She is ...: I Ain’t Ya Mama Collab

by Chelsea Camaron

  Maybe I should change that. If I can figure out Don’s reluctantcy to walk the line, then I can help him grow up. He can have the company and I can go back to farm life.

  Laying the bag out on my bench seat, I slam the passenger door before I make my way around my truck and head home. Looking over to the offending bag, I huff. Making a quick decision I turn left in the direction of the corporate office rather than going straight to my farm. There is something about taking those suits home and hanging them in my closet that doesn’t sit right so instead I take them to my new home away from home—my office. With my key and access card, I make it through the front door of the ostentatious entrance and down the mahogany painted walls to the executive offices.

  Passing the desk where my secretary will sit in the morning makes my stomach churn. Donovan and I will share a secretary for the time being, having our offices side by side, it works. The large solid cherry doors behind the space are beyond grand, with a gold plate on the left door, I pass onto the right where I see it.

  Sullivan Marks, CEO.

  My name on a plaque attached to a door with a title neatly behind it. All of it is too much as I blow out a breath. With my key card, I slide it into the hotel style door lock to get inside what will become my personal hell in the morning.

  Already I feel like a caged animal. Like a tiger I want to pace the space immediately. I turn the handle once the green light pops on and open the door. Stepping inside I move from the laminate hard wood into plush carpet that feels soft even under my cowboy boots. The conference table sits to the right of the doorway where to the left is a built in bar space with a sink, small fridge, and coffee pot all in a nook. The door beside that has a full length mirror running the length of it.

  Heading to it, I turn the knob revealing a full bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink all lavishly done. Just inside that door is another door to the right revealing a closet with shoe cubbies and all.

  Quickly, I hang the garment bag and try not to let the frustration build. This is everything I’m not, yet, here I am.

  Inhaling deeply, the clean air assaults my nose. There is no odor. The smell of saw dust, oats, barn life are all absent from the space. It’s all so clean, so tidy, and so stuffy. It’s everything I’m not.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I look back into my office space. The warm tones of the ivory walls are accented in a deep cherry trim that matches the oversized cherry desk towards the back. The back wall is lined in windows that are currently blocking the outside view with their ivory shades. There are built in bookshelves filled with binders of different brew recipes passed on from Grandpa Vance. On the wall directly behind my desk, above my head where my chair will rest is a picture of Grandpa Vance, my father, Van Marks, with Donovan and me in front of them. All of the Marks men standing in front of this building the ribbon cutting day for Grandpa Vance.

  This is what he envisioned for his family. I find a renewed hope in taking this position even if it kills all my personal dreams.

  I exit the building with a different weight on my shoulders. I have accepted my fate. Will I have time for anything outside of this building?

  Doubtful. We saw our father more at the company functions where family was welcomed than we did at home.

  At the gate, I swipe my employee card that raises the bar allowing me exit to the parking lot. The sun is shining and the weather is mild making for a very comfortable fall day. Two months from now, there will be snow on the ground.

  At least I’m stepping in at the distillery during my slow time. If I can get Donovan back on track by seeding time, I can be done with nothing lost for either of us.

  Who am I kidding? The corporate black hole is going to suck me under, no matter how hard I try to fight it.

  The turn onto my dirt road has my heart rate picks up wondering if she’s still here. Hopping out of my truck, I excitedly make my way to the front door.

  When was the last time I was excited to come home?

  Good question.

  Inserting my key, I turn the knob and my heart stops. Stepping inside my small home, I find myself holding my breath as I look up to see Elle sitting on the futon that she’s made up. Beside her sits Hooch with his head comfortably on her lap as if this is an everyday occurrence.

  I find myself letting out a sigh of relief when her eyes find mine and I see the spark in their depths sucking me in deeper. How can I hold onto this when everything is changing tomorrow morning?

  Eight

  Elle

  Monday morning.

  The start to a new week. Van woke me up an hour ago with a kiss to the forehead before he took off to get to work. I feel like a fool. I don’t know anything really about this man. I’ve never had a one-night stand like this or should I say a weekend sleepover since I’ve been here two nights. Sure, I’ve had hook-ups but never like this.

  He made a call yesterday and my car is at the garage getting repaired. Since I didn’t want to be stuck depending on cabs and asking for rides, I called and set up a rental car for the week. They did the whole we’ll pick you up thing and it worked out perfect to get myself somewhat sorted. I have a little saved, I can swing it for a couple of days without killing my bank account.

  Where am I going to live?

  I don’t have time to think on it before I need to be ready for work at Marks’ Distillery. Therefore, I focus on getting ready. Showering in the small space isn’t as bad as one would think. Actually, I find that Van’s bathroom is plenty spacious. I get ready for the day and just before I head out I toss a couple of treats and a rawhide bone out for Hooch.

  “Do not get attached to the dog or the man,” I whisper as I climb in the tiny economy car. The drive only has my mind running wild with the many things I need to sort out.

