He's So Bad

by Z. L. Arkadie

  Carter didn’t choose to work late because Robert Tango was in the office. She was pretty sure the crush she’d had on him had fizzled out. She had a client who wanted to change the blueprint mid-construction, and she was figuring out how to alter the structure without losing the integrity. So far, it couldn’t be done. Now Robert Tango was standing over her shoulder. She had lost her concentration and was just scribbling anything to make him think she was too busy to be disturbed.

  “Still doing it the old way?”

  Butterflies fluttered in Carter’s stomach. Maybe he’d finally remembered her. She turned to face him. It was as if stage lights illuminated his face. Robert Tango had been a beautiful boy, but wow, he was an even better-looking man.

  “The old way?”

  He nodded at her hand. “Drafting.”

  “Oh.” She shifted in her seat. “I start by hand drafting then use CAD. It works for me.”

  Robert lifted his mouth into a dreamy, lopsided smile. “It’s pretty late—what are you working on?”

  “Um, my clients want me to redraw the plans.”

  Robert furrowed his eyebrows. “The Sparrow Carter Municipal Library project?”

  She nodded.

  “What do they want to change?”

  Carter’s legs and hands were shaking. She tried very hard to control them. “Um, one of their donors wanted to add a last-minute wing in their honor or something.”

  He grunted thoughtfully. “Can I see?”

  “Okay,” Carter said off-pitch.

  As he strolled over to stand beside her, she noticed that he had loosened his collar. Carter couldn’t help but take a deep, slow whiff of him. Robert smelled of curry and sweet soap and shampoo. She had to remember that he still had a reputation of a heartbreaker. Of course, she wasn’t the bond-and-breed type. She’d never pictured marriage in her future. Not that she denounced marriage. If a man came along that she wanted to spend forever with, then so be it. Could that man be Robert Tango, the ladies’ man extraordinaire, who was probably into far more glamorous women than her? Carter doubted it.

  “I see… can I try something?” he asked.

  She shrugged, giving him permission to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  Carter watched the amazing way he effortlessly traced the pencil across the page and occasionally erased. The rumor was that he had no experience, just a lot of money. Everyone thought he would ruin the company. Half of the architects at Kennedy Creative, including herself, were actively seeking employment elsewhere.

  Robert handed the pencil back to her. “There.” He gave her that lopsided smile that had always made her stomach drop as if she were riding a rollercoaster.

  Short of breath, Carter studied the blueprint. It was amazing. He had removed a series of walls and put them in different places without disturbing the existing structure.

  “But how did you even know?” she asked.

  “How did I know what part of the structure already exists?”

  “Yeah.”

  He looked at Carter in a way that made her suspect he finally recognized her. “I’ve been studying the active projects. You’re a solid architect, Carter.”

  The way he looked at her. Carter thought she would burst from desire, so she dropped her face to break eye contact and took a deep breath. “Thank you.” She was slightly disappointed that he still had not recognized her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  It turned silent. When Carter looked up, Robert was watching her. Carter’s heart pulsated just as fast as the nerves in her pussy. For sure he was making her panties wet.

  “Well,” he said with a sigh, “I guess we should close shop. What do you think?”

  “I guess so, since you fixed my dilemma.” The way she grinned—she was definitely flirting. So she erased the smile right off her face.

  “I’ll meet you at the door in five?” he said.

  “Five minutes?”

  He smirked. “Yes.”

  Carter gulped. “Okay.”

  Her entire body tingled as he gave her one last look before walking quickly back to his office. Her breaths were shallow, and her head was dizzy. She thought she would pass out. Robert Tango was her boss. Not in a million years did she think she would ever say those words.

  * * *

  Robert

  She’s flat-out pretty. Carter has a face that makes me think of bushy trees, plush grass, and fireflies. I don’t know why I feel that way around her. I shut off my computer, grab my things, turn off the light in my office, and head to our rallying point. Carter’s already standing in the doorway wearing her black motorcycle jacket and holding her metallic red helmet. Those objects make for a tough exterior, but the delicate skin of her face and hands are signs of a soft interior.

  I shun the desire to picture myself with my face buried in her pussy. Entertaining that fantasy would feel like a huge step backward.

  I tap her helmet. “I’ll walk you to your motorcycle.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I search the wall for the light switch.

  “They’re automatic,” she says.

  I snort. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We walk in silence. Carter seems nervous. I hope I haven’t crossed any lines. Grace has already said that my reputation precedes me, so I make sure I keep a safe distance between us. The automatic lights cut on as we make our way down the last hallway that leads to the exit. We walk out into the dark morning. The mist is thicker in the courtyard than it was when I arrived to work.

  “You have a lot on your mind,” I say to break the ice.

  Carter looks at me. Her face is young but definitely that of a woman. I would say she’s about twenty-five or twenty-six, which is a little young for my tastes. I like a woman who’s at least thirty. From that point, the sky’s the limit.

  “Why have you been reviewing my work?” she asks.

  I hesitate. She thinks I’m checking up on her. Maybe that’s why she’s so anxious. We enter the parking garage.

