Rainer
It was exhilarating to be in that jam-packed meeting. With the chief financial officer standing at the head of the long conference table, I had flashbacks to college. It felt just like the time my English literature class had to switch rooms due to a stink bomb going off in the lecture hall. The conversation rippled and flowed so much faster with everyone tight together.
I should have gone to more classes, I thought.
Then I remembered why I had skipped so often. Tasha uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again, and a stab of lust hit me hard in the gut. It fit my playboy image, being so easily distracted by a great pair of legs.
Frankie, the obnoxious social media star sitting directly to my left, noticed my gaze and elbowed me again. "Pretty hot for an ice queen," he whispered.
I told him to shut his trap, but that only made his grin wider. Word was already traveling around the office via social media that a challenge had been issued. It was ridiculous and juvenile to make bets about women and romantic entanglements, but I had always participated before, and there was no reason to change. My image was working, it had gotten me this far, and I didn't want to lose it now.
As if I could help myself. Tasha's long leg bounced back and forth just on the edge of my vision. She dressed conservatively, but just the hint of her black high heels had my blood on fire. It was very easy to imagine pursuing Tasha, trailing my fingers up those long, silky legs. I glanced over and she gave me a puckered smile. All I wanted to do was soften those rosy lips with a long, deep kiss.
I had to look away before I started sweating. I glanced over Frankie's shoulder and saw the notes he was sending out. In his telling, Frankie was the bold challenger who had found someone who might be impossible, even for me. It was flattering, in a way, but I was embarrassed. All around us, the team members were studying their thick packets, really understanding the reports and charts, and all I was good for was a side bet and a little entertainment.
"Shut it down, Frankie," I said.
"Too late, man; it's already out there," Frankie said. "I'll let you know what the betting's like later."
"Later when I kick your ass?" I growled.
Frankie leaned back, unsure how serious I was, then he shook his head. "You almost had me there. I bet you're on this project just to get a little closer. Not that I can blame you."
I leaned forward so he could not ogle Tasha. "Concentrate on your work. No wonder you still work downstairs."
"All right, all right. I get it. There's a time and a place. We'll talk more at Benny's Dive Bar later." Frankie flipped through his packet and found the page we were all reviewing.
I focused on the page and tried to concentrate on what the CFO was saying. It seemed ridiculous to me that all the reports and charts had nothing to do with the initial sales. Everyone was in the meeting to hear how much money their app had made Hyperion.
Then again, as I looked around, I saw most people were engaged in the little details. They were taking notes, consulting with each other, and listening with rapt attention. It occurred to me that Tasha's team cared more about their work than about the bottom line. I sat back and observed them as if they were an alien species.
Tasha was leaning forward, marking copious notes in the margins of the packet, and cross-referencing things in her own high stack of reports. As she shuffled through papers, she interjected, and never once did the CFO object to her additions. He nodded, agreed with her, asked her to elaborate for the rest of us, and shared the spotlight with her shining intelligence.
"So, you can see on page 37 that the extra time spent on beta-testing actually saved us when it came to bug checks and additional programming. We stayed focused, asked specific questions of our beta-testers, and took the time to consider all their input before we finished production. The wait saved us the extra work of undoing bad code and creating features that did not serve the customer," Tasha said.
"Yes, exactly. Had Ms. Nichols not been able to convince us, the product launch would have been pushed back at least a month," the CFO said.
It was a turn-on how focused Tasha was in the meeting. She missed the subtle compliments from our boss and dug deeper into her reports. Her copper-colored hair was tied back with a plain black ribbon and delicate wisps curled along her neck. I found myself studying the creamy skin there instead of poring over the next page of tables and charts.
Even Frankie was listening, his lascivious bets forgotten as he heard Tasha's tie-in with online discussion groups and techno-speculation. She had a grasp on every angle of the project, and her team members appreciated how well she understood what they contributed.
I sent Frankie a quick text: Is the Ice Queen a good boss?
He ignored it until they moved on to the next page and started talking print media. Then he smiled and texted back: The best. Hot and a hard ass, just the way I like 'em.
I fought the urge to punch him and texted: Then why bet against her?
Frankie laughed out loud and texted: My money's on her all the way. Not only will she break your heart, but she'll be your boss before you know it.
I elbowed him sharply and was rewarded with Frankie's pained grunt.
Tasha glanced over with a flash of annoyance and then went back to her work. I leaned back again and continued to admire her as the meeting dragged on. Tasha was ready with an answer to every question the CFO asked. It was clear that something great had happened with GroGreen, but no one wanted to jump ahead to the good news. They wanted to take the time to study what they did, analyze what worked, and plan to implement it on future projects.
