by Christa Lynn
As I am hanging clothes in the closet, my phone rings and I can only imagine who it is, since Heather is lounging on MY sofa in MY apartment. I’m afraid to look at it, so I decide not to. I close my eyes and pick up the phone, hitting the off button and holding it down, blindly swiping at the slide button to shut it off. Almost immediately, the land line rings and no one calls my land line. Anyone who is anything calls my cell, in fact I only have the land line cause it came with my cable and internet package, and I need it to let people in through the security gate out front. I peek into the living room to look at the caller ID, which appears on my television.
Tim. What the hell is he calling for this late?
“Hello?” I answered.
“It’s Tim, why didn’t you answer your cell?” He barks out. “Sorry, was in the shower and just got out, I haven’t even looked at my phone.” I lie, but he’ll never know, and it sounds good and believable. “Jackson Bentley has requested your presence at dinner tomorrow night. He’ll pick you up after work in front of the building. You need to let security know your car will remain in the parking garage after hours, let them know in the morning when you pull in.”
“Tim, I am not going to dinner with Mr. Bentley. He already asked and I politely told him no. He has an ulterior motive, though what that is I can’t figure out.” Actually, he didn’t ask, hetoldme that I was having dinner with him.
“Ally, if you cause the company to lose this account, it will reflect on your performance appraisal. You’ve been dogging me for months for the opportunity to lead a remodel and now is your chance. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Tim, have you forgotten our meeting this afternoon? Cause I sure haven’t. You saw him out front of the building and you even told me to stay away from him. Why are you pushing this?” Yes, I am frantic by this point. Heather just glances at me from the sofa. I know she’s listening, because she muted the television. Her name should have been Parker, Nosey Parker.
She needs to go home. If she’s not going to help me, then she needs to leave.
I turn my back to her, hoping she’ll get the hint. “I trust you to keep it professional, Ally. We need this account and I’m putting it in your hands. I know you won’t let me down, see you in the morning.” And the line goes dead. I slam the phone back on the base. Well, I don’t really because it’s a cordless phone, all I have to do is push the OFF button. But I do slam it on the counter.
“ARGHHHH!” I scream. “Shit, shit, SHIT!! Fuck, damn it all, crap, shit, fuck, son of a bitch!”
I know it's immature, but I’m pissed. Pissed at Tim, pissed at Heather and pissed at Jackson.
Did I say I’m pissed?
I walk back into my bedroom and slam the door, face planting on to the center of the bed. Arms to my side, face first in the pile of frilly, colorful throw pillows spread on my bed. “I need a vacation.” I mumble to myself from under the pile of fluff.
“Al, what’s going on?” Heather whispers after opening my door.
“Oh NOW you want to talk? Where were you at Digger’s when I was wanting to talk? Huh? Ben and Jerry’s and the Bachelor were more important than! Get out, Heather. Go home. I’ve had enough shit go on today that I no longer want to talk about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I’m not sure if she heard me through the mountain of pillows, but she doesn’t say anything. I look back at the bedroom door and I hear the front door click. Great, now I’ve pissed off my best friend, but I can’t care about that right now. I have bigger problems to deal with.
The tears that have been threatening all day finally come roaring to the surface. My shoulders are shaking and I just know my mascara is running all over my pillows. Great, I’ll have to wash them too. In between sobs, I roll over and stare at the ceiling fan whirling above me, letting the cool breeze of air flow over my wet face until my tears are dry.
I sit up and look toward the door. Why? I have no clue, but I stare, willing Heather to come back. I really need advice and I just sent my very own Dr. Ruth packing. Crap. I reach over to the end table and grab my iPhone, powering it on. I’ll send her an apologetic text and hope that smooths things over until tomorrow. Once the phone is on and signal obtained, I look at it. Four text messages and one voice mail. I press the button to go to my voice mail. Tim. I’ve already spoken to him, so I delete it and go back to the texts messages.
Two from Tim, one from Heather apologizing and one from the same unknown number from earlier. Uh oh. Do I really want to read this?
Unknown Number: Don’t 4get. 6pm sharp tomorrow. No panties.
There’s no name, but I know who it is. But why unknown number? And, how did he get MY number anyway? Guess I need to head to AT&T tomorrow and change my number. I just can’t shake this guy, but do I really want to? I’m torn. The little devil sitting on my right shoulder says go for it. Have some hot, steamy monkey sex and get him out of your system. The angel on the left shoulder says to stay away, that he’s no good and nothing but trouble.
I reply to Heather’s text with an apology as well, telling her my job is at stake and I don’t know how to shake The Suit.
H - Just go with it
A - I can’t. Tim told me to stay away
H- But he told you to have dinner with him?
A - Yeah, go figure.
Look at that, even my text messages are laughing at me.
A - He told me not to wear panties.
H - What?
A - Yeah, no clue
I wait for Heather to respond when the phone rings and I jump and drop it in my lap. Grabbing it I look at the contact. Heather. “Thank God, you scared me to death.” I answer.
“What do mean by the no panties comment?” She asks.
Instead of responding, I forward her the text from Unknown Caller. Before she responds, someone knocks at the front door and I look at the clock, nine fifteen. Who the hell is knocking on my door and how did they get in past the gate?
