by Kari Wray
All of a sudden, I felt like I was stranded out here on my own, bobbing away in the deep waters without a life jacket, and I had the distinct feeling that they were probably all thinking I was just some stupid, silly bimbo, hired more for her looks than her secretarial and organizational skills.
At this thought, I decided to knuckle down and work hard; to show them that I was the right person for this job, despite my looks and my accent.
I had been planning to color code the diary entries and tidy up the database a little, to make things much easier for Xander — and me — to keep track of all his various different types of appointments.
So with a new vigor, I threw myself into my work and before I knew it, most of the afternoon had flown on by. I was still busy typing away, when I was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound, one that I rarely if ever heard. I looked up, puzzled, trying to locate where this odd sound was coming from. Then the little antique intercom speaker to my left crackled into life and out of it came Xander’s voice.
“Uh, Cassie? Do you mind coming in here for a moment?”
I pressed the little red button beneath the speaker and leaned in to reply.
I’d thought that the intercom was just there as a kind of joke; an echo of the kind of offices of old, like you’d see in TV shows about ad executives and such like.
“Sure,” I said, chirpily, getting up from my desk and taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, before turning and pushing open the heavy wood door to Xander’s office.
He was standing with his back to me, overlooking the sprawling, glinting buildings perhaps watching the a crane that was swinging its heavy concrete and steel load, no doubt another Glacis Inc building project that Xander himself was helming.
“Hi,” I said, hearing the obvious tremble in my voice … I hoped to God that he couldn’t hear it too.
He turned, smiled briefly, then headed over to his desk and took a seat.
I took this as my cue to do the same.
“Sorry about my rather garbled answer phone message last night,” he said, not quite making eye contact with me as he spoke, instead concerning himself with his fingernails.
I felt my heart begin to pound.
My mouth went dry, and when I opened it to speak, no sound came out, and I realized my head had gone blank.
“Th-that’s okay,” I croaked, eventually.
“I just wanted to ask you something that … well … maybe isn’t particularly work related. If you know what I mean?”
He looked so shy and boyish, still not quite able to look me in the eye, his cheeks very possibly starting to blush … Was I just imagining it? Or was Xander Drake embarrassed?
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t mind. You can ask me anything you like.”
The suggestion — the sexual suggestion — was clear in my voice. My whole body was trembling with nerves. I had no idea what he was planning to ask me, but in that moment I felt like I would have said yes to anything …
“Oh good,” he mumbled, the red blush spreading even further across his stubbly cheeks. “You see, there’s someone I want to ask to that silly ball thing on Friday night, you know the one? And, well, the thing is, I don’t quite know how …”
I’d been looking at at that event in Xander’s calendar just moments previously: a glitzy private fundraising ball, for a number of wealthy patrons, contractors and other big-hitters in the development and construction business. The ball was being held at the function room of The Excelsior, an exclusive and sprawling five-star hotel on the other side of the city, right up in the hills. There were plenty of juicy rumors revolving around the debauchery that went on between the rich and famous patrons of The Excelsior that went back as long and as far as anyone could remember.
Just then, a thought came to me - an icy cold realization that caused my stomach to jolt with shock and surprise.
“It’s the girl you bought the necklace for, isn’t it?” I said, surprising myself with my own forthrightness and candor. “That’s who you want to invite, isn’t it?”
Xander’s blush spread even further across his face, and he looked away and swallowed, brushing a lock of glossy black hair from his narrowed, smoldering eyes.
“Yes, Cassie,” he said, very quietly. “If you must know, yes it is. I’ve met someone I like. Someone very special. And I want to invite her to the ball. But the thing is, I just don’t know how to say it. So I thought that you might be able to help me choose the right words … You see, I might be good at somethings, but I’m absolutely dreadful at others. And when it comes to affairs of the heart. Well, let’s just say, I’m pretty useless at knowing what the right thing to do is … ”
At this, he stood up and turned, facing away from me once more, looking out over the vast sprawl and mis-matched architecture of the city.
“But if you would prefer not to help me,” he continued, “then I’ll duly understand. It’s not exactly in your job description to help your boss out with his non-existent love life.”
There was a quiet, tender sadness in his voice and I realized then just how much this must mean to him. What a selfish bitch I’d been. Once more, I’d let my own silly hopes and dreams get in the way of the bigger picture — here was a powerful, exclusive man, reaching out to me, to regular old Cassie Lawrence, for help with an intensely personal and private matter, and instead of taking it as an honor and a compliment that he’d chosen me as his confidant, I had instead felt angry that it wasn’t me he was chasing after.
Which was, after all, just a silly little schoolgirl crush, wasn’t it?
I mean, come on.
Could I really have expected him to fall for someone like me? No. Of course not.
But if I had any sense of kindness and fairness, I would swallow my own pride, and try my best to help out this kind, sweet, lost man — be a friend to him, because it seemed clear to me then that that was what he dearly needed.