  “I spent the day reviewing everyone’s work. I’m trying to figure out each person’s strengths and weaknesses.”

  “Then what are my weaknesses?” she asks.

  We walk right past the elevator and up the ramp to the next level.

  “You really want to know?” I ask.

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “You’re heavy on the construction.”

  She grunts thoughtfully. I watch the wheels turn in her head. We’ve just walked through the second level, and now we’re heading up to the third level. As we round the corner, I see her bike parked right next to the elevator.

  “Are you afraid of elevators?” I ask.

  She jumps as though I’ve interrupted her deep in thought. “So Ralph always says, more is more and less is less. Are you saying he’s wrong?”

  I hesitate. “If he advocates being heavy-handed, then yes. Don’t get me wrong, you do damn good work.”

  We reach her motorcycle, and she straddles the seat. “Just good?”

  I frown to consider the question.

  She snorts. “Sorry to make you uncomfortable. Good is good enough.”

  “Are you a perfectionist?” I ask.

  She shakes her head but says, “Yes.”

  We laugh, but when the laughter simmers down, we’re left with awkward silence. I feel good though.

  “Have a good night,” I say.

  “You mean morning,” she says.

  We smile at each other. Fuck, we’re having another moment. I break eye contact by gazing at the rafters.

  “I’ll see you in the meeting at nine,” I say.

  Carter kick-starts her bike, and the engine blasts. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she says over the purring.

  She puts on her helmet. I raise a hand to say good-bye. She returns the gesture and zooms off. I watch until she’s out of sight.

  Once I make it back to the hotel, I only have three and a half hours to sleep befo
re I have to head back to the office. I set the alarm on my phone, strip off my clothes, and lie on the bed. My mind is way too active to get any shut-eye. It’s jammed with thoughts of Grace, Zoe, the financial reports, and my plan to avoid a common disaster. From what I’ve gathered, the company has been losing clients because the quality of work has suffered because projects have been divvied out unfairly and not according to architects’ strengths. I feel Grace has something to do with the shabby way the company has been run. Ralph has been letting her get away with bloody murder. Why do I feel so uncomfortable about what I have to do at this morning’s meeting? I’m not sure how my changes will be received. I’ve learned that people hate change, but Kennedy Creative is my stallion to ride. Everybody needs to know it’ll be run the way I see fit.

  My cell phone alarm chimes. I sit up and rub my eyes. I didn’t even realize I had fallen into a deep sleep. My head’s woozy. I could use a fifteen-minute snooze, but there’s no time. I put on a pair of jeans and a crisp shirt. Yesterday I was the only person in the office wearing a suit. I like the current laid-back culture, and I want to become acclimated to it. Room service knocks on the door to bring my breakfast. I like that they’re prompt.

  Exhaustion bears down upon me, but I allow my motivation to energize me. I scarf down the eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. I drink the entire carafe of coffee and head out. I take the lack of heavy traffic as a sign that this morning’s meeting will be productive. I make it to the complex, park, and hurry into the building. It looks as though everyone is here, and the tension is thick. I say good morning to inquisitive faces as I walk down the aisle to my office. Pinched by curiosity, I turn toward Carter’s desk. The light is out, and she isn’t in yet.

  “Robert,” Zoe sings.

  I look to the left, and she’s right beside me as if she came out of nowhere. “Morning, Zoe.”

  “Do you need help prepping for the meeting?”

  “Yes, please,” I say.

  “Do you need breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Coffee?”

  “No. Just your smiling face.” I can’t believe I said that.

  She blushes, and one of the female workers who heard what I just said widens her eyes. That reputation of mine is like the plague. I fight the urge to hide inside my own skin and beat myself up for putting myself in a position where I look like a cad.

  “Go to your desk. I’ll send you an email. I want you to print some information before the meeting starts,” I say.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Zoe says and scurries away.

  I think she’s still blushing. The days when I could be flippant about my interactions with the opposite sex are over. I have to watch myself, or I could be facing a sexual harassment suit.

  I get to my desk and email Zoe a list of thirty-three vendors. I need her to make sure the outstanding balances owed to each are paid from an account I’ll have finance set up by the end of the day. I let her know that no requests are to be sent to the vendors until contracts are renegotiated. I also have her contact a headhunter I know in New York. It’s time to restructure the departments, hire some new department heads, and make this company run like a well-oiled machine. My reign at Kennedy Creative has officially started.

  The Girl with the Red Metallic Motorcycle Helmet

  Grumbling erupts in the conference room. I’ve just laid out my immediate plan for change, which includes switching architects for just about every active project. I’ve created teams with the five best architects as the new senior architects who will oversee the projects assigned to them. There’s been too much autonomy, which is why spending has gone through the roof.

  “Glad to get that out of the way,” I say, referring to the complaining.

  I’ve learned from Vince that when there’s hostility in the room, the person in charge should never open the floor up for questions. He controls the reins from beginning to end.

  “Warren, David, Rose, Justin, and Carly, meet me in my office directly after this meeting,” I say.

  Zoe, who’s sitting in the front, makes a noise to get my attention. “You mean Carter.”

