. “That’s done. Now we can get to work.”
Bryce cast me a skeptical glance, but he didn’t say anything else.
We worked for the next hour and a half, arranging meetings with the design team and writing a script for me to refer to when speaking with the designers to convey Mr. Brighton’s concerns without being bitchy. Bryce gave me the rundown on the team and their personalities so I would feel more prepared, and by lunch time my anxiety-induced nausea had passed and I was ready to eat.
Bryce had other lunch plans, so I was stuck by myself. My plan was to raid the vending machine for some trail mix and then spend the hour walking outside along the pathway between our office building and the one next door. There was a narrow asphalt path that looked like it might lead to a park or picnic area and I wanted to explore. Plus, the exercise would be good for me. I knew that taking an office job brought risks of my ass getting even bigger and my curves turning into full on rolls if I wasn’t careful.
I had just slipped into my sneakers when my phone rang. I sighed and then reached over and answered.
“This is Allison.”
“It’s Cooper.”
“Hello, Mr. Brighton,” I replied.
“You can call me Cooper.”
“I would prefer to keep things professional, if you don’t mind.”
He made a weird grunt of acknowledgment. “Is that why you’re turning down my offer for dinner tonight?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Rand?”
“I’m not sure how that’s any of your concern.”
He laughed softly and I relished in the sound for a moment, melting into the smoothness of it, before snapping myself back to attention.
“Call it idle curiosity, then.”
“It doesn’t feel like idle curiosity,” I replied, doing my best to not lose my edge as I started picturing the perfect smile that I could hear in his voice. “It feels like fishing…or maybe hunting.”
He laughed loudly. “My apologies. I can assure you, I am doing no such thing.”
“Good. I’m stepping out now, but I will get in touch as soon as I complete the meeting with the design team at three o’clock this afternoon.”
The line was silent for a moment, and I started to wonder if the call had dropped.
“Excellent. I will speak with you then,” he finally answered.
“Goodbye, Mr. Brighton.”
“Goodbye, Allison.”
I set the receiver down and tried to ignore the way my hand was shaking.
Chapter Five
By three o’clock, I had managed to regain my composure and was escorted into the design meeting with my shoulders squared, game face on. Bryce walked me to the design department conference and led me inside. A group of people stopped everything the moment I entered the room and it was oddly quiet.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Bryce started as people filed around the table and took their seats. I hung back slightly, my hands clasped in front of me so I wouldn’t start fidgeting. I needed these people to respect me and the only way to get that was to not reveal my inexperience. None of them knew I used to work as a barista and that I’d never coordinated anything more complicated than a birthday party.
Bryce continued, “This is Allison Rand. I know most of you were introduced to her at the meeting yesterday. Mr. Brighton has placed her in charge of his account, to act as an ambassador on his behalf to ensure that his needs are being met and to keep everyone on the same page.”
A few people seemed to be hiding their smirks behind their hands, others refused to make eye contact, and a couple gave me steely glares.
“Now as you know, the Plush account is our largest, most profitable account, and Mr. Brighton has very specific needs. Allison is here to help and reduce the friction that has become a problem over the last few weeks as we all work to get this newest campaign ready for fall. Are there any questions?”
He surveyed the room, looking for any sign of life but the group remained silent at his question.
“Excellent. Then I’ll hand things over to Allison.” He nodded in my direction and I smiled back. I held his eye contact for a moment, trying to absorb some of his confidence, before I turned to address the room.
“Thank you, Bryce,” I started. My eyes flashed around the room and my stomach flipped over. I swallowed hard and snuck a glance at the note cards taped to the front page of my legal pad. “The first, uh, thing is that I want you all to know that I am here to help. I’m not here to criticize anyone or their work. I’ve seen the designs that have been submitted to Mr. Brighton, and I think they’re good. But, I think with a few tweaks, they could be great. I’ll be the first to say that I am not a designer and I’m not here to try and become one.”
