“Your name is Sandy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Would you mind if I called you that?”
“No, sir.” Mrs. Wilson shook her head, clearly perplexed.
John smiled, “It’s been pointed out to me that it’s a little ‘stuffy’ around here. Would you agree with that?”
“Stuffy? It’s a pleasant working environment, a little formal, perhaps,” she said, hesitantly.
“Formal, certainly sounds better than stuffy,” he mused. “Do you think it is formal to the point of stifling creativity?”
“I wouldn’t say that. A company this size needs a certain amount of formality.”
“It needs structure but I’m not sure about the formality. That’s all, Sandy. Thanks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing, you can drop the ‘sir.’ It makes me feel old,” he smiled.
“Yes, s… Mr. Sharp.” She went back to her desk.
That felt good. What else could he do? He picked up the phone again.
“Sandy, would you send for Brianna Ryan in graphics, please?”
While he waited for Brianna, he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, he thought a second, pulled off his tie, unbuttoned a couple of buttons at the neck and rolled back his sleeves. He was tapping a pencil when she came in.
He stood up, spread his arms and turned around, showing off his casual appearance.
“What do you think?”
Brianna grinned. “It’s a start. Is this what you called me in here for?”
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking about how you said it was ‘stuffy’ here. What do you think we could do to un-stuffy it?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m completely serious. Work shouldn’t be all grind, there should be some fun elements. I think it would stimulate creativity. I’m sure you have some ideas. Let me have them.”
“Where do I start? I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea to have an employee support group, a couple of employees from each department where we could go to discuss any problems and concerns we have about our jobs. The group could meet once a month and bring concerns to management.”
“That’s a great idea,” he said. “I thought about doing a survey, asking about likes and dislikes, changes they would like to see, that sort of thing.”
“That would be good. Something I think you, personally, could do is visit the departments once in awhile. Just walk around, talk to people, and get to know your employees. It would make you more approachable. It would be good if all the suits did it once in a while,” Brianna said.
“Suits?” John wasn’t up on office slang.
“Executives. The ones that wear suits,” Brianna informed him.
“Oh. I could do that. I’ll mention it to the other ‘suits’ at Monday’s staff meeting. Anything else we could implement immediately?”
“We could put up a notice about a company picnic, ask for volunteers to help plan it. It could be simple, a cookout in a park, a few games and prizes. It would bring people together from different departments and it would be a lot of fun.”
“I like it. I’ll leave the details up to you. Stay and help me work out the survey. I’d like to get that out as soon as possible. I’ll clear it with Miss Davis.”
They had been working on the survey for nearly an hour when Kaitlyn walked in unannounced. Brianna sat at John’s desk, inputting their ideas on the computer. John was leaning over her. Kaitlyn noticed John’s open shirt.
“Well, isn’t this cozy. It seems you’re here every time I come in. What’s going on this time?” Her presence seemed to drop the temperature in the room by at least ten degrees.
“We’re working on a special project, Kaitlyn.” John said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. What?”
“Alone, if you don’t mind.” Kaitlyn said.
“We can work on this later, Bree. It’s your lunch break, isn’t it?”
Kaitlyn watched Brianna until the door closed behind her.
“Bree?” She raised a brow. “Every time I need to talk to you she’s here,” Kaitlyn said. “You’ve got your jacket and tie off, your shirt unbuttoned. This is not like you.”
“I felt stuffy.” John said.
“Stuffy? Couldn’t you just turn up the air-conditioning? What is this special project you’re working on?”
“I’ll tell you about it when we get more of the details worked out. What did you want to see me about?”
“There’s something different about you and I’m not sure I like it,” Kaitlyn said. “You’re half undressed with that redheaded twit in here, working on projects I know nothing about. This is a place of business not a social club.”
“I am not ‘half undressed’ and Brianna is not a twit. She’s very bright. I’m well aware that this is a place of business. It is, after all, my business. Is there a law that says a business has to be drab?” John met her gaze, “What did you want to see me about?”
“Take me to lunch, we’ll discuss it then.”
“All right, Kaitlyn. Let’s go.” John walked toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to put on your tie and jacket?” Kaitlyn asked.
“No. I’m not.”
“You can’t get into the Voltaire without them,” Kaitlyn said, mentioning her favorite, expensive French restaurant.
“We’re not going to the Voltaire.” John said.
Kaitlyn glared at him for a moment before she turned and stalked out ahead of him. John smiled and followed her out.
“We’re going to lunch, Sandy,” he said to his secretary.
“Yes, s.., okay.”
“Sandy? Since when do you address your secretary as Sandy?” Kaitlyn asked when the elevator door closed.
“Since today,” John said. Kaitlyn cocked an eyebrow but kept silent.
They reached the lobby and Kaitlyn turned toward the parking garage, John went to the front door.
“Aren’t we taking your car?”
“We can walk. It’s not far.”
“I can’t walk in these shoes.” Kaitlyn held out a foot clad in an expensive, high-heeled, pointy-toed shoe.
