by Lila Younger
The assembled group claps and cheers, and we break up to continue the preparations for tonight. Logan goes over the guests who will be coming tonight as I head to the back and get down to work. My stomach is a ball of nerves, and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. If this fails, it’s all going to come down on Logan, and I can’t bear for that to happen. Luckily, it isn’t long before the restaurant officially opens, and orders are pouring in judging by how many tickets we get. The executive chef becomes flustered at first, most likely because it’s been a while since the kitchen is this busy, but soon we get into a rhythm.
Before I know it, it’s closing time, and we are still slinging orders out the door. I can hear the buzz coming from the dining room as the wait staff hurry in and out, which is a hopeful sign. A noisy room means people, and people means that the buzz that Logan has been building did the trick. Even though I want to go out and ask the diners what they think, it’s far, far too busy. By the time the last dish of cheesecake heads out, I’m beat. My feet ache, I’m sweaty, and there are more than a few wisps of hair escaping from my bun. We’ve been cleaning up during the last fifteen minutes so luckily there isn’t much to do. But a waitress pops her head through the door.
“Logan wants to say a few words,” she calls out.
We all file out, and at one of the tables is a huge stack of pizza and plates.
“Now I generally don’t like to order out, but I figure that our kitchen staff deserves a break,” he says. “I bet you’re all starving.”
Right on cue, someone’s stomach rumbles, and we all laugh. Plates are passed, and so are the boxes of pizza. Once we all settle back down with food, Logan clears his throat.
“I’m going to keep this short and sweet,” he says. “I just want to say thanks again everyone. You’ve all put in 150% today, and it shows.”
He pulls out his phone.
“It’s a bit early, but some of the online food bloggers have already weighed in.” He pauses, and I hold my breath. This is it. Do I even want to know how it went? Even though things seemed good, and nothing was sent back, food critics can be incredibly harsh. “It’s a long review, but the short version of it is: ‘decadent and delicious’... ‘The porterhouse steak is on point and the local produce on the side is vibrant and perfectly cooked.’...’you can feel good about this menu based on a policy of local, sustainable choices’. And that’s not the only review,” Logan adds with a smile.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t believe it. It’s going well. It really is. A round of applause breaks out, but Logan holds up a hand.
“Don’t just cheer me,” he says. “Mikayla get up here.”
I look up, surprised, and everyone turns towards me. I give a little nod, but I’m definitely not good with the spotlight.
“Mikayla is the one who believed in my vision and made it happen,” Logan says, looking at me with those warm blue eyes of his. “I couldn’t do it without her.”
And a part of me knows he’s talking about more than just the restaurant, because I couldn’t do without him either. Not anymore.
*****
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Enjoy the first chapter of my book Yes Sir...
I check my phone. Nothing. Of course there’s nothing. I knew she wouldn’t text me, but I couldn’t say anything this morning either because all I’d get back is snark as usual. I can feel my blood pressure rising as I open up my phone and double check. I’m not a morning person in the slightest, so I’m already in a bad mood. My best friend, Sidney, senses my anger and lays a soothing hand on my shoulder.
“Come on, Willow,” she says. “Let’s go to The Jumping Bean and get some coffee. I bet they’ll even still have a few of those chocolate croissants since we’re here so early. I know you love them.”
“Is it really that obvious?” I say, but the thought of chocolate does cheer me up.
“I can feel the heat from here,” she says as she gets out of the car. “I’m sure Jordan will text you while we’re there.”
“Coffee does sound good,” I say grudgingly, throwing my purse over my shoulder as I get out of Sidney’s little hatchback. “Thanks for agreeing to wake up early and drive by the way.”
Sidney and I carpool to work every day. By some crazy miracle, she and I landed jobs in the same office building, though not in the same company. I work in a boutique ‘branding and marketing’ firm, while Sid’s in accounting. She’s actually the one who found me the job. She overheard two guys talking about an open position and made me apply. I honestly didn’t think I’d get in. Bronson and Burke is a big deal, and they’ve recently scored one of the most brilliant minds ever- Deacon Sheffield, the creator of Silk soap’s True Beauty campaign, Blue Swan’s viral vodka ads, and completely revamped and made Hatchet body spray something every guy (not just junior high boys) wants to spray on. Do I need to go on? The guy is amazing.
What’s definitely not so amazing is the fact that he’s called a meeting at 7:30 in the morning on a Monday.
“I don’t even understand the point of this meeting,” I grumble, getting back into my dark mood again as I open up the coffee house’s doors and let Sidney through.
“Monday morning meetings aren’t that strange. I mean, a good manager should know about the status of their team’s projects,” she replies as we get to the back of the line.
The whole place smells glorious, and I start to salivate. I peek towards the counter, and luckily there’s still a few croissants in the glass case. As long as there isn’t some jerk ordering a dozen, I’m going to be able to have one. The Jumping Bean is packed full of people, all of whom look as tired as me. I push my glasses up my nose and peer at the baristas to see if Sarah’s working. She always puts an extra shot in for me for free. Normally I like to wear contacts, but Jordan used up all of the solution, so I had to throw them out. Seriously, teenage girls can be so inconsiderate.
