by Peyton Banks
“Yeah, it’s closed for an air conditioner issue. So, you need to pack up, Greene.”
There are times when I can keep the craziness down. This isn’t one of those times. “You have the fucking audacity to interrupt my meeting and then talk shit to me in front of my team, our colleagues, like it ain’t nothing? If you don’t get the fuck out of here, Lucas…”
“Oh, so what, are you threatening me? Go ahead, try me.”
He encroaches my personal space, the one thing that pushes me overboard. I draw back to hit him, and my hand is caught by my assistant.
“Stop it, you two. Why are y’all always going at each other’s throats?”
“Umm, Armstrong is heading this way, and he looks pissed,” Janice says.
For the sake of my job, and I’m sure he was thinking the same, we all scramble and make it look like we were leaving and his team is settling in for their meeting. I need the fresh air anyway.
“What the hell is all the screaming down here? Sounds like my kids when they were growing up.”
“Oh, we’re sorry. We were having team Lucas and team Simone battle cheers. You know, like in high school. Good ol’ team spirit.” Even I didn’t believe it, but I had to spin it. It’s no secret we don’t get along.
“Yeah, Mr. Armstrong. Simone here is a real screamer. Did you know she was captain of her squad in high school?” Lucas says while he snakes his arm around my shoulders like we’re friends or some shit.
“Very well. Be sure to keep it at a minimum.”
He turns and walks back to his office, and when he gets out of earshot range, I stomp Lucas’ foot and get right in his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me ever again!” I grab my things from the conference table and walk back to my space.
“Whew, that was close,” Tanya says when she enters.
“The absolute nerve of him. I mean, he interrupts my meeting, demands we leave, and then…touches me. Like, the balls on that fucker are huge.” I pace incessantly, trying to calm down but find myself becoming more enraged. “How does he think it’s okay for him to just…ugh. I need to get out of here before I break something. Call me on my cell if you need me.” I pack up my bag and head out to cool off and do more research—i.e. go to a driving range—and then head home.
2
My friends, Hailey and Natalie, join me in my quest to be able to at least tee off. We arrive at the facility, purchase our buckets of balls, and go to the range.
“So, let me get this straight. Your boss is eyeing representing a large software company and has forged a competition between you and your rival to see who gets the account?” Natalie quizzically states.
I swing my iron and strike the ball forcefully. “Yep. That’s the plan.” I peer out at the green to see how far my orb traveled so I can mark my card.
“And you’re out here playing golf with us?” Hailey asks, same tone.
“Yes. Why?”
“I would be researching or spying on his plans instead of hanging out with us,” Natalie comments.
I tee up and take another swing. “This is my plan. I have a meeting with them tomorrow at the country club, so I needed to see if I remembered anything my dad taught me.”
“Okay, so what’s his angle?” Hailey responds.
I pull back and swack the next ball before answering. “Oddly enough, the same. Tanya told me today as she was scheduling our meeting. But then the fucker interrupted my time with my team and demanded I leave the conference room. I mean, this asshole acts like he runs everything. I can’t stand the ground he walks on.” I take a swing and hit the ball past the green. I’m sure someone’s car is dinged.
“Um, I think you need to grab a drink to calm your nerves. Let’s put the club away and go have a seat,” Natalie says, removing my golf equipment from my hands.
Maybe she’s right. I am too worked up. Even a few of the men standing nearby move away when we head inside to the bar, probably to avoid my wrath. The girls snag a table by the window closest to the entrance so we can watch the guys as they come in. After a few rounds of cosmos and margaritas, it’s safe to say I’m completely relaxed.
“Wow, he’s handsome,” Hailey says when a tall, tan, brown-haired gentleman walks by our table, passing us a subtle yet sexy smile.
I catch another look at him and make eye contact while slowly sipping my drink. He assumes that’s an invitation to strike up a conversation.
“Ladies, good afternoon. May I buy another round for the table?”
