by S Doyle
Two weeks ago Joy had accused me of never leaving my office, and something about that had struck me. I’d been putting in twelve-hour days to figure out where else we could cut corners, save money, turn around cash flow, and yet she had come up with a whole new line of ornaments.
We weren’t in competition. I knew that. But instinctively I felt like I was losing, so on a whim, I had come down here to check out my opponent. I had no idea what I was looking for or what I would find, but at least she couldn’t accuse me of hiding in my office.
“Mr. Darling, are you lost?” I turned at the voice and saw Cheryl approaching me, holding a glass cylinder in her hand.
“No. I know where I am.”
“Okay. Sure. It’s not weird at all that you’re here. Are you looking for Joy? She stepped out to make a call, but she’ll be back in a second.”
“Yes. Thank you.” It made more sense that I would be looking for Joy to discuss something work related. As opposed to just stopping by to take a look at the operation.
I wandered back to the end of the room and stepped up onto the stage. That’s when I noticed all the people on the other side of the wall-to-wall windows to the street watching what was happening inside the building. There had to be twenty or so people peeking through the glass to watch the ornaments being made.
“If only I could sell tickets,” I muttered.
“Tickets to what?”
I startled as Joy stepped up into what amounted to her office.
Why did she have to look like that? Soft brown hair that draped over her shoulders. Hazel eyes that changed color depending on what she was wearing. It had become something of a game to me. Noting the color of her shirt and then thinking about how that would change the color of her eyes.
She was lovely. Not a traditional beauty, but there was a softness to her features that made looking at her easy. Comfortable. And she was so open. When I looked at her it was like she didn’t have a single secret she’d ever kept.
“Tickets to the show,” I answered, pointing at the crowd gathered outside the windows.
“It’s like they’re peeking into Santa’s workshop.” She smiled. “You know, it’s not a bad idea. We could do events. Let people see the process up close. Maybe even craft their own ornaments. We would have to get people to commit to maybe Saturday or Sunday morning hours, but that might bring in some money.”
“Not a bad idea. You’ll get the numbers for me. Overtime work like that could add up. We would have to make it profitable.”
“Got it, Chief. Is that why you came down to the floor?”
“No, I…” I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say, when a black cat hopped up onto the desk in front of me and started growling at me like an angry dog. “Joy, get back.”
I put my arm out to keep her behind me. Obviously this feral animal had somehow gotten inside the building. Maybe from the shipping area, on the other side of the wall. And based on the nature of his growls, he sounded like he might bite. “Call animal control. Do we have a towel? I could trap it.”
Joy stepped around me and shook her finger at the cat. “No growly at strangers.”
The cat tried to bite the finger she pointed at it, but she was too quick and pulled it away.
“And no bitey Mommy.”
“Mommy?” I asked.
She turned and huffed. “This is Jake. He’s my cat. And before you go ballistic, I already have permission from Wes that he’s here. He stays far enough away from the workers and he’s perfect with his litter box.”
She pointed to a spot over my shoulder. I turned and saw the box in question.
“He’s clearly dangerous!” I said, raising my voice.
“He’s not dangerous. He’s scared. That’s all the growl means. Still, he’s trying to be protective of me.” She reached out to pet his head and this time he allowed her touch without threatening to bite. “Isn’t that right, Jake? Who’s my dark warrior?”
“You can’t have that animal here. It’s not work appropriate.”
“He needs to be near me,” she insisted. “He’s got separation anxiety and having him here with me helps his disposition. He hasn’t attacked my ankles in days.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now?” I asked, incredulous. “You have an animal that attacks you and you brought that animal to your workplace. Do you know the liabilities that exposes us to if he bites someone?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, which reminded me of how full and round her breasts were. “So, what, now you’re a lawyer, too?”
I shook my head. “You know, I was so damn impressed by your presentation two weeks ago. I mean you had your shit together, you were prepared for any question. All your numbers added up and made sense.”
“I impressed you?” she asked, and then tucked her hair behind her ear.
It was a nervous tic she had. I’d seen it before. Any time anyone complimented her on anything, she lowered her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Of course, I’d been about to say how impressed I was and now she’d ruined that by being the crazy lady who thought her cat had separation anxiety. Only I stopped myself, because for some reason my compliment meant something to her.
Jake settled down on her desk and she moved closer to me, looking at me imploringly. “Please don’t make a big deal of this, W.B. I know it’s crazy, but he’s just a scared cat who likes to be near me. He’s been here for weeks and there hasn’t been a single problem. The only thing that has happened is that he’s calmer.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said. It was too formal. It was my name, of course. The name colleagues used with me. Of which she was one, but it didn’t sound right coming from her mouth for some reason.
She blinked. “What? W.B.? You’re not really going to insist I call you Mr. Darling.”
“People…people who are friendly with me just call me Dare.” Which shouldn’t describe her at all, I thought, but I wanted her to use the name people close to me used.
“Wait, you have friends?”
