His Huge Rock

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “Maxine, I know the numbers look bad. But we just don’t have the marketing or manpower to bring in the big numbers.”

  “Kristina, I love you. I know you’re working really hard and doing your best. But I need more. I can’t keep this organization running if we don’t meet our goals. I’ll put a little more money into marketing, but I need you to step up. If we don’t hit our end of year goal of ten million dollars, I’m going to have to let you go. I don’t want to do it, but I’ll have to.”

  “What? I’ve been here since you started. You’ll fire me? And the number is five million.”

  “No, no, dear. I’ll let you step down, and I’ll give you a severance, of course. I just really need someone in this position who can bring in the funding we need. I know you understand that, right? And I’m making the number ten million. We need to really hit this out of the park so we can keep the organization growing.”

  No, I didn’t understand it. I could bring in the money we needed to meet our goals with a lot of work. I couldn’t bring in double what we needed, that was totally insane. She was asking me to bring in three times as much as we had raised the previous quarter, that was insane.

  I could possibly bring in what she wanted if she gave me the tools that other big organizations had. I only had three untrained fundraisers that were barely out of college. I had a mediocre marketing budget and zero budget for attending other large events to mingle with big wigs. It was insane to think that anyone could meet her goals.

  “I understand,” I reluctantly replied, but it was almost as if she wanted me to fail. Maxine was so over extended, did she really not understand how unrealistic her request was?

  There was no use arguing with Maxine. She had her own vision of things, and it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. If she wanted something done, you better be able to make it happen, or it was going to be your butt on the line. I didn’t blame Maxine, though, she had several companies and a career to run; I just wished she would have handed the organization over to someone to run it who could be there on a daily basis.

  “Great, keep me updated. I’ll be in Greece for the next month and then out in Los Angeles, but I’m available anytime you have a need. Bye-bye for now,” she said as she strolled out of the conference room.

  The rest of my afternoon was a blur as I tried to pretend like the pretentious owner of the charity I worked for didn’t just threaten to fire me. It baffled me that she couldn’t see how hard I had been working or just how much I believed in the idea behind our organization. Girls needed to learn coding if they were ever going to get ahead in the new millennium. I honestly believed that was important, and I thought Maxine did too. But more and more, I had started to feel like she just wanted the exposure and publicity that came along with running a big charity and not the actual work that came with it.

  By five o’clock, I couldn’t wait to get out of the office and meet up with my best friend, Beth. She always understood me and listened to me when I complained about my work. I really didn’t understand why Beth never complained about her work, though. She worked as a cashier at a clothing store. There was literally no future in her job, and Beth was perfectly happy with it. She enjoyed being around clothing and helping people find cute outfits; she loved staying out late partying and sleeping in until noon. Beth just wasn’t the type of girl who was unhappy with anything that was going on in her life.

  I tried to be like Beth, and in a lot of ways we were similar. Normally, I could let things roll off my back. I had dealt with Maxine for a long time and learned to deal with her craziness, but the idea that I might lose my job made me wild with anxiety. I couldn’t control how much money people decided to donate. Sure, I could put together some fundraisers, but in the end, it was going to be nearly impossible for me to reach the goal she had set. I wanted to think it was possible, but the optimist inside of me was also a realist, and I knew the number would be so hard to reach. I would have to land some really big names or get a couple of corporate sponsorships if I was going to get anywhere close to my goal.

  “If you don’t have to carry me out of the bar tonight, then I’ve done a bad job of drinking myself into forgetting about this day,” I said as Beth hugged me as we both arrived at our favorite local bar.

  The dive bar we hung out at was more like a local watering hole than an actually New York City bar. The number of elderly men in the bar made me much more comfortable than any of the hip bars our friends liked to hang out at. Sometimes it was better to just hang out with my best friend than it was to go somewhere and get hit on all night long.

  “Your job isn’t supposed to be this stressful. It’s a charity, Kristina. This should be fun and parties all the time. We should be drinking at all your fundraiser events, not buying our own drinks at some boring dive bar.”

  “I know. I know. I really should just go work for a big organization that will appreciate my efforts, or at least pay me what I’m worth. But I believe in this so much. I love that I know how to code; I love watching little girls as they realize they can do amazing things with computers.”

  “Or you could start your own charity,” Beth said with a smile.

  She was always trying to get me to consider starting my own thing. Like it was that easy to start a charity? Charities were hard work, and they required more capital than I wanted to admit. A well-run charity could keep their finances in check, but it required a few key employees that really could multitask. I just wasn’t able to do anything like that. I needed a job that actually paid me a salary.

  “Maybe I should just get married and pop out some babies?” I joked.

  “Seems like a decent plan to me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure Kristina, you aren’t getting any younger. People get married for a lot of reasons. Maybe you should just find a rich guy and get married, have some babies, and not worry about working. You could always divorce him when it didn’t work out.”

  “Absolutely not! I’d rather be artificially inseminated than get married to a guy I didn’t love. I don’t care how much money he has. Love is way too important to me. I want the fairytale.”

