“We will. And let me know how it goes with Mr. Personality.”
I stand up straight and clutch my imaginary pearls. “Excuse you. His name is New Year’s Steve.”
Meg smacks her palm on her face and shakes her head. “Of course it is. Good bye Felicity.” She singsongs me away with a wave of her hand and I make a mental note to ask her later about the snowflakes painted on her fingernails.
They’re cute. I might need some for my tootsies.
The clickety clack of keyboards greet me as I wind my way through the bank of cubicles. A little further down, there are several offices. Male voices drift out of one of them. I can only assume that’s Adam dealing with his crisis.
Seriously, what kind of crisis could a player be having on New Year’s Eve? It’s got to be a PR issue. As much as I hate that whatever this is could potentially infringe on Meg’s evening, it’s probably reality show worthy. I should keep an eye on the celebrity gossip news today.
Actually no. No, I should not follow any form of gossip today at all. Otherwise the only date I’m going to have will be in this office sitting at my desk sipping on chocolate milk instead of champagne. And I already know Skeeter would stand me up.
Reinvigorated with motivation, I book it to finish up my task. Holidays wait for no woman, and I’ll be damned if I miss this one.
4
Harrison
I slow my steps in front of my apartment building, hands on my knees and puffs of air I can see clouding in front of my face. I don’t normally jog outside at the end of December, but I needed a change of scenery today. I was hoping for a distraction from my nerves about tonight.
It didn’t work.
Now I’m just tired, my toes are frozen, and I keep sniffing because my nose is running from the cold. I should have stuck to the treadmill.
“Did you have a nice run, sir?”
I lift my head to see Fritz, possibly the world’s nicest doorman standing next to me. I take one last deep breath before standing up.
“It was cold, that’s for sure.”
“I can imagine.” He pulls the heavy glass door open for me like we’ve done thousands of times before. “Sounds like it was a great way to end the old year and ring in the new.”
“I definitely feel amped up for tonight.” I remark as I step into the large entryway to stretch. “What are you doing to celebrate tonight, Fritz?” I like talking to the old guy. He’s not the only doorman but he’s definitely my favorite.
“Oh, same as every year I suppose. I’ll have a quiet dinner and watch the ball drop. Probably the east coast version. I work tomorrow so I don’t want to lose any rest.”
“So no hot date?”
He chuckles. “Ah my beautiful Imelda’s picture will sit right next to me the whole time. That’s all the date I need.”
Fritz lost his wife to the tragedy of old age a few years ago. And yet he’s still one romantic son-of-a-gun.
Clapping his shoulder, I can’t help hoping I’m something like him someday. “You’re a good man, Fritz.”
“You as well sir.” He gives me a nod as I head toward the elevator bank and the three thousand square feet I call home.
The open concept space I live in boasts all the upgrades one could hope for in the best school district around. That’s not why I chose it, though. I bought this particular apartment because of the floor to ceiling windows. If I lean my forehead against the glass in just the right way and look down, it feels like I’m flying.
It sounds ridiculous but it’s nice to feel like I’m soaring above all the problems below sometimes.
Felicity would love it up here.
The view — how it looks at night.
Good god, I’ve been watching too much Hallmark Channel.
I check the watch on my wrist and note that I only have twenty-minutes to get my ass back up town for my lunch with Adam if I’m going to be on time for my haircut, and while I’m there, I can ask my stylist to shave me.
Kill two birds with one stone…
Hastily, I slide on some fresh deodorant and stumble into the same jeans I had on last night after work, a ball cap covering my sweaty, disheveled mop before heading back to the office.
Not that there’s not much for me to do there right now.
That is absolutely untrue. There is always something for me to do, but considering it’s New Year’s Eve, I’m going to let a bunch of shit slide, and most of the executive issues will be on hiatus until the new year begins (which is technically Monday, but who’s paying attention).
The biggest issue is waiting for those financial records to be reconciled. Good thing we have a whole team committed to getting it done today. I’m sure they’re all hard at work. I should check on that floor while I’m there. They could probably use a private, catered lunch next week.
I text out a quick note to the office manager so I don’t forget.
Me: Hey Beth, for next week — Let’s get lunch set up in the conference room for the accounting team. I want to thank them for their hard work this quarter.
Beth: Will do! Any special requests?
Me: Italian maybe?
Who doesn’t love that?
Me: Pasta, salad, garlic bread…? Pizza maybe?
Beth: That sounds great, Mr. McGinnis. But maybe a bit much for only five people?
Good point. I keep forgetting the accounting team is small.
Me: Hold on, give me a minute.
I put on a beat up pair of sneakers that are too worn to wear running, but just worn in and comfortable enough that I don’t have to bend down to tie them.
I push through the fire door on my floor and the stairs to the ground level to continue my workout, shooting Felicity a message as I go. She works in a small office. She probably has an opinion on this kind of thing.
Me: Quick question. If you were going to bonus a small group of people for going above and beyond, would you do a catered lunch, or… something else.
Felicity: That depends. Is this group women or men, or a mix of both?
Me: Women.
Felicity: Hmm. If it was men, I’d say lunch would be awesome. If it’s women and you’re trying to show them how much you appreciate them, what about gift cards to someplace nice. Like a spa or something? Who DOESN’T love a back rub?
Felicity: Don’t get me wrong, lunch is REALLY thoughtful and probably unnecessary.
Me: No, you’re right. It’s only five people and I was just about to order a shit ton of food and figured I’d check with you first.
I’m standing on the platform between floors ten and eleven, pausing my descent so I can text back and forth without sounding like an autocorrect inept idiot.
Felicity: Glad I could help!
I close out the LoveSwept app and shoot off another message to Beth.
Me: On second thought, what about a few gift cards? What’s that spa down on Kilbourn???
Beth: Water and Earth?
Me: That’s the one!
Beth: Great choice, boss! I’ll get on it.
Boss.
It’s still weird seeing that in writing, or hearing it for that matter. After my grandfather died and my dad retired, the only one left in the family who could run things was me.
Some things about taking over I will never get used to.