Chapter Thirteen
Madison
“He doesn’t shave on the weekends,” I say, striding into the guesthouse Teague and Harper rent from Harper’s aunt and uncle and plopping down on their couch like my life is over.
“That was your emergency?” Harper asks without judgment. She and Teague are already sitting, and there’s a tray of s’mores fixings on the coffee table. I almost cry at the sight. I’m so grateful to have these girls.
After Elliot dropped me off at home and I spent a couple of restless hours holed up in my room, I texted them I had a crisis and needed their help. They immediately invited me over for a pajama party.
“He’s even more hot with stubble, and that’s saying a lot because I sometimes can’t breathe when I look too long at his clean-shaven face.”
“You’ve seen him on weekends before,” Teague says.
“Yes, but today was different. Why can’t he be someone I’m not attracted to? Plus he’s considerate. He let me drive his car when we drove around looking at stars’ homes so I wouldn’t get car sick.”
“Wait. I thought you just went to brunch,” Teague says.
“I did, and then we saw a double-decker tour bus and I made the comment that I thought it would be fun to play tourist and check out the stars’ homes, so Elliot made it happen. And look.” I take my phone out of my purse and pull up the picture of the two of us he texted to me. “How cute is this?”
“Very cute,” Teague says.
“You guys do make a striking couple,” Harper says.
“What am I going to do? I’m crushing on my boss!”
“I don’t think it’s one-sided. I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Harper offers.
I’ve told them about our flirting, but I haven’t told them about all the things Elliot has said to me. If things were different, I’d fuck you in the back seat of this car so good you’d still feel it tomorrow. Or about what happened in Seattle, because I know I’ll turn red-faced. I’m also a little ashamed. Elliot is my boss first and foremost and I don’t want to lose my job. Does he like me back? Yes. But I’m not experienced enough to know if his playfulness is more than just a passing thing. Because I do know his job means everything to him, too.
“What are you thinking about?” Teague asks.
“He loves his job and I love mine, so I need to let go of my silly infatuation.”
Teague gives my forearm a squeeze. “You could look for another job if you really think there’s something strong between you guys.”
I shake my head. “It took me six months of temping before landing this one, and I don’t want to give it up. For the first time in my life I feel like I’m doing something that’s all mine and that I’m good at. The company is amazing and I’ve made friends there, too. Plus, the pay is great and I’m going to start looking for an apartment.”
“You are? That’s fantastic!” Teague claps her hands.
“I have a solution for you,” Harper says.
Harper runs her own nonprofit to bring awareness to swim safety and help those who have lost someone to drowning. If she’s got a solution, I’ll take it. The notes Elliot and I write to each other help, but only temporarily.
“Tell me.”
“Any time you look at Elliot, picture Henry’s face instead. That way you’ll want to punch him in the mouth instead of kiss him, and it will give you the incentive to prove to your douchebag ex that you’re strong and independent and kicking ass in the workforce.”
I think about her suggestion. “That could work.” Lord knows I hate Henry more than anything.
“Another thing you could do,” Teague says, “is join a boot camp or boxing studio. Working out your frustrations with some high-intensity exercise could help keep your mind focused.”
“I like that idea, too, but they’re probably expensive.”
“I know a guy,” Harper says. “I’ll hook you up if you want.”
I rub the corner of my eye. “Thanks, you guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lucky for us, you’ll never have to find out.” Teague jumps to her feet.
Harper rises to hers. “It’s time for Marshmallow Spears.” She picks up the tray of s’mores ingredients while Teague picks up my hand.
At the confusion on my face, Teague says, “It’s our own special brand of fun, going back to when we were college freshmen and I put on Britney Spears and Harper cooked marshmallows with a lighter, and the combo cured the injustice of us not getting into the same sorority. Since then it’s been our go-to for any bumps or blessing in our days, and you are the first person we’re initiating into our ritual, so come on.”
The three of us walk to the backyard fire pit that sits between the pool and the guesthouse. “Toxic” blares through outdoor speakers. Harper flips the switch on the fire pit. Teague hands me a skewered marshmallow to roast. We gorge on s’mores and dance around the backyard in our pajamas. It’s wonderful.
I glance up at the night sky and thank the hundreds of twinkling stars for putting me right here, right now.
…
The next morning I start work with a whole new perspective. From a single girl’s standpoint, Elliot is good-looking, sexy, and attentive. But from an assistant’s viewpoint, he is shrewd, businesslike, smart, and has a face I hate. This new plan is just right.
And so far it’s working.
