Never Too Soon

by Tamika Christy

  Anaya didn’t mind starting so early as she could be more productive when no one was in the office. Even though she didn’t get as much done as she wanted, she felt good about the paper shuffling and sending canned email replies. She read Carl’s first text message of the day, which yielded her first real smile of the day. She responded with a promise to stop by after work, then dived back into editing a grant.

  At nine o’clock, Anaya popped a Zantac, finished her second cup of coffee, then picked up her phone to call Jayde. The navy base project had propelled her stress range to level orange, and Jayde was always Anaya’s voice of reason. Anaya had managed big projects before, but there was a lot at stake with this one, and as Anaya’s mentor and friend, Jayde was good at helping Anaya put things in proper perspective. Although Jayde should’ve been back from her weekend to Mexico, her secretary answered and said Jayde was still on vacation.

  Anaya hung up, frowning. Jayde must have extended the trip.

  Natalie waltzed into Anaya’s office with her phone by her ear and a coffee cup in her other hand. Her tight, cheetah print skirt only allowed her to take small steps, and her perfume filled the room.

  “Yes, girl, people are a trip,” Natalie flapped. “I gotta go.” She hung up and slipped the phone into the bag hanging from her arm. Besides being the office cad and self-proclaimed “internal communications coordinator,” Natalie managed Anaya’s calendar and fielded phone calls with the gravitas of an army general. If you didn’t have a scheduled appointment with Anaya, you wouldn’t see her, and if you didn’t announce yourself on the phone correctly, you wouldn’t talk to her.

  “Good morning, boss lady,” Natalie chirped.

  “Morning, Natalie.”

  “Here’s your coffee.” Natalie placed a coffee cup on Anaya’s desk, then smoothed down her curly cropped hair.

  Anaya sipped the coffee and closed her eyes. Although Natalie wasn’t especially diplomatic and dressed like she was the chair of the Sexy Secretary Convention, she always brought an extra cup of coffee for Anaya.

  “Thank you. How are you?”

  “Good, if I can get this deadbeat to help me with these kids.” Natalie had four children and was going through a divorce. She was a good mom and managed life stress and work duties in skin-tight skirts, high heels, and rotating wigs.

  Natalie pulled dead leaves off of Anaya’s ivy plant and straightened the books on the shelf while she talked. “How are things going with the project? I heard Wendy isn’t making things easy on you. If she took more time to do her job instead of yours and spent less time at the MAC counter, she might be able to get something done.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. The board basically approved the contract as long as we include the local hiring provisions. We will have to see how it goes,” Anaya said.

  “Hopefully everything will be fine. Did you see how much makeup Wendy was wearing at the last meeting? Where did she think she was going, prom?” The same question could be posed to Natalie, who looked like she and Wendy could have left the same MAC counter arm in arm.

  “Thanks, Natalie, that’s all for now.” Anaya glanced back at her computer screen.

  “Okay, okay,” Natalie said. Anaya was grateful that the woman knew when she had gone too far. “Are you ready for your meeting with her?”

  “As ready as I can be.”

  Anaya met with Wendy every other Monday since Anaya started working on the project. While sometimes she had no idea what Wendy would want to discuss, this week, she had a fairly good idea. Since the Alameda County supervisors had directed Anaya to move forward with the RFP, her staff had been working full speed ahead. They had already drafted an RFP and sent it to Wendy’s office, as per protocol. Wendy had sent it back with a big red X and a note that read, “I’ll fix this for you.” It wasn’t Wendy’s job to fix, but Anaya already had enough on her plate and wouldn’t miss it.

  A few hours later, Anaya walked up one flight of stairs to the county administrator’s suite where Wendy’s office was located. She took a deep breath outside the dark wood door, knocked, and entered at the high-pitched “Come in.”

  “Good morning, Wendy.” Anaya sat down at the edge of the chair across from Wendy’s desk with a notepad in hand. Wendy’s Ivy League education and self-touted competence didn’t assuage her selective amnesia, so Anaya always took notes of their meetings and conversations in her work journal.

  Wendy leaned back in her leather chair and rested her index fingers on the bridge of her pug nose. Anaya admired her vintage Chanel dress and heavy eyeliner. If Wendy weren’t such a bitch, she would be mildly attractive.

  Anaya had recently heard from a reliable source that Wendy was planning to apply for a position in the governor’s administration. Wendy had been in county administration for a long time and claimed to have managed a project twice the size of the navy base in Ventura County. If this development agreement was approved, it would look incredible on Wendy’s resume. So why was Wendy delaying the RFP with the wording about the local contractors?

  Anaya frowned, thinking about her conversation with Jayde a week ago. Could Wendy’s heavy handedness be an indication of some ulterior motive?

  “The problem with young, inexperienced executives is they are scared to think outside of the box.” Wendy stared at Anaya. “Sometimes the only way to make things happen is to think strategically.”

  That’s an odd opening, Anaya thought, but she stayed silent.

  “I’m trying to figure out the fastest way to move this process along, Mizz Goode.” Wendy clipped her words dramatically. Sources around County Hall said that she lived in Manchester for six years after grad school. Others said she used a fake accent. “It’s been a week and I want to support you any way I can. My office took on the responsibility of reworking the RFP process for you, and I’d like you to read it and sign it now.”

