Spring Fling

by Claudia Burgoa

  “No, Mom. Spilling milk is an accident. Lucifer destroying everything he sees is my sister’s lack of discipline. He’s six, not two. The cuteness wore off years ago. How in the world she’s allowed to have more children is beyond comprehension. She can barely take care of Valerie and Lucas.”

  Well, that’s only at night. During the day, Mom’s the one taking care of the little devils.

  “You were a pistol growing up.”

  “It was one time,” I defend myself.

  “You used my favorite lipstick to color the walls.”

  “Again, that happened once,” I repeat, saving the files on my computer. “I have to go, Mom, my ticket is non-refundable.”

  “I expect you to bring a souvenir for your sister to celebrate the news.”

  “Mom, I really need to go,” I insist.

  “Thomas's girlfriend is moving in with him,” she continues, oblivious to my pleas.

  I send the email to my boss with the drafts of the templates and a note that says I won’t be making any changes until I’m back from vacation.

  “Congratulations to the happy couple. I won’t help him kick her out when he’s done with her,” I warn her.

  “Where is my positive daughter?”

  A new email pops in my inbox from my boss. This can’t be happening. My back feels heavy, and my chest constricts. I’m going to miss my flight, and I’ll end up working all weekend.

  “Not here,” I answer. “I’m panicking because I have to finish packing. My boss is sending me more work, and I have a few errands to run.”

  “What about George?”

  “I’m dropping him at the kennel.”

  “We can take care of him.”

  I cough, masking my laughter.

  “You have your hands full, Mom, but I appreciate it.”

  There’s no way I’m leaving my puppy with Lucifer and company. My nephew traumatized poor George.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re spending your birthday with your friends. We’re your family.”

  “Mom, I can’t hear you. My battery is dying, I’ll call you as soon as I get to the airport.”

  It’s okay, Claire, I reassure myself. This bullshit is on hold for the next week.

  For seven days I won’t have to think about or deal with Darth Vader or his overlord boss, Emperor Palpatine.

  * * *

  Claire

  * * *

  I come from a big, loud, meddlesome family. I can handle crowds, but I’m not a fan of them. Planes aren’t my favorite method of transportation either. Handling things well doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed when I have to wait forty-five minutes in line to drop my luggage at the ticket counter. It’s ten in the morning, the worst time to travel. Whose idea was it to fly at noon? I suggested six in the morning. By three we would have been by the pool sipping margaritas.

  Those two don’t listen to me.

  “They need more people at the counter,” Madeline voices my thoughts.

  “You have dark circles on top of your dark circles, Claire,” Courtney says, pulling her makeup bag out of her purse. “Did you go out last night?”

  She takes off my frames and starts applying some shit under my eyes. The pros of having a friend who works at Sephora are free samples and makeup tips. The only con is that Courtney doesn’t ask permission anymore, she just applies crap to my face.

  “Try working all night and into the morning,” I say, yawning as she continues to make me look human.

  “Give me my glasses, I can’t see without them,” I demand. Courtney gives me a dismissive glare and continues working her magic.

  “You look like a zombie,” Madeline says, handing me a bottle of water. “Drink this.”

  “Nothing cheers me up more than my two best friends telling me I could be confused for roadkill,” I complain.

  She glares at me and tsks, but her attention goes back to her phone. “Nothing but the truth for my besties.”

  “Only the truth?” I ask, frowning.

  “Finished,” Courtney says, putting her things away. “You look decent now.”

  I’m about to complain when the guy by the check-in counter yells, “Next!”

  “Finally,” I mumble.

  Courtney waves at me as she starts fussing with her luggage. Madeline, who’s on the phone just tilts her head. Great, I guess I’ll be the first one to check my bags—I just know they’re going to get lost. As I’m about to step forward, a guy brushes past me and takes my place in line.

  “I’m first class,” he says dismissively.

  “What a fucking ass!” I glare at him, looking for my glasses.

  “Next,” the guy next to the asshole calls.

  I roll my luggage and make a mental note to ask Kate for my glasses back. I need to start wearing contacts again.

  “Sorry about that.” The agent at the counter apologizes for the asshole’s behavior.

  “It’s fine.” I read his tag while looking for my documents. “Steve.”

  “Where are you traveling to?” he asks, and then smiles at me.

  “Cancun,” I announce, handing him my passport and boarding ticket.

  “Somebody’s birthday is coming up,” he announces while typing.

  I just smile without saying anything.

  Then he stops, looks at me, and says, “It’s your lucky day. We have a seat available in first class. Happy birthday.”

  “Oh my God, I ... thank you so much,” I say gratefully because I could the extra room and comfortable seat.

  “I wish I had some free time,” he continues, typing while talking to me. “I could use some sun and a few tequilas.”

  “Well, you know, maybe next time,” I say, flirting with him just a little.

  He’s cute, and I wouldn’t mind going on a date with him once I’m back from vacation.

  “My number is here.” He circles a 720 area code number right above the gate number on my boarding pass. “In case you have an emergency.”

