Three Last First Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  I was going in blind, and I hated that feeling.

  I pushed the door open at the top of the staircase and spotted Cassie, chatting to Brian the Rottweiler, Laura’s officious executive assistant. When the door closed with a thunk behind me, she looked up and shot me a supportive smile.

  “Morning, Cassie, morning, Brian,” I said, plastering a smile on my face as though I wasn’t about to take the corporate death march.

  “Yes, hello,” Brian replied, looking me up and down, his eyebrows raised as if to ask, “who threw up on you today?” Answer: Antoinette Smith.

  Self-consciously, I glanced down at my usual blouse and pencil skirt combination. Oops! My face flushing, I tucked my blouse in properly and straightened my skirt. I didn’t look my usual, polished self today, that was for certain. Not surprising, considering I’d barely slept a wink, worrying about my fate.

  Cassie gestured toward the sofas a few feet away from Brian’s desk, and I followed her over.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked me in a hushed tone.

  I shrugged. “Totally stressed out.” There was no use beating around the bush.

  “I bet. Don’t worry, I’ll be here with you to support you.”

  I shot her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments, waiting for Rottweiler Brian to call us. I crossed my arms and drummed my fingers on my elbows. This was not fun.

  “How are things with Eddie?” Cassie asked in an obvious attempt to distract me from my potential career catastrophe.

  My face creased into a smile. “Good. Really good.”

  “I’m so happy for you. Even though I was Team Nash, of course. The most important thing to me is you’re happy.”

  “I am, and thanks.” I pushed Nash’s hurt face from my mind. I couldn’t cope with thinking about that right now.

  “Ladies?” Brian called, bringing me back to the room.

  “You ready for this?” Cassie asked as she stood up and smoothed down her skirt.

  “I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?”

  Like a lamb to the slaughter, I stood up and followed Cassie past Brian and into Laura’s office. Laura was standing in front of her desk, her arms crossed, watching us. She raised her eyebrows when she spotted me, and I shot her a weak smile. It wasn’t returned. Great. I glanced at the seating area to my left where Hugo, the usually friendly guy from Human Resources was standing. Next to him was Antoinette, dressed once again like a Vegas hooker slash drag queen, her platinum extensions falling in soft waves to her elbows. I tightened my jaw, and she shot me a self-satisfied smirk.

  “Please, take a seat,” Laura said.

  We all sat down on the plush leather sofas: me next to Cassie, Antoinette next to Laura, and Hugo in the middle. I swallowed. The battle lines had been drawn.

  “May I begin?” Hugo said, looking at Laura. She nodded, and he continued, “Thank you all for being here.” I narrowed my eyes across the coffee table to Antoinette. Like I had a choice. “As you are all aware, Antoinette Smith has laid a formal complaint against Marissa Jones on the basis Marissa put unreasonable pressure on her to look and behave in a way Antoinette was not comfortable with.”

  “It limited my self-expression,” Antoinette added, her chin held high.

  “Right, yes. Your, ah . . . your self-expression,” Hugo repeated.

  “And it damaged my self-esteem,” Antoinette added, dabbing her eyes with a tissue for dramatic effect.

  Although I was sorely tempted to refute the claim, knowing her self-esteem was fully intact, I bit my tongue. Instead, I rolled my eyes so hard, they could have fallen out of my head. Where did this woman get off?

  “Yes, absolutely, your self-esteem,” Hugo said, nodding at Antoinette. “So, we’re here to try to resolve this allegation and find a way forward.”

  “That’s right, Hugo. Thank you for that introduction,” Laura chimed in. She looked directly at me. “Marissa, are you fully aware of the complaint that’s been laid against you?”

  I glanced at Cassie. Unless she hadn’t given me the full picture, the answer was yes.

  “She is,” Cassie replied on my behalf.

  “Good.” Laura nodded. “Of course, we want to give you a chance to respond to what Antoinette has said, so please, feel free to have your say.”

  I looked from Laura to Antoinette. She was still dabbing at her eyes in an Oscar-worthy performance Meryl Streep herself would be proud of.

