by K B Cinder
I sighed, unable to pick up the phone to play off like I was busy. I debated feigning illness but had too much crap to tie up by five. I’d have to grin and bear it and fight off anything thrown my way.
Lee grumbled in her cube. I hadn’t told her about Jason giving me a product line during the honcho meeting, and she didn’t know we were sexing up Ithaca, but she knew I hated to see Marty gunning for people for fun. The guy was ticking closer to retirement. One would think he’d enjoy having someone around that made his branch look good.
“Let’s hope this isn’t too painful,” I muttered, grabbing a notepad and pen.
Marty was waiting at his door, arm propping the flimsy wood open for me. “Ah, at long last, we get to talk!” he cooed. “You’ve been so busy all week!”
“As usual,” I replied, sitting before his desk for the umpteenth time.
He used to call me in daily to run over numbers, allegedly recapping, but taking my suggestions and observations to the next round of management meetings. He only stopped after I made him look like an ass by feeding him bad information.
“How are you doing, Elena?” he asked, flopping down in his chair with a thud.
“I’m fine,” I replied, glancing at the clock. Four-fifteen. “But very busy. How can I help you?”
“I’m worried about you,” he said, a frown pulling at his jowls. “It’s a hard time of the year for you, I know.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere, but the reminder we were inching close to my one year failed wedding anniversary was not something I wanted to talk about. Especially with him. And definitely not at work.
“It’s been smooth sailing.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey.”
I cringed. “I have a great support system,” I assured. “They’re all I need.”
It wasn’t a lie. I did. But I also had a handsome man to keep my mind off of things in the meantime.
He nodded, reaching out and fiddling with a pen. Marty could never dive into sticky territory without fidgeting.
“So the news from Bossman is that you’ll be handling gaskets, conduit adapters, and accessories,” he breathed, blanketing the room with his bitter coffee breath as he sighed. “Were you planning on telling me, or do I have to hear everything from the big guy now?” His voice was thick with irritation, his fingers seesawing the pen loudly against his desk.
“Excuse me?” I wasn’t taking a drop of attitude from him of all people.
He repeated himself word for word, not taking the hint.
“He mentioned me handling the lines in last week’s meeting. I figured there was paperwork to be taken care of, so I didn’t think much of bringing it up.”
He frowned. “He signed the paperwork and sent it off that day. He didn’t ask me.”
That was surprising. I figured he’d at least talk to Marty about it. It felt dirty to accept lines from a man I was sleeping with, though I knew I earned them fair and square.
“I didn’t know...” I trailed with a shrug.
It was the God’s honest truth. I was lying so much lately to everyone and even myself, but for once, I wasn’t in the slightest.
“I figured. He sidesteps everyone. I can’t wait until January.”
I turned my attention to my nails, not entertaining the conversation any longer. He hadn’t called me in to see how I was doing or to ask about the lines. He wanted a good old bitch session about Jason as I figured, and I wouldn’t be a part of it.
“Did he treat you with respect during the meeting?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“No issues? No shouting?” he pushed.
What the hell was he talking about?
“He’s never shouted at me,” I said. “He treated me fine. The meeting went well, and we reviewed my notes.”
He nodded, still banging that damn pen on his desk. “Monica mentioned you two were alone in his office, and you were flushed and upset,” he replied.
Not quite. My heart sunk, and I racked my brain for an excuse. “I was a little embarrassed from the meeting, honestly. It was daunting to be surrounded by all those managers. They were all very nice and respectful — just intimidating.”
“No issues with Bossman, though?” he pushed.
I hated that fucking nickname. “No, why?” I looked him square in the eye and dared him to go further. He was fishing, and I wasn’t biting.
He leaned toward me, resting his elbows on the desk. “You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. I’m your manager–not him. You’re safe with me, honey.”
I sure as hell didn’t feel safe.
“Marty, if you’re accusing him of something, tell me!” I growled, leaning back in my seat. “I was in the room. I know what happened. Jason was nothing but kind to me, as were the other visitors. He took the time to make sure I didn’t bring you bad notes or look like an idiot. And my name is Elena, not honey.”
“I’m not accusing-” he started, but I wasn’t done yet.
“Did you read them? What did you think?” I continued, talking right over whatever was leaking out of his lips.
“They were great!” he exclaimed.
“Any takeaways?” I pushed.
“Oh... uh... I really liked the part about Seattle.”
He was sweating again. He was always fucking sweating.
“Seattle?” I asked, crossing my arms. Oh, this would be fun.
“Yeah, uh, you know. The plan with Seattle.”
Anger bubbled from low in my gut. “Marty, there was nothing about Seattle. You didn’t read them at all, did you?”
“I skimmed them. I was going to get around to doing a more thorough reading...”
I stood, completely done with him and his nonsense. “Look, whatever Monica told you is complete garbage, and you know it. I don’t know what she stormed in for that day, but she was angry, rude, and seemed to be up to no good as usual.”
“Elena, you can’t go making accusa-”
“Like you just did? You implied Jason wronged me somehow. I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it’s unprofessional. You can’t take Monica’s word as gospel. She lies through her teeth constantly.”
