by Hawkins, JD
Millennials in their twenties and thirties? With the recession and the gig economy and insane student debt, on average they don’t have the spending power to make a company really thrive. That’s why LoveLife should shift its target demographics to include people in their late 30s, 40s, and 50s, the folks who have a surplus of expendable income and are seeking to recapture the youthful vitality and good looks that start to fade with age. Expanding to an older demographic turns your trickle of water into a full-fledged roaring river. That’s where the real profits are. There also needs to be a shift away from old-fashioned sales tactics that rely on shaming people for aging or not looking the same as they did in their 20s—what we should be doing is focusing on how they already look great, just the way they are, and offering them products to maintain or help enhance what they’ve got as naturally as possible. But I can't imagine that trying to explain this philosophy to Liam Bartock will go all that well.
I press my fingers against my temples, trying to massage away the headache coming on. I still can’t believe Liam is the same guy from the makeup convention at the hotel. All that bullshit about the lecture on AI and virtual reality and being the CEO of a tech startup. Of course it was just an act, the chivalry, the flirty banter, his deference to my wants, a tactical plan with sex as its main objective. No strings attached. That was the whole point! And now all the strings are tangled up with one another.
And yet I can’t get it out of my head, the conference room, the sex that was so…wild, unrestrained, amazing. I feel myself getting wet just thinking about being spread out on that table, when Liam was simply the man I wanted, and we made eye contact, just for a second, and I could tell how turned on he was. The way he was half-biting his lip like he was thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me, all the things he wanted me to do to him.
The door rattles. “Zoe, are you in there?”
I immediately snap out of my daydream just as Amanda gets the door open. I refocus on the open binder on the desk and put on my “hard at work” face, hoping she’ll assume I was so absorbed in marketing data that I didn’t even hear her trying to get in.
“Everything okay? You look a little flushed.” Amanda’s brows knit together in concern. “Are you feeling overwhelmed? I promise our marketing stuff isn’t as crazy as it seems on paper! And you can always shoot me an email if you get stuck on anything.”
“Oh, yeah, no, everything’s fine,” I smile. “Totally zoned out reading through all of this. I didn’t mean to lock the door. I must’ve accidentally turned something the wrong way.”
“No worries,” Amanda says, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She walks across the room and pushes a button on the thermostat. “Also, please feel free to turn the air conditioning as cold as you want. The afternoon sun comes in directly through those windows and it can get brutal. It’s boiling in here!”
“Thanks. I hadn’t even realized. What are you doing back so soon? Did your appointment get canceled?”
“No, I’m still going, but I got to my car and realized I’d left something here at the office.” She shakes her head, looking a little bashful. Then she rummages around in one of the desk drawers and pulls out a silver necklace with a small antique locket hanging from the chain. “From my mom. My good luck charm. I know this little guy is going to come out just perfect, but I can’t help being extra superstitious every time I have an appointment. The mom thing is brand new territory for me.”
As she fastens the necklace I say, “You’re going to be amazing, I know it. But glad you remembered the locket, if it makes you feel better. And I totally get the superstitious thing. My friend Kiley owns a gallery downtown, and every time a show opens, she insists on arranging all the new art using the principles of Feng Shui.”
“And does it work?” Amanda asks.
I grin. “Actually, I’ve never known her openings not to make a killing in sales. Maybe she’s onto something.”
We laugh. Amanda gazes down at the locket and then looks up at me, frowning. “Also, I want to say that I’m so sorry for the way Liam treated you this morning at the meeting. I heard about what he did. If it helps, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He likes to test people.”
“So I’ve gathered,” I say wryly.
“Still. Not saying I think it’s okay to act like that.” She shrugs apologetically. “When he first started here, he blew off my idea to send free samples of our products to a group of wellness-minded social media influencers. I gave him my pitch, and he said he wasn’t sure it was a ‘valuable expenditure of resources’ and that he’d give it some thought. Never said anything to me about it afterward. Two months later? We did exactly what I'd suggested and sales went up 20% that quarter.”
“Did he admit that he was wrong, or just take all the credit himself?”
“Neither, actually. But the sales bump coincided with a pretty generous bonus check I got, so I was happy. It all worked out.”
“That’s good, I suppose.”
“The point is, even if he comes off harsh at first, he is listening—and he is fair. So just keep your head down and don’t let him get to you. Generate marketing concepts, follow through on plans that are already in place, and every once in a while, suggest something to Liam and let him take his time making a decision about it. He’s not a terrible person. He just comes off as brusque sometimes without meaning to. The guy truly does respect and value his employees, and he does reward people for good ideas. His leadership style just takes some getting used to.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply.
“I have to head back out, but I’ll see you soon, Zoe, alright? I swear this is a good job, it’s just hard to come in when we’re right in the middle of launching a huge new campaign and our CEO is kind of a hardass. But you’ll do great, I know it.”
I smile back at Amanda. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve handled men like Liam before.”
* * *
I wait for five or so minutes after Amanda leaves, then stand up, marketing binder in hand. I check my makeup in my compact. Immaculate, per usual. In the past, maybe I would have followed Amanda’s advice, tried to blend into the background, scoffed at the notion of challenging someone like Liam on my first day of work. But I’m not scared to rock the boat anymore.