“Hold on, someone’s at the door.” I set the phone down and go to the door, peering through the peep hole before opening the door. It’s probably one of my neighbors wanting to borrow some milk or something. They can have the milk, no need to bring it back when they’re done.
“Who is it?” I ask through the closed door.
“Delivery for Ms. Sanders.” A male voice responds.
I open the door, leaving the chain on. “I didn’t order anything.” I tell him.
“Ma’am, I’m just the delivery guy. I need you to sign here please.”
I close the door, remove the chain and reopen the door. He hands me a pen and clipboard, but I see there are no other signatures on the document, like I’m his only delivery for the evening.
I glance down and see a brown paper wrapped box leaning against the wall beside the door. I sign the document and hand it back to the delivery guy as he hands me the box and walks away. Closing the door, I remember Heather is still on the phone. I set the box down and grab the phone.
“Weird. A package was just delivered for me.” I tell Heather.
“Well, open it! What are you waiting for?” She sounds much more excited than I am.
“I don’t know who it’s from and I didn’t order anything. What if a bomb is inside and it blows up in my face as I open it?” Yeah, I watch too many crime shows on television.
“Silly girl. Do you hear it ticking?” Heather laughs.
“Okay okay, hold on.” I tell her as I carry the box into the kitchen. There is a brown twine wrapped around the box and I need scissors to cut it off, which I grab from the knife block on the counter and cut the cord. I rip off the paper and slowly lift the lid to the box, like something is going to jump out at me or something. Tissue paper covers whatever it is so I peel it back and there it is.
Holy Shit.
I pull out a black bolero jacket, a silver camisole and a black skirt. It’s the outfit I fell in love with at the fashion show, the one that was way too expensive to even attempt to bid on. I laid the pieces out, d
raping them on the back of the dining room chair and look back in the box.
There’s a note there.
Wear this tomorrow night. And remember, no panties.
Well shit. I stand and stare at the note, eyes going back and forth between it and the clothes until I hear a voice through my phone. “Ally! What is it?!” Heather breathes through the phone.
“Oh. My. God. Heather. You remember what Amanda was wearing at the fashion show?” I ask her. She paused, probably thinking, which doesn’t always come naturally for Heather.
“Wait, black skirt with a matching jacket?” She responds.
“Yeah. I found myself drooling over it, but the bids were too high, so I walked away. Well, the entire outfit including the silver sandals are sitting right here.” I tell her.
“NO WAY!” she screams.
“Way.” Is all I can come up with. Again with the cheesy movie lines. I feel kind of like Garth in Wayne’s World right now. I’m at a total loss for words.
“Is it from.......?” Heather pauses.
“Yes, I assume so. The note tells me to wear it tomorrow and includes a reminder to not wear panties. I have to wear panties, Heather. How can he tell me not to wear panties?”
“Well, I assume it’s so he has easier access, Al.”
“Well, duh Heather. I may not be a rocket scientist, but I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were, Al. But his note seems obvious to me. You seem to me more concerned with the panty situation than about the real problem here. You are afraid to open yourself up and live a little. You’ve been ensconced in your world for too long and venturing outside of your little box is freaking you out.”
“Freaking out? FREAKING OUT!? Of course I’m freaking out! Have you SEEN Jackson Bentley? Have you seen ME! Yeah, I’m freaking out because I don’t know what he wants from me...well, I think I do...but that’s beside the point. He could have any woman in the world and he’s pursuing me. He should be pursuing you, you’re right up his alley...I’m at the far dark end of the alley and I’ve got nowhere to run.”
“Nonsense. Jackson is exactly what you need, someone to let a little light in on your dark world, Ally. I know he’s not the typical guy you go for, but your typical guy hasn’t been working out for you lately. I know what your fantasies are, Al. Just go with it. But watch your heart, you tend to get too deep too quick, so protect yourself, but go ahead and live a little.” She preaches.
“Heather, I don’t know. My job is affected now. Tim saw Jackson kiss me on the street in.......”
“He kissed you? Why didn’t you tell me?” She exclaims.
“I did, at Diggers, but you were too pissed off at me to listen. I told you the whole story, did you not hear any of it?” Gosh, she frustrates me sometimes.
“Sorry girl. I had Ben and Jerry on the brain. Tell me now, I’m listening.” I look at the clock again, ten fifteen. “I gotta go now, Heather, we can talk tomorrow. It’s late and I have a big day tomorrow. I’ll text during dinner and let you know if I need you to come rescue me, or make a phony phone call telling me my cat died or something.”
“You don’t have a cat!”
“I know, but he doesn’t know that. Look, just be available because I may need to make a hasty escape and I won’t have my car there. He told me he would pick me up. Oh, and get this....Tim told me to notify security that my car will be in the parking garage after hours. It’s like he’s condoning this or something. I’m starting to wonder whose side he’s on.”
“Okay, I’ll keep my phone handy. Sleep good and text me tomorrow.” Heather says and terminates the call. Wow. Okay, now that she thinks I’ve calmed down some, it’s time to hit the hay. But inside, I’m not calm at all.
