“Really?” Her eyes light up.
My eyes lit up on Friday when I found out that they were going to bring a woman on to write articles as counterpoints to mine. The difference is, my eyes lit up with anger. The last thing I need is someone coming in and trying to overshadow what I’m doing. To offer suggestions on something I’ve already perfected. Someone to win over my readers and potentially pull them away. I worked hard to gain the following I have in the short time I’ve been at Mars And Venus.
“Yep, really. Maybe see if she’s in the next edition.”
Mars And Venus is a bi-monthly magazine that’s a little like Maxim, Men’s Health, and Cosmopolitan all rolled into one and is geared toward men. Another reason I don’t understand the benefit of adding a woman’s perspective to the writing team.
And no, that’s not me being a misogynist, it’s me being a realist. Would Working Woman have included men’s articles in their spreads?
“Oh, I can’t wait!” Her shoulders wiggle side to side like I just promised her a Ferrari or something.
“Well, have a good day.” I hold up my bagel and still empty cup. “Thanks.”
“You too, Ethan.” She waves and starts to ring up the next customer.
I fill up my coffee, secure the lid, and head out of the shop, walking the five blocks to my office.
Something already feels different the minute I walk into the small reception area of Mars And Venus.
“Hey, Mandy,” I say, breezing by the receptionist toward my cubicle.
“Hey, Ethan. Nine o’clock office meeting,” she hollers down the hallway at me. I raise my coffee in the air.
When I arrive at my cubicle, a feminine scent wafts over from the normally empty cubicle next to me. I glance over the cubicle wall and there’s no one seated in the chair, but there’s a bunch of personal artifacts overfilling the small space.
I abandon my bagel and coffee on my desk, intrigued by who the new addition to the Mars And Venus crew might be. The minute I step into the small space, it feels like I’m in a foreign land. Decorative pink and purple paper cover the interior and a sign has been hung up that says ‘Welcome to my cubicle’ in a girly script. A collage picture frame sits on the desk and the standard pen holder has been replaced with a metal one covered in painted flowers. I pick up a candle sitting on the desktop and turn it over to figure out what the scent is I keep smelling.
“Jasmine,” a woman says from behind me. “Anything else I can help you with?”
The voice sounds familiar. When I turn around, I try to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. “Blanca?”
She takes the candle from me and places it back down on her desk, completely unfazed to see me. “Hello, Ethan.”
Blanca positions a few things just so while I pick up her picture frame. The top photo is of an older couple, her parents I assume. The three pictures below are each of a man and a woman. “These are your brothers?”
She takes it out of my hands and puts it back on the desk. “That’s them.”
“Big guys.”
Intimidating would be a better descriptor.
“Yep.” She pops the P at the end.
I lean on her desk. “So tell me why you’re not surprised to see me.”
“I was when I showed up this morning and checked out your cubicle.”
I tilt my head. “I have no pictures in there.”
“Why is that? Maybe it’s time I analyze you.”
I laugh. Maybe I should be more upset that she’s the woman I’ll be working next to since I’d already built it up in my head not to like this woman. “Seriously though? How did you know I worked here?”
She sits in her chair and crosses her legs. I can’t help but study her movements. Her chair twirls and she taps a pen to her lips. “You seem so worried about how I found out.”
I inhale through my nose, trying not to show my frustration.
“Oh my gosh, relax. Your picture is on the board. Though I was surprised because the byline on the pieces in the magazine are always attributed to a Grant Sheffield.” She quirks a brow and motions with her hand to the large board on the wall behind us that has all the employee photos.
Right.
I blow out a breath. “Yeah, I use a pseudonym here.”
“How come?” She tilts her head to the side.
Because I don’t want anyone to know I work here. “I like to keep my privacy and I’m hoping this isn’t the high point of my career. I’d rather save my real name for when I’m where I really want to be. What’s the big deal?”
“Are you this high-strung all the time?” she asks.
“No,” I say maybe a little too defensively.
“Ethan, I see you met Blanca.” I turn to see Phil Copeland, our boss, standing at the opening of her cubicle. “Show her around and we’ll do the company introduction at nine.” He smiles wide at Blanca.
Who wouldn’t? She’s so sweet looking she’s probably never been told no.
She hops up from her chair when Phil leaves.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You were told to show me around.”
Right. I nod, needing to get my crap together. This lovesick puppy act isn’t going to be good for my career. I’m still redeeming myself from my second article here four months ago when I wrote about break-ups and a lot of our female readership didn’t take kindly to my remarks.
“Come on.”
I allow Blanca to walk in front of me, which is a bad idea. Her ass fits snug in her grey pants and her blouse shows off her olive-colored skin and toned arms. The heels make her taller than that night on the train. Not that she’s near my height at all. I still have more than a few inches on her.
“This is the art department.” I motion to the door on my right as we pass, but don’t slow down.
“This is—” I look back and find her stopped at the door and talking with Clara. The two of them are carrying on about what Clara does here at the magazine.
Taking a few steps back, I wait off to the side. Clara glances at me and back to Blanca. “I love your name,” she says.
I did too until I found out it was going to be printed opposite mine in the magazine.
“Thanks. Clara is great too.”
I roll my eyes.
“We’ll have to do lunch sometime,” Clara says.
I wave my hand in the air in a wrap it up motion. I do have a bagel to get to before the nine o’clock meeting.
“Definitely.” Blanca smiles at her and I try to ignore how beautiful it makes her look.
“Okay, see you at nine.” Clara looks my way. “Good morning, Ethan.”
“Clara.” I nod.
She laughs and I swivel on my heel to continue our tour through the office.
“Why didn’t you stop to introduce me?” Blanca asks.
“You seem to be doing great all on your own.”
“I make friends easily. I’m thinking that’s not the case with you though?”
“I’m friendly.” I shrug.
“But friends?” She looks to her side at me, but I continue staring straight ahead as I walk down the hall.
“I have friends.” I signal to the next batch of cubicles. “This is the accounting department. No need to introduce yourself, you probably won’t ever talk to them.”