“Yes, you may, suga. My name is Natalie. This is Hailey and Simone.”
He extends his hand and takes ours into his palm when we are introduced.
“Pleasure to meet you all. My name is Jesse Cetera. Mind if I join you? I’m meeting my friend here for a short game.”
“Please, have a seat.” Natalie scoots over abruptly and bumps into me.
My friends are all about dating. Me, not so much. My career is the only thing occupying my time. I notice a faint tan line on our guest’s ring finger and roll my eyes listening to him make empty promises while he flirts with my friend. He catches me looking, and a streak of red colors his cheeks. Soon a tall, sun-kissed ebony man calls his name as he approaches our table.
“Jesse,” he says, his voice a little amplified.
Now this is a drink of water I can partake. I straighten up and arch my back slightly and prepare for a round of introductions.
“Hey, Harlan, you made it. Meet Natalie, Hailey, and Simone. Ladies, this is my brother-in-law, Harlan.”
Brother-in-law? I put the girls back to their resting position when I shake his hand.
“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. Let me get another round.” He raises his hand for the server’s attention.
“Uh, I think I’ve met my limit. I’m going to head home and get my research done. You ladies enjoy your time. I’ll catch up tomorrow after I land this account.”
Hailey stands to let me out of the booth seating, and we say our goodbyes. “I can’t believe I was about to put myself on display to get the attention of a man,” I say to myself when I enter my car. I shoot Natalie a text to advise of the wedding ring tan line I saw, letting her know to be careful with that guy before I pull off and go home.
I stayed up late working on this project. Tanya came by with wine and snacks to help me pull it all together. To thank her, I gave her the morning off so she could sleep in. Meanwhile, I grab a coffee with a triple-shot of espresso to help me at least function during the golf course meeting. Gaining their trust before I pitch my proposal is imperative if I want to win this account. To give us enough lag time for an actual discussion, I didn’t book a normal game. Only a few putting rounds. After introductions and speaking with Janelle and two other board members, I changed a few things around and reprinted it for my presentation when I returned to the office. I say a quick prayer and walk over to meet Armstrong where my rival is sitting outside waiting to go in. Taking the seat next to him, I pray he doesn’t speak to me.
“Good luck in there, Simone.”
So much for wishful thinking. I choose a vow of silence, he scoffs a bit at my unreturned gesture. The door opens, and Armstrong appears with a smile on his face. I straighten up, putting my bitter bitch attitude aside.
“Mr. Armstrong, good afternoon,” I say, shaking his hand.
Lucas follows with his own platitude, and we are ushered in to the office.
I deliver my proposal, which is a knockout punch to my competition. Focusing on the reason he started this company, which was the attempted abduction of his daughter, and the lack of protocols in place in schools today to prevent personal information from becoming public knowledge. How a person can learn a child’s schedule and plan their attack. This seemed to drive great interest from those in attendance. I also share stories of school officials who were able to partner with law enforcement and track down potential threats discreetly. Wrapping up my pitch, I take my seat and listen as Lucas presents his. Sweat
forms on my palms, and I swallow several times when he lists a few cost points I missed during my research. I compose myself, refusing to let that be a factor. When he finishes, we’re both dismissed while they discuss the presentations.
The afternoon crawls along, and I continuously buzz Tanya to see if she’s heard anything. I even take my shoes off so I won’t wear the soles down from my pacing.
“You know, maybe if you want to relax a bit, go fake nice with Lucas so there won’t be any hard feelings when it is announced who will manage the Clemet account,” Tanya suggests as she brings me my mail for the day.
I won’t even take calls until I find out my fate. Looking at my calendar, I realize I have to pick my mother up from the airport tomorrow. With all the events over the past day, it slipped my mind she’s visiting. I haven’t seen her since she went on her singles cruise a few months ago.
“I don’t know. You think that’ll help?”
“Just clear the air. At the end of the day, one of you will not get it. No need to gloat. Be humble.”