Elliot rings me from inside his office. “Yes?” I say, phone to my ear.
“Have you finished that financial report for my meeting tomorrow?”
“Finishing it now.”
“Great. Thanks.” He disconnects. If asked what it’s like to work with Elliot, I’d say after a tense start where he was demanding and unapologetic in his requests, we’ve found a groove that’s a little less stressful. “Little” being the key word. There’s a lot of work to be done and Elliot gives me a lot of responsibility. I’m doing things a financial assistant with years, not weeks, of experience would do. I’m not invisible, but truly part of a team. There’s a definite learning curve, but it’s exciting. Challenging. I love waking up every morning to come here.
“Madison,” James says, stopping at my desk, “great job on last week’s revenue and expense spreadsheet.”
“Thank you.”
“I know Elliot appreciates it, too. He can’t stop singing me your praises. Keep up the good work.”
I nod, worried if I speak I’ll blurt out how amazing Elliot is and sound like a girl in lust rather than a girl in appreciation.
Closing my eyes for a quick second, I revel in the praise before finishing the report. Good jobs are hard to find, and I’m lucky I landed this one.
“Hey,” Auggie says.
“Hey.” I swivel my chair to fully face her. “What’s up?”
“Can you help me with something for about half an hour?”
I peer around her. Elliot is on the phone, zoned in on his laptop, and probably wouldn’t notice if I walked into his office naked. Okay, bad analogy. He might notice that. But I think I’m safe to step away for a little bit. “Sure.”
Auggie links arms with me and we go in the direction of the kitchen. Once there, she says, “It’s prank day.”
“Is that an official holiday?”
“No, but Mondays are so blah, I thought we could shake it up a little.”
“Will we get in trouble?”
Auggie puts her hands on her hips. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Way behind my need for a paycheck.”
“Well, shenanigans are important to my well-being so are you in or out? I promise no humans will be harmed in the execution of this little joke. Unless you consider smiling harmful, which in the case of your boss might be a problem.”
“Elliot smiles,” I say in his defense. It’s an amazing one, too.
Auggie crosses her arms and brings her fist to her chin in contemplation. “Hmm, I guess I have seen him smile more since you got here.”
“Oh, he doesn’t smile because of me.”
She narrows her eyes in contemplation. “Not you, per se, but you being the first assistant to stick with him.”
Shit. Obviously she meant like that. “Right, of course.” I titter. Crap, I hope she can’t see how nervous she’s making me. “I’m helpful and good at my job. I really love working here. And I love working with you, too. I’m learning so much from everyone and it’s not a chore coming here at all and—”
“Madison.”
“Yes?”
“Is there something going on between you and Elliot?”
Crap on a crab cake. This is bad.
I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling chalkboard along the back wall. I don’t want to lie to Auggie, but I can’t tell her the whole truth, either. Elliot thought it best not to mention that we knew each other before I started working here. Friends don’t always make the best colleagues, and it seemed easier to keep our connection out of the equation. But maybe if we’d acknowledged we had mutual friends and saw each other outside the office, I wouldn’t have to be so careful with my feelings. I pick up a piece of chalk. “No,” I say, as I write the word “maybe” and then erase it.
“You know James has a zero-tolerance policy for office romances,” she whispers.
“I know. And that’s why nothing will ever happen.” Nothing beyond Seattle.
“I get it,” Auggie says with understanding. “Elliot is super attractive and has this aura of power around him that makes him even hotter.”
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “Are you crushing on my boss?”
“Not anymore, but I admit when he first started here I was kind of enamored. I got over it quickly, though. I love my job, too. And besides, Elliot never spared me a second glance.”
“So there’s hope for me.” I tuck away the knowledge that he sneaks glances at me all the time.
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me to the long hardwood table. “Definitely. Now take a seat and help me stick googly eyes on stuff.” She pulls a small bag filled with various sizes of googly eyes from her pocket. “I thought we’d start with things in the refrigerator.”
I laugh. “This is your prank?”
“Yes. Look.” She sticks a large pair of eyes on a bottle of water she pulled out of the fridge.
“That’s really cute.”
“It won’t be so cute when there’s eyes everywhere.”
“Only one way to find out,” I say, jumping on board with my first-ever prank. The two of us google-eye condiments, the toaster oven, the coffeemaker, and blender. We leave the kitchen and covertly stop by desks to put eyes on calculators, pencil holders, staplers, and tape dispensers. When we get back to the second floor, Elliot and James are in the conference room, so we put googly eyes on their phones, the corner of their computer screens, and anything else on their desks that needs a pair. We giggle at that. And rest assured, the eyes peel off easily, so really there’s no harm in having some fun like this.
