by Iona Rose
Thanks Gary, thanks a fucking bunch.
Almost before I’ve even sat down at my desk the next day, I am summoned to Brett’s office. I already know what it’s going to be about, and I have already decided how I am going to handle it. I’m not letting him push me around and transfer me somewhere.
It’s all right him saying it’s temporary, but how will I explain it to Mr. Connell? I’m sure Brett would come up with some explanation for it that doesn’t make me look too bad, but whatever he says, Mr. Connell is going to think that either I’m not as good at my job as he thought I was, or that I don’t play nicely with others, and neither of those options bode well for me at the company.
Plus, I don’t see why I should be the one made to move. I wasn’t the only one fucking on the kitchen counter. Why should I be punished for something Brett and I both did?
I have also decided that I’m not going to give him a piece of my mind after all. I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he has that kind of power over me. Screw that. I get up and go to Brett’s office, only entering once he calls for me to come in. He smiles at me coolly and tells me to sit down, which I do.
“I just wondered if you’ve given any thought to my suggestion of a temporary transfer,” Brett says.
Crap, he’s still so damned hot. I try to avoid looking at his eyes, and I end up looking at his mouth instead, but all I can think of when I see his mouth is what his lips felt like on mine, and I think maybe looking at his mouth is even worse than looking into his eyes.
Clearing my throat, I smile politely. “I have thought about it and I’ve decided to decline the offer.”
Brett raises an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t expecting that one.
I resist the urge to grin.
“I must admit I’m a little bit surprised,” he says.
“Why?” I dare to ask.
“Well you seemed so … so thrown yesterday. I thought you want to avoid feeling like that every day until my father returns.”
“Look Brett, let’s cut the bullshit ok?” I say.
He looks taken aback but he doesn’t interrupt.
I go on, “I was pissed off yesterday because you accused me of faking an illness to get out of work, something I’ve never done and have no intention of starting doing now. It had nothing to do with what happened between us. I know you think you’re the hot shit and you have some sort of effect on me, but honestly, you don’t. We got tipsy and did something stupid. So unless you’re regularly going to call me a liar and doubt my integrity, I really see no reason for me to transfer departments.”
He looks ready to argue.
Now, I play the final ace I have up my sleeve, because I really want to stay here. I love my job, and more than that, I want to prove to Brett that he has no effect on me. That I am a true professional. “Unless of course I’m having some sort of effect on you. I mean I’d hate to think I was distracting you from your work,” I say with a smile.
“Not at all,” Brett says through gritted teeth. “If that’s your decision then that’s fine. That will be all for now.”
I stand and smile sweetly at him. Although inside, I’m doing a victory dance as I reach the door.
Brett calls after me, “Opal?”
I glance back.
“Well played,” he says.
For a second, I see a flash of the smile he wore on Friday night and I feel a shiver go down my spine. I flash him a quick smile back and leave the office before he can see the effect he’s having on me. I might have won this battle, but I know it won’t be the only one I’ll face, and I’m damned if I’m going to show anything but cool courtesy to Brett now.
12
The rest of the week passes swiftly, with virtually no hiccups. Brett managed to secure two of the three potential clients from the party and he also brought in a couple of new prospects that he had been talking to of his own accord, so we were both damned busy all week, which I think helped.
I have spent the week acting like the perfect personal assistant and not letting Brett get under my skin for even a second. More than once, I caught him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I just have to hope he didn’t catch me doing the exact same thing.
By the time I reached my desk this morning, I almost convinced myself I was over Brett, that I no longer even found him attractive. It is a lie of course, but I thought maybe if I tell myself enough, I will start to believe it.
It’s funny to think that this time last week, I was a tongue tied wreck around Brett. I guess a week can make a big difference.
I glance at my watch. It’s half past one and I know I need to leave the office now if I’m to make it to Mr. Connell’s place at two. He called this morning, saying it had been just over a week since Brett took over running the business and he would like to have a meeting with the both of us to see how everything was going. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So he eventually convinced me by reminding me it was Friday and I would get an early finish this way as I could go home after the meeting. The meeting is being held at Mr. Connell’s home as he’s out of the hospital now.
Pick up the pile of files I have already gathered together and copied, I know Mr. Connell will want them left at his place so he can familiarize himself with the new accounts. I’ve also made myself a couple of pages of notes in case Mr. Connell has any questions about the new clients. I stuff those into my purse and sling it over my shoulder.
Brett has already left, telling me he had a lunch appointment and would meet me there. I pointed out there was nothing in his diary about a lunch appointment and he told me the appointment was to have lunch with his mom. It means he’d already be at the house when I arrive, giving me another reason to make damned sure I’m not late for this.
I wonder fleetingly if they’ll have already discussed the important points before I get there, but I dismiss the idea. Neither of the men would think twice about just telling me I wasn’t needed and risking hurting my feelings. If Mr. Connell wants me there, it’s for a reason.
