Zero Forks

by Cat Johnson

  “Uh, actually, I believe there are three.” I remembered Boone talking about his older brother Stone.

  “Holy shit. I’m moving. Where is this place again?”

  “A long ass commute away from here. So you might want to reconsider that move.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You know, if you need to come in late or leave early, or even work from home some days, it’s okay.”

  It might be okay with Kim, but I wasn’t sure it would be with the big boss. The old man seemed just the type to hold it against a woman who chose to work from home because of a child.

  I might risk it if I didn’t already feel like I was still up against Jerry for this big project. We might technically both be assigned to it, but there was no way in hell I was letting him get a leg up on me.

  When the time came for raises and promotions, I intended to be top of mind.

  Speaking of Jerry. . .

  Jerry paused in the hall just outside my open doorway. His mere presence, even on the periphery of my personal space, had me clenching my jaw.

  I still could not wrap my head around the fact I’d actually slept with the son of a bitch.

  My only excuse was that I was still reeling from the unexpected end of my relationship.

  I’d been expecting a diamond ring. Instead I’d gotten a dumping.

  My self-esteem had been in the crapper and just as I’d hit probably the lowest point in my life, Jerry got hired.

  Drinks after work, he’d suggested. Just so I could give him the four-one-one on everyone at the company, he’d said.

  Why not?

  Want to share a car home?

  Sure.

  Let me walk you to your door and make sure you get inside.

  All right.

  One kiss on the doorstep after too many glasses of red wine on an empty stomach and we’d ended up naked.

  It was something I’d regret for the rest of my life. Especially because I’d since learned the bastard had a fiancé living in the city he’d just moved from.

  Bastard!

  He’d made me unwittingly the other woman. Taken advantage of me when I was vulnerable. And now I had to work with him on the biggest project of my career, which happened to hit at the same time my sister left me with her kid.

  The next few months were going to be challenging all around. No question about it.

  “Yes. Can I help you?” I said over Kim’s head as I glared at Jerry, nice and angry after my trip down memory lane.

  “I was hoping we could meet today to throw around some ideas.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to but I had no choice. “Sure.”

  “When?”

  “Whenever you want, Jerry.” I forced myself to be sweet.

  Kim might be a friend but she was also my immediate supervisor. I didn’t want her doubting that I could work alongside the dickhead.

  I was a professional. I’d swallow my pride and my hatred and get the job done. Then stew about it the whole drive home.

  Good thing it was a long commute.

  “Um, after lunch. Like one-ish?” He glanced at his watch then back up at me.

  I’d seen that watch up close. On my nightstand, as a matter of fact. It was a Rolex. Real or fake, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t put either past Jerry.

  The point was, he was a cocky show-off.

  I doubted Boone even owned a watch. Because real men didn’t need to wear a stand-in for their dicks on their wrists to show off how successful they were.

  Ignoring that I was now comparing the last man I’d had sex with against the current man I was lusting after, I nodded. “One is fine.”

  Silently leveling a stare at Jerry, I waited for him to leave my doorway and my sight.

  He finally took the hint.

  I let out a breath and turned my gaze back to Kim.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?” she asked softly.

  I let out a laugh. “It’s fine. I'm fine. I’ll get the job done.”

  “I know you will. But there’s something you should know.”

  “What?” My eyes widened.

  I hadn’t told Kim about my indiscretion with Jerry. Had the bastard said something to her? I might have to kill him if he did.

  Maybe I could dump the body in the river by my new house. I absently wondered how deep it was, right before I wondered if I should be concerned about these homicidal thoughts.

  “We were talking about the awards dinner,” Kim began.

  “The awards dinner that’s still like two months away?” I asked.

  She nodded. “That’s the one. We already bought the table for the company. We’re trying to get a headcount. An email went out. Didn’t you see it?”

  “No.” I’d been a little preoccupied with all the changes in my life this weekend. I actually hadn’t checked my email yesterday.

  Kim cocked her brow up, probably because I was usually right on top of email, even on weekends.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “Jerry asked if you were bringing a date.”

  I frowned. “Why in the world would he care?”

  “I think he might be interested in you.”

  “I think he might be delusional.” I snorted. “And I think his long-distance girlfriend might be interested in knowing if he is interested in me.”

  God, I hoped that bastard wasn’t interested in me. That was the last thing I needed. Him creeping around me even more than usual. Looking for a repeat.

  In spite of what had happened that one and only time, I’d made it quite clear how I felt about him since then. That feeling being loathing.

  And if the cockroach was hoping to get lucky with me after I’d imbibed at the open bar at the awards dinner, he had better think again. I’d made a mistake that one time, but I was not going to repeat it.

  “Oh my God.” Kim’s eyes widened. “I have a great idea. Why don’t you bring Boone as your date?”

  “What? No. I couldn’t.” I shook my head.

  “Why couldn’t you?” she asked.

  “To start, he works for me.”