  I whip my gaze to Carter’s face. “Right. And Carter.”

  Carter breaks eye contact to stare into her lap. A face from the past comes to mind. That girl had longer and lighter hair. They bear some resemblance to each other, but it has been almost two decades since I’ve seen Vince’s cousin Carter. They can’t be one and the same. Could they? My peripheral vision catches a hand that goes up in the air. I had lost my train of thought, but I quickly find it.

  “If you have any questions, shoot me an email, and I’ll try to address your concerns.”

  Grace chuckles bitterly. She had been sitting so quietly that I forgot she was in the room. I expected her to give me flak from the moment I opened my mouth.

  “You can’t fire a machine gun and not receive return fire,” she says.

  The suspense is thick in the air. I don’t practice referring to a woman as a bitch, but in this case, it would be true.

  “Actually, I can,” I say specifically to Grace, then I address the varied expressions in the room. “As I said, if you have something to say, then email me. If I don’t respond, then you can at least know that you’ve been heard. I’m investing my time and my capital in this company. Last month, there were eight layoffs. A few of your best colleagues were let go. I’m going to pursue the talent we lost, but I’m also going to make sure that we are solid. You leave how that’s going to occur to me. All I need is for each of you to do your best work, from operations all the way to design staff. My plan will work, people. Kennedy Creative will be back on top in no time. If you want to be part of the rise, then it’s your decision, but you make that choice today. Tomorrow, you’ll be working in your teams, and each team will be assigned specific support staff.”

  I gauge their reactions. No one appears more pissed off than Grace. I end the meeting, and all systems are a go. I start by meeting with the five principal architects. I avoid looking for signs of Carly in Carter. Instead, I ask them all if they’re on board and ready for the hard work to come. I’m glad to hear that they’re all in.

  For the first week, I pull late nights and early mornings, bringing structure to the company. I reform the residential and corporate departments and create a new industrial department. I interview possible new hires for my management team. I’m in nonstop meetings with the most difficult clients who are resistant to change. By week two, Jack Lord agrees to meet with me. I use his in-depth knowledge of residential and corporate development to strengthen our vendors list so that we can get quality products at the best price.

  “It looks different around here,” Jack says as he examines the hustle and bustle beyond my office windows.

  “By the way you’re grinning, I would say that’s a good thing,” I say.

  Jack laughs. “I knew you could pull this fucking place out of the ashes.”

  I want to ask Jack how in the hell he knew that. I’ve been the fuck-up owner of A&Rt Media for as long as I could remember. Instead I say, “Thanks for your confidence in me.” I sigh and lean back against the backrest of my chair. “I have to say, this is exactly what I needed.”

  I catch a glimpse of Carter walking past my office. I’ve tried to ignore her for the last two weeks. This morning, she arrived without her motorcycle helmet. She’s had lunch with Matt Franks, one of the architects on her team, three times this week. I’ve tried to not let their association bother me, but I can’t help it. I’m attracted to her. But she’s my subordinate, so there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve resisted the desire to call Vince and ask about his cousin Carter. If she is the Carter that I couldn’t stop calling Carly, then I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. However, I’m not ready to reach out to Vince, not yet.

  “Anyway, how’s A&Rt post RT?” I ask.

  Jack tosses his head back and laughs. “The same as it was during RT.”

  I snicker. “Right.”

&nb
sp; He fills me in on his wife, Daisy’s, pregnancy. She’s not well. Then he mentions that Maggie has been living in his house in Malibu.

  “With Vince?” I ask.

  “They’ve broken up,” Jack says.

  That revelation hits me like a two-by-four upside the head. I want to shrink in my seat. I know I’m the reason they’re apart. I’m resolved on my decision to win back Vince’s friendship. The next time I see Vince, I want him to believe that he can trust me. The steady diet of no pussy, no marijuana, and no whiskey or cigarettes has done me good. If all I had to do was work like a fire ant, then I could’ve kept my libido under wraps long before now.

  Jack and I say good-bye, and I get back to work. Zoe does a good job of keeping my calendar updated. The only hours that I have free are for lunch. When I consult my calendar, I see that I have a meeting with Carter and a client from Bounty Mountain Resort in ten minutes.

  I push the butt of my pen up and down as I think. It wouldn’t take long for me to make a quick call to Allie and ask what Carly, I mean Carter, is up to these days. I make a split-second decision, take out my cell phone, and call her.

  “Robert?” Allie says.

  “Hey, Allie,” I say.

  “What the hell have you done?”

  I’m taken aback by her tone. I also realize that she’s not going to let me keep the call short and sweet. “Hey, your cousin Carter, what is she doing these days?”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s all I wanted to ask you.”

  Zoe knocks on the window and points at her watch. I shout a string of curse words in my head.

  “What’s going on with you and Vince?” Allie asks.

  Vince always keeps personal business away from his sisters. They’re nosy as hell and equally judgmental. They never liked Maggie because she’s not the kind of woman they pictured him with. That’s why they practically shoved their friend Emily Callahan, who’s perhaps the most boring woman on the planet, on top of his dick, hoping she had what it took to make him forget about Maggie.