“No Sarah,” I say mournfully to Sidney. “And Bronson and Burke isn’t like that. They’re super flexible with their timetables. Nobody ever has a time they need to be in, or out. Deacon Sheffield is just being a total dick to assert his power or something. I mean, I’m a junior, junior associate. Two juniors. There’s no way that I can tell him anything useful. I just do what’s put in front of me.”
In fact, aside from this being my dream job (not the junior junior associate part, but where I get to help design and brand a company), the flexible schedule was why I wanted this so badly. Not that Jordan needs to be looked after all the time, but it definitely helps that when an emergency does arise like it has more and more lately. I can just take off and make up the time later.
I catch Sidney’s doubtful look.
“Everyone on the team thinks so too,” I say defensively. “I mean, people have been talking about him. He’s supposedly super anal, like Steve Jobs, on everything. Has to micromanage all aspects of the campaign, makes everyone do things a million times. He’s going to be the boss from hell.”
“The guy has done a really good job though,” she points out. “I mean, weren’t you just raving about how lucky you are to get to work with such a genius two weeks ago?”
“Ye-es,” I say reluctantly. I was on such a roll...
The line’s moving quickly, and before I could try to explain to Sidney properly, it’s time to put in our order. There are at least eight people running around behind the Jumping Bean’s counter putting orders together. I manage to get at least two croissants and a white chocolate latte, while Sidney opts for the spinach quiche and a soy latte. We head over to the other side of the long counter to wait for our drinks and food to heat up. I’m busy grabbing lids an
d napkins when I feel my friend grab my arm.
“Hey,” Sidney whispers. “Did you notice the guy behind us?”
“No,” I say curiously. “Should I?”
She nods furiously, so I turn slightly to the side, pretending to grab a stir stick and glance over. Wow. That is, that is one good looking man. Tall, broad shouldered, with powerful muscles underneath the neatly tailored jacket he is wearing. He’s definitely got a great body under those clothes. His hair is a bit wild, probably from the wind outside, but most startling of all are his eyes, a piercing blue that could be seen even from where I am. His expression radiates with confidence and easy going charisma. This was a guy who’s used to getting things his way.
He finishes up his order, and I quickly look away.
“What do you think?” Sidney prods, but I shake my head.
No way. I can’t even let the thought of dating creep into my head, not now. Not with Jordan to take care of. Maybe next year, when she’s off to college (if she even gets in) and I can finally relax a little, I could consider dating. But right now? I’m busy trying to keep a roof over our heads, and a somewhat healthy dinner on the table three times a week. Forget it. A guy like him has so many other options that he’d never consider me with all of my current baggage.
That doesn’t mean I can’t look and enjoy myself for a minute, and I fully do, sneaking glances every second I can. Seriously, when was the last time I saw someone so incredibly hot? He looks like he works in one of the offices buildings around us, and I wonder how I might have missed him in the week I’ve been coming here. For once I wish that The Jumping Bean’s staff isn’t so on top of things. Our coffee orders come, and we pick them up and head back to the office building. As we head toward the doors, I hear the barista call out “Devon? ... Coffee for Davon?” and quietly file that into the back of my brain. With Deacon coming back, I probably will have even less time to do anything, but I can’t help it.
We walk briskly back to our office building, me stuffing my mouth with ooey gooey chocolate and flaky croissant, Sidney primly waiting until she gets to her office. We’re like oil and water, Sidney and I, at least on the surface. But we are definitely close. I don’t think I could have made it through this year without her. When my parents died in a car crash and I suddenly had to become a parent to Jordan, it was Sidney that got me through it. Speaking of Jordan, that girl should have texted me to tell me she got on the school bus.
I pull out my phone again. No texts on the screen. Damnit, I think. That’s the third time this month she’s missed school. At this rate they’re going to think I’m an unfit guardian or something. At first the school had been super accommodating, but sympathies do tend to run dry after a year. I don’t know what the hell is going on with her either. I mean, I know, our parents are gone. But Jordan used to be a straight A student. She was in honors everything, and was expected to be class valedictorian or school president or both. Now she’s the complete opposite. I wish I could have done more for her, but at the time I was so busy working and making sure that we could stay afloat that I wasn’t there for her. Now it was too late.
“Hey, I know you’re worried about Jordan, but she’ll be okay,” Sidney says, reading my mind, or more accurately, my face. “She’s got to find her way on her own. You’re already doing your best, so stop beating yourself up over it.”
I yank open the heavy doors to the building to let her in first.
“But what if she doesn’t graduate? Mom-” I stumble over the word and have to pause to take a breath. “Mom would be so disappointed.”
“I know. But you’re doing everything you can. Jordan’s old enough to be responsible for herself graduating you know.”
We’re at the elevators, and someone’s nice enough to hold it open so we could slide in. Sidney gives me a smile, but we stop talking because quite frankly, I have no desire to air my failings out to everyone within hearing. Sidney gets off first, giving me a sympathetic smile before leaving.