  As soon as I swipe my time card, I get right to work. I’m not here to make friends, listen to the gossip, and I have no plans of remaining a mail clerk for my career.

  It’s not who I am or who I want to be.

  The first four hours pass with me never leaving the mail room. The mail drop on Saturday piles up with the mail drop on Monday morning making for a double load to sort through. We work in teams of two and my partner called in sick today. Not that it matters. Greg is not at all concerned with moving up the corporate ladder. In fact, I don’t think the man cares about anything more than sleeping on his mom’s couch until she dies, his words not mine. Apparently at thirty-four-years-old he’s more than ready to bury her and live off what she built for herself.

  It’s a shame, really. If he only knew how precious life and family were.

  He calls out at least one Monday a month leaving me to double my own work load. If I had one of those activity trackers like I told Van, I was trying to get steps for then I sure would make my goals today.

  I swipe my card for my lunch break and head to the employee break room. I’ve seen the executive break room once and I know it’s equipped with a full kitchen whereas this one is more of a kitchenette. Reaching in my pocket I pull out my three quarters and drop them into the vending machine to retrieve my peanut butter and crackers. This will be breakfast and lunch today. I have a car repair and a housing situation to handle, I can’t afford actual meals right now.

  Being a responsible adult sucks sometimes, I think to myself as I slump into an empty chair.

  Becky and Carly are at a table behind me gabbing away like there isn’t anyone else in the room.

  “Oh my God, Sully moved in today. He’s hotter than Donny.” Carly informs her friend. She would know, she’s the receptionist for the executive suite. She sees everyone who comes and goes at that level.

  “Sully is the younger brother, right?” Becky asks.

  “Yeah, he’s been abroad I heard. He’s traveled the world refining his pallet. They say he can sniff a beer and tell you the recipe.”

  “Oh I love a well traveled man.” Becky giggles and I want to vomit.

  “Well if he’s anything like Donny then girl,
you are too young for his taste. I hear Donny loves a cougar. That’s why he was caught with his pants down with Sherry last week. As much experience and travel as Sully has I bet he’s looking for a refined woman.” Carly smirks and I can’t stop myself from standing up and looking to them.

  “Realistically neither of you stand a chance in hell in bagging any of the Marks’ brothers. Maybe a third cousin twice removed.”

  “You ever gonna get the stick outta your ass, Elle?”

  “When you stop talking about men like they are fish you’re trying to bait and lure in, I’ll be sure to remove my stick and beat the man you catch in the head so he realizes what a superficial fake you are.”

  Becky smiles sinisterly, “Look, I can see you’re clearly upset with your bottom rung job. Maybe if you would learn how this office thing works you would understand the way to move up, Elle is to learn to play well with others.”

  Her words sting. They are also probably the truth. I want my work to stand for itself not be about kissing the right ass. Unfortunately, in this business it’s about being the chameleon that can change its skin to fit the appropriate times. Rather than continue the argument, I leave the break room eating my crackers on my way outside for some fresh air.

  An hour later, I’m in front of Carla’s desk to drop the mail for the two Marks’ brothers acting CEO’s of the company.

  She clicks the intercom button on her phone before taking the mail from my hands.

  “Miss Jacobs, where are the production reports I requested be in my email before you went to lunch?”

  “Mr. Marks sir, I’m getting them to you. Your brother had me pick up his dry cleaning before my lunch break so I didn’t get them done before I went to eat.”

  “Miss Jacobs,” the man’s sharp tone comes through the speaker harshly, “My brother has a personal assistant for those things, not you. I asked for a report. You have five minutes, if I don’t have it, you can pack your desk and get out.”

  I gasp in shock for her at the man’s cold and miserable voice. Apparently the newest man in charge isn’t holding anything back when he wants something.

  “Yes, sir.” Carla says softly. “The mail just arrived, I will send the email and get this in to you.”

  “Well at least the mail clerk knows how to do their job adequately, which is more than I can say for you, Miss Jacobs.”

  I don’t turn back and look at her, I simply push my cart on down the expansive hallway and back to the elevators. These two offices are the only ones up here. Time to keep working so I can show not only the CEO’s I can do my job effectively and efficiently but also every other person in this office.

  Rather than worry with the men in charge, I keep my mind on the job at hand. In the end, I wind up staying an hour late trying to organize the mail room and clean up for tomorrow. Not bad since I did two people’s job in one shift only going over by fifty-two minutes. Too bad my supervisor doesn’t seem to take notice.

  Once I get to the employee parking garage, I check my phone to see I have three text messages from Van.

  Message one: Hey beautiful, I hope your day goes well. Thanks for starting my week off right.

  Message two: I guess you have a day job that doesn’t allow you to use your phone. Either that or you’re a thief who stole my hound’s heart and left me alone never to see you again. ;)

  I laugh that he actually sent a winky face and said I stole Hooch’s heart.

  Message three: Since I don’t seem to know what you do for a living other than the bar and we should get to know each other better, maybe we can do dinner sometime?

