by K B Cinder
His description threw me for a loop. I really thought I was on the money. And 6’4”? Good God.
Jewels: What about you? What's your guess?
If he said short with boobs for days, he’d be dead on. Mom’s ballerina genes skipped me without a second glance, and I inherited Grandma Julian’s basketball boobs and birthing hips.
Bear: Well, you're not 6’4, so I'm guessing you're 5'7”. Average build with light brown hair cut in a bob... and brown eyes?
Well, he wasn't immune to the impossibility of guessing either.
Jewels: 5'3”. The average build is right. My hair is brown, but I keep it long. My eyes are brown though so ding ding ding!
Bear: You're Keebler sized!
Jewels: Keebler?
Bear: You know... the elves?
Jewels: Oh, thanks, Giant Oak.
Bear: We could be a team. I could reach things on high shelves, and you could fit into tiny doorways in trees.
Jewels: You know, the last time a giant messed with one of mine, you got a rock to the head...
Bear: True. But I can take everything you love and put it on top of the fridge.
I grinned like an idiot at the screen, amused. Bit by bit, the tension of the day left, replaced with a giddiness that only came from scoring a great deal or receiving a compliment from a hunk. I hadn’t even seen his face, and he had me just as wrapped up.
Jewels: Cruelty isn't a nice trait, Bear.
Bear: That's not too cruel. I have lots of other nice traits. I'm funny. I can cook. I look good in hats.
Jewels: I wasn't aware rocking hats was an admirable trait, but I'll let it slide.
Bear: It's difficult. You have to consider your outfit and face shape. It takes serious self-awareness and sophistication. See? I'm fancy too.
Jewels: Fancy? Well, sign me up then.
Bear: Right here on the dotted line, my lady.
I accidentally flicked off the screen and caught a glimpse of my reflection, surprised to see a smile staring back, my eyes sparkling in the dim light.
Either the wine was starting to hit, or I was liking the Bear character, my guard slipping with each exchange. Maybe the Privately thing would work out. Perhaps I'd meet my first match before the month was through.
Of course, it could be a bust, and he could wind up a giant dud, but I was hopeful for once, and that was all the mattered.
Elena
I woke up with too much pep in my step for a Monday — over an hour before the alarm was set to go off.
Usually, I'd roll over and savor the last minutes of precious sleep, but I was too wired to stay in bed.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt lighter. My inner pessimist was waving flags of warning, but I drowned her with a shower.
I didn't want to credit Bear with my lifted spirits, but he hadn't hurt things. We chatted most of the weekend, sharing side-splitting laughs and innocent flirting. He was a hell of a charmer, leaving me swooning left and right.
I went about my morning routine as if Cinderella's scores of animal friends were egging me on, floating around the apartment. I dressed with more care than usual, selecting a purple shift dress and black patent heels, taking extra time to tame my hair.
I packed a tasty lunch with an avocado Caprese wrap in an actual tortilla, not limp lettuce, and grabbed a coffee and muffin on the way in.
By the time I strolled in the front doors of Croft, I was beaming, vowing to have the best Monday on record. Monica wouldn't get to me, and Marty wouldn't piss me off. Even Barrett wouldn't get a rise out of me.
As I approached my workstation, I discovered boxes filling up every inch of the desk and floor. I mentally counted to ten, keeping my great Monday in check.
Maybe the back accidentally left them in my cube. I got weird deliveries from them all the time. They didn't fill up my station, but I got plenty of boxes here and there.
I forced a smile and turned to a waiting Monica, her usual soy latte in hand clutched by lavender talons.
“What's this?”
“Oh, it's a new assignment for you!” she shrilled. “I'll need those all filed by the end of the day.”
I took a deep breath, desperate to quell the sudden flare of anger low in my belly that was endangering my good day vow. “Says who?”
“Management.” She smiled wide, planting her free hand on her waist,
Lee wasn't in yet, so I couldn't look to her for confirmation.
“Who? Marty?” I asked, biting back rage.
Good day oath or not, I wouldn’t let Monica pawn work off on me for kicks. Knowing her, she volunteered me for the job.
“Management,” she repeated, toying with me.
“Why is it on my desk? We have file clerks.”
We had at least two on staff for such projects. I hadn't filed since I was an intern in college. I wasn't about to do it again. I had more than enough work to do.
“I was asked to have you complete the task, Elena. Don't be insubordinate.” She narrowed her eyes, tilting her chin in the air with a huff.
I was ready to challenge her further, but something in the far corner caught my eye. I turned from the smug blond to the brooding bastard speaking with Marty, dressed to kill in a black suit and blood-red tie. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression hard.
Was this punishment for running into him? Seriously?Clearly, apologies fell on deaf ears with him. So did paying for dry cleaning.
He offered a smirk in return, the audacity igniting the rage I tried to squash.
“This is bullshit!” I scanned my cube, trying to do a quick count. I lost track after twelve. “How am I supposed to get these all to the file room? Why didn't they drop them there?”
“You can always get a hand truck!” Monica cackled.
“Fuck my life.”
