by Karen Deen
We used to lay in the hammock in my parents’ backyard while growing up. Dreaming of the adventures we were going to have together. We may as well have been sisters. Our moms always said we were joined at the hip. Which was fine until boys came into the picture. They didn’t understand us wanting to spend so much time together. Of course, that changed when our hormones kicked in. Boys became important in our lives, but we never lost our closeness. We have each other’s backs no matter what. Still today, she is that one person I will trust with my life is my partner in crime, my bestie.
Leaning my head on the back wall of the elevator as it descends, my mind is already running through my checklist of things I need to tackle the moment I walk into the office. That pre-event anxiety is starting to surface. It’s not bad anxiety. It’s the kick of adrenaline I use to get me moving. It focuses me and blocks out the rest of the world. The only thing that exists is the job I’m working on. From the moment we started up our business of planning high-end events, we have been working so hard, day and night. It feels like we haven’t had time to breathe yet. The point we have been aiming for is so close we can feel it. Being shortlisted for a major contract is such a huge achievement and acknowledgement of our business. Tapping my head, I say to myself, “touch wood”. So far, we’ve never had any disaster functions that we haven’t been able to turn around to a success on the day. I put it down to the way Fleur and I work together. We have this mental connection. Not even having to talk, we know what the other is thinking and do it before the other person asks. It’s just a perfect combination.
Let’s hope that connection is working today.
Walking through the foyer, phone in hand, it chimes. I was in the middle of checking how close my Uber is, but the words in front of my eyes stop me dead in my tracks.
Fleur: Tonight’s guest speaker woke up vomiting – CANCELLED!!!
“Fuck!” There is no other word needed.
I hear from behind me, “Pardon me, young lady.” Shit, it’s Mrs. Johnson. My old-fashioned conscience. I have no idea how she seems to pop up at the most random times. I don’t even need to turn around and look at her. What confuses me is why she is in the foyer at six forty-five in the morning. When I’m eighty-two years of age, there is no way I’ll be up this early.
“Sorry, Mrs. Johnson. I will drop in my dollar for the swear jar tomorrow,” I mumble as I’m madly typing back to Fleur.
“See that you do, missy. Otherwise I will chase you down, and you know I’m not joking.” I hear her laughing as she shuffles on her way towards the front doors. I’m sure everyone in this building is paying for her nursing home when they finally get her to move there. I don’t swear that often—well, I tell myself that in my head, anyway. It just seems Mrs. Johnson manages to be around, every time I curse.
“Got to run, Mrs. Johnson. I will pop in tomorrow,” I call out, heading out the front doors. Part of me feels for her. I think the swear jar is more about getting people to call in to visit her apartment. Her husband passed away six months after I moved in. He was a beautiful old man. She misses him terribly and gets quite lonely. She’s been adopted by everyone in the building as our stand-in Nana whether we like it or not. Although she is still stuck in the previous century, she has a big heart and just wants to feel like she has a reason to get up every day and live her life.
My ride into work allows me to get a few emails sorted, at the same time I’m thinking on how I’m going to solve the guest speaker problem. Fleur is on the food organization for this one, and I am on everything else. It’s the way we work it. Whoever is on food is rostered on for the actual event. If I can get through today, then tonight I get to relax. As much as you can relax when you are a control freak and you aren’t there. We need to split the work this way, otherwise we’d never get a day or night off.
The event is for the ‘End of the Cycle’ program. It’s a great organization that helps stop the cycle of poverty and poor education in families. Trying to help the parents learn to budget and get the kids in school and learning. A joint effort to give the next generation a fighting chance of living the life they dream about.
Maybe if I call the CEO, they’ll have someone who has been through the program or somehow associated with the mentoring that can give a firsthand account of what it means to the families. Next email on my list. Another skill I have learned: Delegation makes things happen. I can’t do it all, and even with Fleur, we need to coordinate with others to make things proceed quickly.
As usual, Thursday morning traffic is slow even at this time of the day. We are crawling at a snail’s pace. I could get out and walk faster than this. I contemplate it, but with the summer heat, I know even at this time of the morning, I’d end up a sweaty mess. That is not the look I need when I’m trying to present like the woman in charge. Even if you have no idea what you’re doing, you need people to believe you do. Smoke and mirrors, the illusion is part of the performance.
My phone is pinging constantly as I approach the front of the office building. We chose the location in the beginning because it was central to all the big function spaces in the city. Being new to the city, we didn’t factor in how busy it is here. Yet the convenience of being so close far outweighs the traffic hassles.
Hustling down the hall, I push open the door of our office.
‘FLEURTILLY’.
It still gives me goosebumps seeing our dream name on the door. The one we thought of all those years ago in that hammock. Even more exciting is that it’s all ours. No answering to anyone else. We have worked hard, and this is our reward.
The noise in the office tells me Fleur already has everything turned on and is yelling down the phone at someone. Surely, we can’t have another disaster even before my first morning coffee.
“What the hell, Scott. I warned you not to go out and party too hard yesterday. Have you even been to bed yet? What the hell are you thinking, or have the drugs just stopped that peanut brain from even working?! You were already on your last warning. Find someone who will put up with your crap. Your job here is terminated, effective immediately.” Fleur’s office phone bangs down on her desk loud enough I can hear her from across the hall.
