“Our sports analogy is no longer working for me,” I said. “Is this how you managed your business when you were a builder?”
“Absolutely. I gave people enough work to break them. They either got it done or they got a new job,” he said. “Fast break offense means fast. You need to keep Carson off balance all the time. How much work are you putting on him?”
“The absolute bare minimum,” I said. “I don’t want his sticky fingers making a mess of things.”
“That’s a mistake,” he said.
My mouth dropped open. “Mistake?”
“Yeah. From what you’ve described, Carson is a user. He’s the Tom Sawyer of the office, getting everyone to do his work for him.”
I nodded. I’d seen it in action.
“He doesn’t have enough to do. That’s why he’s always looking for trouble. You need to bury him,” Nick said.
“In what way?” I asked.
“In all the ways,” Nick said. “Give him every assignment you can think of in regards to Lexi’s development.”
“Ah! But what if he messes it up?” I asked. “I’m quite certain he’ll try.”
“He can try, but since you’ll be doing the real work and he’ll just be doing busywork, who cares?”
I stared at him. It had never occurred to me to take control of the situation like this. I was in charge of Lexi’s project. I called the shots. As senior art director, Carson was on the team, but he reported to me. Ever the pleaser, I’d tried to placate him by having him oversee the creation of the logo but gave him nothing substantial to keep him occupied, guaranteeing that he had plenty of time to mess things up.
I was an idiot. I had to rethink everything. Nick was right. I could give him so much work, Carson wouldn’t have a minute to spare.
Nick was watching me while I turned this idea over in my mind. “I think you might be a genius,” I said.
He shrugged. “Best-case scenario, he actually comes up with something usable. Worst case, he messes up, but it doesn’t matter because you’ve got it covered already anyway. Besides, imagine his face when you dump a load of work on him.”
I laughed. The mental picture of Carson being forced to work instead of prowling the office looking for trouble brought me great joy. I reached out and placed my plastic margarita glass on the cool deck. Then I slid from my raft into the water. I popped up on the side of Nick’s, and he smiled down at me.
“Would this be considered a fast break offense?” I asked right before I kissed him. His hand cupped the back of my head and held me still while he returned my kiss with enthusiasm. When we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.
Nick slid off his raft, and we stood in the waist-high water, facing each other. There was so much I wanted to say to him but I didn’t know how. The weeks were slipping by so fast, and our three months would be over before I knew it. How would I manage to live here when we were no longer together?
“What are you thinking?” he asked. His hazel gaze was intent on my face, which I was desperately trying to keep blank. I didn’t want him to see my angst.
“Nothing,” I said. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to ruin the time we had by wishing for something more.
“You look pensive,” he said.
I felt like ducking under the water to avoid his scrutiny. Instead, I went right to my default setting.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He shook his head. “No apology necessary.”
“It’s just work on my mind.”
“Is it?” he asked. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
I got the feeling he knew. My heart started to beat really hard. Did he know that I was having feelings that would complicate things? Should I admit it?
“Canonball!”
The universe saved me from my own stupidity in the form of Jackson, leaping into the air and tucking himself into a ball, before he splashed down into the pool beside Nick and me, sending a sheet of water over us and breaking the moment, saving me from probable disaster.
As water dripped off the two of us, I heard Nick mutter, “I definitely need to fire him.”
Nick
22
The following weeks were the most singular of my life. I woke up with Annabelle in the morning and fell asleep curled up around her at night. It was the safest I had felt since I was a child, before my family fell apart. I tried not to dwell on a month passing so swiftly, assuring myself that we would start to get sick of each other before the three months were up. Right.
It was Annabelle who convinced me to let in the light. She drew open all the drapes in my house, letting the warm March sunshine in. I don’t think I imagined the lift in the spirits of Jackson, Lupita, and Juan at this abrupt change. Either the light made them happy, or possibly, the haze of happy I was looking at them through made them seem happier, or perhaps it was a bit of both.
Annabelle was like having an exotic being from another dimension around. She saw things I missed like the way a hawk rode the thermals over the construction site for Lexi’s development or how the leaves in the trees turned upside down before a rain.
She sat completely still on a chair in the backyard for hours, watching the birds interact, and then she made up voices and conversations for them. My favorite was a big black cowbird that she called “the Masshole,” a mash-up of Massachusetts and asshole, and she voiced him with a thick Boston accent, saying things like, “The grub heah’s a wicked pissa.”
I’m not sure at what point I became one hundred percent smitten with her. It might have been when she voiced the birds, or maybe it was the night after I’d made love to her, twice, that she announced she needed pancakes right then and there or she was going to perish. I’d obviously lost brain cells during the orgasm portion of the evening, proving once again her theory that orgasms made you stupid, because instead of refusing I said, “Okay.”
I never left my house at night. Hell, for the previous nine months I had practically never left my house at all. This was madness.
But Annabelle didn’t live within the tight boundaries of my very narrow comfort zone. She was new to Phoenix, and she wanted to do all the things and experience every nook and cranny of life in the Southwest.
Over the past few weeks, she’d dragged me and Jackson to the Phoenix Art Museum, the Heard Museum, the Desert Botanical Gardens, and we’d even toured Tovrea Castle. When I say toured, what I mean is I found a quiet place to sit while they walked through the various places. If Annabelle resented that I didn’t participate fully, she never said so. I was doing my best to meet her halfway but I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed it.