"We need a more coherent strategy for the worldwide release with fail-safes in place in case the server blinks out," the CFO pointed out.
Tasha responded with a five-point plan for how they would fix the problem in the future, streamline the worldwide release, and time everything to fit the foreign markets.
It felt good just sitting next to someone so talented. Tasha Nichols was clearly at the top of her game and only getting better. She had the respect of her team members, nods of approval from the top executives, and an organized air that made it feel like she could take over the world. She'd already tried to brush me off multiple times, but the longer the meeting went, the surer I was that the smart move would be to hitch my wagon to her star. Tasha Nichols was really on her way up.
I was deep into strategizing my next move when a bright blonde caught my eye from across the table. She smiled, but her eyes were icy, and she turned away sharply. I thought her name might have been Maureen, but it could have been Margaret. Definitely something with an 'M.' It took a minute, but I remembered a steamy little interlude we'd had a while back. In a supply closet, on a stack of copier paper, just before New Year’s. Now that it was spring, I could see why she was giving me cold looks.
Three suits down was another chilly glance, this time from a woman whose name I knew was Alice. She had gotten so upset that when she finally cornered me in the upstairs cafe, she'd referred to herself in the third person. "Alice deserved a call back."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as my eyes traveled around the packed meeting and took stock. It was no shock that Frankie and my other colleagues thought of me as a playboy. There were at least five women in the conference room who I had romanced. More than one looked at me with disdain, but the majority wetted their lips, or played with the necklines of their blouses, surefire signs they'd be willing to give me another chance.
Normally, I would have spent the rest of the meeting selecting which beautiful woman to approach first, but today everything was off. I was sick of my tomcat reputation, and jealous of the respect Tasha was garnering. Sure, I got plenty of slaps on the back from the higher-ups, but that was because they were my buddies. We played golf, drank expensive whiskey, and bragged about our conquests. It turned my stomach.
I sat up and tried to focus on the packet again, but my stomach was clenched. I pressed a hand to it, annoyed that I was letting Tasha Nichols throw me off my game. She noticed my pained gesture and poured me a glass of water.
"Thank you," I said.
"Just returning the favor," she whispered. Tasha shuffled through her papers again and located the answer to the CFO's newest musing.
What she failed to see was the notice her small kindness had garnered. Frankie was grinning and sending out messages again. My former flings were narrowing their eyes at her. There were speculative glances from most of the team members. Tasha and I were the only two junior executives in the room, sitting side-by-side, and sharing whispers. I suddenly felt like the tiny plastic man on the top of a wedding cake.
"Is it hot in here?" I asked Tasha.
She glanced up, her mind on the report in front of her. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Rainer. This is a perfect time for us to segue to your press conference," the CFO said. "You did a great job fielding a range of questions, and I think you really gave the consumers a good idea of what GroGreen can do for them. Sales saw a spike directly after you were done."
Tasha's back was ramrod straight, but she turned in her chair, like the rest of the team, and waited to hear what I would have to say.
"I really didn't do much but read the script Ms. Nichols and the team provided. Really good work, everyone," I said.
Tasha's frown told me she wasn't buying it. "I think he wants you to reiterate that line you added, the one you thought might make a good slogan."
"Well, we haven't had a chance to meet about that," I told Tasha. I hoped tossing the spotlight back to her might lessen her frown, but it seemed to be making it worse. Plus, it was uncharacteristic of me, and my colleagues would be sure to comment. I cleared my throat. "I simply pointed out that the brilliant GroGreen app makes it easy to put Mother Nature on a schedule that fits our busy lives."
"Yes, that's it," the CFO said. "The bit about Mother Nature respecting our busy lives."
Tasha’s look darkened, so I spoke up again. "It's more about how the respect is mutual now."
Tasha sniffed, unimpressed with the new direction. She opted out of the conversation by flipping the page and starting up her note-scribbling again.
"I like it; I think it really appeals to today's busy consumer. They love the idea of gardens, they want a garden, but it's a lot of work. GroGreen breaks it down into manageable tasks and syncs it to our daily calendars." The CFO nodded his approval at me.
"I'm not sure it sounds all that respectful, sir," Tasha said. She gripped her pen so hard her knuckles were white, so I knew she'd been struggling to hold her tongue. "It sounds as if we're bragging that our app can control the cycles of nature. We can't just jump in and take credit for power we don't have. The app is meant to encourage people to notice the seasons, work with them, make them a healthy part of their lives. Not the other way around."