Fuck, I hate when she’s right. I take a deep breath, slide my heels back on, and go to Lucas’ office to make nice. “Hey, Weathers, I stopped by to wish you good luck. May the best person win.”
“Oh, I will, and then take a partnership leap over you.”
One thing that pisses me off is arrogance. I’m trying to be the bigger person, but he always manages to bring the mean girl out of me. “All I wanted to do is come clear the air between us, but your pompous ass can’t even allow it to happen. So, you know what, fuck you, Lucas.”
“Really, Simone? Fuck me. You wish I would even let you get close enough to see what it’s like to fuck me, so fuck you. With your snobbish ass.”
“Oh, I’m a fucking snob? I’m not the one driving around in an extension of my penis, you pretentious asswipe.”
Our argument becomes so heated, I don’t realize we have the attention of the entire office, including Mr. Armstrong and our beloved guests, until Armstrong politely shouts, “In my office, NOW!”
I shake my head as I saunter off to his office to get my immediate pink slip and Lucas follows. Why do I let him get under my skin? Mr. Armstrong is a very calm man, but the look in his eyes would give cyclops a run for his money.
“In all my years, I have never seen such an outrageous display of unethical, unprofessional behavior than what you two have showed here today. I am outright appalled. My two top managers going at each other like a pack of ravenous wolves.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Armstrong. I allowed my passion to rule me instead of keeping a cooler head.”
“Yeah, me, too. I goaded Simone and I shouldn’t have.”
“I appreciate you for admitting your failures. But nonetheless, the damage has been done. Both proposals were good, but unfortunately, Clemet’s accounting was here and witnessed the blowout. They are impressed with our offers and reputation but simply do not have the trust in the professionalism we promised. I hate to have to say this, but neither of you get the account. I’ll have to give it to Edwards.”
“But—” I try to interject, but it’s immediately shot down.
“I don’t want to hear it. You bought this on yourself. Be glad we didn’t lose the contract completely or we’d be having an entirely different conversation. I will say, Simone, your proposal was the one they were going to go with, so Edwards will use it to model his strategies. I’ll make sure you get a portion of the bonus associated but no credit. We won’t even talk about your promotion probability. For either of you. You are hereby placed on a thirty-day notice to clean up your act and work together without killing each other. You are dismissed.”
Lucas blows right past me, and I fight to hold back my emotions. Closing the door as I enter my office, I sink in my chair and let out low, inaudible sobs. I was such an idiot falling for his trap. I clean my face and pull up the accounts I do have and check on their performance. Throughout the rest of the day, I work to keep my sanity. I’m so glad it’s Friday, because I need to go get a drink and put this week behind me.
3
I decide to go to the bar down the street from the office for two reasons: One, I can walk there after work, and two, leave my car safe and secure in the parking garage in case I have to take an Uber home. I trek into the crowded bar searching for a place to sit and wallow in my despair. Not a single table was available. Groups of people gathered for happy hour fill the spaces along the perimeter while the center has a few high tables and a good-sized section for dancing, leaving me to survey the bar area in hopes to find a seat and not conversation. My scan is halted when I find a vacant barstool, but sitting right beside it is my rival, Lucas Weathers. I contemplate leaving and calling it a day since I have plans with my mother tomorrow, but the weight of disappointment is too heavy to cast aside. I swallow my pride and casually walk towards the empty seat. Upon my approach, I see Lucas has two empty glasses in front of him and is nursing a third.
“I’ll have a double vodka with a twist of lime and splash of cranberry juice,” I say to the bartender.
The tall, slender, and attractive young woman prepares my cocktail and places it in front of me. The first sip is to make sure it’s right, the second one is to begin my meditation, followed by a deep sigh.
“Your proposal was really good, if I may say,” Lucas speaks before pulling another sip from his glass.