  She pushed two packets of paper toward Anaya. A glance at the title pages revealed that one was the RFP and the other was the development agreement. And this is why the project was delayed—a power-hungry administrator who micromanaged with a heavy hand to try to make a name for herself at the County’s expense.

  Anaya was familiar with both documents. She scanned the RFP first and immediately noticed that Wendy had changed the requirements to a restricted bid, which would drastically reduce the pool of contractors who could bid on the project.

  Next, she looked at the development agreement. Anaya’s office had amended the development agreement to include the requirement for a fifty percent minimum local hire provision like the board requested. The legalese of Wendy’s revised agreement revealed a change in the local hire number to twenty percent. This is why we can’t get anywhere.

  Anaya tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable while she held the papers in her hand. “The numbers for the local hiring have been reduced, which is the opposite of what the board requested. The standard for local hiring requirements has always been at least 50 percent. There is absolutely no reason to change that. And what is this language about a restricted bid? I haven’t seen any information to indicate that this bid should be restricted.”

  Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Many of the local contractors are too small to handle such a huge project. Not everyone will qualify to bid.”

  “I think it’s fine to indicate that the main contractors for certain aspects of the project, such as the housing units, need to have proven experience with similar projects and have a certain number of employees. But we have plenty of large local contractors who would qualify. Why would we deviate from the standard 50 percent? This project could generate hundreds of jobs in our county,” Anaya said evenly.

  “We can’t always go with the county’s standard. Sometimes we have to think outside of the box and do what’s best for the county and its residents.”

  “I think that having the opportunity to bid on a multimillion-dollar job would be a great benefit to our residents, not to mention the creation of new jobs. Plea
se enlighten me on how hiring outside contractors would benefit our county more.” Anaya spoke through gritted teeth. She was getting angrier by the second. Wendy’s background was in finance and land use, not development. She was overstepping.

  Wendy stood up abruptly and tapped her forefinger on her top lip. “Twenty percent is industry standard when there’s a special need in the RFP, or did you not read that far? The base needs to be demolished, which means explosives. I will not have blood on my hands if some small-time local contractor blows himself and his crew to smithereens because he has no experience with explosives. We do care about the safety of our contractors around here, don’t we, Mizz Goode?”

  Anaya rubbed a hand over her eyes. Now Wendy was just being ridiculous.

  “I understand your desire to get this project going. The community needs it. But since the demolition will likely be subcontracted out to a company that is experienced in explosives, I see no need to exclude some of our good contractors. Again, my concern is—”

  “Why can’t you just do as you are told?” Wendy stood up and paced the room. “You, my dear, and the rest of your millennial generation will be the death of us all with your illogical reasoning, desire for fair play, and bleeding hearts. You should be concerned about following through with the board’s direction and looking out for the safety of our community.”

  Wendy stopped in front of Anaya. “I’m counting on you. I know you’re a smart girl, and I know you want to do the right thing. We can’t take our good jobs and lucrative salaries for granted now, can we? Slurping from the public trough of fully-funded pensions and lifetime medical benefits while other people barely skate by.” Wendy began pacing again. “You are well-dressed and articulate. I can tell someone at least attempted to raise you properly. My concern is advancement. Yes, you’re green and a little slow to understand basic concepts at times, but I see potential and budding wisdom that transcend your naïveté. Do the right thing. Not only for yourself, but also for the citizens of this county and your co-workers.”

  Anaya studied the woman thoughtfully. She could not make sense of Wendy’s decision to limit the contractor pool except the sheer joy of a power struggle. And since Anaya’s was the final signature needed on the agreement, Wendy would have to work a little harder to cooperate.

  Anaya rose to her feet. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was done. “I won’t sign it until the local hire is at least fifty percent, Wendy. If not, I can’t make any guarantees that the contract will get out of my department anytime soon.”

  “Well, you might want to think about making some guarantees,” Wendy said calmly. “You are in this position because someone thought you could handle yourself when things got tough. Don’t give me reason to believe otherwise.”

  Anaya moved toward the door. She had her hand on the doorknob when Wendy spoke again.

  “Your reputation will precede you no matter where you go, Mizz Goode. And believe me, if you have a bad reputation, you won’t get far. Being insubordinate to your superiors will also not get you very far. I’m not asking you to reinvent the wheel or do the stanky leg in front of the entire Board of Supervisors; I’m asking you to do your job.” Wendy’s voice was steady, and her face didn’t move, so it was impossible to tell how she was really feeling.

  “When were you going to tell me about this task force you mentioned at the meeting?” Anaya asked suddenly.

  “Well, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about before you got all hissy. It’s nothing spectacular.” She waved her hand. “Just four individuals with different areas of expertise to ensure we stay on track. The task force will include you, Sue, Will from finance, and I’ve handpicked a highly qualified legal consultant to help the three of you.”

  Anaya had never needed a separate team to help her do her job, but she was starting to care less by the moment. This was Wendy’s way of controlling the project. It didn’t make sense to spend county money on a consultant, but Anaya had bigger fish to fry. If Wendy wanted a task force, so be it.