“Well, you told him, didn’t you? Now who the hell is going to run the waiters tonight?” I ask, walking in to find her sitting at her desk, leaning back in her chair, eyes closed and hands behind her head.
“I know, I know. I should have made him get his sorry ass in and work tonight and then fired him. My bad. I’ll fix it, don’t worry. Maybe it’s time to promote TJ. He’s been doing a great job, and I’m sure he’s been pretty much doing Scott’s job for him anyway.”
To be honest, I think she’s right. We’ve suspected for a while that Scott, one of our managers, has been partying harder than just a few drinks with friends. He’s become unreliable which is unlike him. Even when he’s at work, he’s not himself. I tried to talk to him about it and was shut down. Unfortunately, our reputation is too important to risk him screwing up a job because he’s high. He’s had enough warnings. His loss.
“You fix that, and I’ll find a new speaker. Oh, and 900 stupid mint-green napkins. Seriously. Let’s hope the morning improves.” I turn to walk out of her office and call over my shoulder, “By the way, good morning. Let today be awesome.” I smile, waiting for her response.
“As awesome as we are. I see your Good Morning and I raise you a peaceful day and a drama-free evening. Your turn for coffee, woman.” And so, our average workday swings into action.
By eleven-thirty, our day is still sliding towards the shit end of the scale. We have had two staff call in sick with the stupid vomiting bug. Lucia has called me a total of thirty-seven times with stupid questions. While I talk through my teeth trying to be polite, I wonder why she’s hired event planners when she wants to micro-manage everything.
My phone pressed to my ear, Fleur comes in and puts her hand up to high-five me. Thank god, that means she has solved her issues and we are staffed ready to
go tonight. It’s just my speaker problem, and then we will have jumped the shit pile and be back on our way to the flowers and sunshine.
“Fleurtilly, you are speaking with Matilda.” I pause momentarily. “Hello, Mr. Drummond, how are you this morning?” I have my sweet business voice on, looking at Fleur holding her breath for my answer.
“That’s great, yes, I’m having a good day too.” I roll my eyes at my partner standing in front of me making stupid faces. “Thank you for calling me back. I was just wondering how you went with finding another speaker for this evening’s event.” I pause while he responds. I try not to show any reaction to keep Fleur guessing what he’s saying. “Okay, thank you for looking into it for me. I hope you enjoy tonight. Goodbye.” Slowly I put the phone down.
“Tilly, for god’s sake, tell me!” She is yelling at me as I slowly stand up and then start the happy dance and high-five her back.
“We have ourselves a pilot who mentors the boys and girls in the program. He was happy to step in last-minute. Mr. Drummond is going to confirm with him now that he has let us know.” We both reach out for a hug, still carrying on when Deven interrupts with his normal gusto.
“Is he single, how old, height, and which team is he batting for?” He stands leaning against the doorway, waiting for us to settle down and pay him any attention.
“I already called dibs, Dev. If he is hot, single, and in his thirties then back off, pretty boy. Even if he bats for your team, I bet I can persuade him to change sides.” Fleur walks towards him and wraps him in a hug. “Morning, sunshine. How was last night?”
“Let’s just say there won’t be a second date. He turned up late, kept looking at his phone the whole time, and doesn’t drink. Like, not at all. No alcohol. Who even does that? That’s a no from me!” We’re all laughing now while I start shutting down my computer and pack my briefcase, ready to head over to the function at McCormick Place.
“While I’d love to stay and chat with you girls,” I say, making Deven roll his eyes at me, “I have to get moving. Things to do, a function to get finished, so I can go home and put my feet up.” I pick up my phone and bag, giving them both a peck on the cheek. “See you both over there later. On my phone if needed.” I start hurrying down the corridor to the elevator. I debated calling a car but figured a taxi will be quicker at this time of the day. Just before the lunchtime rush, the doorman should be able to flag one down for me.
Rushing out of the elevator, I see a taxi pulled up to the curb letting someone off. I want to grab it before it takes off again. Cecil the doorman sees me in full high-heeled jog and opens the door knowing what I’m trying to do. He’s calling out to the taxi to wait as I come past him, focused on the open door the previous passenger is closing.
“Wait, please…” I call as I run straight into a solid wall of chest. Arms grab me as I’m stumbling sideways. Shit. Please don’t let this hurt.
Just as my world is tilting sideways, I’m coming back upright to a white tank top, tight and wet with sweat. So close to my face I can smell the male pheromones and feel the heat on my cheeks radiating from his body.
“Christ, I’m so sorry. Are you okay, gorgeous?” That voice, low, breathy, and a little startled. I’m not game to look up and see the face of this wall of solid abs. “You just came out that door like there’s someone chasing you. I couldn’t stop in time.” His hands start to push me backwards a little so he can see more of me.
“Talk to me, please. Are you okay? I’m so sorry I frightened you. Luckily I stopped you from hitting the deck.”
