Taming Mr. Jerkface (The Taming Series Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Missy and I stood nervously in front of the wicker chairs. Mr. Thomas had not invited us to sit down and so we did not. My knees were bouncing of their own accord. The CEO was even more imposing up close and personal. His face was set in an expressionless mask but his stormy blue eyes regarded me and Missy with professional pleasantry.

  “Miss Reyes, Miss Garbutt.” Mr. Thomas greeted in his gruff voice, then without preamble said, “Young lady, I’ve called your Tourism Board and arranged to have you work in my Public Relations Department in liaison with the Tourism industry of Belize. You’ll be working for six weeks to develop a concise and well detailed action plan outlining the needs of your country and the steps Maladon Resorts can take to help.”

  My mouth had fallen open by his second sentence.

  Say what now?

  Mr. Thomas barreled on as though he was reading a grocery list.

  “You’ll remain in the room you are currently residing in and I expect a full presentation at the end of six weeks. I’m also loaning you an assistant to meet all your needs so that you can focus on getting the work done.”

  Mr. Thomas folded his hands and leaned back in his chair till it creaked.

  “The paperwork is being drafted as we speak and an allowance will be allotted to replace all the necessities you haven’t brought such as food, clothes, and transportation. I’m assuming this suits you?”

  I could barely move. This was an unbelievable opportunity! Of course this suited me. I could only nod.. The relief of not being fired was like a burden rolling of my shoulders. I’d forgotten about Missy when Mr. Thomas had begun to speak and only remembered her presence when she spoke,

  “Sir, what about me?” Missy squeaked.

  Waving his liver-spotted hand at her, Mr. Thomas asked, “What do you do?”

  Missy squared her shoulders, “I am an active representative of the Belize Tourism Board, sir.”

  “Mm-hm,” Mr. Thomas said with disinterest. “You’re not needed. You go home as scheduled.”

  Missy gaped, resembling a fish out of water.

  “What?”

  Mr. Thomas ignored her. “If that’s all, please exit and attend to the secretary who will hand you your paperwork, Miss Reyes.”

  Missy huffed and stomped out of the office. I stood as well, but hesitated. Mr. Thomas looked up from his laptop and noticed me still standing there.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Reyes?”

  “No sir,” I acknowledged. Seeming satisfied, Mr. Thomas returned to his work. I could not move. He glanced up again and looked a bit annoyed to still see me standing there.

  “Miss Reyes?” he asked impatiently.

  “Sir, I’m very grateful for this opportunity. I am. But may I ask why I’ve been chosen for this project?”

  Mr. Thomas narrowed his eyes and peered at me. His bushy salt and pepper eyebrows came close together and reminded me of a hairy caterpillar. Not the most flattering image to associate with my future – albeit temporary – boss.

  “Because Miss Reyes,” Mr. Thomas sighed as if his reasons for making me the head of this liaison were obvious and I was pulling the sentiment out of him. “You have a vision. And it matches mine. You’ve now got the time and the tools to make that vision come true.”

  My eyebrows flexed in confusion but Mr. Thomas shooed me out of his office with a flick of his wrist.

  In a daze, I signed all the papers put in front of me and caught a cab back to the apartment that Missy and I shared. Everything was happening too fast. I needed some time to soak it all in. Thankfully, when I opened the apartment door and looked around, Missy was nowhere in sight. I had no idea where she had disappeared to, but I hoped she was okay. Missy was shallow and self-absorbed, but she wasn’t all together a bad person. I wished her no harm.

  After depositing my purse in the corner table, I peeled out of my clothes and took a shower. The warm water refreshed me and cleared my head a bit. After dressing in comfortable stretchy pants and an old T-shirt that proudly displayed, “YOU BETTA BELIZE IT!”, I sprang onto my bed and revisited the day.

  Okay. I’d been kissed by one of the sexiest men alive. That happened.

  I’d also landed a once in a lifetime gig that had the potential to not only benefitted me but could help my country as well. Those two events were the highlight of my day.

  Getting tasered fell somewhere below the Approval line.