I scowled. “Never mind. I don’t even know why I came down here. Keep that mongrel away from humans and protect your damn ankles.”
I strode away from her, ignoring her call for me to wait. Instead I made my way across the factory floor to the elevators, back to my office on the fourth floor. Where it was quiet and I was perfectly alone to think and work.
3
Three months ago
Joy
I stared down at the email and felt my blood pressure spike. That bastard! I looked at the To line and cc line and noted he’d sent only me the email and copied no one else in the company.
That meant there was still time to change his mind.
It had been weeks since he’d made his appearance on the factory floor. To this day I didn’t know why he’d come, but since then it was like he’d gone out of his way to avoid me. It was a five-floor building but there were a couple of break rooms/kitchens. The odds of not seeing him at all for weeks, when up until then I’d seen him nearly every day, were slim.
Unless I’d seriously hurt his feelings when I’d asked him if he had friends, and he was actively avoiding me.
I winced at the memory. I hated the idea of hurting anyone’s feelings. It had just taken me off guard. The idea that there could be any emotions associated with him. Maybe even more surprising was that he wanted me to call him what his friends called him. Like we were friends.
W.B. and I were not friends.
To prove that, I read the email again and realized maybe I’d been right the first time. The man was nothing more than a calculator.
“Cheryl, watch the floor. I’ve got to go murder the CFO,” I informed her.
“Have fun,” she called out.
I took the elevator to the fourth floor and didn’t bother checking in with his admin to see if his schedule was clear. He’d known exactly what he was doing with that email, which meant he had to expect my arrival at his office shortly a
fter.
I swung open the door to his office, noting he was one of the few people within the company who shut his door when he was in his office alone, and took satisfaction in the sound it made bouncing off the wall.
Sitting behind his desk, his eyebrows raised. “You got my email, I take it.”
“Four Golden Rings!” I charged. “What kind of madness is this?”
“You’re coming in over projected budget,” he said calmly. “The easiest way to correct that is to downsize the collection.”
“But it’s based around the song! On the first day of Christmas…”
“I know the song.”
“Then you must also know that it’s FIVE golden rings!”
“I’m aware,” he said calmly.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you are. Because not everyone knows how many maids were milking the cows, or drummers who were leaping over the pipers…”
“I don’t think that’s correct.”
“But everyone knows it’s FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! Not six golden rings, not four golden rings, but five. You will compromise the entire theme of the line if you cut one.”
His lips flattened. “I gave you a budget. I told you exactly how much money you had to work with. By my calculations, you’re going to overshoot it.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Ugh. Money. By what? Two percent? If you’re going to be like that about it, fine. Raise the price of the ornaments.”
“We can’t do that. Our buyers have already been given the price. The orders are coming in already, so we can’t just hike it up.”
“Wait.” I stopped him. “Orders are coming in now? We’re at least six weeks out from normal buying season.”
That made him fidget in his chair. “Yes, I’m told it’s slightly uncharacteristic, but it could just mean some buyers are getting a jump on the season. And many people start thinking about Christmas immediately after Halloween.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’ve been in this game my whole career and I know exactly when buyers start ordering. If they’re starting to jump the gun, it means they want a guarantee they’ll have stock on what they think is going to be a huge seller. And you know why it’s going to be a huge seller, W.B.…?”
“I told you, you could call me Dare.”
I ignored that because it made my chest feel funny. “Because it’s like the song. Five. Golden. Rings. We’re keeping them all and I’ll accept the blame for going over budget from Wes. Are we done?”
“I don’t suppose I could encourage you and your team to work a little faster.”
I took in a deep breath. “We’re making art. It takes time.”
“Spare me from all artists,” he muttered. “Just do what you can. Okay? This is important. This has got to work. For everyone’s sake.”
I felt a sense of desperation in his statement. “What’s in it for you?”
The question seemed to take him off guard. “What do you mean? I have a job to do.”
“Yes, but the way you said it had to work. I mean, I get why it’s so important to Wes. It’s his company. I’m basically putting my name on the line and trying to establish myself as a premier Christmas ornament designer. If this line fails, I fail. But you would just get another job counting someone else’s money.”
He frowned. “Yeah, it’s not exactly easy to get a job as a chief financial officer when the company you last worked for goes under. If you must know, this is just as big deal for me as it is for you. I’ve got my future basically resting in your hands, you of all people, and five fucking golden rings that are coming in over projected budget.”
I scowled. “Okay, do you see what you just did there? Me of all people. Stop doing that. Stop making it sound like you know me.”
“I’m not…” He stopped and then tried again. “I’m not trying to be mean or insult you.”
“Yet you’re being mean and insulting me. I’m not a stereotype.”
“You…remind me of someone. The way you dress, I suppose. The whole art thing.”
“The way I dress?” I challenged him. “See, that’s so typical. You think I dress a certain way because I’m an artist?”
“Everything is always loose and flowy. Out of control. You’re going to tell me it’s because your spirit has to be free or some nonsense like that.”