"It's perfect for the virtual gardening tool." Frankie put down his phone and spoke up. "GroGreen is realistic enough to give people an authentic experience while also making it available at any time."
"Authentic means people would actually be growing their own gardens," Tasha corrected him. "And the virtual gardening tool is meant as a side amusement, not the app's main focus."
"Games are big business," I said.
Tasha skewered me with a look. "GroGreen is meant to be much more than a game."
Frankie flipped back through his packet. "The virtual gardening tool went over huge with the beta-testers. The top words used were realistic, beautiful, and authentic."
The meeting erupted into a flurry of disagreements and side-conversations. The CFO stepped back and let the team hash out new ideas. He clearly knew something we did not.
"Have you been in a garden lately?" Tasha asked me. "It's not supposed to be about control."
"What about for farmers, and those crazy people who create amazing hybrid roses? It seems like gardening is, at its root, about controlling Mother Nature," I said.
"Oh, shit, that's good," Frankie said. He sent out another flurry of messages.
Tasha raked her dark-brown eyes over me again. "I shouldn't be surprised that you missed the point of GroGreen entirely. I mean, this is the first time you've worked on it."
I caught her arm before Tasha could turn away in a huff. "Look, I'm sorry. You're right. Today's comment at the press conference was totally off-the-cuff, and I should have ran it past you first."
She looked at my hand on her suit coat sleeve and then up at me. "So, even you get nervous on camera?" Tasha asked.
Her eyes softened, and I felt my insides melting to molten lava. "I don't get nervous on camera," I said, "but I am out of practice working on a team."
"Well, you're on one now," Tasha said, "and you better get used to it if you want to go any further."
My throat tightened as thoughts of how far I wanted to go with her flashed through my head. I cleared my throat. "Maybe the line about Mother Nature respecting us could use a little more thought."
The meeting quieted down, and all eyes turned back towards Tasha and me.
"Rainer's comment focused on only one aspect of our app, and we need to make sure we introduce consumers to all of the amazing things GroGreen can do," Tasha said.
My hand was still on her sleeve, so I felt her go rigid when Frankie called out. "Sorry, it's already all over social media."
"Take it back," I said. I reluctantly pried my hand from Tasha's arm and turned to face Frankie. "I know you can delete a post."
"It's already gotten over five hundred hits," Frankie said. He tapped the thick packet. "That's outpacing the majority of our top posts by twenty hits per minute."
I didn't dare look back at Tasha, but I could feel her tension. Being near her was like sitting next to a generator: I could practically hear the gears churning in her head.
The CFO took control of the meeting again, and everyone turned back to the packet. I fought the urge to break Frankie's phone because it lit up and flashed every time he got a new notification. Other team members were watching their media too, and it was hard to bring the full attention of the meeting back to the review.
I sat up and leaned shoulder to shoulder with Tasha. "Don't worry. They say any press is good press, right?"
"For reality stars and celebrities, maybe," Tasha snapped. "For technology, especially apps like GroGreen, one misstep could mean a sharp decline in sales."
I looked around at all the flashing phones. "Do you really think this looks like a decline in sales?" I asked.
Tasha ignored me and turned the page, following along as another chart was explained.
I patted my suit coat in a futile search for a pen. Topher leaned forward and laid one on my shoulder. I took it and thanked him with a nod. Then I leaned forward again and scribbled 'I'm sorry' on the corner of Tasha's packet. She tried to brush it off as if it was a dirty smudge.
I put an elbow on the conference room table and whispered to her behind my hand. "Really, I am. I shouldn't have spoken without your support. I know that's not how teams work and I'm sorry."
She shoved my elbow off the table. "Stop whispering to me. I don't even know you, and I'm trying to concentrate."
Tasha was concentrating so hard she didn't see the interest our little exchanges were garnering. It didn't matter if the lower floor boys were placing bets on us; people could see there was something between us. Now, I just had to convince Tasha it was more than workplace competition and irritation. I was attracted to her, she inspired me to work, and everyone knew that opposites often forged great teams.
This little app of hers was fast becoming the best thing I had ever worked on, and I hadn't even downloaded the thing myself. If I played my cards right, this project would pay off, and no one would have to know the real reason I joined the team. Now, I was certain that I had really felt something when we danced at the holiday party. I knew because the same crackling fireworks were back in my stomach. And I still couldn't take my eyes off her.
"All right, folks, that concludes the review. I'm going to ask that everyone except junior executives and department managers leave at this time. You will hear more later when you have your separate department meetings," the CFO said.
