Rash Decisions

by Alex Rosa

  Apparently, I have something to prove, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him to do it. I wish things were different, but I’ll just have to live with what life throws at me. I knew this was going to be a risk.

  I want to think I held my own earlier, but my rattled nerves tell me otherwise.

  I need some air.

  I grab for my purse and jacket, and head out the door, wondering if I can handle lunch with Paul and Mr. Troy “Jerk Face” Dillinger.

  I head for the elevator, eyeing the empty desk between our office doors where our assistant will soon sit.

  I can’t imagine sharing much with that man, even an assistant. I’m in over my head, but I’ll handle this moment by moment. We’re supposed to work as a team, aren’t we? Maybe I need to make myself clear. I don’t want his job. I just want to be employed.

  Everything will happen in good time, I suppose.

  I shake my head and limbs out in hopes of regaining a sense of calm as I enter the elevator. I wish I had an outlet … or friends.

  I roll my eyes, repeating myself: time. It will take time!

  The elevator doors spring open to reveal a group of four young businessmen waiting. I smile. “Excuse me, sorry.”

  They’re all exceedingly handsome, and it intimidates me.

  “Anytime, Miss.”

  The men part, allowing me to exit, and I’m thankful that there seems to be at least some manners in this city. Call it hope.

  I slip both arms through my coat as I exit the building while considering attempting round two of coffee before heading back to my office to research the client Paul is eyeing. I have to start somewhere, and could use a distraction.

  As my heel makes contact with the icy pavement, and the chill of the morning hits my face, I already feel better. With the smell of espresso wafting from across the road I feel like I can maybe reboot and conquer today.

  I nod to myself as reassurance, taking long strides to the corner until a gust of wind blows down the bustling street, the chill knocking me off balance as my heel slips.

  “Aahh!” I screech as my feet slip from underneath me. I clench my eyes shut, jutting my arms out behind me as I brace myself for an icy, hard contact right onto my ass.

  Strong arms come around me, wrapping underneath my arms, catching me. The hard, rush of a grip presses against my breasts, which has me springing forward in fear, but I sputter an, “Oh my god, thank you!” before I turn around to face my rescuer, so that I don’t seem too unappreciative.

  I nearly stumble again when I come in contact with a man of staggering height over my 5’5” frame. His muscular, bulky arms emerge from a worn, white t-shirt, joined by a black pair of sweatpants and Nikes. He’s out of breath, but smiling.

  He brushes his short, damp, chestnut hair off of his forehead, and the intensity of his hazel eyes reminds me of a coworker of mine, but at least the adorable, youthful crinkles around this stranger’s eyes insinuate kindness.

  “Pardon me!” and his arms fly up in apologetic defense. “I’m sorry. I was jogging by and it just so happened to be I was in the right place at the right time. I managed to catch you before you fell.”

  Blushing furiously at this point, I notice his shirt soaked with sweat, sticking to his broad form. “Aren’t you cold?”

  His smile only widens as he rubs at his chest this time as if a little embarrassed. “Uh, I guess I am now that I’m not running. I jog this stretch to the shore on my lunch breaks sometimes”

  “Kinda early, don’t you think?” I pause, feeling foolish, and I try to change tact wondering what the hell I’m doing talking to this handsome stranger at 9:00am on a workday. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me. I don’t mean to pry. Thanks for being there to catch me. You saved my dignity.”

  He releases a laugh, and my lungs tighten at the deep baritone sound, finding that his laugh is the first one I’ve heard since hitting this metropolitan city.

  “No worries. It’s not prying. I have the early twelve hour shift.”

  My brows knit together with bemused interest. “Twelve hour shift? Are you a doctor, or something?”

  He chuckles again, this time rubbing at his arms as the chill seemingly begins to affect him. “Eh, not as charming. Unfortunately, your rescuer is just a cop.”

  His somewhat brute physique makes sense. I offer him a full grin. “Well, then it makes perfect sense, actually.”