  “If that’s all, I have work to do,” Anaya said, turning the knob.

  “I have guest passes to hotbox yoga. Would you like one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “It’s guaranteed to burn nine hundred calories in an hour.”

  “No.”

  “You sure? You’re looking a little, I don’t know . . . hefty? You shouldn’t let yourself go. Don’t you have a boyfriend? Or perhaps a girlfriend?”

  “I’m not signing the agreement unless you change the provisions.” Anaya walked out.

  “We’ll see about that,” she heard as the door closed. Tyranny in Chanel.

  TEN

  Anaya left Wendy’s office and went straight to one of her favorite restaurants for lunch. She scrolled though Instagram and fumed over what she could have said to Wendy. Ten things sprang to mind, nine of which would have cost her job, but how sweet they would have felt rolling off of her tongue. She switched to email and thumbed through message after message about cantankerous citizens, rising pension obligations, Sanctuary City resolutions, and something about gender-neutral restrooms.

  She switched back to Instagram; she had put out enough fires for one day. She politely declined a follow request from a gentleman with a white beard. Not today, boo.

  “Hey, little lady.”

  She looked up. Instead of plotting verbal revenge on Wendy, Anaya should have been mentally preparing for this moment. Though she had agreed with Catie and Sophie that meeting Jeff was a bad idea, curiosity had gotten the best of her. Seeing Jeff wasn’t a big deal. She could handle a simple lunch with an ex-boyfriend.

  “Hey there.” She flushed in surprise, not recognizing her own voice. Her hands began to sweat as she stood and gave him a quick hug.

  “It’s great to see you.” Jeff smiled. He was just as handsome as the day she blocked his number from her cell.

  “You too.” Sweet baby Jesus, he grew a beard.

  “You look amazing.” He took the seat across from her with a grin, and she knew he was happy to see her. It was unseasonably chilly that day, but suddenly Anaya felt warm.

  “Thank you,” she said, shrinking beneath his gaze. As her stomach fluttered nervously, she suddenly remembered this feeling. But how?

  “Thank you for coming today.” Jeff sat back in his seat and examined her face. Anaya held her breath as she admired him in silence. Had he always been this handsome?

  “So, how’ve you been?”

  “I’m good,” she answered in a voice she didn’t recognize. “Just working hard.”

  “Still working hard. I’ve always liked that about you.”

  “How, um, about you? How have you been?” This is awkward. I shouldn’t have come.

  “So much has been going on.” He smiled again, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Let’s see. Where to begin? Uh, work is the same. Taylor moved on and started her own firm, but we are still managing a heavy caseload. It’s good though.”

  “I always knew she’d go out on her own. She was always a boss.” Anaya would much prefer Taylor as a boss over Wendy.

  “Let’s see, what else?” He rubbed his chin. “My parents are getting older so I have to figure out how to manage all of that. The kids are growing up on me. It’s bittersweet.”

  She cleared her throat. He had never mentioned his kids when they dated. One of many things that went unmentioned.

  He paused when the waitress brought them water and asked to take their order. Jeff took a moment to study the menu, but Anaya just picked the first salad she saw.

  “I know you said you didn’t have a lot of time today, so I won’t keep you too long with boring stories about me,” Jeff said as the waitress walked away.

  She had only told him she had limited time because she didn’t know how things would go. Now she cursed herself. “It’s okay, I have a lit
tle time.” She rested her chin in her hand.

  He snapped his fingers. “You know, something else has changed. I started running. I learned from a very wise young lady that running is one of the best forms of therapy.”

  “Ha, I’m surprised you remember that.”

  “I run twice a week now. That’s how I keep my weight down.” He leaned back in his seat. “But enough about me. What’s up with you? You’re all over the news, running the entire county. What happened to psychology?”

  That was an excellent question, and she might tell him some day why she had decided to ditch her college major for county bureaucracy. But she wasn’t ready to regurgitate the last few years of her life during a one-hour lunch. “Hardly,” she replied. “The county is running me.”

  “That’s not what I hear.” He studied her face. She could tell by his measured stare that he was trying to figure her out. “But that brings me to why I reached out.”

  Finally.

  Jeff told her how Wendy asked him to serve on the task force as a contract attorney with the county on the navy base project. It wasn’t uncommon for the county to contract outside council, but they normally did so when county attorneys were stretched thin or subject matter was unfamiliar to the county attorney’s office, neither of which applied to the navy base project. Sue Garcia was one of the best attorneys in the county, was on hand to answer any legal questions, and had already offered her input on the RFP. Anaya would be working closely with Sue as the details of the project were finalized. Although this was a great opportunity for Jeff, Anaya couldn’t figure out why Wendy would need him on the project.

  Jeff is the highly qualified legal consultant Wendy was talking about? Holy hell. “Wait. I missed that last part. What did you say?” Anaya shook her head as she tried to re-focus.

  “I taught transactional law and procurement for a few years and have had an ongoing contract with the Port for the past nine years,” he repeated. “So I have experience.” He paused. “You weren’t listening.”