The conference table erupted as the majority of people stood up to leave. I spun around in my chair and nodded to Topher. "That means you too. Don't worry; I'll catch you up later."
Topher was ready to argue, but Tasha cut him off. "If you have somewhere else to be, like a lunch meeting, I can just send your assistant my notes."
I saw the flash of ambition in Topher's eyes. "Ms. Nichols, I noticed your assistant is not here. If you'd like me to stay and take the notes for you, I'd be more than happy."
"Oh, no," I said. "No one's poaching my assistant. That's not very team-like."
Tasha caught the arch of my foot with her heel as she turned around. "Thank you," she said to Topher, "but I've had this handled from the beginning. I've got it from here."
She clearly expected me to get up and leave with the crowd, but I stayed put. "Are you a big gardener, Ms. Nichols?" I asked her.
Sadness flickered across her face and was gone. "My family had a large garden. One of my first chores was to weed it."
I waited for her to return the question, but Tasha swiveled back to the conference table. I kept the conversation going anyway. "The best I ever did was sprouting seeds in old soup cans. I think it was a Mother's Day project at school or something."
Tasha glanced over her shoulder. "You don't really look like the gardening type," she said.
"Are you kidding? I would love a garden." I had her attention now. "Some days it feels like all we do is send emails out into the ether, watch posts on little screens, and type documents that never get printed. Actually getting my hands dirty, growing something from seed, that would feel almost like a cure."
"For some reason, I picture you gardening in your tailored suit," Tasha said. Her smile sneaked out. "Maybe with a big floppy sunhat."
"Laugh all you want," I said, "but you can't tell me the hands-on aspect of gardening isn't the most appealing part of it. Don't you want to produce something solid? Actually grow something real?"
Tasha's expression cooled. "This is real. I've grown this product from the very first brainstorming session."
"Did your family ever grow little cherry tomatoes? Or strawberries? I always loved the idea of walking through a garden and being able to taste what I helped grow," I said.
The smile returned, tentatively. "My favorite was chives," Tasha said. "I loved chewing on them while I was out in the yard."
"And fresh herbs for cooking? Can you imagine how great that would be?" I asked.
Tasha grinned. "You might actually be the target demographic we were going for: first-time gardeners who have the desire and just need a little help."
The fireworks in my stomach were heating up. "And what about you? Don't you want to create something you can harvest? I mean, something you can actually hold in your hands?"
"Fine. I'll admit that aspect of gardening appeals to me." Tasha had turned her chair towards me, but she snapped back when she realized the others in the room were listening.
The meeting was down to only six of us, two junior executives and the four department managers. I was sure that I would be asked to leave and I shifted to the edge of my office chair when the CFO shut the door.
"Now that I have the core team here, I feel that I should warn you: what I'm going to say next is going to be a shock," he said. It seemed to take forever for him to walk back to his place at the head of the long conference table.
"The reports all look favorable so far, sir," Tasha said. "I'm sure once we focus our media strategy, the sales will meet our expectations."
The CFO nodded but scrubbed a hand hard over his mouth. "I'm not sure you're getting my drift, Ms. Nichols," he said.
"Sir, there are a lot of people who worked very hard on this app. They sacrificed time with their families, everything so we could make the best possible product. Please consider them before you give us the axe." Tasha's hand was out on the table, near mine, as if unconsciously seeking support.
"She's right about the reports, sir," I said. "The buzz has been considerable, and I'm sure the sales will take off."
"Now, you I can understand, Rainer," the CFO said. "You were at the product launch party until the wee hours of the morning and spent the rest of the night God knows where. But you, Ms. Nichols. I'm surprised. Do you really have no idea what's happened with GroGreen?"
Tasha pressed her hand harder on the conference table. "I do, sir. I've watched it like a hawk since our first meetings. I don't understand why you don't think it will succeed. I can prove it to you."
The CFO held up both hands to ward off another pie chart. Then his expression broke and a surprising peal of laughter burst out. "Ms. Nichols, please, I respect your ardor, but you need to listen. I'm trying to give you good news."
"Good news?" Tasha asked, confused.
"GroGreen has far outreached our wildest expectations. Sales reached astronomical numbers late this morning. We are strategizing how this success will affect your team members, but as junior executives, you are automatically shareholders."
I leaned forward and caught Tasha's hand in mine. "We're automatic shareholders in a runaway success?" I asked the CFO "That is good news."
He laughed again. "More than that, Rainer. You and Tasha just made billions."