  “Eww, you would do that?”

  “Totally! Think about it. You get to make all the decisions; there is no messy relationship or divorce. It seems much simpler. Plus, nowadays you can basically pick out your baby with all the descriptions of men who donated. You can pick red hair, brown hair, tall, educated. You can pick anything that’s important to you.”

  “Not to me. I couldn’t raise a kid alone. I need a man! Plus, it sounds like you’ve looked into this a lot. Don’t go making these kinds of decisions without me.”

  “I need a man too.” I laughed as we sipped our drinks. “It’s just too damn hard to find love. I find a decent guy, and it turns out they are never who they say they are, or there is something horribly wrong with them. Why can’t I just find a nice normal guy?”

  “A nice, normal, rich guy,” Beth added.

  “Seriously, I don’t care if they are rich. A decent guy with a decent job is all I ask for. My standards are pretty low.”

  We both broke out into laughter as the waiter brought us another round of drinks. Dating in New York was horrible. There were tons of single men, but none wanted relationships or wanted to even consider a committed relationship. I wasn’t talking about marriage, just a commitment to dating one person, was that really too much to ask? Going on a date almost always ended up in sex simply because I never knew when I’d find another guy I liked enough to actually go home with. I’d turned into the typical New York woman, and I wasn’t sure that was who I really wanted to be.

  “Why don’t you try that millionaire matching site? Patty works there. She’s really good at finding matches.”

  “What? I just said that money doesn’t matter. Why on earth would I go through the torture of her long application process to only get matched up with rich guys?”

  “Kristina, why settle for a poor guy if you can fi
nd a rich one? I mean, come on, that’s only reasonable. She’s really good, and I’ve heard she has some hot dudes that are her clients. It wouldn’t hurt to go visit with her.”

  “You’re exhausting.”

  “I know. I bet if I called Patty, she could hook you up with one of her guys. She’s always trying to find women that meet the requirements for her men, and a lot of them like red hair.”

  “The requirements? Like boob size and stuff like that? Do these guys pick their women like women pick their sperm donors?”

  I was laughing so hard that I noticed a few of the older men at the bar had actually turned around to look at us. It took a lot of commotion to get them to turn away from their drinks.

  “No, no, no, well maybe.” Beth laughed. “It’s more like the guys have a certain type of woman that they are usually attracted to, and Patty likes to find women that match in some way. She doesn’t always go based on looks; sometimes it’s just on a feeling she has. You definitely need to go meet with her.”

  It was comical to think that any of the infamous Patty Stillman’s millionaires would have anything in common with me. What would we talk about on our date? I’d tell them about my 250 square foot walk-up apartment; they’d tell me about their penthouse.

  “You know how much I hate it when guys say they are really into red hair. It’s like they don’t even care who the woman is that’s attached to the hair. I really couldn’t date a guy who picked me based on my hair color.”

  “I know; I don’t think it’s like that. You know it’s really hard to get in Patty’s good graces; it might be nice to meet with her and just see what she can come up with. Or just fill out the online profile, and I’ll let her know you did it so she can get in touch with you. Take a chance,” Beth said enthusiastically.

  We stopped talking as two men approached us. They were both tall, over six feet, and wearing business suits. It was clear they didn’t fit in at the bar anymore than we did. They seemed like the all American kind of guys, and I was happy to entertain their flirting.

  “You two ladies look like you need some company. I’m Malcolm, and this is Matt,” the guy brown haired handsome one of the two said as he pressed his hand forward to shake mine.

  “I’m Kristina, and this is Beth. Nice to meet you.”

  “You two beautiful women shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Let us buy you some drinks and join you.”

  “Sure,” Beth blurted out before I could offer any answer.

  Malcolm sat near me and Matt near Beth; they had decided which of us they wanted. There was a desire in Malcolm’s eyes as he looked at me, and I couldn’t deny that it was exciting to see that. What woman didn’t like a sexy guy flirting with her? I’m sure there were women who would say they didn’t like it, but I loved it.

  “What are you drinking?” Malcolm asked as the waitress approached us.

  “Long Island iced tea.”

  “A girl after my own heart. I love how strong they are, and they taste like sweet tea going down. My biggest problem is I drink too many whenever I have them.” He laughed.

  It was boring banter, but it wasn’t horrible so far. I looked him up and down, and I certainly could imagine him in my bed, his big frame over me as he thrust hard on top of me. I felt my body reacting with a little pleasure as I looked at his large hands. There was an old saying about the size of a man’s hands coinciding with the size of his member; this guy was going to be huge if that was true.

  “Yeah, I’ve already had a couple; this will have to be my last one.”

  “I’ll buy you as many as you’d like,” he said with a wink.

  “So do you work around here?” I asked as we continued with the banter.

  “I’m a little further north, but my apartment is just down the block.”

  “Oh, so you’re nearby.” I laughed.

  “Just a fact; I’m not implying anything.” He laughed, also.