Lee appeared, a tote slung over her shoulder with her hands full of keys and a bagel stuffed with enough cream cheese to look like a whoopie pie. She still had her aviators on, her scarlet mane framing her face.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked, dropping everything but her coffee and bagel on her desk with a thud.
“Apparently, I'm a file clerk for the day!”
Monica cackled louder, her teeth catching the light as she laughed at my expense. It took everything in me to not chuck something at her.
“Let me catch up on my emails, and I'll help...” Lee trailed, flipping her computer on and snarling at Monica.
“Management was clear in their instruction that Elena is to handle this, Lee. You will be her backup for the day and handle her inbox.”
“That's bullshit!” Lee and I said in unison.
I did my best to reel in anger, mentally counting to ten. I set my coffee down, grabbed a box, and stalked towards Marty, determined to say something.
He was all but cowering beside Barrett, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes glued to the floor.
Rather than screaming like a banshee, I eyed him up, weighing my options. “Since I'm not dressed for the job, can you have someone move the rest of the files for me? Unfortunately, heels and heavy lifting don't mix. I'd hate to get injured on the job.” I gestured at my stilted pumps, the black patent leather glinting in the light.
His shoulders slumped. “Absolutely, Elena. Thank you so much for doing this.”
Beside him, Barrett remained stiff with his arms still crossed. The slight smirk remained.
I wasn't going to say another word, but that damn smirk was too much.
“Not a problem. You're paying me to file papers all day. It's a welcome relief.” I forced my best smile. “Great strategy too. I'm sure it's a perfect use of our limited resources.”
I threw that extra one in for Barrett, but he didn't take the bait. He kept smirking.
“Sometimes, it's healthy to change things up...” Marty murmured, avoiding eye contact.
I glared at Barrett, rage boiling. “Sometimes, not.”
I was close to saying something I'd regret, so I spun o
n my heel and stalked out of the room, knowing one day I would let that towering tyrant know what I thought of him, and it wouldn’t be PG-13.
* * *
I hated filing more than I did in college. Especially in heels.
I thought the mind-numbing repetition would calm my anger, but it only drew out my rage, blossoming its flavor.
I apologized. I paid for his dry cleaning. What else did he want?
He graduated to going out of his way to be a jerk rather than merely being rude in passing or flat out ignoring me. He wasn't willing to play nice even with a peace offering. He wanted me to be miserable.
It took hours to file everything, sorting reports and contracts that should have been scanned and stored digitally as well to meet retention requirements. I didn’t ask if it had been done since Barrett didn’t deserve any favors. He could be the one to answer for it.
I could only hope the rumors about him only staying until January were true, a permanent director filling the role while he’d skate along to Chicago.
My feet throbbed despite abandoning my heels after hour two, spending the day padding across the room without a care in the world. I hoped the jackass would walk in and catch me. I'd have a field day if he said a word about it.
My head pounded as I closed the last drawer, hours of tension catching up to me, but I finished it. I filed every document like a champ, neatly stacking the empty boxes in twin pillars. I wouldn’t go out a quitter. I'd pass it off as a good deed at my next interview for extra oohs and ahs.
I glanced at my phone for the time, dying inside when seven-thirty stared back at me.
“Crap!” I groaned, sliding my shoes on and hurrying to the hall, desperate to see what was waiting for me at my desk.
With each step, my feet ached more, and by the time I hit the sales office, I was limping. The physical pain was met with anguish when I reached my desk, countless documents splayed across it.
While Barrett’s punishment was simple, it was brutally effective in setting me back and breaking me down. If he was hoping to get my attention, he had, knocking me to my knees with his stupid project. Even with Lee's help, it would take days to get caught up.
No matter what anger I had built up like a dam, it was nothing compared to the tears, bursting through with hot fury.
I started the day on such a high only to be kicked to the bottom and stomped on for good measure. It was a pattern I’d gotten all too used to. No happiness ever came for free. It always had an inevitable price that stung in one way or another.
I hung my head, resigning that that Monday was my worst at Croft, not the best I had hoped for.
Jason
Fury burned bright as I headed out for the night, almost ripping my office door off its hinges. I had never been so engulfed in anger in my fourteen years with the company, Preston Croft, the source of the blaze.
He casually suggested I lay off a quarter of the workers at the branch, wanting to spike profits for the next quarter to look better for the Board. He was everything his father wasn't and made it known as much as possible.
I shouldn’t have raised my voice with him, and I shouldn’t have called him an entitled prick either, but I couldn’t help it. He'd huff and puff, but he'd never fire me. As much as I infuriated him, he needed me.
As it stood, Croft Ithaca would stay intact. I'd fight for it once I hit Chicago too. I wouldn’t let the little guy get smashed because of a trust fund douchebag pinching pennies to line his own pockets.
Unlike Preston, I knew what it felt like to struggle. I scrounged coins from cushions and sidewalks to buy food as a kid. I wasn't one for making people face poverty on a whim.
As I raged down the hall towards the exit, I spied the office light beaming in the distance. I was the last one left in the management corridor as usual, but someone had stayed late out on the sales floor. I hoped they didn’t hear my shouting match with Preston.
