Rex

The End Of The Following Week

After finishing up the weekly management call, my thoughts turn to seeing if my newest hire has finished the prototype of the new catalog. I had Barb move her to an office down the hall because it was too distracting to have her in the executive suite. As I approach her office door, I hear sorrowful sounds, so I glance around the corner before entering. I’m met with the longest, saddest face I’ve seen in recent memory. She’s staring at her phone and her expression is one of sheer agony.

“Are you okay?” I ask, slowly making my way toward her desk.

“No,” she whimpers through her tears. “I’m anything but okay.” She breaks down and tears continue to stream down her cheeks. I’m thinking that someone close to her has died or some sort of similar tragedy has occurred. I take a seat across from her, wanting to offer condolences but not knowing exactly what to say.

“Anything you want to talk about?” I ask as her shoulders begin shaking violently as she tries to hold back her emotions. Instead of responding, she simply turns her phone toward me, revealing a picture of Kip smiling with his arms around a voluptuous brunette. This is obviously an answer to the question I had early on. She obviously has history with Kip, but he appears to have moved on. “Who’s the girl?” I ask, since she appears to be the problem.

“My best friend,” she whimpers, still unable to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” I reply, wishing there were something I could do. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be simultaneously betrayed by two of the most important people in your life. “Maybe I should give you some privacy.”

“No,” she says, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “Will you just stay for a little bit?” She turns in her chair, retrieving a packet of tissues from her purse. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’m just completely shocked. I was wondering why she hasn’t been returning my calls.”

“Were you engaged?” I ask, still not knowing just how serious the relationship had been between them.

She shakes her head no. “He was supposed to give me an engagement ring for Christmas,” she says, continuing to whisk away the streams of tears that are running down her cheeks. “But instead, he bought me a diamond necklace. A month before graduation, I had a job offer from a fashion house in Manhattan. It was my dream job, so I pushed for some sort of commitment. That’s when he bought me a car.”

“Wow, that’s a little cold,” I reply, totally understanding his line of thinking. Buying someone a large-ticket item like a car would normally be an indicator that you are seriously interested, just like buying expensive jewelry. Marrying someone, though, is the ultimate commitment. Not something to be taken lightly, and much more complex to get out of than a car. Especially if you live in a community property state like Washington.

“I understand he needed some time and space, but really? Going after my best friend?” Her voice cracks as she tries to say it. “What an asshole.”

“Kip is an asshole,” I reply without really thinking. “In my opinion, you dodged a bullet.”

“What do you know about him?” she asks, thinking my judgment is based on public perception.

“I played football with him my sophomore year at UW,” I inform her with a sigh. “He assaulted me at a party one night. A couple of girls were flirting with me instead of him.”

“And he assaulted you?” she asks with a spark in her eyes.

“I may have said a couple of things too.” My lip curls just slightly as I think back to my comments. Something about women preferring men over Neanderthals. “Still, he was totally out of line.”

“He still can’t control his temper,” she admits, looking down at the screen of her phone. “He says that’s what gives him an edge on the field.”

“That’s probably true, but there’s a time and a place for aggression. And you don’t take out your frustrations on a teammate.” I reach over and take the phone from her hand and lay it face down on the desk. “Stop torturing yourself.”

“You played football?” she asks, giving me a look of disbelief.

“I was the starting quarterback both my freshman and sophomore years,” I inform her. “At least until I got my first concussion. That’s the other reason I hate Kip.”

“He had something to do with it?” she asks, wiping the remaining tears from her cheek.

“No. But the smile on his face said it all. He was glad to see me hurt, even though it cost us the season.” I feel a tension in my chest just as real as it was ten years ago. “I can still picture the look on his face even though it was almost a decade ago.”

“I know the smile you’re talking about,” she concurs. “That snide, asshole smirk that makes you want to slap him. I’ve seen more than my share of them.”

“Like I said, I think you dodged a bullet,” I repeat. “I know that’s not something you want to hear right now, but you’re too good for him. Way too good.” I reach over and place my hand on hers. “I’m probably out of line here, since I’m technically your boss now, but you took my breath away the moment I met you.”

She smiles and clears her throat before straightening up in her chair. “I’ve never worked in an office before, but I know for a fact that the quickest way to get into trouble is by messing around with the boss.”

“Well, I haven’t officially hired you yet,” I counter. “This is just a short-term internship.” I smile as she gives me an apprehensive look. “After the internship is up, maybe I should just hire you as my personal assistant. I could use a little assistance outside the office too.”

“To pick up your dry cleaning and give you blow jobs?” she asks with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“No!” I sigh, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. “I don’t buy anything that needs to be dry cleaned.” I pat her hand and rise from my seat. “It was just a suggestion off the top of my head. You just think about it, and we’ll make a decision when the time comes.” I stand and reach into my jacket pocket for my business card. “If you need anything at all this weekend, just give me a call on my cell.”

“Thank you,” she says, her face drooping again. “I’ll think about what you said. Will I still be able to work on marketing and the new catalogs?”

“Of course! You’ll just have more flexibility so you can work from home instead of this dreary office.” I scan the stark white walls and gray industrial carpet. “I never realized the offices back here were so depressing.”

“My new studio apartment isn’t much better,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “I’m not so sure I’d want to work from home.”

“Let’s just say you can work from anywhere you want,” I assure her. “If you want to work here, no one is going to give you any problems. I’m the boss, so if anyone has an issue, they can bring it up with me.” I turn and walk toward the door. “If you need to talk, just call me . . . I mean it.”

“I will, thanks.” She picks up her phone and clicks the button, looking once again at the picture of her former dickhead and her best friend. I glance back one more time before heading down the hallway, back to the executive suite. She is still beautiful, even with smudged makeup and bloodshot eyes. There is a part of me that just wants to go back into her office, wrap my arms around her, and tell her that everything is going to be all right. In fact, she’s bringing out lots of feelings that I’ve never felt before. Something strange is happening, and I’m not so sure I like it.