“If you can’t walk in them, why do you wear them?” She shot him an annoyed look. “It’s less than a block away. I want to try that new Italian place on the corner,” John said.
Kaitlyn walked stiffly and silently beside him. When they reached the restaurant, John held the door for her. The hostess approached them.
“Table for two?” she asked. Kaitlyn nodded. “Would you like an inside table or one on the patio?”
“Inside.” Kaitlyn said.
At the same time, John said, “The patio, please.” Kaitlyn glared at him. “It’s a lovely, spring day. The air will do you good.”
Kaitlyn followed the girl. “Something in the shade,” she demanded.
“Could I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked, handing them menus.
“Do you have a wine list?” Kaitlyn asked.
“I’ll just have ice tea, please and bring the lady a glass of Merlot.”
“A glass of Merlot? Just ‘Merlot?’ How do you know it’s a good Merlot without seeing the wine list?” Kaitlyn questioned when the hostess left.
“It will be fine, Kaitlyn. Quit being such a snob.”
“I am not a snob. I just know what I like and don’t like and, lately, I don’t like your attitude.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Kaitlyn, loosen up. Don’t you ever want to have fun, let go and enjoy yourself?”
“What has gotten into you, John?”
“Nothing’s ‘gotten into me.’ I just decided ‘all work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy.”
“I think that’s ‘makes Jack a dull boy,’ not Johnny.”
“What was so important that you wanted to talk about?” John said.
The waitress came to take their orders.
“I’ll have the grilled chicken sa
lad, no dressing just a lemon on the side and no onions.” Kaitlyn ordered. “And, another glass of this wine.” She indicated the nearly empty glass with distaste.
“What do you recommend?” John asked.
“My favorite is the lobster stuffed ravioli with shrimp sauce, served over linguine.”
“That sounds excellent. And, I’ll have the spicy Italian dressing on my salad. Thank you.”
“Daddy’s throwing a sixtieth birthday party for himself at the club Saturday. I want you to come. ”
John pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Sorry, Kaitlyn. I already have plans Saturday.”
Kaitlyn glared at him for a moment over her wine glass.
John listened to roughly a quarter of what Kaitlyn said during the meal. He vaguely heard the words, party, shopping, masseuse and stylist before he tuned her out completely.
He watched people walking by on the busy sidewalk. A young family caught his attention. They were laughing at something the little redheaded girl said. They looked happy.
“John, have you heard a word I’ve said?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry, Kaitlyn. My thoughts wandered off, I guess.”
“What’s more important than me?” Kaitlyn said.
“I’m sure nothing is more important than you, Kaitlyn,” John said silkily, as the waitress handed him the check.
She turned and stomped through the restaurant.
CHAPTER eleven
Saturday morning, Brianna sat at the breakfast bar sipping tea while studying the transit schedule. She glanced up as John entered the room, but quickly returned to the schedule. It wasn’t fair for a man to look that good when he was all hot and sweaty from a workout.
“So, today’s the big day.” John wiped his face on a corner of the towel around his neck.
Brianna nodded without taking her eyes off the paper. John poured a glass of orange juice and took a large sip.
“Give me thirty minutes to shower and we can go.”
“You’re going? That really isn’t necessary. I’m perfectly capable of finding my own apartment.”
“I’m sure you are.” John looked down and shrugged his shoulders. “but, I have a list, too, and it will be a lot easier in a car than riding the “L.”
“Like I can afford anything on your list,” Brianna said.
“You’d be surprised. I kept your budget in mind.”
“Ha!” Brianna slid off the barstool.
“I am taking you. It’ll be fun. Get dressed.”
“You are, without a doubt, one of the bossiest men I know.” She stomped from the room.
“Promise you’ll wait for me.” John called after her.
“Okay but you have to promise to keep quiet or you’ll be waitin’ in the car,” she answered.
* * * *
“Where’s your car?” Brianna asked, looking around for the Mercedes.
“Right here,” John said, opening the door of a bright red, BMW convertible.
Brianna‘s jaw dropped.
“Wha’…where…?”
“I rented it this morning just for the fun of it and the look on your face is worth every penny. Where should we start?” John asked, starting the car.
“It’s my apartment so we’ll start with my list.” Brianna declared, settling into the creamy leather upholstery. “Most of them are west of the loop near the Kennedy-Eisenhower exchange.”
Brianna watched John as he drove along the lakeshore. He was dressed casually in jeans and a light blue polo shirt. He could make a potato sack look gorgeous. She loved the way the wind dared to ruffle his hair. She folded her hands tightly in her lap to keep her fingers from running through it. John glanced her way and smiled.
“If you’d have told me Monday that I would be doing this, I would have called you crazy.”
“But you’re enjoying it. I can tell.”
“Immensely,” John said as he downshifted around a corner, the back of his hand accidentally brushing her bare thigh, causing her to inhale sharply. Curse this small car, I should’ve worn jeans, Brianna thought, moving her leg.
“I think I like this car. I may have to buy one,” he said, grinning at her. He pulled up to the curb near a run-down building, the first address on Brianna’s list.