  The conversation wanes as we dip into silence, and I know I should send this man on his way. I look down at my heels, and the peeking red of my Louboutins catches my eye, giving me a boost of confidence.

  I decide on a sideswipe approach while squeezing in a goodbye. Though, I can’t tell what I want out of it. “I guess I shouldn’t keep you. I’m new in town, and I’m still getting used to walking in heels in the snow. I really appreciate the assistance. I feel bad, maybe I could offer you a cup of coffee across the road for your trouble as a thank you. You don’t even have to sit with me. Take it to-go.”

  He licks over his bottom lip, clamping down on it as he looks at his wristwatch, and then back at me. “You’re new in town? I should’ve guessed.”

  Was that a joke? Because I’m laughing like an idiot anyway.

  He continues, “I would love to get that cup of coffee, and actually take a seat with you, if you’d have me. I don’t just catch beautiful women mid-fall every day.” There I go laughing again. “But unfortunately, I have to get back to the station. Uh, sorry if this is forward, but if you’re new, and no one here as swiped you up yet, maybe we could go out for drinks?”

  My heart flutters. I’ve been in town a week and this is happening. I’m flustered by the direct question. When was the last time a man, a handsome man at that, asked me out? An odd concoction of guilt joins my fluttering heart as I think of Tyler on the beaches of California, mourning the sudden end of our relationship. I gulp down the thought, trying to remind myself I left to start something new.

  “I’d love to get drinks,” I croak, the words eager but anxious as they tumble out of my mouth. I bite back an apologetic smirk, examining his high cheekbones under a layer of stubble that I swear seem to be a bit rosy in color. “But, being new in town, and being told never to talk to strangers, I should probably at least know your name.”

  He rubs at his strong chin, shaking his head. “So much for first impressions, right? My name’s Noah, Noah Weston.” He extends his hand out to shake mine.

  I eagerly reach for it, excited for any spark that might ensue like this conversation, but instead his large hand wraps around mine confidently, and its electricity is slight, but not monumental. A current of warmth runs up my arm, and ignites a smile, but nothing like a firework. That’s when I realize I’ve read way too many romance novels.

  “Nice to meet you, Noah. My name is Julia Ferris.”

  He nods through hearing my name. “Ferris? I swear I’ve heard that name before. Pleasure meeting you, Julia.”

  My lip twitches in bashful anticipation, like a girl getting asked to a school dance. “Let me give you my number.” I dig into my purse for a pen.

  “Of course,” he sputters. “You’re really gonna let me take you out?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

  He extends his hand out again, and I quickly grab it, scrawling my number on his forearm. “It must be because you’re new. I feel like most girls in this city want a background check before they accept some strangers date on the street.”

  “So, it is a date then?”

  His smile is infectious.

  “Oh, it’s most definitely a date.” His eyes flit over my body in such a way not to seem rude, but most definitely purposeful.

  I gulp down another large helping of my nerves. “Well, call me. I think we both have to get back to work soon.” My eyes fly to the daunting building behind him, its seventy floors looming over us.

  He catches my glance as he turns around. “You work in there?”

 
“Yep.” I nod.

  “Yikes. I know that building. Don’t let them eat you alive in there.”

  I pull in a deep breath, understanding exactly what he means.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Julia. I’ll be calling you. Embarrassingly enough, I’m sure it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

  I grin wide like an utter loon. God help me. “I’d prefer it. You’d be my first real friend in this city, Noah Weston.”

  “Glad to know I have perfect timing. Bye, Julia.” He winks before sprinting in the opposite direction.

  And all I can think is perfect timing, indeed.

  When I stroll back into the offices of S.F. Design, I see that a redhead with a loose bun sitting atop a petite face now occupies the once empty desk next to my office door. She seems engrossed in her computer, her nose nearly touching the screen.

  My morning is looking up, and I have a hell of a day ahead of me. I chew my lip, wondering if she’ll be willing to talk to me. Whose side will she be on, if any?