He’d been reaching out for friendship: for the kindness and warmth and gentle care that only a woman can provide. And so, in that tender moment, I decided to put to one side my own pride and help him with his problem.
“Of course I’ll help, Mr Drake,” I said solemnly.
At this he span round to face me, and his features lit up in delight.
“Great” he said, smiling. “Let’s get to work!”
§
And so, for the final hour that day, Xander paced up and down his office and I sat at the desk taking down his thoughts, offering my occasional suggestions and guidance, until, between us, we’d composed a letter to this mysterious woman of his.
Here is what we came up with:
Dear Miss Blank (he refused to tell me her name),
I would like to cordially invite you to be my guest at a charity fundraising event, at 8pm tomorrow evening, Friday the 18th of October, at The Excelsior Hotel.
As you may come to learn about me, I’m never very good at these kinds of letters, and so to spare you further embarrassment, I will keep this epistle brief, but before I sign off, I would just like to tell you that I think you are absolutely fantastic and I would be honored beyond words if you would agree to be my date to the ball.
I look forward to your reply,
Xander Drake
Chapter Ten
§
Special Delivery
“So let me get this straight,” Lauren said bluntly, that Thursday night on the phone, “you helped him write a letter?”
“That’s right,” I said, holding the phone against my ear with one hand, while digging a forkful of noodles out of my take out container with the other.
“A letter asking another girl out on a date?”
“You got it,” I said, before stuffing the giant ball of chow mien and chicken into my mouth and chewing it loudly.
“Does the phrase ‘friend-zoned’ mean anything to you?” she continued.
And at this, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well, I’m glad someone can see the f
unny side,” she said, obviously laughing herself. “If it was me, I might try and slit my freaking wrists.”
“My plan is just to eat myself to death,” I quipped, before stuffing another large forkful into my mouth.
I couldn’t really afford this food; to buy it, I’d broken into the ‘emergency’ twenty that my mom always made me carry around in the bottom of my purse, folded into a tight little square, just in case I ever found myself in a scary neighborhood, short of the cab fare home. I’d figured my favorite comfort food — Chinese take out — was more important than my personal safety right now.
“Hey, well listen …” Lauren began, but just then her voice was interrupted by the doorbell.
“Hold on just a minute,” I said, setting my container of noodles down on the coffee table and dragging myself over to the door, dressed in my old dressing gown, my hair mussed up and ratty, the phone still cradled to my ear.
I opened the door, half expecting my crazy landlady perhaps, but instead, standing before me was a kindly-looking gent who was dressed like a chauffeur; a shirt, red waistcoat, black dress pants, and matching hat. In his hand, he held a small brown paper package.
“Delivery for Miss Cassie Lawrence,” he said in a distinguished voice.
“That’s me,” I said, puzzled.
“What’s going on?” Lauren chirped in my ear.
“I’ll call you back,” I replied, hanging up on her, feeling a strange flutter of excitement in my stomach as I took the package out of his hands.
What was going on?
I couldn’t quite make sense of it.
The kindly old gent winked at me, bowed, then began to head off down the corridor.
“Thanks!” I called after him, still puzzled, before closing the door and heading once more towards the couch, shaking my head in amazement. I put down the phone, then carefully began to tear open the brown paper. Inside the parcel were two things. The first was a red envelope, and the second was a delicate purple jewelry box.
I opened the envelope first.
Dear Miss Lawrence, it read, I would like to cordially invite you to be my guest at a charity fundraising event tomorrow evening, Friday the 18th of October, at The Excelsior Hotel …
The words began to swim around on the page and my heart started pounding and thudding like never before.
I noticed that he’d written his cellphone number in beautiful handwriting at the bottom of the note, too. I turned to the jewelry case, and with trembling fingers carefully prized it open, and there, glittering on a bed of plush purple velvet, was the exact same delicate silver necklace that I’d tried on in the jewelers!
“Holy shit,” I blurted out loud to the empty room, my head spinning so fast I though I might pass out.
I carefully put the note and the necklace down on the coffee table, then picked up the phone once more.
“So?” Lauren said, once I’d punched in her number. “Who was it? What was all that about?”
“You’ll never believe me …” I said, before screaming with excitement.
§
I called Xander a little later, once I’d finished up on the phone to Lauren and fixed myself a stiff drink (vodka and diet coke) to calm down. Even so, my heart was still absolutely pounding and I just prayed that my voice didn’t sound too shaky or nervous when I finally spoke to him.
“Hello?” he answered, almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting by the phone.
My eyes quickly darted to the clock on the wall. I hope I hadn’t woken him up. No, no, it was only nine forty-five.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said. Then, “Cassie,” as if he still might not be able to guess.
“Oh, hey!” he replied, a new warmth opening up in his voice.
“I got your package …”
“And?”