  “No one has to know that. They’ll just think he’s a hot younger man you’re seeing.”

  “Exactly. He’s too young. He’s got to be at least a dozen years younger than me.”

  “He looks plenty mature to me. And you don’t look even near your age.”

  “Thank you but—”

  “Seriously, Sarah. None of that stuff matters. Bring Boone. Why not?”

  Why not? That was a good question.

  After Kim left, I did my own online search, just to prove to myself I was right and Kim was wrong about Boone's appropriateness as a date.

  I found more pictures.

  Boone and his family tagged in various pictures taken at the farm at some festival they hosted there last year. Boone winning the pool tournament at the local bar. Boone with his brothers after the annual squirrel hunt—Jesus, that was a thing?

  I finally forced myself to close Instagram but I was still thinking of excuses why I couldn’t bring Boone as my date to the awards ceremony when one o’clock rolled around.

  “So, what ideas have you got?” Jerry asked from across the table of the conference room he’d reserved for our meeting.

  I eyed him suspiciously. I had to wonder what ideas, if any, he had of his own.

  Was that why he was asking about mine? So he could steal them? I wouldn’t put it past him. The sleaze ball.

  Smiling sweetly, I said, “You first.”

  He didn’t love that.

  His brows rose before he finally said, “Okay. Fine.”

  He stood and wandered to the front of the room.

  Seriously? There were just the two of us here, but he was going to make a big show of going up front to formally present whatever his idea was to me.

  Whatever.

  I angled my chair to face the front and leaned back, arms and legs crossed as I waited for him to begin.

  “So, the product is geared towar
d Millennial women—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “The main target market is Millennials of both genders, with a focus on those who are married with children.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Okay. Fine. Millennial parents. So for the marketing, we have to appeal to what they like.”

  So far, this was not news to me. His rambling made me think he didn’t have any decent ideas for this campaign.

  Not that I could judge him too harshly for that. Truth be told, I was a little light in the quality creative idea department myself.

  I blamed that on the fact that I barely qualified as a Millennial myself, just slipping into the very outer perimeters of the age group by the skin of my teeth.

  And, I was also not a parent.

  Even older than me and childless—as far as I knew—Jerry was no better equipped for this than I was, now that I thought about it. But somehow, we’d both better pull something pretty great out of our asses or face the consequences.

  The presentations we’d both made to the boss had been focused mainly on high level targeting for the marketing campaign. A simple data analysis gave us all we needed for that.

  Now came the hard part. The actual content for ads. Not to mention for social media. All of it was going to have to wow the client.

  So far, Jerry’s babbling was the opposite of wow. In fact, it was going to put me to sleep.

  I had a bunch of notes and random ideas in my notebook, but I had to admit none of them had the wow factor either.

  Jerry began, “I’m thinking the ads need to be super sleek. Very high tech. Cutting edge. You know, like maybe showing a young family living on a space colony. Maybe on Mars. Futuristic. To show the consumer this isn’t like their parents’ cable subscription. It’s new. It’s better. Made for their generation.”

  Mars?

  I frowned, remembering Matt Damon being stranded alone on Mars in the movie The Martian and wondered if that was the best image to portray.

  “We show the dad working out on a high tech treadmill or whatever while he’s streaming sports or something on a really modern, tiny handheld computer.”

  “A tiny computer? You mean like a tablet or a smart phone?” I asked.

  He ignored my attitude-laden comment and continued, “And the mom is in the kitchen snapping selfies and posting pictures to Instagram of the meal she’s cooking. Her favorite show is playing on a screen built into—I don’t know—the toaster or the coffee maker or something.”

  “And where is the child during all of this self-absorbed parental behavior?” I asked.

  “Perfectly happy sitting in front of the big screen television in the living room, also watching, of course, our client’s new streaming service.”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  Where could I start? Everything felt wrong with Jerry’s idea.

  Change the setting and the technology and he could have been describing the nineteen-fifties. Just putting this family in space and giving them gadgets did not change the fact Jerry had assigned them out of date, old fashioned, stereotypical gender roles.

  Research showed that was the exact opposite of how Millennials wanted their lives to be portrayed in the media. I’d done my homework. I knew.

  “Do you know anything about the younger generation?” I asked him.

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t believe him. “So you know they’re more likely to engage in family activities than solo ones. And to involve their children in the passions and hobbies they had before becoming parents, rather than searching for child-focused activities.”

  When Jerry moved to his leather portfolio on the table and started scribbling notes, I realized my mistake.

  The bastard was going to steal all my carefully curated research. No doubt he’d parrot it out at the next presentation as his own.

  I scowled, glad I’d finally shut my mouth before I shared how this generation didn’t adhere to the gender roles Jerry had portrayed in his space family scenario.

  The man of the house was as likely to do the cooking and cleaning as the woman, as well as his being actively involved in child rearing. The woman was often the breadwinner of the family.