Chapter 10
Thankfully Tuesday turns out to be uneventful and I have decided overnight that I’ll go on this dinner date and see what happens. Yes, I have on panties. And no, not grannies either. I figure it isn’t going to matter anyway because no one is going to see them but me. I spend most of the day in the sample room, picking out fabric for drapes, carpet and upholstery. Jackson wants to keep his current furniture, but wants to change color schemes. This I can do, though I think his office looked fine the way it was.
My cell is quiet today, no strange text messages from Unknown Number nor Heather, I’ve been left to work in peace. That is, until five o-clock rolls around and I get called into a meeting in Tim’s office.
He loves last minute meetings. Anything to try and get people to stay late and get more work done. I’ve done my share of overtime lately, though on salary I get nothing out of it but a late dinner and late to bed, since I’m so damned tired once I get home. But, late meetings almost guarantee that I’m not sitting in traffic trying to get home.
I walk into Tim’s office and have a seat in front of his desk. This is the first time I’ve seen him all day, so he hasn’t seen my new outfit. “Nice digs, Ally. Did I give you a raise or something?” He says as he looks at me curiously.
“No, but I wouldn’t turn one down.” I respond, totally serious. He will owe me once this project is completed.
“You look like you’re ready for your dinner tonight with Mr. Bentley. You remember what I said yesterday, right?” He asks.
“Which part? The part where you told me to stay away from him or the part where you threatened me with my job if I didn’t go?”
“I didn’t threaten your job, Ally. I just reminded you to do whatever possible to ensure you don’t lose this account for Robertson. That’s all.” He smiles as he looks up at me. And not just a regular smile, a devious one at that. I’m beginning to think it’s time to check the classifieds, because I feel like I’m being played.
I start freaking out as five thirty rolls around, my mind has been playing tricks on me all day and I’ve had enough. First Tim and his contradictions, and complete silence on my cell. I know, I’m not supposed to be handling personal business on company time, I got that. But Heather knows, or should know, how I must be feeling today and I have not heard from her once.
And after a few moments of pondering, I change my mind. Hey, I’m a girl and that’s what we do. I have decided that I’m not going to this dinner tonight. I’m going to march my fat ass down to the parking garage, get in my own car and go home. I will close shop at my desk and head out like nothing’s changed, cause if Tim finds out, I’m gonna be unemployed anyway. Hey, at least I have an open offer to go work for Jackson right?
Right.
This is so going to backfire on me, but I can’t help it. This dinner is a bad, bad idea, Tim and Heather be damned. They’ll both be pissed at me, for different reasons of course. But I’m not going to play Mr. Bentley’s games.
Six o’clock comes and I find myself heading toward the elevator. Purse on my shoulder, iPhone in hand checking my personal email. Suffice it to say, I am not paying attention to where I am going and slam head on into a hard body, which doesn’t even step back on impact.
Mr. Bentley.
Shit, shit and double shit.
“Mr. Bentley, I was just on my way down to meet you.” No, I really wasn’t, but telling him otherwise will only cause trouble, and I’m in enough of that as it is. “It’s after six o’clock, Ally. You’re late. I told you if you weren’t on the curb at six o’clock I would come up for you. And instead of seeing you still working at your desk, I see you strolling slowly toward the elevator drowning in your phone.” He looks at me. He’s NOT happy.
Oh well, he’ll get over it.
He puts his hand to the small of my back and ushers me to the elevator. But as the doors open, Tim comes around the corner. “Mr. Bentley. Good to see you.” He says reaching to shake hands.
“Tim. What a pleasure. I’m whisking away this beautiful lady for the evening. I want to discuss what she’s come up with so far for the remodel.” Jackson tells him.
“Of course, of course. Enjoy your evening.” Tim says as he gives me the stink eye.
All is quiet
on the elevator, but Jackson is standing a bit too close for my comfort. He doesn’t speak. The doors open and we exit on to the sidewalk and I expect to see his car or his limo there, but no cars are parked on the curb. Maybe we’re walking. There are several sidewalk cafes in the area that would suffice for the evening’s meeting.
I’m looking up and down the road when I feel something press against my hand. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Dirty little minds. I look down and he’s handing me a helmet of sorts. I take it and look up at him, “What’s this?” I ask.
“What does it look like, Alexandra? It’s a helmet.” He gestures at the shiny motorcycle parked in a no parking zone. “What....what?” I stuttered.
“We’re taking the bike, Ally.” He says while putting on his helmet. He then straddles the bike and kicks up the stand, “Put on the helmet and get on.” He tells me as he starts the engine. I tell him NO WAY, but he doesn’t hear me over the revving of the engine. He flips up the visor on his helmet and looks at me, then nods his head toward the rear of the bike, motioning me on.
I’m not sure I can do this. I’ve never been on a motorcycle and have never really had the urge to. But something about the sleek, black bike and the look in his eyes tell me I’d better hurry up or there’ll be hell to pay.
He leaves the motor running and gets off the bike, walking to the back and opening up the small compartment. “Your purse goes in here.” He tells me, so I put the purse in and he closes the small compartment door.
He gets back on the bike and I have a little conversation with myself.