  “See you around, Steve,” I say.

  I put away my passport and head toward my friends.

  We take the escalators toward the security checkpoint when Courtney asks, “What took you so long?”

  I shrug, getting my ID and boarding pass ready.

  “You were supposed to drop your bag,” Madeline says, staring at my boarding pass. “Not get a phone number.”

  “You bitch.” Courtney snatches it from me. “Why are you in first class?”

  “He bumped me.”

  “More like he wants to hump her,” Madeline says, dancing a little provocatively. “Look at you, already getting phone numbers and shit.”

  As we step into the clearance point, the same rude guy from the check-in storms by, almost running me over.

  “What’s his problem?” Courtney growls.

  “He’s an asshole,” I explain. “He’s the same guy who cut the line.”

  “First class,” he says as he enters the clearance line.

  I wave the ticket. “I’m first class too, asshole.”

  “Good for you,” he replies with a deep voice. The ladies helping the clearance line wait on him before they acknowledge us.

  “He’s hot,” Courtney says in a low voice.

  “Fuckable,” Madeline agrees with her.

  “And rude,” I say, trying to get a closer look at him.

  “Where are my glasses?” I protest.

  “Oops,” Courtney says, her eyes widen. “I think I put them in my luggage along with my full size toiletries.”

  Great. I take a deep breath.

  “Guys like him are the worst,” I continue my rant, guzzling the water Madeline gave me before I have to toss it in the trash and set my tote bag in the bin.

  “Stop complaining about the hottie,” Courtney says once we pass security and pick up our stuff.

  “They think they own the world and can do whatever they want. Just like earlier. Now he’s going through the security line like some asshole who owns
the place.”

  “We did too,” Madeline argues.

  I love my friend, but she goes gaga over hot men.

  “That’s a perk from work,” I remind her. “We’re not him.”

  Fly First is one of my clients. When I told them I’d be traveling for my birthday, they offered me a discounted membership.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind spending my vacation with that body.”

  Madeline’s right. The guy was tall, with short dark hair and broad frame, I guess, but the package doesn’t matter if the man has zero manners.

  We walk by him as we march toward the train that’ll take us to our terminal. He’s searching for something inside his backpack, and I can’t see his face, but a whiff of his expensive fragrance is pleasant, if not familiar. I just can’t remember where I’ve smelled it before.

  “Well, the asshole has a fine ass,” Madeline says.

  “I wish I could agree with you, but someone forgot my glasses.” I stare at Courtney.

  “Hey, you’re going to be flying in first class. I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

  “What do you mean you can't make it?” Asshole growls over the phone, just as the train arrives.

  “Do you think he’s breaking up with his girlfriend?” Madeline asks expectantly.

  And there she goes, my friend is already predicting this guy’s potential. I pull her toward the next car. We’re not riding with the asshole.

  * * *

  * * *

  “What do you mean you can’t come with me, Annalise?” he protests, exasperated. “We had a deal.”

  “If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d offer to come with him,” Courtney says with a sultry voice.

  “Well then, Claire and I will have to fight for him.”

  “Keep him. I’m on vacation. The last thing I want is to deal with hot assholes who think they own the world.”

  * * *

  Miller

  * * *

  I take a deep breath as the frustration builds inside me. I want to shout, vent, and let everything out. I don’t mean to be an asshole, but today has been a fucking circus. One of my prospective clients called at six in the morning asking us to move the presentation to next week because the competition just sent them a proposal.

  To top off my bad luck, Devon’s superstar is on vacation. Who the fuck authorizes vacations when we’re in the middle of landing new clients?

  Thankfully, she sent over part of the presentation, but she won’t be available to work her magic until next week. Predictably, Annalise, Devon’s surefire hookup just canceled on me too.

  As I enter the lounge, I spot the three loud women that were at the airline counter. The last thing I want is to spend the next twenty minutes listening to them chatting as I try to get some work done.

  “Look, the hunk is here,” the busty blonde says. “It’s destiny.”

  “There are other men in this lounge, Madeline. Is that destiny too?” There’s a pause. “You might want to buy a calendar to keep track of all your new lovers.”

  Though the sarcastic voice sounds awfully annoyed, her comment makes me smile.

  M. Archer: Annalise canceled.

  “Good morning, sir. May I see your boarding pass?”

  “Can you just look me up in your system?” I ask, annoyed, as I wait for Devon to answer my text.

  “See, he thinks he owns the world. He reminds me of Emperor Palpatine—and my boss’s boss.”

  I look at the attractive brunette with a shitty attitude more closely. Her hair is tied up into a messy bun, exposing her long neck. Unlike her friends, who wear jeans and jackets, she’s wearing a pair of yoga pants and a DU sweatshirt. Her snow boots have seen better days. She’s beautiful, even though she looks tired. The way she chews her lip as she’s looking at the buffet reminds me of someone.

  “I’m not hungry, I just need some wine and a pillow,” she says, and finally I recognize her voice.

  As I blink twice, I realize it’s Claire, as in Devon’s little superstar.