  More than that, half were single mothers. Often anxious and overwhelmed, they sought products and escapes geared toward self-care.

  All of that information would be critical in crafting the perfect pitch for the client. Best to not share everything I knew with Jerry since I didn’t trust the man as far as I could throw him.

  But, dammit, we were partners on this. Hopefully for this project only and never again, but it remained that this campaign had to be great or it could affect my career. And in order for me to succeed, Jerry had to succeed as well.

  Dammit. As much as I’d love to watch him drown in his own ill-informed bad ideas, I couldn’t do it.

  And that might just kill me.

  “Look.” I let out a sigh. “How about you go back to your office and do a little research on Millennial parents and we’ll meet back here tomorrow with fresh ideas. Okay?”

  My suggestion served two purposes.

  One, I’d had it with him. Not to mention, I was hoping to sneak out early today since I had a long drive to my new home.

  Two, I didn’t have any ideas that were well developed enough to share at this point anyway.

  In my defense, I’d been a little busy this weekend, getting Stewie, moving into a new place to live, hiring Boone . . .

  I swallowed at the realization I’d be going home to him again tonight. It was like a surreal game of playing house, except the roles were reversed.

  How Millennial of him.

  He’d promised me dinner when I got home from work.

  Chances were good when I walked in after my long day and commute, Boone would be in some skin-tight T-shirt shucking corn for dinner over the kitchen compost bin. While seated at the kitchen table, Stewie would be talking his ear off about their day together.

  My eyes widened.

  That was it!

  That was real life. That scene I’d just envisioned was exactly the life we needed to portray in the media campaign. I was living it without even realizing it.

  I wanted to flesh out at least two ideas of my own into solid pitches to present to Mr. Rockland. All I had was this kernel of an idea but it was a good start.

  With my mind spinning, I stood.

  I had a lot of brainstorming to do and a long commute to do it on. For the first time since calculating how much time I’d be in the car each day, I wasn’t dreading the drive.

  This whole Mudville thing might just work out after all.

  NINE

  Boone

  Morgan Farm had been in my father’s family for generations. He and his brother had worked the farm for their father. Just like my brothers and I worked it now for them.

  Everyone in our family pulled their weight. My girl cousins could drive a tractor as well as any one of us. But since they and my aunt were way more skilled at running the farm stand than us guys, that’s usually what they did.

  My father and uncle traveled to the stock sales. My mom handled the bookkeeping.

  It was a family affair. And our family was big enough to handle the corn harvest, the hay bailing, the herd of cattle that were our real bread and butter, and the various other animals around the farm that needed tending.

  I could usually get my chores done and still be able to sneak away to take on odd jobs around town. Or for a game of pool and a brew. And when there was a call, Cash and I knew we could jump on the firetruck and go and Stone would handle things at the farm until we got back.

  But my new job watching Stewie presented a special scheduling challenge.

  Nothing I couldn’t handle of course. I knew that. I just had to make sure the family was on board with it. I had my story straight and my plan laid out when I drove up to the house Monday morning after sleeping at the Van de Berg place the night before.

  I
was well rested, since there were no amorous activities with Sarah to keep me awake. I’d cleaned up after dinner. Sarah said she was tired and wanted to finish unpacking and went up to her bedroom. And I streamed a movie on my phone then went to sleep early.

  And here I was today, heading to the farm for a day of work.

  Stewie rode in his car seat behind me in the truck’s king cab.

  Thank goodness Dad had sprung for the big model for the Morgan Farm trucks for all of us—yet another perk of working for the family business. He needed a tax write off. We all got new vehicles to drive.

  If he hadn’t, I would have had to have Stewie in the front seat in his car seat. I didn’t know much about kids but I thought having kids his age in the front seat was against the law. I suppose I could call Carson at the Sheriff’s Department and ask.

  Anyway, Sarah had taken the car seat out of her car and left it for me before she’d left for work at like six-thirty this morning.

  That commute sucked for her. And I counted myself lucky I didn’t have to do it.

  After she left, I tackled installing the car seat in my truck.

  That was when I had to question my own IQ since strapping in the damn thing had taken me way longer than it should have and I still wasn’t certain I’d done it the right way.

  If Mom or my aunt couldn’t help me figure it out, I be hitting up YouTube to find some videos. I had dated a preschool teacher once. I could probably call her and get some help, but for some reason I resisted doing that.

  That reason was going to be home from work by six-thirty tonight, and I wanted to have all my work at the farm done early enough that I could have dinner on the table for her by the time she arrived.

  But first, I had to introduce Stewie to the fam. This was going to be interesting.

  I pulled up to the barn and parked next to Cash’s truck.

  Walking around to the passenger side, I tackled the challenge of extricating Stewie from his confines.

  His eyes wide, he asked, “This is your house?”

  “Yes, it is. But not just mine. My whole family lives here.”

  He looked around us, amazed. His eyes popped wider and he started to try to get out of the seat even before I’d disengaged all the straps.