by R. G. Winter
Jane shook her head. “You have such a way with words.”
“It’s an art,” she said with a grin, “come on. My treat.”
“You’re such a cheater,” Jane said as she rolled her eyes and followed behind Rebecca.
It was only a Thursday night, but Crazy 8’s was packed. It seemed like the whole business district was stuffed inside of the electric neon blue decorated bar. As Jane looked around, she saw many of her older co-workers were there as well. Tucked into booths, drink in their hands, ties loosened and shoes kicked off, most of them didn’t look so threatening anymore. It was almost a phonomena to see them carefree, laughing.
“I think we slipped into an alternate dimension,” Jane mumbled.
“I know what you mean. It’s weird seeing them all together like this. Let’s sit in that corner over there.”
They passed Charlie on the way to their seats, giving her a little wave as they went. She wiggled her fingers at them as she spoke, the people around her seeming to hang onto her every word. Jane didn’t know how she did it. It was almost like an instinct, the woman started talking and you listened. They slid into the black, leather booth before two other people slid in after them.
“Oh Mckinnon, what the hell?” Jane asked exasperated.
The man rolled his eyes. “It’s the last open spot, what do you want me to do? Move?”
“We can leave if you ladies like,” the man with him started.
“Aaron, we’re not going anywhere. We saw this booth first. We just got held up talking to important people.”
Jane scoffed. “Well, then I guess you better go and sit with those important people.”
Rebecca laughed. “The problem here is that he wasn’t important enough to sit with them. Ass kisser you may be, but after work, you’re still one of the newbies.”
Mckinnon opened his mouth to fire back, but the waiter showed up. For five minutes there was quiet at the table as they ordered their food and drinks. As soon as the waiter was gone, Jane leaned towards the other guy at the table. He was tall, thin with dirty blond hair and big, round blue eyes. He looked really young.
“I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”
“Aaron Bean.”
“Where you from, Bean? I hear a little accent?” Rebecca asked.
“Well, originally Texas.”
“What’s with the thousand questions?” Mckinnon asked, scowling.
“What’s does it matter to you hot stuff? Jealous because we’re not focusing on you?” Rebecca asked with a raised brow. She looked back to Aaron, “You new?”
“I only started yesterday.”
“Your daddy must be really important for the likes of Mckinnon to give you the time of day,” Jane said as smirked. “What’s he do?”
“Well, we have some oil-”
Rebecca and Jane burst into a fit of laughter at the same time. Mckinnon sat scowling as he shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button down. When they’d composed themselves, Aaron was looking between the two of them with a confused expression on his face.
“Don’t pay attention to them. They’re both just jealous because they’re still working their way up from the bottom, which you both should be used to by now.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Jane said as she sipped the beer that was sat in front of her, “I’m used to being on top.”
She watched Mckinnon’s open mouth turn to rolled eyes, but it was more than satisfying. For once, she had taken the words out of his arrogant mouth. It was almost a guilty pleasure seeing him so thoroughly stunned. Jane almost found herself tempted to keep screwing with him, even if it was only for the laughs that she and Rebecca could get out of it.
"What made you wander out of your cube, Parkett?" McKinnon said slowly, throwing a look at the waiter as he returned with their drinks.
"Well, I'm the only one that works, so I think I earned a break." Jane innocently sipped at her whiskey sour, enjoying the pleasant tang almost as much as she enjoyed the look on McKinnon's face.
"I do work," McKinnon said sharply.
"Golf isn't working, buddy." Aaron added with a laugh.
"No," McKinnon scowled in the low light for a moment, before it morphed into a pleased grin. "But getting a client to take us on, is. Right, Mr. Bean?"
"Oh, come on. You should buy me dinner first."
"I'm a drinks and business kind of man, Aaron." McKinnon threw back his scotch, "Parkett, do you think that signing a multi-million dollar account to the firm is considered work?"
"Using your rich friends to gain favor?" Rebecca quipped. "How like you."