Somewhere, about halfway through my monologue, the tension seemed to release in the room and everyone loosened up a little bit. The glares present at the beginning softened into expressions of interest and some people even started to take notes as I flipped through the design pages and passed along my feedback as well as the notes from the emails I had been flooded with all day from Mr. Brighton.
At the end of the meeting, I took a deep breath and couldn’t help but smile to myself. Everyone dispersed and some people even thanked me on their way out of the conference room, notebooks full, ready to put action to the ideas I had just presented.
“That was impressive,” Bryce said when we were the last two people in the room. “I honestly don’t think it could have gone better.”
“Thank you. Before today, I would have never imagined myself being able to speak to such a large group about anything, but especially not something like this. I feel like I really made a difference.”
“You were a leader in there, and you gained their respect. I’m sure Mr. Brighton would be very pleased.” He smiled broadly, teasing me.
I rolled my eyes. “I just hope the designs come out right. Then this drama can be over and I can go back to my computer where it’s safe. This was a rush, but not exactly the kind of thing I want to do on a daily basis.”
“Are you sure? You pretty much kicked some corporate ass in there.”
I laughed. “Thank you, but yes, I’m sure.”
***
The only positive thing about working late was that I missed the headache of rush hour traffic. By the time I arrived home, it was already eight o’clock. I was starving, sweaty, and exhausted. I fumbled around in my purse as I dragged myself up the last flight of stairs to my apartment, looking for my keys. I looked up just in time to avoid tripping over a huge box that was placed right in front of my door. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember ordering anything online in the last few days. I stooped over and read the address label.
It was from Plush, Inc.
Of course it was.
“Ugh!” I grunted as I unlocked the door and pushed it into the apartment. My cat, Sam, ran over and instantly started attac
king the cardboard with his claws.
“My thoughts exactly,” I said, scratching him behind the ears.
I kicked out of my heels and ripped off my blazer. The downside of wearing long sleeves was that I felt like I was having hot flashes all day. The next thing to go was my pencil skirt and shirt. I threw those on the bed and then stripped off my shape wear and panty hose. Finally free of all the layers, I flopped onto the bed and exhaled—the wear and tear of the day seeping away as I basked in the freedom from my corporate life costume.
My relaxation bubble popped when I heard the sound of kitty claws and remembered that Sam was currently destroying whatever it was Mr. Brighton had sent me.
Infuriating man. It was bad enough that he took up every second of every day with his constant emails full of notes and demands. Then he invaded my mind when I was home, too. Not to mention the flower arrangement, bizarre dinner invitation, and the subsequent phone call.
I flattened my hands on my bare stomach and allowed my mind to wander for a few minutes. Was it all a game to him? The whole situation seemed very thrill-of-the-pursuit. It was obvious that he was used to having women throw themselves at him, so perhaps his interest in me was that I was not chasing him. In fact, quite the opposite. I was actively trying to get out of his life, not more invested in it. But then again, why would he even want me to throw myself at him? By all accounts I wasn’t his type. What had Bryce said? Thin, blonde, easy.
Yeah. Not so much.
I sighed. I had never been a skinny girl, and for the most part, I was okay with that. In the years following high school, I had learned to embrace myself in a lot of ways. My curves and height, or lack thereof, were part of that acceptance process. I began to run my hands lower on my stomach, tracing the lacey edge of my panties.
“Mr. Tight Ass wouldn’t even be able to handle a girl like me,” I said to myself and Sam, if he was within earshot.
I didn’t know if it was the sensual feel of the lace, the darkness, or the memory of his cologne, but suddenly my mind started to wander through a series of images, starting with his tight ass. His perfect, firm-looking ass.
“He might not be able to handle a girl like me, but I’d know just what to do with him,” I added, my fingers slipping beneath the lace, feeling my soft skin, wondering how it would feel if they were Mr. Brighton’s instead. I arched my back against the bed as my fingers slid lower and lower, the heat building as I touched myself softly.