I could be the catty bitch he’s used to, but considering all that transpired today, I choose not to. “Thanks. Yours was quite amazing. You hit points I forgot to mention.” I reply.
“Who the fuck are we kidding, they both were. But Armstrong gives it to—”
“Paul- Fucking-Edwards!” I exclaim, my face distorted with disgust.
We look at each other and burst out in loud laughter. I finish off my drink and call for a refill.
“Here, let me get that,” Lucas interrupts. “You know what, put all drinks on my tab. We have a lot of talking to do.”
The bartender looks to us and offers a smile, but my look to her is anything but complimentary.
I turn to my adversary and ask for an explanation. “So, what do we have to talk about?” I take a sip of my drink and give my thumbs-up.
“Simone, why do you hate me so much?” he retorts, wasting no time jumping into the fire.
“I don’t hate you, per se. I just strongly dislike you.”
“Okay. Why?”
“You walk around like you are the king of money management, and your mere arrogance repulses me.” I down my drink after I lay my words on the table and call the bartender for another. After all, he’s paying.
“Ouch. Save some of my heart for me, Greene. Shit.” He chortles.
“I’m sure you have some not-so-nice words for me.”
“Nope.” He swallows the last of his drink and signals for a refill.
“Oh, come on. We go at each other like champion fighters. Certainly, you have something to say.” I partake my drink and wait for his reply.
Silence falls between his lips, and when I look at him, his gaze is fixated on me. His eyes are soft, and I notice the tone of bright gray that reflects in his pupils. He has scruff adorning his well-chiseled jawline, and his hair is not its usual coiffed style. Has he always been this fine, I think to myself? A rush of heat overtakes me, and I stand to pull my cardigan off. The straps of my bra and cami fall from my shoulder, and out of instinct he assists with helping them up. The soft touch of his fingers mingling with my warm brown skin sends electrifying pulses through my body. He’s slow to remove his hand from its place and flashes a shy smile when he does.
“I’m sorry. I saw the straps fall and didn’t want you to have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.” He chuckles a bit, and I cast him a smile. “Oh, she can be soft, and she has a beautiful smile.”
“Oh, wow. Flattery? That’s how you come for me?”
He declines to respond, but there is something sexy and inviting in his eyes. “I tell you what. Let’s play a ga
me,” he requests.
“What kind of game?” I ask, tilting my head to the side in an inquisitive manner.
He signals for the bartender.
“Ready for another round?” she says upon arrival.
“Bring me two shot glasses, a fresh chilled bottle of Patron, a tray of limes, and salt.”
I look at him quizzically but intrigued, nonetheless. “Ooo a shot game.” I’m never one to back down from a challenge. “What are the rules?”
“Twenty-one questions. No right or wrong, just answers. We start with a toast, then we let the games begin.”
“You’re on.”
The bartender pours the first round. We lift our glasses and clink the short stubby containers. He slams his liquor, sucks on the lime, and squints at the sour taste.
“Whew. That’s a good one. Your turn.”
I reach back to my college days and take the entire rim into my mouth, holding my head back, allowing the alcohol to trail down my throat. The only time I use my hand is to remove the empty vessel. I don’t even bite the lime.
“Wow, impressive,” he says.
“Thank you. No reason we can’t have a little fun while being serious. So, who gets first question?”
“Ladies first, of course.”
“Okay. What’s your angle?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem like you are trying to accomplish something. Obtain a goal.”
“I am.”
“What is it? If I may ask.”
The look of deep thought on his face gives me the feeling it’s a serious aspiration.
“I don’t want to say. You may try to derail me.” He smiles and takes his shot. “Okay, my turn. Why are you single?”
I expected a question about my work performance or how did I get so good at my job? Or maybe what are my objectives? But nothing so personal. “How do you know I’m single?” I counter.
“For starters, it’s a Friday night and you’re here in a bar with me. You haven’t once picked up your phone to check for messages or missed calls, and your watch hasn’t flashed anything either.”