"Friends?" Aaron laughed heartily, "This son of a bitch bugged me for days to get an appointment. Sat outside my office-"
"So you don't work for the company?" Jane said, trying to hide her shock.
"I enjoy a good ruse. Besides, being an oil tycoon is so overrated. And I do technically work at the office. Learning from your president, so that I can run my father's company.”
“You’ve actually met Mr. Bradford?” Came Rebecca’s stunned reply.
“Once or twice.” Aaron said, “We have lunch every week to discuss things. When this one here,” he nudged McKinnon in the ribs with an elbow, “Heard I was in the building, he started a near constant pursuit to get a meeting.I had to give the poor guy a chance.”
“Not gonna be so poor once I get your signature, Bean.”
“Mmm, true. But what if I decide to help out one of your pretty friends instead?” Jane rolled her eyes at the compliment, and watched as Rebecca sat up a little straighter, making sure her best assets stood out on display. Jane watched closely as her friend leaned a little bit across the table, meeting Aaron's eye with a coy smile.
“As much as I would love to take a client away from Mckinnon,” She said, “It wouldn’t be good for business: Bad karma.”
“Oh, you don’t fight dirty, then?”
“I fight plenty dirty, but I do try to have good manners. Stealing a client from someone at the same firm as you is just heartless.”
“Honest and beautiful.”
“Anyway,” Seeing that the pair were about to descend into a night of flirting, Jane moved her attention over to McKinnon, who had ordered another scotch. He nursed it slowly, his face only looking slightly disgusted at the turn of events.
“Was it your plan to get him laid?” Jane asked bravely after a few moments.
“Not by Rebecca.” McKinnon scoffed, “I had a professional in mind, thank you very much.”
“Please tell me you weren’t going to use company resources to pay for a prostitute.” Jane’s outraged cry hardly carried through the ruckus of the bar. McKinnon snickered into his drink, nearly splashing a bit of it on his suit.
“I’m only joking, Parkett. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Bean and I were just hanging out. He’s a pretty cool guy.” His voice raised, “You know when he’s not flirting with evil harpies.”
“I don’t think they’re listening to you.” Rebecca and Aaron were leaning across the table, seemingly caught up in one another. Rebecca’s face was as calm and happy as Jane had ever seen it: And she’d once saw her fresh out of a endorphin filled workout. “Let them have their fun. What do you care? You’re still going to get your deal.”
“I am, aren’t I? I think someone owes me an apology…”
Jane’s face flushed with an angry heat, “Why do you think that?” Her voice was low and level.
“You said many times how I wasn’t doing any work. You tell me how I can bring in millions and not be working. Hmm, Parkett?” McKinnon gave her a reproachful stare, all the while keeping an almost kind lightness in his eyes. “I’m just saying’, someone should learn to be humble.”
“Oh, come on, McKinnon.” It was strange seeing him so friendly, even while being his annoying self, actually sitting down and talking to McKinnon was kind of nice. Yes, he still had the same arrogant air about him that made Jane want to k
ick him. But for some reason, he seemed less threatening, more like someone she could talk to. “Fine,” she groaned. “I’m sorry I said you didn’t do any work.”
“Thank you,” the man raised a glass to her in mock-toast. “I’m sorry I called you a frumpy brown-noser.”
“When did you call me that?” She slammed her fist on the table, the motion so violent, that it managed to disengage the couple next to them. Aaron turned to McKinnon, looking more than pleased with himself.
“If you two will excuse us,” He pushed out of the booth, nearly dragging Jane from her seat as he pulled Rebecca behind him. “We are going to grab some dinner.”
“No you can’t join us.” Rebecca added quickly, before they were practically dancing out of the bar.
“Well, now what?” McKinnon said.
“Now you’re going to tell why you called me frumpy.”