In fact, I’m excited to confront Liam. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. Throughout my career, I’ve been told to behave rationally, to extend to others an attitude of generosity, to avoid putting myself in any situation that may cause trouble lest I gain a bad reputation. At the same time, plenty of my male coworkers haven’t bothered following that advice, and guess who’s more likely to get the promotion or the better marketing campaign?
I take a deep breath. I’ve already made up my mind about what needs to be done. I am going to march straight into Liam’s office right now and stand up for myself. I am going to be bold, determined, and self-assured. I may need this job, but I refuse to work for a company or a CEO that thinks it’s okay to treat me like I don’t have value. I’m nobody’s pushover, and Liam ought to find that out sooner rather than later.
4
Zoe
As much as I’m tempted to just stomp into Liam’s office unannounced, outrage a-blazin’, I force myself to give a civilized knock on the heavy oak door. The whole point is to show him that I’m not someone to mess with, but that I also make smart and considered decisions, and that he can trust in my ideas.
“Come in,” he calls out, in the same voice that first drew me in at the hotel, rich and warm like the musky smell of leather, deep and sexy. I compose myself and step into his office.
Liam is alone. He leans back in his desk chair with his hands folded behind his head, appraising me. He’s contemplative, quiet, those gray eyes of his looking me over as if I were a statue in a museum. For a company with such a minimalist, modern aesthetic, Liam’s office feels much more old school. Dark red patterned rug, solid wood furniture, a record play
er in the left back corner. I smile. He’s listening to “Good Vibrations.”
“I wouldn’t have picked you out as a Beach Boys fan,” I say, not adding that I find his taste in music immensely endearing.
“Nostalgia. I grew up in So Cal, and they’re the quintessential surf band. No matter where I live, I’ll always be that California beach kid at heart, paddling out on my board whenever the chance allows. The thing I miss most living in Austin is the ocean.”
I nod. “Well, we may not have the ocean here, but Barton Creek is pretty excellent if you’re in the mood to trade that surfboard for an inner tube and a can of beer. It’s relaxing, at least.”
He nods. “I haven’t been there yet, but it sounds great. I’ll have to check it out.”
I move further into the room. “How long have you been here? In Austin, I mean.”
“Just under a year. Moved here when I got the LoveLife job. I’ve done a fair amount of exploring around here but still haven’t seen everything, since a lot of times I work through my weekends. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Of course.” I’m so disarmed by how charming he is that I temporarily forget why I marched in here to begin with. My eyes light on the record player again. “May I—” I point to Liam’s record collection.
He grins. “Please. Go ahead.”
I sift through the records, mostly jazz plus the usual rock legends—the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin. I also see some Bowie and Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell. It’s almost unsettling how similar our taste is, and there’s a part of me that just wants to talk music with him, spend the afternoon lying across the rug in here, listening to one album after another. I snap back to reality, though, and turn to my new boss. He raises an eyebrow.
“So? What do you think?” He smiles again, unconsciously flipping back his hair with a single toss of the head.
“I think you have decent taste, for a surfer from California. But I didn’t come in here to discuss your record collection, actually. I wanted to talk.” I smile, silently reminding myself to rein in my anger at his behavior this morning. “You can imagine how surprising it was to get to my new job this morning and find out that you were LoveLife’s CEO.” I raise an eyebrow.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Our HR department is in charge of all the temporary hires, so obviously when I saw you at the meeting it was…I mean, I really thought I was hallucinating for a moment. And to be honest, it threw me off. That's the only explanation I have for my reaction to you this morning, which was poor. I apologize for your less than warm welcome.”
I nod. “Apology accepted.” Our eyes lock, still so much unsaid between us.
“So about the other night,” he begins.
“Yes, about that,” I interrupt, eager to take control of the situation before he can reject me first. “I think we should just move forward from here on out, like it never happened. For the sake of professionalism.”
Liam scratches at the stubble on his chin. “I guess I was thinking the same thing. I’m highly opposed to office romances, and in fact there’s a company policy against it, so…”
“There’s no other option,” I finish, pretending I don’t get a sinking feeling at my words.
“Right. Great.”
The familiarly intense way Liam is looking at me, the way I’m looking back at him, I can tell what both of us are thinking: that regardless of our agreement, we want nothing more than to rip each other’s clothes off right now.
I allow myself to picture it for a moment, his muscular arm sweeping everything off his desk, pulling his shirt up over his broad shoulders, his strong hands on my breasts, bodies rubbing up against one another as he takes off his belt and I tug down his pants.
“Anything else?” he says, a gruffness to his tone.
“Actually, yes. About this morning.”
“What about it? I already apologized.”
“You didn't seem to understand where I was going in regards to the older demographic, and I think dismissing those markets is frankly shortsighted.”
Liam looks surprised. “Excuse me?”