I call a cab as I go down in the elevator. I go to the street to wait for a taxi and it’s there within five minutes. I give the driver Mr. Connell’s address and sit back in the seat to look out of the window. I’m not nervous about this meeting. I know our existing clients and the new accounts inside and out. So there’s nothing Mr. Connell can ask me that I won’t be able to answer. And I have my notes just in case my mind goes blank or anything.
I pay for the cab when we pull up outside of Mr. Connell’s large house and get out. I ring the door bell and wait.
Mrs. Connell answers the door, dressed in turquoise leggings and a white flowy tunic style blouse.
I wait for the glaring and the lectures.
Instead, she smiles at me as she pulls the door open further. “Come on in Opal.”
I step inside.
Mrs. Connell closes the front door and turns to me, looking suddenly awkward. “I wanted to apologize to you Opal. I was rude to you at the hospital and I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I smile. “I know you were worried about Mr. Connell.”
“I swear that man will be the death of me.” She nods, looking relieved that I’ve accepted her apology without making a big deal out of it. She points down the hallway. “They’re in my husband’s study. Third door on the right.”
“Thank you.” I follow her directions and knock on the closed door.
“Yes,” Mr. Connell barks.
I push the door open and poke my head around it.
Mr. Connell smiles when he sees me. “Come in, come in, Don’t be shy Opal.”
I step all of the way into the room and close the door quietly.
Mr. Connell is still smiling at me, but it’s a strained smile and Brett doesn’t even look up at me. He sits looking out of the window, his face a mask of anger.
Instantly, I can feel the tension between the two of them and I half wish I would have invited myself a
long for the lunch to save this from happening.
I approach the recliner where Mr. Connell sits.
Brett sits beside him in a normal armchair and there’s another one there for me.
Mr. Connell waves towards the seat.
A horrible thought occurs to me then as I take my seat. What if the tension in the room is because Brett has told his father about what we did and told him he can’t work with me anymore? Am I about to be fired? I dismiss the thought as quickly as it came, reminding myself once more that Brett isn’t going to discuss his sex life with his father. He might have told him there’s a bit of tension between us, but if that’s the case, then that’s not exactly grounds for me to be fired.
“How are you dear?” Mr. Connell asks me.
“I’m fine thank you. How are you feeling?” I reply.
“A lot better thank you,” Mr. Connell says. He lowers his voice and grins conspiratorially at me. “I just need to convince Yvonne I’m not about to drop dead and then everything can go back to normal.”
I laugh quietly and shake my head. I feel relieved that he’s joking around with me. Whatever has happened between Mr. Connell and Brett to cause this awful atmosphere has nothing to do with me.
“Right, let’s get down to business then. Brett informs me we have several new clients. Why don’t we start by you filling me in on them, Opal?”
I nod, happy to be getting down to business. I start to tell Mr. Connell about the new clients – who they are, what their businesses entail, what we’re doing for them, and perhaps most importantly, how it affects our bottom line. The whole time I’m talking, I can feel Brett’s eyes on me. I try to ignore his gaze, but it’s hard and a couple of times, I stutter a little as I talk.
Mr. Connell doesn’t comment on my stuttering.
The more I glance up and catch Brett’s eyes on me, the more conscious I am of the feel of him looking at me when I’m not looking back at him. It makes me feel good. There is no animosity in his look and it makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I am having an effect on him after all. This thought takes me to a dangerous place. A place where I allow myself to believe we can get past our blip and go back to how things were this time last week. Well, more accurately, how things were this time last week plus a couple of hours when we were at the dinner party and beyond it.
“Right, I think that about sums everything up,” I say, a half hour later when I’ve briefed Mr. Connell on everything and gotten a glass of lemonade provided by Mrs. Connell. I glance over at Brett. “Unless you have anything to add?”
“No,” he says coldly.
“Ok, what’s going on here?” Mr. Connell says, looking at Brett and then at me. “You’re being rude to Opal, Brett, and you Opal, can barely string a sentence together without stuttering and spluttering. What’s happened between you two?”
“N-nothing,” I say quickly, feeling my face warm. How the hell has he jumped to the conclusion that something has happened between us, just from this? The atmosphere in the room was bad before I even stepped into it, and if anything, it’s thawed slightly since I came in. How can he blame this on me?
“I’m not convinced. Have you two been fighting about something?” Mr. Connell says. “Brett? Opal? Someone tell me what I’m missing here.”
Brett smirks.
I blush again. Of course Mr. Connell didn’t mean something like sex happened between us. He thinks we hate each other. He thinks Brett is looking at me so intensely because he hates me, and that I’m stuttering and spluttering because I’m very much aware of that. And Brett is smirking because the blush on my cheeks gave away exactly where my mind went.
“Honestly Mr. Connell, everything’s great between us,” I reassure him. “Right, Brett?”
“Right,” Brett agrees.
“Hmm,” Mr. Connell says. “Why don’t I believe that? Anyway, it’s not something I’m going to press you on, but I will say this. Whatever you two think of each other, it had better not affect any clients.”