  As I sat there alone, reviewing the events of the day, I had the most insane urge to talk to my mother. Growing up, Mom was always the one I ran to with my feelings and she was always there when I needed advice. If it were up to my father, I would never have left the house except for school and church. Daddy believed that Rapunzel’s tower imprisonment was a responsible, parental move. Thank God for my mother. Mom was my advocate, intelligently pointing out that not even the tower could keep the handsome prince from scaling the walls and introducing Rapunzel to life. My mom was always taking my side, which drove my dad crazy and drew us closer than ever. As rare as it was, Mom was one of my best friends.

  Grabbing my laptop from the computer table, I booted it up and called Mom on Skype. It was touch-and-go for a few rings. Mom’s ability to answer her phone was as fickle as Mother Nature herself. She always had her cell on vibrate and sometimes she simply ignored it when she didn’t want to answer the ringing phone. Miraculously, she picked up on my second try tonight.

  “Melody!” she greeted, the pixels in my video screen scrambled a bit before turning right again.

  “Hi mom.”

  “How’s L.A.? Are you still coming back tomorrow?”

  “Actually that’s why I called, Mom.” I grabbed one of the fluffy pillows and got comfortable in front of my laptop. I briefly skimmed over the details of the day, skipping the unsavory events (like being tasered) and the very savory events (like Spencer’s kiss).

  “Wow,” Mom said when I concluded my account, “Sounds like you had quite a day”.

  You have no idea.

  We both sat in comfortable silence, soaking everything in. Finally, Mom poked a hole in the hush bubble that surrounded us,

  “Is there something else?”

  I ducked my head. How did she do that?

  “W-what do you mean?”

  Mom arched an eyebrow and gave me the “Look”. I swear that all Mothers go to Mother University where they practice the “Look” until they’ve got it down pat. I know for certain that my Mom attended that college for with one slant of her eyes and tilt of her eyebrows she provoked countless acts of obedience. I clamped my mouth shut stubbornly, a thousand miles and my twenty years badge of adulthood softening the potency of that laser gaze.

  “Melody…” Mom warned.

  “That’s it for now, Mom. I’m accepting this assignment and so I’ll be over here in LA for the next six weeks or so.”

  Mom tried “the Look” one more time then sighed in defeat when I refused to discuss anything else.

  “My baby’s growing up.” She chuckled, “Okay, Melody. Stay safe and call me soon.”

  “Sure thing, Mom.” I assured her and then ended the call.

  Immediately, regret invaded my Spirit. Should I have mentioned Spencer to her? Undoubtedly, Mom probably would have been an incredibly helpful sounding board if I’d chosen to discuss my first kiss with her. But for some reason, I’d held back. Maybe it was because I knew what she would tell me. And nothing that she could tell me would be anything that I didn’t know. Guys as worldly and wealthy as Spencer certainly didn’t make a habit of hooking up with poor Caribbean girls like me. And if they did, it was never for the long haul. Mom would tell me to be careful and hide my heart until I knew that I could trust this total stranger with it.

  And she’d be right.

  Maybe she’d warn that guys have one thing and one thing only on their minds when they randomly kiss strange girls a day after meeting them.

  And she’d be right.

  Before I could completely obsess over this afternoo
n’s kiss, the door of the apartment opened and Missy stormed in, slamming it shut behind her. I gingerly rose from my bed and tiptoed into the kitchen where she stood, agitatedly dumping ice cream into a bowl.

  I didn’t like Missy as a person, but as a fellow human being I could sympathize with her. It must suck to feel so out of the loop and so rejected. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

  “You okay,” I offered the olive leaf.

  “No. I am not okay. That white man is so obviously crazy!” Missy complained as she kept on scooping. The ice cream in the dish grew lopsided with the weight of so many scoops.

  “Don’t worry, Missy. I wouldn’t mind going back home to be with my family. I’m sure your family misses you back in Belize.”

  “I don’t care if they miss me,” she bit out, “I want to stay here.”