  I notice the bustle in the office seems to be picking up as I look around. For being the new girl, no one seems to take much notice of me. They’re all much more preoccupied with their tasks, and I guess I can’t blame them. This is a top-ranking firm, with an involved clientele list, and everyone’s got a bottom line to meet, I’m sure.

  I approach the redhead’s desk, realizing that the want to have this girl like me is insane. Technically, I’m her boss, but I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.

  As I get closer I notice a ballpoint pen stuck into her bun as she nibbles on one of her acrylic nails, her nude lips silently chattering to herself as if she’s reading.

  I know I shouldn’t feel like I’m intruding, but I do.

  I straighten my throat to get her attention.

  She springs back from her computer screen, her green eyes widen as she forces a comical, but oddly sincere grin.

  “Ms. Ferris! Hi!”

  Her voice is sweet, but its chirp causes me to flinch, and maybe my eye to twitch. She obviously knows who I am.

  I extend my hand over her desk. Her smile is dazzling, and I add her to the list of gorgeous woman I’ve encountered in this city. As she reaches for me, she knocks over her cup of coffee.

  She can now also be added to the list of clumsiest woman in the city, and lucky for her, I too claim that list as my own.

  “Oh my god! I’m so embarrassed!” She peers down, and manages a tight smile and a shrug of relief as she grabs for the mug. “Phew. I drank most of it.”

  This time my giggles squeeze their way through my lips as I watch her sop up the minimal mess, and quietly thank her lucky stars under her breath.

  “No worries. I had my own coffee debacle this morning all over this blouse.”

  The redhead whips her head up, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “Your shirt doesn’t even look stained.”

  I purse my lips and nod. “Club soda, that’s key. Oh, and steering clear of jerks in coffee shops.”

  I clasp my hand over my mouth. Although I mean it as a joke, and the girl begins a warming round of laughter, I realize the jerk I speak of is also her other boss. I try to decide if I should call myself out on it, or let it go unnoticed and hope for the best.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?” I ask.

  Yep, I’m just going to ignore it.

  “Claire. Claire Preston. Nice to meet you, Ms. Ferris.”

  “Please, just call me Julia. Actually, please call me Jules.” I pull in a deep breath. “It’s about time I start treating this place like home.”

  Her brows tighten, but she’s still smiling. “Jules it is. Gosh, I thought you were going to be mean or something.” For being the assistant, her natural boldness shocks me, but I like it.

  “Mean? Well, I hope I’m not. But then again, you might want to keep the jury out on that one. It’s barely my first day.”

  She nods, still seemingly accomplished by the encounter, and I’m curious to know what it’s like to work for Troy.

  “Oh,” she squeaks as she reaches down for a note. “Mr. Ferris wanted me to let you know that he has to cancel on lunch, but suggests you and Mr. Dillinger continue with it to get to know each other and discuss the Sol-ell, uhh, the Sol-ee-ell’s? File. Uh…”

  I squint, trying to understand her phonetic pronunciation of the name, and it hits me. “It’s pronounced like soul-lay, but spelled S-O-L-E-I-L, right?”

  She nods, her cheeks puffing out nervously.

  “I know that name.” I tap my chin, feeling for the first time like my feet are firmly planted with a purpose. Finally. “Claire, do me a favor, can you please pull the Soleil file, including their buying and building history? There should be record of them opening up a nightclub in Santa Monica, California last spring.”

  Claire’s preemptive smile silences me.

  “No problem, Ms. Fer—Jules. And you’d be right. That’s their most recent opening, but they usually deal with residential real estate. Commercial is new. I have already created their file. Mr. Dillinger requested the same thing yesterday. ”

  Did he now?

  “Do you mind if I have that? Troy and I are partners now, and I don’t think he’d mind if I take—“

  Claire relaxes into her chair, leaning back, and peers around quickly before saying, “Don’t worry about it. I know why you need them. Not that it’s my place, but just be careful with Tro —Mr. Dillinger.”