I just nod.
“Thank you for coming Opal. You’ve been very helpful. Please leave the files there, so I can go through them later. That will be all.”
Standing, I leave the files in a neat pile on a small coffee table. “Thanks Mr. Connell. I hope you’re feeling a lot better soon.”
Brett stand as I start to leave.
“Actually Brett, there’s something else I want to talk to you about,” Mr. Connell says.
Brett sighs and sits back down.
I am out of the study and free of the terrible atmosphere. I breathe a sigh of relief as I make my way back along the hallway and outside. It’s a nice day and I debate getting the bus back into town and then walking home, but I have no idea what time the buses run here, or even where I would catch one. I don’t want to go back in and disturb Mrs. Connell. I will have to get a cab.
Opening my purse, I start digging around for my phone, pushing aside the pages and pages of hand written notes. I have finally gotten my hand on my phone when I hear a car engine. I look up as a black Mercedes pulls up at the curb and the window goes down.
“Are you calling a cab?” Brett asks, nodding towards the phone in my hand.
I nod.
“Don’t bother. Get in and we’ll take you home,” he says.
I open my mouth to tell him no thank you, but movement catches my eye. I turn to look and see Mrs. Connell watching us out of the window. I really don’t want her to mention to Mr. Connell that I refused a lift from her son. Instead, I smile and nod. “Thanks.” I walk around to the other side of the car as Brett’s window slides back up. I get in and Brett gives his driver my address.
We pull away and Brett starts to speak, “You’ll never guess what my father wanted me to hang back for.”
He’s right, I wouldn’t and I am curious, especially when Brett was only in there a couple of minutes after I left. “What?”
“He reminded me of how valuable you are to the company and told me off for pissing you off.”
I can’t help but smile at the thought of Mr. Connell telling Brett I’m valuable to him. “Why were you so angry at me in there?” I ask.
“I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at him. I realize you probably thought I was staring daggers at you, but I was looking at you to stop myself from looking at him, because I knew if I looked at him for too long, I would have ended up snapping at him.”
“Fair enough,” I say, knowing better than to even ask what’s going on between the two of them. Something is definitely going on though. Brett isn’t exactly Mr. Chatty at the best of times, but he barely said a word through the whole meeting and now, he’s talking to me like we’re friends again. I can’t work him out.
“Look Opal, do you think maybe we could call a truce? We got off on the wrong foot, and I know that was mostly my fault, but”
“Mostly your fault?” I interrupt him, raising my eyebrow at him.
“Ok, completely my fault.” He smiles.
It’s the smile that almost makes him look shy. The one that makes me melt inside and I feel myself returning the smile. “What the hell? Why not. Let’s just start over with a clean slate,”
“Thanks.” He turns to look out of the window, falling silent again.
I notice his hands in his lap. They’re clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles are white. I try to ignore it, but I can’t and I eventually, work up the courage to ask him what’s wrong. I don’t really expect him to tell me, but I’ll feel awful if I don’t even try to get him to open a little and talk about whatever is bothering him. “Brett?” I say quietly.
He turns to look at me.
I plough ahead before I can change my mind, “What’s wrong? I can see something is bothering you, so don’t say it’s nothing.”
He looks at me for a couple of seconds as though he’s deciding whether or not to tell me. He smiles as we turn a corner and pull onto my block. “I guess it’s late for me to tell you now,” he says.
Sudden
ly, I realize he wasn’t thinking about whether or not to trust me, he is stalling. “Not necessarily. We could—shit!” I shout the last part, throwing myself off the seat and ducking down out of sight when I spot Gary sitting on the steps at the front of my apartment building. Oh God, not now!
13
“Opal? What is it?” Brett asks, looking down at me.
The car is slowing down and I ignore Brett for a moment, talking instead to the driver, “Please keep going. Just drop me off on the next block instead.”
The driver looks into the rear view mirror at Brett.
He nods his head then looks back down at me as I remain crouched in the space between the front and the back seats. “What’s going on?” he asks again. “Who is that man on your building’s steps?”
I debate lying to him, but what would be the point? And besides, what could I tell him to explain my strange behaviour except the truth? That he’s my landlord and I owe him rent money? I don’t think so. I sigh, resigning myself to just telling Brett who Gary really is, “He’s my ex boyfriend. Although, he seems to think there’s still a chance for us. He’s clingy and irritating, and to be honest, I would rather just wait around until he gets bored and goes away.” It’s not a lie exactly, although I have downplayed Gary’s character somewhat. To say he’s clingy is an understatement, and although I would never admit it to Brett, I’m kind of worried that he won’t get bored and go away. That he’ll stay there until I eventually come home.
“Is he dangerous?” Brett asks me with a frown.
The car turns onto the next block and pulls into the curb.
Bouncing back up from the floorboard, I perch on the seat for a moment as my thighs scream at me. I shake my head. “No, he’s harmless, just irritating.” I hope that’s true. I slide my body towards the door. “Thank you for the lift.”