I don’t know why but I left a dramatic pause; there was something so exciting and delicious about keeping him hanging like that. I put my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and listened to the soft sound of his breathing and wondered where exactly he was in his apartment, what he was doing, what he looked like, right at that very moment …
I imagined him wearing only a pair of black silk boxer shorts, standing in the middle of a sleekly furnished bachelor pad somewhere on the top floor of one of his own developments. It was so crazy to think that I was able to make him excited, to keep him hanging on like this …
“I’d love to go with you,” I said, eventually, unable to keep the words held back any longer.
He exhaled and began to laugh with relief.
“Phew! I was starting to worry you would say no!”
“No, no,” I admitted, “I just wanted to keep you on your toes.”
“Well, it certainly worked! Okay, great. Well, listen. You’ll probably need a little time to get ready; the ball is from seven and I don’t want you having to worry about work tomorrow. So, seeing as it’s still your first week and you’ve done so great already … Why not take the whole of tomorrow off to get ready and I’ll send a car to pick you up about six-thirty? Sound good?”
“That sounds great,” I said, truthfully.
“Fantastic. And just to reiterate, I’m so glad you’ve said yes, Cassie,” he murmured, that same urgency returning in his voice as before.
“Me too,” I replied, absolutely unable to play it cool any longer. “I can’t quite believe this is happening …”
“Oh, just wait ’til tomorrow!” he said.
And then, just like that, there was the click of the receiver at the other end of the line, and I was left standing there in my dowdy old dressing gown once again, in my tatty old apartment, wondering if that phone call had even actually happened.
I flopped down onto the once more, my eye absent-mindedly drifting over to the Chinese food container, which was still over half-full. No more of that for me! I thought.
Instead, I picked up my cell phone and began composing a text to Lauren:
Please say ur free tomoro nite? I think I’m gonna need your help …
Chapter Eleven
§
Waiting for Perfect
“You owe me for this!” Lauren said, as we headed to the upper level of the mall, but I could tell from the big grin on her face that she was enjoying herself, possibly even more than me.
We’d already booked me in for a haircut, and now we were on the lookout for a suitably elegant dress to go with my new necklace — and best of all, Lauren was giving me an advance on my first month’s paycheck. Otherwise, I’d never have been able to afford any of this stuff.
“I just hope,” she continued, as we pushed our way through the throng of crowds and into the busy, bustling clothes store and made for the evening wear department, “that you’ll do the same for me when my handsome billionaire comes along!”
“Naturally, darling,” I said in my best Liz Taylor impression.
“And you won’t forget to invite me, the next time you go out cruising on his private yacht, right?”
“I think we’re getting a little a head of ourselves here,” I said, being the one as always to return to real life. “Let’s just take things one step at a time …”
I could feel a growing knot of nerves in my stomach, and with each little preparation we made for the evening, I was beginning to feel more and more terrified. I just hoped I would be able to go through with it. For a brief moment, my mind cast back to my own senior prom, which felt like a lifetime ago now:
I’d been asked on a date by Bobby Darren, a sweet, shy blonde boy with a peach fuzz mustache and a croaky, reedy voice who always hung out with the math geeks at the far corner of the cafeteria; he was the only guy to ask.
I’d said yes, but secretly wished I was going with Dane Cooper, the star quarter back — not that I’d have had a chance with him.
Well, anyway, the night of the prom came around, this was back when my Dad was still alive, and when I’d had a sudden lurch of nerves on the night of the prom, he’d come up to my room to have a
little talk with me.
“Does he make you feel special?” he had asked me in his low, warm voice, sitting there on the end of my bed and smiling gently at me.
“I’m not sure, Daddy,” I’d replied.
“There’s no shame in waiting for perfect, you know,” he’d whispered with a grin, winking at me wisely.
And ever since, I’d taken this little message to heart.
I was ‘waiting for perfect’ and deep down, that’s what I suspected Xander might be.
“Cassie? Cassie?” Lauren said, bringing me once again crashing back to real life. “How about this?”
She picked up a slinky black evening dress with flashing, glittering sequin patterns, and held it up to me, stepping back a little and closing one eye to take in the full picture. Then she nodded, as if satisfied that it was the right dress for me.
“I don’t know,” I said, unsure.
“At least try it on …”
As we were heading over to the changing room, we passed the underwear section, and Lauren stopped me and grabbed my arm.
“Oh wow! These are gorgeous!” she squealed, picking up a matching red bra and g-string set.
The g-string looked absolutely tiny and I felt a blush of prudish embarrassment rise to my cheeks at the thought of Xander seeing me in something like that; something so out-and-out sexy.
“I … I don’t think it matters what underwear I have on,” I stammered. “I mean, I’m not expecting things to go that far … Am I?”
“What are you talking about?” Lauren exclaimed, a naughty expression spreading across her gleeful face. “You should totally be expecting things to get that far. Why else do you think he’s invited you?!”