  D. Evans: Sorry, she thought it was kind of weird to go on vacation with my best friend.

  M. Archer: It was platonic. Did you tell her that?

  D. Evans: Hey, I’m just the messenger. Sorry, man. There’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck with this account, and Claire isn’t answering her fucking phone.

  I decide to call him and make this fast.

  “What’s up, Archer?”

  “Claire Solis is here.”

  “She’s going to cut my balls if I ask her to work during her vacation,” he interrupts me. “You know she’s amazing with our clients but … she gets a little bat-shit crazy when I cross the line.”

  “What kind of line are you trying to cross?” I ask, alarmed.

  He might be my best friend, but I can’t have him harassing our employees.

  “Fuck, don’t think with your dick. I know she’s hot, but I’d never sleep with her. I’m talking about work. She gets angry when I call her on Sundays expecting her to work. What do you think will happen if I ask her to work during her vacation?”

  “That’s not why I’m telling you. I mean, what do you think she’d do if I proposed she change plans and come with me instead.”

  He laughs. “You’re fucking insane. She’s going to say no and will probably quit on the spot. We can’t lose her.”

  “I’m desperate,” I remind him.

  “According to Lola, my Mom has three different women lined up in case I’m lying about the girlfriend.”

  “You are lying,” he agrees. “She caught you. Why don’t you man up and fuck those three women? Now, let me go back to work.”

  “I’m asking Claire to be my plus one.”

  “No, man. Claire is a hard worker but … she’s moody. I don’t know.” He huffs. “Wouldn't that be considered sexual harassment?”

  “I’m not going to sleep with her. Just pretend to date her for a weekend.”

  “You have three women to choose from, for fuck’s sake,” he says annoyed.

  “Evans,” I repeat.

  “Claire is one of our best employees. She’s by far the best one on my team. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “We won’t lose her. Trust me,” I say and hang up the phone.

  I walk toward the group. The blonde who’s been watching me since we passed the security kiosk licks her lips when she sees me. I nod at them and get closer to Claire.

  “Hey,” I greet her.

  She sucks in a breath and her eyes open wide. That’s when I realize what’s different about her. She’s not wearing glasses. This is the first time I’ve seen her big, dark eyes, framed by long, curled eyelashes. I feel sucker punched by her beauty, but my mission keeps me focused.

  “Claire, isn’t it?” I clear my throat.

  “I …” She chews on her lip.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Hottie. I’m Madeline, and you are?” The blonde uses a sultry voice as she introduces herself.

  I move my gaze toward Claire and serve her with my best smile. “It’s Emperor Palpatine, right Miss Solis?”

  She’s not the first employee to give me a nickname, nor will she be the last. They’ve called me anything and everything. Spoiler alert: asshole is the most common. I’m impressed by her originality. She crinkles her nose, closing her eyes briefly and then lifts her face and stares at me. Her gaze turns serious, business-like.

  “Mr. Archer, what a surprise,” she says with a professional voice.

  The embarrassment disappears as she speaks with a straight face. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I say, hoping we can come to some kind of agreement. “Do you have a moment?”

  “I’m on vacation,” she says firmly.

  “Devon told me. You’re going on vacation.”

  “To Cancun,” her friend Madeline informs me with excitement.

  “Is that right?” I ask hopefully.

  Maybe today isn’t as shitty as I thought.

 
Claire narrows her gaze, pressing her lips into a thin line. Great, the ice queen is taking over.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, flight 8934 traveling to Cancun will start boarding in a few minutes.”

  “That’s us,” she says politely, wiggling her fingers. “Have a nice trip, sir.”

  “You can proposition me anything you want, Mr. Archer,” the blonde says with a wink before they leave.

  Claire glances at me and then at her friend. She tosses an eye roll in before walking away.

  “Seriously, Madeline. He’s my boss.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having a little fling with him. That’s why we’re going to Cancun, to have some fun.”

  “Not with my boss,” she growls at her friend.

  I nod as they walk by me and go to the counter. “Would you mind?” I pull out my boarding pass. “My girlfriend and I aren’t seated together.”

  * * *

  Miller

  * * *

  Claire Solis is an asset. My clients adore her. She always knows what they need and gives them exactly what they want, within reason. I don’t speak to her often, but I have plans for her. She has a future in my company. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize our working relationship, but I don’t have many options.

  As we’re about to board the plane, I’m trying to figure out who I’ll be dealing with during the flight. Would she even let me talk to her about my proposition? For a second, I play with the idea of inviting her friend, Madeline. She seems willing, but too willing could end in disaster. I need a person who understands the circumstances and agrees to play along.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now boarding passengers in first class.”

  Claire whispers something to her friends, grabs her big bag and walks toward the gate. I walk right behind her without making a sound.

  “I hate aisle seats,” she mumbles under her breath, once we board the plane. She takes a seat and places her bag right in front of her.

  “Ma’am, your belongings go in the overhead compartment,” the flight attendant says, pointing at the ceiling.