  Our conversation flowed easily, and after about an hour, I was feeling pretty confident that I was going to have a nice hunk to go home with for the night. After the day I had just had, some relaxation and stress relief was just what I needed.

  The problem I always seemed to have was that I liked guys who were decent men. Nothing about Malcolm was scary or disheartening. I didn’t pick up on any bad vibes or concerns. There was even a moment when I thought I could actually date a guy like this; I could actually date this man. But those thoughts happened with every guy I considered going home with; inevitably, nothing worked out past one night.

  On occasion, I’d kept a man around for a few weeks, but if they weren’t interested in moving things forward, I wasn’t interested in keeping them around. There was this illusion that a woman couldn’t deal with a one-night stand; it wasn’t true. I could deal with them just fine as long as I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. The times that pissed me off was when guys pretended like they were looking for something more just so they could get laid. Honesty was important; just tell it like it was, and I’d probably still go home with them; lie, and I’d rather go home alone.

  “I’m going to run to the restroom for a second,” I said as I grabbed Beth and pulled her with me. “We will be right back.”

  “I’m totally going home with Matt,” Beth blurted out as soon as we made it back near the restrooms.

  “I’m going to Malcolm’s too, I think.”

  We didn’t actually go into the bathroom and instead stood and talked for a few minutes about our dates. It was pretty unusual to have two decent guys show up to talk to us like they had. It was hard enough to find one decent guy, but two of them were an anomaly for sure. We felt like we had hit the jackpot of random bar men.

  “Oh, shit!” Beth said as she grabbed my arm and pointed at the guys. “They are drugging our drinks. Can you believe that crap?”

  We both looked on as Malcolm poured a powder into both of our drinks. I had never actually witnessed such a thing, and it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. I knew better than to leave my drink alone with a guy, but this guy hadn’t given me anything to be concerned about. He seemed so normal; we were getting along. I was going to go home with him. Why on earth was he slipping a drug into my drink?

  “What the hell. We were both going to go home with them anyways. I don’t get it. Stupid men.”

  Before I had even finished my sentence, Beth was already on her way back to the guys. She was pissed and looked like she was ready to destroy them. Hell had no fury as horrible as Beth when she was angry. Luckily, she had never been that angry with me, but I’d seen some people on the other end of her anger, and I was certain this wasn’t going to turn out well for Matt or Malcolm.

  “Those pieces of dirt, how dare they.”

  “Beth, calm down. I want to see what the hell they are up to. Follow my lead and just pretend to drink for a minute with me. But don’t actually drink any of it.”

  “I don’t like this at all. I’m usually the one with the plans.” She laughed.

  “Hey,” I said as I grabbed for the drink I had just watched Malcolm drug.

  I didn’t actually drink from it but did a convincing motion like I was drinking. Was this guy’s whole motive to drug girls and get them back to his apartment? It seemed so out of place for such a decent looking guy who could actually manage a conversation. I’d always thought guys like him were ugly or something like that.

  “My place is only a little bit away. Would you like to come home with me?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” I said demurely as I pretended to drink again and then did a dramatic stumble as I leaned over and whispered in Beth’s ear, “I’m so drunk,” I said much louder than a real whisper.

  “I don’t think you should go anywhere,” Beth said as she pretended to drink as well.

  The two of us talked to each other and started to slur our words as we pretended to be drugged by whatever it was that they had put into our drinks. I wrapped my arms around Beth, and she held me up as if I couldn’t
actually stand on my own. The two of us were pretty impressive actresses if I do say so; Malcolm seemed convinced enough that he started to talk with Matt about the plans for the evening.

  “Follow us back to my place,” Malcolm said as he handed Matt a couple of hundred dollars. “Drop that one off for me, and you can go.”

  “Are you sure I can’t play with her first?” Matt joked.

  “Sure, I don’t care. She’ll be passed out in ten minutes, though, so we better hurry up.”

  “What the hell is going on?” I screamed. “You’re some sort of maniac that drugs women and sleeps with them? And your friend here helps you? You two are sick!”

  I threw my drink in Malcolm’s face, and Beth threw hers shortly after that. We stormed up to the bartender and pointed the two guys out so he could call the cops, but of course, Malcolm and Matt took off as soon as they saw us identifying them.

  “I’ve got their credit cards on file,” the bartender said as he continued to call the police. “Maybe they can do something about them? We also have video; thanks for letting us know.”

  “Doubtful the police will do anything. There’s no proof since we threw our drinks at them,” I sulked as Beth and I made our way away from the bartender. “These are the types of guys that are left out there, Beth. This is it. I’m going to have to settle for a douche bag, or I’m just going to have to be happy as a single woman and maybe even just go have a test-tube baby.”

  “No, you need to at least give Millionaire Matching and Patty a try. Promise me!”

  I didn’t want to promise her anything. The Millionaire Matching thing seemed much more possible for young twenty-something women with huge tits and a perfect body. That wasn’t me; I was thirty now and thin like a model, with enough curves to make me happy, but probably not enough for a millionaire who is going through a matchmaker. I envisioned those men only being interested in huge fake boobs.