  Taking her monster of a dessert, Missy moved to the living room and flopped unceremoniously in the couch.

  “I mean,” she shoveled a spoon full into her mouth, “You and me, we’re a team. We work together. You can’t function without me.”

  Actually, I functioned quite well without her. I’d even venture to say that I functioned better without her. Unfortunately, my soft heart and well-mannered upbringing forced me to at least attempt cheering her.

  “Okay, well maybe you could talk to your uncle or something.”

  At my words, Missy perked up. “Hey, you’re right. My uncle will know exactly how to clear up this misunderstanding. I’ll have him talk to Mr. Thomas.”

  “Wait, no.”

  “Thank you so much, Mellie. I’ve found a way to stay in L.A.,” Missy squealed, launching herself from the couch and dumping her cold ice cream in my lap in the process.

  “Sorry,” she yelled as she raced to her room and grabbed her Belizean cell phone.

  I groaned. Really God, really? Do you think this is funny?

  Walking gingerly to the kitchen as the cold treat seeped into my pants, I grabbed a towel from the drawer and dabbed at my lap. I heard Missy’s end of the conversation and fear struck my heart at every positive acknowledgement.

  “Yes, yes please.” She responded to whatever her uncle said her hopeful tone was pathetic enough that I almost, almost rooted for her. I couldn’t quite scrimmage enough kindness to get there, but I applauded her performance.

  “But, Uncle,” I finally heard the sweet sound of a negative response.

  Please God, please, please, please was all I could pray.

  “Okay. Okay, fine.” Oh, that didn’t sound good.

  Hallelujah!

  Missy shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself some water from the bottle that we’d bought at Walmart.

  “So,” I began slowly, “What did he say?”

  “He says his hands are tied. There’s no way he can talk to that smarmy Mr. Thomas and convince him to let me stay.”

  Praise Jesus! There is a God in Heaven.

  Missy turned her back to return despondently to her room. Flapping my hands and stomping my feet I erupted into a low down, Pentecostal victory dance. Suddenly Missy whirled around and I panicked. Caught in the act, I threw one arm forward and made a grasping gesture.

  “Caught it.” I said awkwardly.

  Missy’s eyes widened as tears filled their depths. The act didn’t move me one bit. “Mellie, why don’t you talk to Mr. Thomas for me? Tell him that you need me.”

  Ha, I’d rather choke to death.

  “I’m sorry, Missy. You know I would do that if I could,” Lies! “But I’m afraid Mr. Thomas has already set things up and I don’t want to get him angry by rejecting his offer.”

  Missy pouted and opened her mouth to object. Before she could whine about the way of things, her phone rang.

  I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Hello,” Missy croaked into her phone and listened for a moment before replying “I do, Uncle, I really do,”

  Silence.

  Then the most obnoxiously foreboding smile bloomed on Missy’s face.

  “You can’t be serious! You mean it? Thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down.”

  I stood rooted to my spot in the kitchen, clenching the towel closed in my fisted grasp.

  “What did he say?” I yelled, doom creating a sinking pit in my stomach.

  Missy grinned, ran into the kitchen, and threw her arms around me with joy, “I get to stay!”

  “You do?” I repeated, forcing sincerity into my tone.

  “Well, only for two weeks. Uncle called it a “handover” but basically, I get fourteen more days in L.A.!”

  “Fourteen. One and four?”

  “Yes! Isn’t it great?”

  “Great. Yeah,” Oh Lord, forgive me for that grievous lie.

  “We’re going to have so much fun.” Missy enthused.

  I extricated myself from her grasp, “We are here to work. Wooork, not have fun.”

  “Keep on talking like that and I’ll be the one having all the fun.” Missy threatened.

  “You do that already,”

  “What did you say?” She asked.

  “Nothing,” I answered sweetly.

  “Oh, I’m so excited!” Missy cried.

  Kill me now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When people try to guess my favorite day, they never get it right. I adore Christmas. I love getting gifts, but the 25th of December is not my favorite holiday. My birthday? It’s always celebrated with cake and Oreos, but the 13th of May is still not my favorite holiday. Don’t even get me started on Valentine’s Day. That is one day I abhor. Finally, after exhausting all the known holidays, the innocent inquirer would still not hit the right one. Give up yet?