We high-five when finished and go back to our desks like nothing’s happened. A half hour later I’m working on another report when my phone rings. It’s Elliot’s extension. “Hello?”
“Why are there googly eyes all over my office?”
I try not to grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He doesn’t buy it for a second, and I burst out laughing.
The giggles won’t stop. I lean back in my chair to look into his office. He’s shaking his head in dismay, but the pull on his closed lips tells me he isn’t angry. Then I hear James yell, “Auggie!” and Elliot’s brows arch in amusement. I shrug and hang up the phone.
For the rest of the morning I handle some correspondence for Elliot and schedule him a haircut. Shame. At a little after noon, I grab the lunch I brought and head to the roof to eat. I’ve been up here only one other time, and with spring just days away, the weather is warming up.
I imagine this is what rooftops are like in New York City, only with a ton more high-rises. And traffic noise. And city smells. Okay, so this isn’t really like NYC at all, but it does feel different. More real. Like this is true life, not the insulated version I grew up living. There’s blue sky for miles and in the distance, the ocean. But there are also homeless people in the alleys. Garbage cans filled with trash and who knows what else, buses making stops. I sit on a cushioned bench to eat, enjoying the sunshine and this slice of L.A.
“Mind if I join you?”
I startle at the sound of Elliot’s voice.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me.”
“It’s okay.” I scoot over to make room for him even though I’d prefer to keep my distance. His wavy black hair and rolled-up shirt sleeves are a distraction I don’t need during my lunch break. “Have a seat.”
“You haven’t seen us fly drones yet, have you?” he asks.
“No. Is one scheduled for today?” I bounce up and down, excited by the idea.
“Later this afternoon, but let’s see if I can get Tony to bring one over now so you can check out how it works.” He brings his phone to his ear. “Hey, Tony. It’s Elliot. Think you could come to the rooftop now? Great. Thanks.” He disconnects the call. “He’s on his way.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He lifts one shoulder. “This way you get a private showing.”
“Here.” I hand him half my PB&J with bananas sandwich. “I notice you don’t have a lunch.”
“What is this?” He scrunches up his nose like a little kid as he eyes the food.
“Just try it.”
“Bananas on peanut butter and jelly is gross. No thank you.” He hands the sandwich back.
“You’ve had it before?”
“No, but—”
“Then you don’t know it’s gross.”
He plucks the sandwich back and takes a bite. “As I suspected,” he says around a mouthful. “It’s gross.”
I crack up at the look of disgust on his face. “Good on you for trying.”
“You want to know what would look really good on me?” His eyes shine with hunger and I’m fairly certain he’s referring to me. I immediately tingle between my legs, imagining him naked in bed, his hands on my waist as he lowers me onto him.
Peanut butter gets stuck in the back of my throat. I shake my head. My “no” can be interpreted in many ways. No, I don’t know. No, don’t tell me. No, I don’t want to know. No, but tell me anyway. See what this man does to me?
Thankfully, the door to the roof opens before he ignores my “no” and tells me. Tony steps onto the roof holding a drone and some other equipment. He greets us, Elliot chats with him for a minute, and then I get an up close and personal look at ZipMeds’ fixed-wing drone, launcher, and landing rig. That technology is available to deliver lifesaving medical supplies to people who desperately need it is amazing, and once again I’m so grateful for this job.
I tell Elliot as much when the demonstration is over. This time when he looks at me, it’s with a mix of regret and understanding. In another time and place we could explore this crazy pull between us.
But for this future, we have to keep our distance.
Mr. Sax,
You really should consider a different hairdresser. Or at the very least, one who isn’t inebriated when she cuts your hair. (I mean what other explanation is there?) Don’t worry too much. It’s only when someone is staring at the back of your head that the uneven cut is noticeable. Face-to-face, the sloppy cut is noticeable only in daylight. It’s a shame we’ve turned our clocks ahead and “sprang forward.” Anyway, I’d like to suggest a barbershop next time rather than a salon. Barbers, like finance assistants, are always a cut above.
Sincerely,
Miss Hastings
Miss Hastings,
I’m sorry to tell you this, but the skirt you’re wearing today? It does make you look bigger than normal. Don’t blame the messenger on this one, Mads. I heard you ask Auggie if it made you look fat, and friends never tell friends the truth in that situation. So, you’re welcome. If you need to leave work a few minutes early in order to change clothes before your date tonight, please feel free.
Sincerely,
Mr. Sax