“Honey, please sit down, and we’ll talk more. I need to discuss this product fiasco that Bossman started.”
“His name is Jason, and my name is Elena!” I shot back. “And what is there to talk about?”
“I’m not sure it’s legal...” he trailed.
“Why? Because you can’t possibly have me do the work of two people?” I mocked. “Too bad! I already do that!”
He flushed. “Elena, you’re bordering on disrespectful!”
“Like you’re not by calling your boss names or calling me pet names?” I shot back. “I’m disrespectful. I’m honest. I work hard, and you keep kicking the product promise down the road.”
“Look, I’m only saying I don’t know if I’m allowed to sign off on this. I have to consult Corporate.”
“You do that,” I snapped, refusing to sit down. “In the meantime, don’t drag me into your drama and stop calling me honey.”
“Elena, look-” he huffed, glancing up in frustration. “I have to investigate reports of aggression. I know he hasn’t always treated you with respect. I’ve received complaints from others about how he behaved when he first came to town. I’m only looking out for you. So is Monica.”
“Monica isn’t looking out for me. She’s looking out for herself.”
“You’re telling me he didn’t shout at you? She insists she heard shouting.”
There was no way she heard a damn thing, especially shouting.
“She’s full of soup, and you know it,” I replied, trying to keep some form of professionalism. “Listen, I’ll give a full statement to HR if needed. I don’t care. I have nothing to hide.”
He sighed. “I’ll let you know if that’s needed.”
“Anything else? I have stuff to do.”
“No, that’ll be all, Elena.”
I turned on my heel to leave, but as soon as my hand touched the doorknob, he cleared his throat. “And Elena, everything we discussed stays in this room, okay?”
“Yes,” I replied, turning the handle and stepping back onto the sales floor.
Luckily for him, I wouldn’t feed him to the sharks yet. I didn’t want to be there for that bloodbath.
Jason
October in Chicago made Ithaca look as toasty as Tampa. The winds whipping off Lake Michigan were brutal, transforming highs in the upper fifties to frigid in a flash. I packed nothing heavier than a suit coat, expecting the same weather as New York, and I paid the price all week.
They greeted me like a hero at Corporate; the Board delighted with the changes in Ithaca. Even Preston had praise, delivered with a scowl, but praise nonetheless. As anticipated, things were measuring far above expectations, and I had an offer letter waiting on arrival.
Afterward, I toured my future office, perched atop the high rise, the large windows offering views that blew the bay one in Tampa out of the water. It had everything the office in New York lacked, sleek modern furniture and catalogs aplenty, a space that would let me flex my sales muscles and soar. I could only imagine the deals I'd land there, the amount of money I'd rake in. I'd easily surpass my previous benchmarks, amounts that were already record-breaking for Croft.
In meetings, we discussed an overhaul of Ithaca to set the new branch manager up with a solid framework, which meant Marty, Monica, and a few others were on borrowed time. They gave HR the go-ahead to recruit for the roles and for seasoned product managers and sales representatives. The current staff wasn’t cutting it, and unfortunately, the only way to get ahead in the game was to trim the fat.
Outside of meetings, I had projects out the ass, each day saturated from morning till night, a few interviews for assistants punctuating afternoons. So far, no one had the spunk I was looking for, each great on paper but falling flat on delivery. I would have kept the current one, but she was retiring along with the current director.
I spent Thursday touring apartments, a few places in New Eastside catching my eye but not sealing the deal. I needed to find something suitable, but I refused to rush despite my flight for DC the next morning. If needed, I would make arrangements while wrapping up in Ithaca.
Apartment life would be temporary, a townhouse in Gold Coast the plan come spring. Corporate’s offer for the position was more than generous, making the pricey spots off Dearborn a non-issue. I’d never want for anything again, previous struggles long gone.
I found a Thai place Elena would love for lunch, texting her a picture of my killer coconut curry. She sent back a pick of hers, a diagonally sliced pastrami on rye that caused heartburn at a glance.
While touring a place off East Lake, I saw a man in a Forensics shirt and couldn’t resist watching an episode in the taxi on the way to the hotel, binge-watching three more while polishing off reports. Oddly enough, I found the ghoulish show therapeutic; the narrator’s voice a familiar backdrop to my work. It was always playing when she was over, whether we were working numbers or each other.
It made me worry about her all alone in her apartment too, Hank and some scattered heels her only defense if someone broke in. God knows I almost snapped my neck over a pair when we watched Dracula the night before I flew out.
She wasn’t the most coordinated person I had met and was barely big enough to ride a rollercoaster, let alone defend herself. We texted periodically, so I knew she was okay, but the thought still lingered as I worked, jarring enough I needed to step away to clear my head.
It had been less than a week, and I couldn’t get her off my mind, daydreaming about her in meetings and texting her crappy jokes every chance I got. Phone sex was our new thing, and someone had a gift for bringing me to full-mast with a suggestive photo or innuendo.
Despite the danger signs, I couldn’t bring myself to turn to Privately again, deleting the app entirely. It didn’t feel right to look, not while I still had someone like her around.