Taking a big breath to pull myself back in control, I slowly follow up his sweaty chest to look at the man the voice is coming from. The sun is behind him so I can’t make his face out from the glare. I want to step back to take a better look when I hear the taxi driver yelling at me.
“Are you getting in, lady, or not?” he barks out of the driver’s seat.
Damn, I need to get moving.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I ran in front of you. Sorry, I have to go.” I start to turn to move to the taxi, yet he hasn’t let me go.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Just glad you’re okay. Have a good day, gorgeous.” He guides me to the back seat of the taxi and closes the door for me after I slide in, then taps the roof to let the driver know he’s good to go. As we pull away from the curb, I see his smile of beautiful white teeth as he turns and keeps jogging down the sidewalk. My heart is still pounding, my head is still trying to process what the hell just happened. Can today get any crazier?
Grayson
‘I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love’
Crap!
What the hell!
I reach out to grab her before I bowl her over and smash her to the ground. Stopping my feet dead in the middle of running takes all the strength I have in my legs. We sway slightly, but I manage to pull her back towards me to stand her back up. Where did this woman come from? Looking down at the top of her head, I can’t tell if she’s okay or not.
She’s not moving or saying anything. It’s like she’s frozen still. I think I’ve scared her so much she’s in shock.
She’s not answering me, so I try to pull her out a little more so I can see her face.
Well, hello my little gorgeous one.
The sun is shining brightly on her face that lights her up with a glow. She’s squinting, having trouble seeing me. She opens her mouth to finally talk. I’m ready for her to rip into me for running into her. Yet all I get is sorry and she’s trying to escape my grasp. The taxi driver gives her the hurry along. I’d love to make sure she’s really okay, but I seem to be holding her up. I help her to the taxi and within seconds she’s pulling away from me, turning and watching me from the back window of the cab.
Well, that gave today a new interesting twist.
One gorgeous woman almost falling at my feet. Before I could even settle my breathing from running, I blink, and she’s gone. Almost like a little figment of my imagination.
One part I certainly didn’t imagine is how freaking beautiful she looked.
I take off running towards Dunbar Park and the basketball court where the guys are waiting for me. Elvis is pumping out more rock in my earbuds and my feet pound the pavement in time with his hip thrusts. I’m a huge Elvis fan, my music tastes stuck in the sixties. There is nothing like the smooth melodic tones of the King. My mom listened to him on her old vinyl records, and we would dance around the kitchen while Dad was at work. I think she was brainwashing me. It totally worked. Although I love all sorts of music, Elvis will always be at the top of my playlist.
“Oh, here’s Doctor Dreamy. What, some damsel in distress you couldn’t walk away from?” The basketball lands with a thud in the center of my chest from Tate.
“Like you can talk, oh godly one. The surgeon that every nurse in the hospital is either dreaming about fucking, or how she can stab needles in you after she’s been fucked over by you.” Smacking him on the back as I join the boys on the court, Lex and Mason burst out laughing.
“Welcome to the game, doctors. Sucks you’re on the same team today, doesn’t it? Less bitching and more bouncing. Let’s get this game started. I’m due in court at three and the judge already hates me, so being late won’t go well,” Lex yelled as he started backing down the court ready to mark and stop us scoring a basket.
“Let me guess, she hates you because you slept with her,” I yell back.
“Nope, but I may have spent a night with her daughter, who I had no idea lives with her mother the judge.”
“Holy shit, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard today.” Mason throws his head back, laughing out loud. “That story is status-worthy.”
“You put one word of that on social media and I won’t be the one in court trying to get you out on bail, I’ll be there defending why I beat you to a pulp, gossip boy. Now get over here and help me whip the asses off these glamour boys.” Lex glares at Mason.
“Like they even have a chance. Bring it, boys.” He waves at me to come at him.
Game on, gentlemen.
My watch starts buzzing to tell us time’s up in the game. We’re all on such tight work schedules that we squeeze in this basketball game together once a week. These guys are my family, well, the kind of family you love one minute and want to kill the next. We’ve been friends since meeting at Brother Rice High School for Boys, where we all ended up in the same class on the first day. Not sure what the teachers were thinking after the first week when we had bonded and were already making pains of ourselves. Not sure how many times our parents were requested for a ‘talk’ with the headmaster, but it was more often than is normal, I’m sure. It didn’t matter we all went to separate universities or worked in different professions. We had already formed that lifelong friendship that won’t ever break.
Sweat dripping off all of us, I’m gulping down water from the water fountain. Not too much, otherwise I’ll end up with a muscle cramp by the time I run back to the hospital.
“Right, who’s free tonight?” Mason is reading his phone with a blank look on his face.
“I’m up for a drink, I’m off-shift tonight,” Tate pipes up as I grin and second him that I’m off too. It doesn’t happen often that we all have a night off together. The joys of being a doctor in a hospital.
“I can’t, I’m attending a charity dinner. It’s for that charity you mentor for, Mason,” Lex replies.
“Well, that’s perfect. Gray, you are my plus one, and Tate, your date is Lex. I’m now the guest speaker for the night. So, you can all come and listen to the best talk you have witnessed all year. Prepare to be amazed.” He brushes each of his shoulders with his hands, trying to show us how impressive he is.