  I get flutters and stupidly type him back before I have time to think.

  Like a date?

  How pathetic does my message sound? Like a date? I want smack myself in the head for being so ridiculous.

  Yeah, like a date. How about I pick you up at my place in about an hour? I have a few family things to take care of then I’ll be home.

  He’ll be home. He sent me this message as if we come home together all the time. Why does this sound so wrong, yet feel so right?

  Nine

  Sullivan

  The room feels small even though it has more square footage than my home. I hate my office. I hate this job. My secretary is an incompetent fool. My head pounds and the clock ticks on.

  I stare at the computer screen trying not to throw the machine across the room. Miss Jacobs left and didn’t manage to send the one report I have waited for all day long. It’s okay, though, I got it for myself. Although, with the numbers staring back at me, maybe I shouldn’t have even opened this today. Learning my way through the maze this building happens to be is where I should have stopped. But no, I pressed on determined to look over the current profit and loss statement.

  This whole day feels like the longest hours of my life. Some men are cut for the corporate life, I am not, that is for damn sure. This is an adjustment, a season in my time here on Earth, and this too shall pass. Only, I’m not sure if I’m patient enough for the bullshit.

  The damn mail clerk handled her position better than Miss Jacobs. I don’t even know the names of all of the employees including the mail clerk, but I hope they all are more competent than Miss Jacobs.

  My brother finds every bit of it to be funny. To him as long as Miss Jacobs wears a tight shirt, short skirt, and high heels he doesn’t care about her overall job performance.

  I’m not here for her to suck my dick, stroke my ego, or give me someone to look at. No, I can close my eyes and see the vision of an angel named Elle with her hair soft against my pillows. I don’t need to have her in front of me because the vision of her beauty is engrained in my mind never to be replaced by another.

  My frustration builds as I try to make sense of the report I managed to find for myself, no thanks to my secretary. I made plans with Elle. I look at the clock again, another fifteen minutes and I’ll change and head home. The computer screen glows and my eyes hurt.

  The line items aren’t adding up. None of this is making sense. For a corporation that has been in business this many years, a profit and loss statement should be simply. I can’t pinpoint where everything is going wrong, but what I do see plain as day is two plus two does not equal four. I don’t know where everything has gotten so out of control, but this report being off gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  The time passes and nothing becomes any clearer. Honestly, I planned to be out of here before now. Instead, I’m thinking some shit is wrong in the company and I need to sort it out even if I’m cutting it close time wise to seeing Elle.

  A knock comes to my office door drawing my attention from the screen. Lifting my head, I yell, “come in,” to whomever is on the other side. Closing the open window on the computer monitor I let out a sigh.

  My mother walks in looking put together as usual.

  “Sully,” she says my name softly.

  Standing, I move around my desk to her where I quickly embrace her in a hug. “Mama,” I whisper letting my fatigue be heard.

  “How’s my baby boy?” She asks as we separate. “Imagine you’ve had a long day.”

  I give her a soft smile. “It’s been a day.”

  “Missin’ the outdoors much?”

  I nod. “You know it.”

  “Know this is a challenge, but once you find balance, this may be the best thing that happened to you and this company.”

  “Ever the optimistic, huh mom? I’m here to show the board Donovan has been running the company right. Once they see, then I can go back to my life.”

  She gives me a knowing look. “Baby boy, I don’t think the board will find Donovan fit to be the face of this company even if he found Jesus and made a vow of celibacy right now.”

  While that may be true, I simply can’t give into the idea.

  “How can the board have so much control over something that carries our name?” I ask but raise my hand to stop her from answering. “I know, I know. Bad decisions, a recession,
and a desire to grow the business lead to needing investors. I don’t think this was thought through for the long term impact.”

  My mother sighs. “Sully, there are things I wish you knew but it is not my story to share. What was done was to protect a legacy. It was to preserve a family name.”

  Anger.

  Frustration.

  I stare at my mother. “I’m twenty-eight years old. Do not play some cat and mouse game with me. If you have something to say, fuckin’ say it.”

  “Sullivan Tobias Marks, watch your tone and your language son!” Her nostrils flare, her eyes fill with tears. “You have never,” her voice begins to crack, “spoken to me in such a disrespectful manner and you won’t start now.”

  She’s fighting to keep it together.

  Except, I don’t give a shit. She’s right I have never spoken to her like this, but I don’t feel like I’m being treated fairly by my family.

  “I’ve done everything you have asked. Now you stand here while I’m miserable and you know it, but you won’t tell me the bigger picture. Something is obviously going wrong and its more than a board not approving of Donovan.”

  She rolls her shoulders back, takes a deep breath. “I came here to be supportive of your first day in your new role. I came here to offer you encouragement. I did not come here to dig up old skeletons. I didn’t come here to argue with you, Sully.”

  I hate to see my mother upset. Even more it cuts me deep to know I am the cause of her unease right now. But why come to my office and even tell me there is more to this situation, then refuse to tell me what is really going on?