You got a minute?
I shot the text off to Luke, needing a dose of tough love to get it together. I was dangerously close to considering the impossible.
Luke: Always.
I dialed him, sitting in an armchair before the windows overlooking the downtown lights, skyscrapers jutting into the night sky as beacons of wealth and power. The city was unlike any other, the backdrop my new scenery for years to come. In a few short months, it’d be my home, the place I’d settle until retirement came knocking.
As lustrous as it was, it seemed hollow, a flashy object with little behind it. It didn’t feel homey like Tampa aside from the heat. Ithaca wasn’t quite the right fit either, but at least it had an undercurrent I could work with. In time maybe it’d grow on me. Much like someone had.
“Long time no talk, Runway!” Luke greeted, voice booming.
It was an hour ahead there, and he seemed awfully chipper for ten o’clock on a Thursday. Then again, Luke was always raring to go. He lived life on the edge with no one to answer to. He didn’t have to worry about being well-rested for conference calls or meetings. He was the boss. He could show up hungover and exhausted, and no one could say a thing.
It was a kick in the nads to realize the last bits of my flesh and blood would be in a different time zone once I moved. Tampa was farther, but at least it didn’t feel that way. The time would be another daily reminder.
“I’ve texted!” We hadn’t spoken since our disagreement over Bianca, but I had texted him. We had a revolving group chat between us brothers, an easy way to keep one another in the loop.
“Yeah, well, if I get kidnapped and probed by aliens, you’ll never know because you’ve been texting with a Martian rather than calling to check in.”
“Excuse the fuck out of me, but you haven’t called either, Lucas.”
“Don’t call me that,” he breathed, annoyed. He loathed his birth name. We called him Lucas Mucus growing up, and he’d never gotten over it. “I’ve been busy. The shit with the brewery is nuts. I have permits and paperwork out the ass. We don’t all have worker bee assistants, big guy.”
“I don’t have one,” I replied. If I found one with enough zing, I would in no time, however. “But you’re forgiven. How are things going?”
“With the shop? Great. With the brewery? A fucking headache. I want to open by spring, but we keep hitting snags with construction. You know how it goes.”
He was opening the first brewery in Briar, a large complex with a tasting room, restaurant, and event space. When he first showed me the plans, I was in awe, the old sawmill transformed. Luke was an entrepreneur with a vision, much like Ethan, while I stuck to the confines of Corporate America. I was envious of their freedom, running the show their own ways.
“It’ll sort itself out. Do you have any launch ideas?”
“I’m working on some options, but I booked my first event in the summer.”
That was quick. Who booked an event while a place was still under construction?
“Dang, someone’s hot for you. Who’s the lucky customer?”
“Olivia.”
The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place the face. “Olivia?”
“Roberts.”
My stomach dropped. She was the younger sister of Josie, the girl that ripped him to shreds as a teenager. Like Bianca had done to me, she scorched him from the inside out.
“Oh shit, dude.”
That was the last thing I was expecting. I was thinking the chick was one of his former fuck buddies. Then it would have at least been humorous. Anything with Roberts attached to it spelled trouble. Big time.
“Oh yeah. A big wedding with all the frills of Briar royalty.”
“I’m surprised Ed would let her.” The patriarch and former mayor was not a fan of any Barrett for as far back as I remembered. I always wondered if our sperm donor screwed him over somehow. The hatred was too obvious for it to be a general disliking.
/> “Per Olivia, she doesn’t give a damn what the old man thinks. Funny how different siblings can be.”
“Or similar,” I reminded, chuckling.
“Very true. But enough woe is me. How are you doing? Everything good?”
Elena flashed through my mind, memories of her nestled up in the covers by my side lingering. I longed for her scent, the faint hint of coconut gone from the pillowcase I smuggled out of town. Was it creepy? Yes. Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did I give a damn? No.
“Yes, and no,” I admitted. “Work is great. I’m in Chicago, and I’ll be in DC next week. I got my offer for the national role.”
“That’s fucking awesome, dude! Congrats!”
I swallowed, wishing I was as enthused as he was. Looking at the letter was nauseating, and I still had yet to sign it. I had until January to do so and was under no rush, but with the final step right there, I couldn’t budge.
“Thanks.”
“You sound thrilled. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, staring out into the city. All around the lights dazzled, the promise of adventure behind each yet the place felt so dark and distant. “Something feels off.”
I had an offer on the house too, well over asking price thanks to a nasty bidding war between three couples. I accepted that, at least, setting up closing for just after Thanksgiving.
“Was it not what you were expecting?”
That was part of the issue. It was more than I ever expected, just like the house offer. I should have been jumping for joy, but I was numb.
“It was everything and then some,” I breathed, frustrated. I should have been grateful, but I wasn’t. I was lost and scared and ready to tuck tail and run from everything.
“What’s wrong then?” he asked, voice dipping in concern. “Is it too much pressure?”
“I’m so worried about it going wrong. Then I’ll be back where I started, just as angry and bitter as before. I’m so tired of the same loop. I’m so tired of fighting it.”