I flexed my hand, surprised how tender it was. I lost my cool during our call, striking the desk in the heat of the moment and cracking the aged wood. Luckily it was nothing a well-placed catalog couldn't hide for the time being.
Curiosity got the best of me despite an intense headache, and I wandered down the hall, poking my head in to see rows of empty cubicles and dimmed offices. The lone holdout was Elena Julian, her body hunched over a stack of papers as she scribbled away.
Guilt hit me like a brick wall. She was only there because of me.
Making her file for the day had been a lame way of laying down the law. I wanted her to be more careful, to know that actions had consequences. If that coffee had been hot, we both would have been scalded and potentially scarred for life. And while the coffee hadn't scalded me, her body had, pressing up against me for a moment, but leaving a devastating impact behind in its memory.
I debated leaving without saying a word, but guilt had me snared. I at least owed her a goodbye after the shitty task I assigned her.
“You're still here, Ms. Julian?” I called, not wanting to get any closer than necessary. I had finally gotten her coconut body spray out of my head.
She whirled around in surprise at my voice, eyes wide in panic. I could see their puffiness from where I stood, rimmed in red and shimmering with tears. It was a swift kick in the balls. I did that. I caused them.
“Everything alright?” I knew the answer, but manners forced me to ask.
She'd never tell me, but I was willing to extend an olive branch to smooth things over. I couldn't keep treating her like crap, especially when I depended on her so much behind the scenes.
“Yes, sir.”
I didn't know what to say. How do you explain to someone you can’t be around them for the good of both of you? That friendly banter would lead to more than trouble?
“Great work today, Elena. Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
I stood there for another moment, fighting an internal battle. I wanted to pull her into a hug, to smother those tears away but remained rooted where I stood, unable to give an inch.
“Have a good night, Elena.”
“You too, sir.”
At that, I fled to my vehicle, frustrated.
The drive back to the hotel was rough, anger and guilt dueling for my undivided attention. I wanted to strangle Preston with one hand and myself with the other. I blasted thrash metal, hoping the aggressive tempo would distract me, but I kept thinking back to Elena and those huge brown eyes, bloodshot and blurred with smudged makeup.
After a gym session and a shower, I poured a tumbler of Bowmore and ventured onto the balcony, desperate to get my mind off of my disaster of a Monday.
Something had to give. I couldn't go on being so miserable. I couldn't punish a woman for being human either.
People made mistakes, and God knows I made plenty. Hell, I trusted a man on his word and ended up making one of the worse career moves to date in coming to Ithaca. I trusted a woman and barely got away with my life.
I stared at the city for the longest time sipping whiskey. I refilled my glass for the hell of it when I found it dry, work night, or not.
The chime of my phone was music to my ears.
Jewels: Hey, you.
Bear: Well, there you are.
I hadn't heard from my mystery match since the night before.
Jewels: Missed me much?
Bear: Maybe.
Jewels: Here I am, big boy.
Bear: Awfully presumptuous, aren't we?
Jewels: Ha friggin ha! You're 6'4”, so you are a big boy. How was your day?
Bear: Better now, thanks.
It was true. Talking to her had become the high point of the days we chatted.
I was trying to walk the line between interested and eager, though I was ready to take things off the app as I initially intended. With work, I was too swamped to even think of heading out the last few weeks.
Bear: How was yours, Jewels?
Jewels: Honestly, terrible.
Bear: I'
m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?
Jewels: Give me your best stupid joke.
I thought long and hard, not one for dumb humor. I remembered one my brother Luke used to get soap in his mouth for. He was always the mischievous one of the three of us and still was. I never thought I'd have to turn to him to beef up my game.
Bear: Why can't you hear a pterodactyl in the bathroom?
Jewels: No clue.
Bear: Because the P is silent.
Jewels: :) That was terrible.
I chuckled to myself, picturing Nan chasing me down to give me a mouthful of soap at my age.
Bear: Glad to be of service to you.
Jewels: So you had a good day? I'm glad one of us did.
Bear: Actually, it was complete shit, but I have Bowmore and a view of the city, so I'm hanging in there. Plus, I'm talking to a total babe.
Jewels: Sounds nice. What's her name? ;)
Bear: Jewels. She's as precious as the name suggests.
Jewels: Sounds like quite the lady.
I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of meeting. Privately seemed to value more time in getting to know each other, but I had to send up a flare I was interested. We’d been talking since June for crying out loud.
Bear: She is. I'd much rather be staring at the city with her right now.
Jewels: Good to know.
Well, that backfired.
Bear: So, with these rules, we're not allowed to show faces... Right?
I was wading into dangerous territory, but it was do or die time.
Jewels: I believe those are the rules...
Bear: But we can send pics... which is dumb.
If the whole premise was to be secretive, why include a photo share button? It wasn't like they weren't begging us to bend the rules with its addition, the camera icon a cheeky temptation on the left of the screen.
Jewels: Yep.
I took a quick snap of the city lights and sent it over, testing the waters.
Jewels: Nice view.
Bear: Yeah. It has its perks.
A photo from Jewels popped over a shot of street lights and some trees. It wasn't taken from as high of an angle as mine, but she was at least on the second floor of a building.