“This doesn’t look too bad,” Brianna said, as she got out of the car.
She could tell that John was not favorably impressed but he kept silent as she knocked on the manager’s door. The sounds of a blaring television and noisy children were heard when a middle-aged woman with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth opened the door a crack.
“Who’s there?” the woman said.
“We’re here to see the apartment you have for rent,” John said.
“Yeah, just a minute,” She closed the door, screamed at the kids, slid the chain lock off and shuffled into the dim hallway. The heavyset woman with straggly, mouse-brown hair, wore tight spandex leggings and a faded, over-sized T-shirt; she had obviously forgotten a bra.
“‘Sup’ here,” she said, cigarette still dangling.
She lead them two flights up a narrow staircase marred by graffiti and dirty hand prints and inserted the key into a door marked ‘3C.’
They walked into a narrow hall that lead to a large room with three grimy windows offering a view of the next building. There was a door on either side of the little hallway.
“Bathroom,” said the woman indicating the door on the left. “Closet.” She pointed to the other one.
They entered the large room. A small refrigerator, sink and stove sat along part of one wall with sagging selves above them.
“Where’s the bedroom?” Brianna asked when she couldn’t locate another door.
“Ain’t, no bedroom. Jist this here bed.” She grabbed a handle and the bed crashed to the floor sending up a cloud of dust from the cracked linoleum floor. Brianna jumped back to protect her toes and gasped when she saw the mattress. It looked like a relic from the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.
John opened the refrigerator and immediately slammed it shut, taking a step back. He gave Brianna a look of disgust and shook his head. Brianna looked into the dingy, windowless bathroom; it had all the required equipment, along with grungy tile and a stained tub but no shower. She’d seen enough.
“I was hoping for a one bedroom but I’ll let you know,” Brianna said to the woman. “Thank you.”
They walked to the car.
“That was appalling. There was moldy food in the refrigerator,” John said as they pulled away from the curb.
“Did you see that mattress? That’s going to give me nightmares for a week!” Brianna shuddered. “The bathroom was awful, too. I was afraid something furry was going to crawl out of the corner. On the bright side, they can only get better from here.”
“Ah, yes. Brianna, the eternal optimist. Let us hope.”
The second and third were only slightly better. The fourth was most likely worse. Three men were smoking on the front steps. John wouldn’t even stop for that one. They parked in the lot next to the fifth one and got out.
“This is the last one on my list,” Brianna said, her shoulders drooping. “It looks promising.”
“It is a newer building. And, there’s a bus stop on the corner,” John said, determined to keep an open mind as they walked up the steps to the front door. The sign on the manager’s office read, ‘Come In.’ A bell jingled as they opened the door and a teen-aged boy appeared from a back room dressed in baggy jeans with holes in the knees and a black T-shirt depicting a punk rock band on the front. He had a ring in his nose connected to a looped chain dangling from one eyebrow. His black hair was stiffly spiked.
“You here about the apartment?” he asked, looking Brianna up and down.
“Yes,” Brianna said, as John tried to steer her out of the room.
“No,” John gave Brianna a stern look.
“We might as well look since we’re here.” Brianna pulled from his grasp. “It’s the
best looking building we’ve seen. You can wait in the car.”
“Not on your life!” John said. “Are you the manager?”
“Nope, my mom is but she works mornings.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Dustin,” he answered John. “But you can call me ‘Dusty,’ he winked at Brianna. He led them to a short stairway. “It’s called a ‘garden level’ unit,” he announced.
John followed them down the stairs to the basement apartment.
They entered a small living room where the window provided a stunning view of people’s feet as they walked by.
“Lovely view,” John said. Brianna shot him a warning look.
Dustin showed her the windowless kitchen that was adequate and clean compared to others they had seen this morning.
“It’s too dark,” John commented.
They were led to the small bedroom where the underside of cars were visible in the rear parking lot.
“This room would barely fit a bed.”
“One more word and you’re going to the car!” Brianna said.
There was a tiny bathroom with a tiny metal shower stall in the corner.
“That shower isn’t big enough for an adult!” John said. Brianna elbowed his ribs.
“Man, your dad sure is picky,” Dusty said to Brianna.
Brianna looked at John, barely able to contain her laughter, a job made harder by the red line creeping up his neck.
“I am not her father,” John said through clenched teeth.
Brianna was sure it was only a matter of time before steam burst from John’s ears and the top of his head blew off. She quickly steered him out of the apartment before he exploded.
“I’ll let you know,” she said to Dusty over her shoulder.
Brianna lost it as soon as she got in the car. Tears were streaming down her face by the time John started the engine.
“It’s not funny. I am not old enough to be your father!”
Brianna, doubled over hugging her sides, could only shake her head.
“I’m sorry, but that was definitely funny.”
“From your view point apparently. Not from mine.”
“Oh, come on. He was just a kid and you were acting like a father, again.”
“He may be just a kid but he looked at you like you were a piece of candy.”
Love Is a Breeze Page 9