Chapter 3
Perhaps she had been a little hasty when it came to McKinnon. Franklin. The name rebounded in her mind nearly every day. Jane wondered when the change had occurred: When had he gone from annoying McKinnon, to the only slightly agitating Franklin. Jane couldn’t even begin to pinpoint the exact moment.
Maybe it was when he gave her a little credit for helping him to secure Bean as a client. That gesture of goodwill was more than a kindness to Jane, it had given her visibility that she wouldn’t have otherwise gained for months, hell, maybe even years.
“I’m so happy to see you two working so well together,” Belmore said one morning as he strode into the meeting room. “It’ll make the assignment so much easier.” He didn’t even wait for them to ask which assignment, before his assistant was tossing big stacks of files onto the long table before them. Jane opened one, seeing a dizzying page of figures and sums that she immediately identified as at least an hour of work. ‘We’ve had a drop in project. This client would like a new financial plan, from scratch. New method new models, everything. Turns out their CEO was syphoning a little of the top for himself, and they want a new plan in place before the news becomes public.”
“How long do we have,” McKinnon asked, “Some of this stuff will take at minimum...a week?”
“I’ll give you a week. But for the entire project. I’m sending over a few other analyst to help you, and I’ll be here myself. But they need this done.” Belmore lowered himself into a chair, his face suddenly looking tired. “Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat anything: This is going to be a tough job. But, we are more than capable of seeing it through, and making it good. Do this for me, and doors open up.” He smiled gently, “Fuck it up, and I may just throw you off the helipad.”
The team that came in to assist happened to be a group of junior analyst that had been with the company for a couple of years. They came in, not so fresh faced, and got right to work with a vigor that even Jane was impressed by. As much as stress sucked, Jane was thrilled by the prospect of a new project: She worked better on a time crunch, and it had been a long while since her job had made adrenalin pump through her veins.
McKinnon she found, thrived under pressure. Though they were the most junior people in the room, he took charge and commanded with a grace that Jane had no choice but to respect. He was strong, competent, and if someone forced Jane to admit it, she would say damned sexy. Not that Jane had much time to admire him. With their workload, it was a wonder that she even had spare time to catch her breath. Still, actually seeing him everyday for a week made her change her first impressions about McKinnon even more. Every morning, at 6AM when she walked into the office he’d be there. Work and coffee in hand, computer already spitting out new figures and projections. And he always brought an extra coffee just for her, a small gesture that, two days in, Jane came to greatly appreciate.
“What's’ this for,” Jane would ask, every time.
“Thought you’d look tired,” Franklin would say, without even looking up from his work. They never argued as much. Instead, it was a matter of using the other to get the job done. Franklin had his strengths, Jane had hers, and by working in tandem they created something that made them both very proud.
In the end, their long days and even longer night paid off, with the project done. Belmore practically sung their praises as he was going over the last of the figures. Jane was too tired to even hear them though. She sat on the leather wingback in his office, curled into a rather unladylike slump. For ten minutes, she listened as he poured over one particularly complex model, relaying information that her tired mind wasn’t up to processing. Franklin sipped at some celebratory aged whisky beside her, looking tired, but not nearly as wrung out as Jane was.
“You two go home. You’ve worked your selves to the bone, and deserve some time off. Take tomorrow and enjoy a nice long weekend. “ Those words were uttered in such a dismissive tone, that Jane didn’t even try arguing. She got up, followed close by McKinnon, and went out into the brightness of the office. It was being lit by the high Thursday sun. In her triumphant state, Jane hardly noticed how the light looked different in the office. It was brighter, more promising. Just maybe hinting at the future she knew without a doubt would be hers.
“How about a drink, Jane?” The way he said her name, sliding off those lips without a hint of mocking, made Jane want to sigh. Office crushes were for interns, Jane was so pass that point that she brushed the idea from her mind before it even had a chance to fester into something else.
“It’s noon, McKinnon.”
“So,” he pressed, “We can celebrate. I hear everyone else went to The Yard for lunch. We can meet up with them.”