  She pauses, searching for the words, and her rosy cheeks give her away.

  “I get it. Glad to know that we’re on the same page.”

  I grab for the waiting file, her eyes colliding with mine in comical understanding. Glad to know Troy’s jerk-ness has a reputation.

  Before I turn to walk into my office, Claire asks, “Should I confirm lunch with Mr. Dillinger?”

  I reveal a wicked grin. “Absolutely. Let him know I’ll meet him at Guerrero’s at noon.”

  Claire opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. I offer her a bemused smirk before closing my door.

  Mr. Dillinger might not be used to taking orders.

  It’s about time we get things figured out.

  I release a drawn out sigh as I sit at a table waiting for Julia to arrive. She said noon, didn’t she?

  I glance at my watch. Ten minutes late is unacceptable.

  As I grab for the green olive at the bottom of my martini glass, I finally see her. The doors swing open ferociously, bringing in a brief gust of wind through the foyer of the restaurant.

  I plop the olive in my mouth as my eyes glue themselves to her. I examine her long, frantic strides. I know I’m purposefully glaring, but the heavy drag of my eyes down her curves is completely involuntary.

  Her brown eyes widen infinitesimally as she makes contact with mine. She makes her way to our table.

  Her cheeks look chapped from the cold and have a pink hue to them as she takes a seat, straightening out her chestnut, windblown hair.

  I gulp at the sight.

  She lifts a dainty shoulder, managing an apologetic smile. “I know it would seem this was intentionally done, but it wasn’t. I just underestimate the time it takes me to do things here.”

  I signal a passing waiter for two more drinks as I quip, “It’s a Californian problem. You can’t make the mistake of thinking everything takes twenty minutes in this city.”

  Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip. I want to assume she does that with bashful intent, but instead her eyes tell me it’s to hold her back from saying something she shouldn’t.

  My lips twist at the realization as she moves a rogue piece of hair from her face behind her ear.

  The waiter appears with two martinis, putting one of them in front of her.

  Her eyebrows furrow. “Troy…” she whines.

  Why does the sound cause my skin to tingle?

  I want to comment on her instant need to skip formalities, but then a
gain, I know better. It would just make me an instigative asshole.

  “What?” I shrug.

  “An alcoholic drink on a lunch break seems far from appropriate.”

  I rub at the stubble on my chin, wishing I had shaved this morning. “C’mon, Julia. How do you expect us to get along if we both don’t loosen up?”

  She squints an eye at me wearily, but the curve of her lips tells me she’s considering it. “Is this like the movie Training Day? Or that movie Horrible Bosses? You trick me into breaking the rules, and then spring me for a drug test at the end of the day to get me fired?”

  I laugh an actual laugh.

  I want to stop it, and I try, but I can’t.

  Her lips purse into a funny pout as she watches my belt of laughter. She grabs for the martini, shrugging with the same shoulder again. “It seems humor also gets you to loosen up Troy, but a martini is the next best thing.”

  She winks, and I’m floored. I rub at the back of my neck, silencing myself as my free hand grabs for my drink. I’m thankful I managed to have one before she got here. How else would I be able to handle this creature?

  She waits patiently, her eyes following the liquid down my throat before speaking. “So Troy, my uncle isn’t nearby. You can tell me what you really think of me now.”

  If I hadn’t just swallowed my gulp, I might’ve spit it everywhere. “I thought New Yorkers were supposed to be the bold ones?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You obviously never went to high school in the Valley.”

  Am I supposed to get her joke? A parody of the movie Mean Girls pops into my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She grumbles as she leans back in her seat, taking another sip. “There’s the difference. New Yorkers don’t think people notice they’re full of shit.”

  A laugh gets choked up in my throat. Damn, I want to let it out, but that would mean we would be in the process of becoming friends. I can’t let that happen, although, her unsuspecting, witty, bluntness is delightful and a little exciting.