Bronson and Burke is another five floors above hers. The office itself takes up about a third of one floor, but that’s because we do almost everything in house. It’s a one stop shop for everything you need to launch, brand, re-vitalize your company. The space is incredibly cool, with lots of tall ceilings, modern art, cozy couches and gathering spots that encourage out of the box thinking and collaboration. I’m very lucky to be able to work in such a place. I went to Sidney’s work one time, and it was all boring white walls and cubicles. It’s cliche to say it, but as an artistic person, that kind of atmosphere can really suck me dry.
I go through the main space towards the personal desk area. As a junior junior associate, my main task is to do all the boring stuff nobody else wants to deal with, which is mostly paperwork. I have had a chance to do some work on the computer, but that’s executing someone else’s branding idea. One day though, I’ll have my own companies to work with. My space features bulletin board walls where I pin up cool designs I find on the web. I put down my cup of coffee, my purse and my coat, and turn on my computer. There are a bunch of emails, and I quickly go through them, just in case there are some last minute changes to my project today.
“How’d your weekend go?” Joan asks from the table beside me.
Although everyone is free to work with everyone else at Bronson and Burke, I’ve been ‘assigned’ to Joan so I have a mentor to show me how things are done. I was a bit nervous at first, but it turned out to be for nothing. Joan is awesome to work with, and I’m definitely learning a lot from her. She’s got a wicked pair of purple cat-eye glasses that she manages to pull off with flair, and a plump body she shows off in wildly printed tops and shawls. She takes the ‘creative type’ to a whole new level.
“Long,” I say tiredly.
“Well at least at this age they tend to sleep in all weekend,” she says sympathetically.
Joan’s got two teenagers of her own so she knows exactly what I’m going through, unlike most of my own acquaintances.
“Yeah, and stay up all night partying and making their sister worried until they stumble home.”
Joan stands up from her desk.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go get this meeting over with so we can get our work done.”
I nod and click off the monitor, then follow her with my coffee to one of the board rooms at the far end of the room. Someone’s brought along a box of donuts, and people are huddled around it figuring out what they want. I’ve already had way too much sugar, even for me, so I should skip it, but then I spy a chocolate sprinkle and next thing I know, it’s in my hands.
“Hi everyone. Let’s begin.”
It must be Deacon Sheffield. Everyone hurries to find a spot and I sit down next to Joan. She’s picked up a cruller donut for herself and I nod approvingly. I take out a notebook, ready to doodle my way through this pointless meeting, look up, and freeze.
Is that... Is that the guy behind me at the coffee shop? The cute one? No way. My eyes quickly drop down to my notebook. That couldn’t be Devon! But then again, when does a barista ever call out the right name? My mind points out. I sneak another glance. His eyes are kind of bluer, and the nose- who am I kidding? It’s definitely the same guy. He’s taken off his jacket, but everything else is the same. And well, there’s the coffee cup he’s holding in his hand. The one from The Jumping Bean.
I slide down in my chair, hoping that he doesn’t see me, but it’s a round table. My mind runs over the conversation I had with Sidney. Did I call the guy by name? I didn’t. At least, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. Maybe I mentioned Deacon? I probably did. Crap.
“How was Hawaii, Deacon?” Some guy asks on the other side of the table.
“Sunny,” Deacon says shortly. “There’s a lot I want to get through today before we finish this meeting, so let’s save the chit chat for later people.”
I feel a burning sensation, like maybe he’s looking at me. I sneak a glance up. He definitely is. I duck my eyes back down and push away m
y donut. Not even chocolate could get rid of the sick feeling in my stomach.
“Now before I get you all to bring me up to speed on the projects you’ve got going on, I just want to let you all know, that I’ve got an important meeting today after this, which is why I had to call this meeting early. There have been some pretty big rumors going around that Pepsi is looking for a new firm to spearhead their global campaign. I don’t have to tell you how much of a coup that would be if B & B lands this. I know you all do good work, but I need everyone to be at the top of their game. Our work is going to be looked at very, very closely. So if that means I have to micromanage you all more than usual, or make you repeat your work for the millionth time, then that’s how I’m going to do it. Any questions?”
The room is abuzz with his news about Pepsi. People are whispering excitedly to each other, talking about just how big the Christmas bonus would be if we land a client of that magnitude. Me though? All I can think about is how Deacon Sheffield most definitely, absolutely, positively overheard our conversation. Talk about a bad first impression on your boss.
Get Yes Sir here!
Other books by Lila Younger
What Her Dad Doesn’t Know
Boss of Me
Her Virgin Secret
Filthy Professor
Yes Sir
About Lila Younger
Lila has spent her whole life in the PNW, where rainy days kept her inside with a book. A lover of the written word, she can’t believe that it’s taken her over twenty years to get around to writing a book. She’s always believed in love at first sight and happily ever afters. When she isn’t working on her stories, Lila likes to bake and hike in the mountains that make up her backyard.