“I really just want to get some rest.” She said. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a week.”
“One drink. It’s tradition.” Damn him. Jane had been dreaming about her bed since Monday. Over the last seven days, she mostly slept on her couch, too tired to even crawl between her sheets. One night, she’d napped for a couple of hours in the office breakroom. A drink? Hell, she wanted a shower and a footrub, and to eat the biggest pizza that she could get her hands on. But seeing the pleading look on Franklin's face, Jane knew she wouldn’t be getting to bed until much later.
God one knew when she’d get the fucking pizza.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
They left soon after, riding the elevator down in an awkward silence as Jane forced herself to stay away.
“I’ll drive,” Franklin said as they stepped into the parking structure. He lead the way to a sparkling clean SUV, a newer model, kept in pristine condition. “Let me,” Franklin stepped around Jane to open the car door for her, even going so far as to help steady her as she stepped into the vehicle.
“Are you always such a gentleman?”
“Only when there’s alcohol promised.”
Jane laughed, then dug into her purse to fetch a pair of sunglasses. While the drive to The Yard was short, the sun was much too bright for her deprived eyes to handle.
“Why didn’t we just walk here?”
“I don’t like leaving my car in the office lot. Someone dinged it up a little bit a couple of months ago. Now I move it every chance I get.”
“Oh, that sucks. Did you figure out who it was?”
“No, but it wasn’t too bad. Just a couple hundred to repair. Got it fixed the same day.”
Wow, he was so calm. Jane would have been on a manhunt for the poor soul that even put the tiniest scratch on her car. “How nice of you.”
When they arrived at the bar, Franklin helped her out, the hurried to get the door. It was treatment that she wasn’t used to. Even from men she’d dated in the past, getting door was perfunctory thing, done only one special occasions, or when someone wanted to get in her pants.
Oh, god. What if McKinnon wanted her? The question sprang up, stopping Jane in her steps, earning her a confused look from her companion. She shuffled past him, into the dark faux-candlelit bar. The group of analyst waved at them from a table in the corner, drinks already in hand, and smiles plastered on faces.
“Looky here,” A dark-skinned man said, holding up two shots of clear liquid as they neared. Curtis Bradley was on the cusps of being a senior analyst, already handed to promotion, and basically waiting to move up. Helping them out had only made his value more apparent. He was a nice guy, sometimes Jane felt he was too nice for their business. “It’s Bradford and Schwicks newest wunderkind. Let’s see if you can hold your liquor as well as you work.” Before she could protest, the shot was pressed into her hands. Franklin held his out, and Jane clinked their little glasses together before taking the shot.
“Oh fuck, that’s tequila.” She nearly squealed at the familiar taste. “You don’t want to know what happens when I drink tequila.” Her glass was filled again, and Jane took that one too.
“What happens?”
“I start getting numbers wrong,” She said with a laugh. Picking a seat right next to Franklin. “2’s become 10’s, that kind of thing.” Curtis and the others laughed boisterously.
“Does that mean I have a shot?” An older analyst asked.
“Hmm, maybe after a few more.”
Day drinking quickly became one of Jane’s favorite activities. The Yard was known for it’s fabulous food, and even better array of alcoholic beverages. The group was served from huge platters filled with delicious bar food: Fries smothered in rich curry sauce, buffalo wings, loaded potatoes, sliders, and three different kinds of pizza.
To say that Jane devoured the food before her would be polite. She scarfed all she could down, not realizing exactly how hungry she’d been until her fourth slice of pizza.
“Where in the hell did you put all of that.” Franklin said, looking at her empty plate.
“I was hungry,” Jane replied as she took a swig of the craft beer she’d ordered, “Besides, I need something to absorb all this alcohol.”
“It’s not a celebration until the new kids are drunk.” Someone said, presenting a pitcher of long island iced tea like it was an offering. “We are paying for all this, you two are obligated to enjoy it.”