I folded my arms across my chest and debated telling him the truth. He didn’t deserve it. It was personal and not something I’d thought I’d ever share with anyone. So why him?
Maybe because I wanted him to know how wrong he was to put me in a box.
“You want the truth. Fine. I dress this way because I’m self-conscious about my breasts.”
That made his eyes get wide. “Come again?”
“I, well, matured at an early age and have always had large breasts. Anything tight has always made me feel, I don’t know, like they’re on display. Heck, if I wear a push-up bra it’s like I’m coming to attack you with my killer boobs.”
He laughed. “I highly doubt I would feel threatened by killer boobs.”
I smiled. “It’s true. Anyway, since I was a teenager, and I was always getting looked at…there…I decided to downplay them and wear as loose-fitting clothes as possible. So there. Now admit you were wrong about me.”
His expression sobered even though I knew the idea of killer boobs was still in the forefront of his mind. I also gave him credit for not immediately moving his eyes to my chest to do his own assessment.
“You’re right,” he offered. “I made assumptions and that’s not a very intelligent thing to do.”
I nodded, satisfied that I’d made my point.
“Now I’m going back to work on my line of five golden rings, but I will let the team know the budget is tight and they need to be working as efficiently as they can.”
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay. I know it is.”
He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t totally convinced. I also considered if I should apologize for what I’d said weeks before. When the idea of his having friends had taken me by surprise. If I did, maybe we could get back to a more normal footing. Maybe he would then stop avoiding me at all costs.
Not that I cared one way or the other.
At least, that’s what I told myself. I was about to say something when his phone buzzed.
“W.B.,” his admin announced through the phone. “Your twelve o’clock is here.”
“Thanks. Let her know I’ll be out in a second,” he returned. Then he lifted his gaze to me. “Sorry, was there something else you needed to yell at me for? I have lunch plans.”
I shook my head. “No, that was it. Enjoy your…lunch.”
I didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, I left his office, my steps faltering when I saw who was waiting for him. She wasn’t someone I was familiar with and she was wearing a visitor badge, so definitely not an employee.
Tall, rail thin, beautiful, and there wasn’t a single thing that was loose or flowing about her tailored navy pantsuit. Nope, she was buttoned up about as tight as the blond bun she wore on top of her head.
Totally W.B.’s type, I thought. She probably had a super-sophisticated name, too. Like Eleanor or Theodora. And I was fairly sure she’d never uttered the phrase killer boobs in her life.
Shaking my head, having absolutely no idea why I was obsessing over his lunch date, I headed for the elevators. As the doors were closing, I watched as W.B. came out of his office and walked over to place a kiss on the woman’s cheek.
And I felt it. Like suddenly the elevator descended too quickly. There was something in my stomach. A churning of yuck.
“I must be hungry,” I said to myself. Because that could be the only explanation.
W.B.
“What did you think of the documentary?” Jacklyn asked me, as she speared her salad with a fork.
“It was enlightening,” I answered, looking at my soup and trying to determine why I had no appetite for it. This w
as our second date and I should have been putting way more effort into it.
Jacklyn checked off every box on my list. She was beautiful, cultured, intelligent. She had her own career, made her own money, and was solely independent. We both believed in our independence fiercely. On paper we made an excellent match, which was why the very expensive service I’d contracted with recently had put us together.
The problem was that I just didn’t want to be there. With her.
I’d never considered the prospect of needing to feel something for the person I was dating. I’d just assumed that if someone compatible came along, the feelings would naturally emerge.
All I felt when I looked at Jacklyn was bored. Which was in direct contrast to how I’d felt earlier when Joy had been in my office. I’d felt irritated, amused, although I’d never admit that to her, and finally lustful, as I could do nothing but fixate on her breasts.
Breasts that I imagined had to be full and luscious. Soft and squeezable.
“But more specifically, I’m curious about your thoughts,” Jacklyn said. Right now my thoughts were on tits. And not her very respectable B-cups under the navy blazer she wore.
I opened my mouth and tried to have a single thought about the documentary. Until finally I shrugged and repeated, like a addle-minded dullard, “It was very enlightening?”
She made a small noise in the back of her throat and focused on her salad. I knew she was disappointed in me, but I didn’t make more of an effort to change her mind. This was clearly our last date.
After some awkward small talk while we ate as quickly as possible, we both made excuses about needing to be back at the office, and I paid the check.
Walking back to the office along Denver’s sidewalks, I had my hands stuffed in my pants pockets and my head down as I navigated through the other, slower pedestrians.
“Very enlightening,” I muttered.
Was I trying to self-sabotage? Did I really not want to find a wife and settle down? Was this whole idea of a matchmaking service a complete and utter joke? I knew how I’d been raised; I knew what I’d done to fight my way through that. To make myself into what I’d become. I’d thought I was ready to share that with someone. To take that next and final step in life and have a normal marriage.