  My favorite holiday is the first day of school.

  Yes, I know, I know. I’m a complete waste of a nerd. But I have never tried to hide my colossally nerdy personality. And I can’t change the fact that I find a cold night cooped up in my bed with a good book a better form of entertainment than going out to the club with my school friends.

  Everything about the first day of school excites me. The precision of a new uniform perfectly proportioned to my body, starched, pressed, and flawless. The uniqueness of a new backpack, clean and dirt free. The sweet smell of unused notebooks, erasers, and freshly sharpened pencils. The sense that I was coming back to the same friends and the same teachers and the same courses, but I could choose to be someone completely different, someone sophisticated and confident. Someone who didn’t fall on her face in every social situation.

  I loved the first day of school.

  But I hated the first day of work, which is ironic because I get paid to go to one and I got homework in the other. Still I looked to the first day of work in a new place with anxiety and panic attacks. The stakes were so much higher in the real world. I had a responsibility to my bosses, to my co-workers, and to the vision of the company. That was a lot of pressure to put on one person.

  On the bright side, I had the entire weekend to freak out about the huge task before me, so on Monday morning, I was only moderately terrified out of my mind. I stood in my little cubicle dressed in a blue blouse and gray slacks with my favorite velvet strappy heels tethering my feet to sanity. Missy had another phantom migraine this morning, so I was facing the new office on my own. It would have been nice to have a familiar, if not friendly, face in a strange place like this.

  I heard a shuffling in the next cubicle and flattened myself against my cubicle wall. Moving up slowly, my eyes just topped the white panel when I yelled and toppled backward. There was another pair of eyes peeking over the cubicle wall too!

  “Hey, hey, I’m sorry!” A short girl with tightly coiled burnt-orange-tinted hair and beautiful creamy skin raced into my office. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I placed my hands over my pounding heart. “I could lie and say you didn’t, but I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  She laughed and guided me to sit in the black swivel cha
ir.

  “I’m Susan, your assistant.”

  “Hi, Susan. My name is Melody.”

  “Cool, nice to meet you.” Susan catapulted herself onto my clean Formica desk. Her feet rocked to and fro as she engaged me in conversation, “So, let’s get over the awkward ‘should-we-be-friends’ stage, I don’t have time for shizz like that.”

  “Um, okay?”

  As overwhelming as Susan’s personality was, I had to admit that her straightforwardness was appreciated. I liked her already.

  “I love your accent, by the way. Office gossip says you’re Belizean?”

  “Yeah, it’s a little country in Central America, right below Mexico.”

  “That is way cool.”

  I laughed, “I like your accent too.”

  “Isn’t it weird to hear people say you have an accent? Like, I’m just talking.”

  Susan cackled and I knew instinctively that this was a first day of work that I was actually enjoying.

  “So,” Susan turned serious, “just so you know, I’m getting my law degree at the University of Southern California and this internship is very important for keeping my scholarship so I plan to work hard and help you in whatever way I can.”

  “Wow.”

  Susan grinned knowingly, “You look surprised.”

  I couldn’t hide my reaction, “I am. You don’t give off lawyer vibes.”

  “Ha! You’re not the first person to tell me that. I can be stern when the time calls for it,” Susan fixed her face in a severe frown and then shook the gravity of her features with a smile, “But I’m not that person, and I won’t try to be.”

  “Point taken, Susan. I have a way of embarrassing myself at important moments so I guess we each have our thing.”

  Susan laughed, “No way. You look so stately and regal.”

  “And you look so chipper and bubbly.” I returned.

  “Touché,” Susan winked, hopping off my desk, “Okay, boss put me to work.”

  And so I did. We spent the morning researching statistics of unemployment, targeting the villages and underdeveloped districts in Belize. The time flew by. Susan’s presence in my cubicle was my only reminder that the lunch hour was before us.