I shake my head. “If you'd taken a moment to listen, I would have been able to explain that focusing all your marketing efforts on millennials with no real spending power isn’t going to produce long-term results. Sure, they’ll buy our stuff upfront, but if you want to attract loyal customers who will truly benefit from LoveLife’s products and services, you need to tap into older users who are looking to improve their quality of life, support and maintain their mind-body wellness with everything we have to offer. We—”
He holds up a hand, an arrogant smirk playing out across his gorgeous face. “Look, Zoe, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you’re here for three months to fill in while Amanda’s on leave. I’m the CEO. I don’t need you to revolutionize my company. In fact, I don’t need you to do much at all. Just keep the marketing department afloat until Amanda’s back and see if you can get a campaign together to promote the new matchmaker app. Got it?”
My irritation flares. “So what, if I have an idea that I think could be helpful, I shouldn’t express it?”
He frowns, as if shocked that his smug charm failed to dissuade me just like that. “I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Am I? How about the words that came out of your mouth when you lied to me at the hotel?” Even as I finish talking, I know I’ve misspoken. Not only have I crossed our just-established professional boundary, but I’ve take a cheap shot at Liam instead of defending my position and showing him what I’m made of—exactly the opposite of what I came in here to do.
Liam crosses his arms. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but regardless of what I may or may not have said that night, you seemed to enjoy yourself plenty that evening.”
I press my lips together into a hard line. This man is making me crazy. It’s too late to back down, even though I know I’ll regret this later. “I distinctly recall you telling me you were a tech exec in artificial intelligence and virtual reality, not the CEO of a health and wellness company—and not some uninformed suit who thinks it’s a good idea to create a makeup app when he knows absolutely nothing about makeup or the people who use it.”
He shrugs. “I don't need to know about makeup. That’s what my employees are for. So that when I come up with a product that I don’t have the background knowledge or expertise in to execute, I have people at my company who can. The mark of a good CEO is someone who knows how and when to utilize those people. But don’t trouble yourself over it. Because that’s my job. Your job is to market what we’ve got, understood? End of discussion.”
I give him my most dangerous smile. “This is definitely the end of something.”
Before Liam can say anything, I turn around and exit the room, giving the Big Boss one last look at my firm, round ass before I slam the door behind me.
5
Liam
There’s a weight off my shoulders when the weekend arrives, the sense of elation and relief compromised only by the fact that deep down, I know Monday will come in no time at all. I hate to admit to myself that I’ve let our new hire get under my skin, both personally and professionally. But today, finally, no thoughts of Zoe, no thoughts of LoveLife, and no thoughts about any other responsibilities are going to get in my way. Hell, it’s been too long since I took a Saturday off. Maybe this is exactly what I need to get my head back in the game.
I hear the distinctive honk of Darren’s Mercedes 280SE convertible from outside, a chunky 1960s gem that he restored himself, adding a sleek silver paint job to boot. I grab a bag and throw in a pair of swim trunks, a towel, and a case of craft beer from a local brewery. When I step outside, the chill of the air conditioning gives way to the sticky Texas summer heat, the sun like a fireball in the sky, but soon enough we’ll be zipping around Lake Travis on my boat, drinking and wakeboarding and shooting the shit as if nothing else exists.
“Liam! Glad you’re actually tak
ing a breather from the coal mines today,” Darren jokes, the crook of his arm hanging over the driver’s side door as I hop into the passenger seat. The guy works out even more than I do, at a local MMA gym, and he almost looks too big for his prized vehicle.
“Tell me about it. Sorry I flaked last weekend, man. Work is eating my life.”
“Seems like it always is,” Darren mock-scolds. “But you don’t want to end up one of those guys who gives himself a heart attack at 40, right? You gotta take time out for R&R, man.”
“Amen to that,” I agree. “And I plan to. Where are Allie and Josh?”
“Running a little late putting lunch together. Said they’d meet us there. I think it’s an excuse, though. Josh’ll never own up to it, but this here darling Mercedes makes him very carsick. Says I take my turns too fast.” Darren shrugs, as if this isn’t completely accurate. “Guess he prefers driving the minivan.”
I laugh. “Why do they drive around in that thing? They don’t have any kids yet. Don’t they know how unsexy it is? If they need the space, even a truck or an SUV—”
“You should talk, Liam!” Darren howls. “Remember when you insisted on driving that broken down Ford Pinto in high school ‘cause you were fighting with your dad about not taking a handout from him? Now that was an unsexy car. Think about it, dude: Allie and Josh are married, and the minivan lets them bone anywhere. All they have to do is put down the seats.”
I shake my head. “Just start driving, alright? I need some air flow to whisk away any and all mental images of Allie and Josh gettin’ it on in the back of their Pacifica.”
He puts his foot on the gas pedal and we go zooming down the street.
Darren and I have been best buddies for almost twenty years. We grew up in the same So Cal town just outside of Laguna Beach, went to the same high school, same college. There’s a great photo from prom night when the two of us were high off our asses and insisted the photographer take a picture of scrawny, pre-Hulk status Darren held in my arms like an overgrown baby, both of us laughing so hard we could barely breathe. We’ve been through everything together. He knows about my family, my womanizing father, my parents’ awful marriage, my sister’s years-long struggle with an eating disorder, how there were so many times I felt like a worthless son, a worthless brother because I wasn’t able to fix anything.