“You would be right. I’m famished.”
“I was thinking breakfast and then a shower?”
“As much as I like the smell of you and your body wash, I don’t have anything to shower with.”
“Everything you need should be in one of those.” I motion toward the bags.
“Toiletries?” Again she seems surprised. Nodding, I take the seat across from her, making my plate of bacon and pancakes.
She seems shy as she speaks. “Thank you for letting me stay overnight … and for all of this.”
What kind of men has she been with? Did she think I’d fuck her and then send her home in a taxi?
Her apprehension fades as we eat.
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m behind on a contract for—” she starts, picking up a slice of bacon and then pauses. “What are the rules for the weekend?”
A short chuckle leaves me and I smirk at her. “We can negotiate those terms, Ms. Parks.”
There it is. Her gorgeous smile and lightheartedness.
“I would like to spend the day with you, but I’m a bit behind with work.” She sighs dreamily and adds, “A man has been distracting me.”
I hum in agreement. “I know what you mean. There’s an exceptionally beautiful and stubborn woman who’s been distracting me as well.”
Her simper widens and she rocks slightly in her seat.
“You look gorgeous, by the way.” She blushes, as if she’s a shy little thing. Does she know how all of these facets of her have me more and more addicted?
I offer, “We could plan on working and fucking, fucking and working. Occasionally we must eat, though.”
The smile dims as she lays her arms on the table, slightly more serious. “As much as that sounds exactly like the productive weekend I’d enjoy, I’m a little sore and I think I’d like to work from home.”
I can’t help that the corner of my lips tips up in an asymmetric smile. “Sore?”
She blushes again. “I think I may need to rest for the day, if you don’t mind.”
Before I can feel any kind of disappointment she questions, “What are your plans for tonight?”
“Wide open, Ms. Parks.”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
“You’re asking me out?”
“Officially. Yes. I think the weekends … maybe we could date on the weekends?”
My smile matches hers. “I think I’d like that.”
Suzette
It’s difficult, and unladylike, to eat yogurt and talk at the same time, but I’m managing it. Gail shovels a handful of almonds and raisins into her mouth as well, completely unfazed. We’re both rushing through lunch and it’s not uncommon in the least. Today is different, though. It feels as if everything is riding on this one task delegated from the “team.”
Projected profits and client referrals based on previous numbers. A.k.a., how profitable is our division on its own? I’m more than certain we’ll impress. Perhaps it’s cocky or arrogant, but I know we’re damn good at what we do and, as Gail so eloquently put it, it’s time to whip our dicks out.
Lunch break be damned.
Maddie sits on one end of my desk, watching the conversation as she eats her caesar salad, and another of our coworkers is at her side. His name is Dale and Dale is … well, he’s Dale. He’s got a sharp eye for marketing, but his social skills are subpar. So he stays in his cubicle avoiding us as much as he can.
Today, I wish he’d done just that. There’s an uneasiness about him and it puts a damper on the atmosphere that would otherwise be motivating.
“No, listen,” I say to Dale. “I have an idea I want to pitch to you before we part ways again and you leave us to the figures.”
“I’m not sure you should be pitching any ideas.” He gives me a look that definitely means something and my face goes hot.
“What do you mean? I always pitch you ideas. It’s no different for me to do it right now.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Even with all the rumors flying around the office?” At once, my ears turn red hot. Gail pauses mid-chew, her dark brown eyes going wide and Maddie peeks up from her salad.
My heart drops in nervousness. “What rumors?”
“People have seen you with a certain someone,” Dale says, his gaze darting toward the elevator.
“Who?” Maddie asks. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. With numb fingers I drop the mostly eaten yogurt to the small trash can.
As I do, I shoot her a look that gives her all the information she needs to know. Betrayal doesn’t pair well with the sweet yogurt. It tastes far too sour.
Her mouth drops open. Two weeks of seeing Adrian nearly every day, and it was bound to happen. Shakily, I sip my water and take a few deep breaths to calm down, not responding at all to Dale.
“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” Gail questions to my left. All eyes are on me and I fucking hate it. I knew this would happen. Office trysts always get out. I just wish it wasn’t today of all freaking days.
Dale watches me carefully, as if he’s not sure he can trust me anymore. I don’t like that feeling. It’s a sensation of being accused of something, though he is right that I’m seeing Adrian.
I nod in confirmation. The corners of Dale’s mouth turn down. “So he sleeps with you on the weekend and then fires your coworkers on Monday.”
A chill runs through me at his bluntness, but my back straightens.
Sighing, I put the bottle of water down on my desk. “That’s pretty much how it is.” My tone is bitchy yet stern as I meet his gaze head-on.
“And none of that has anything to do with the last decade of work I’ve put into this client list. So,” I say and glance over my shoulder at Gail, “back to putting together this presentation because as much as I wish fucking Adrian would save our asses, we both made it very clear that lines would not blur.” I pause, waiting for Dale to say anything at all. For Maddie or Gail to pipe up.
A long moment passes with a heat tingling at the back of my neck.
“What if you tried blow jobs too?” Maddie says, then shrugs and Dale shakes his head although there’s a hint of his smile showing.
Gail is less than impressed. “I need a moment,” is all she says before walking out, leaving that pit in my stomach to weigh heavier.
That particular feeling only grows as the day progresses. Each time, it grows and grows until I feel like I could throw up.
The rumor is confirmed within minutes. It’s easy to tell when each of them know.
Dale was correct that Adrian does the firing, and not me, but it’s me who my coworkers come to for answers when it’s done. All of them are upset, and nothing I can say offers them any comfort.
It’s as if my office becomes the place to vent. The place for them to safely unleash their anger. Unfortunately for me, it also appears to be the day the graphics department is getting culled.
So one after the other pass snide looks my way before heading to their office with empty boxes to clear out their things.
They just lost their jobs. I feel compassion for them, even the ones I didn’t get along with very well. Frustration mounts and I’m more upset than ever toward the end of the day.