  “Okay, here’s what happened.” I told them how Antoinette had approached me, asking how she could fit into the team better and whether there was anything I would change about her to help her do so. “So, you see, all I was trying to do was help her in her new job at AGD. I wasn’t trying to bully her or anything.” I turned to face Antoinette, and even though I would quite like to have taken the box of tissues she had been steadily working through and stuff it down her throat, I smiled at her. “Antoinette, please accept my apology if I said anything that offended you. That was the last thing I wanted to do, and please know all I was trying to do was help.”

  Which was the truth. I had never intended any of this and had thought Antoinette was genuine in her interest in fitting in at AGD.

  More fool me.

  Antoinette let out a sob, raising her hand to her forehead as though she could faint like some nineteenth-century heroine. Under different circumstances, I might have found her performance funny. But, the circumstances weren’t different, and I definitely did not.

  Laura put a comforting hand on Antoinette’s back. “Marissa, I think you can learn a valuable lesson here: not to make bold statements about something that is none of your business. Particularly about another person’s appearance. Look at her, this has been so hard on poor Antoinette.”

  My mouth dropped open as “poor Antoinette” rested her head on Laura’s shoulder, like she was a wounded five-year-old child in need of comfort.

  “Really, Laura, I think Marissa’s intentions were commendable,” Cassie said, leaping to my defense. “This feels like a situation that has got out of hand, and with a little negotiation, we could put it to bed right now, don’t you think?”

  Hugo nodded at Cassie, then looked at Laura for her reaction. She pursed her lips. “Look, Marissa, you may as well know Antoinette is my niece.”

  “Really?” I said, placing my hand on my chest as though this were a big surprise to me.

  Laura nodded. “I’m a little more protective over her than perhaps I should be.”

  “Well, that’s entirely understandable, but it doesn’t mean we can’t resolve this now,” Cassie said. She shot me a look.

  “Maybe we should see how Antoinette would like to proceed?” Hugo asked.

  All eyes turned to Antoinette, who had managed to dribble mascara down her aunt’s cream blouse. She sat up straight and dabbed her eyes once more, asking us all, “for a moment.” We waited—some of us more patiently than others.

  Eventually, she cleared her throat and began, “Maybe Marissa has something she could do f-for me? That would help a lot.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “What would that be?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think.” She tapped her chin, her eyes raised to the ceiling, doing her best Shirley Temple impersonation—if Shirley Temple had hooker hair extensions and breasts the size of melons, that was.

  Call me cynical, but it felt utterly staged. This woman knew what she wanted—and how to go about getting it.

  “If it’s all right with you, Aunty Lore,” she began, and Cassie and I shared another look, “I could always have one of the accounts I’ve been working so hard on with Marissa? I think that would help me.”

  One of the accounts? Which one? The cogs in my brain began to whirr.

  “That may be a good solution. Unorthodox, but if it’s what you want to do?” Laura asked her.

  Antoinette nodded.

  Laura turned to me. “What do you think, Marissa?”

  “Which account?”
I asked as pleasantly as I could, fearing—knowing—her reply.

  “I don’t know,” Antoinette said with a shrug. “Let me think.” More chin tapping. “Off the top of my head, how about . . . Pukeko Chocolates?”

  My eyes bulged out of my head. She wanted my biggest customer, the one that would help me achieve my annual target early, the one I was relying on to get me the big promotion. “You want Pukeko’s?” I squeaked, my eyes darting to Cassie.

  “Laura, with all due respect, Marissa has worked very hard on this account. Maybe we could think about another way forward? Perhaps another account?”

  Antoinette crossed her arms, pouting. Wow, she really was Shirley Temple.

  “I want Pukeko Chocolates, or there’s no saying what I’ll do,” Antoinette said as she glared at me, the threat so lightly veiled you could see through it at one hundred paces.

  “Cassie?” Laura said, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

  Cassie looked from Laura’s face to Antoinette’s to mine. She let out a puff of air and put her hand on mine. I darted a pleading look at her. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it might be the best solution here, Marissa.”

  My eyes darted from Cassie to Laura, landing on Antoinette’s face. She had a small smirk on her face, her eyes screaming, “Gotcha!”

  I clenched my jaw shut. I was well and truly stuck between a rock and a conniving bitch.

  I had to resist the almost overwhelming temptation to wrap my fingers around her pretty little neck and squeeze.

  Well played, Antoinette, well played.

  “What’s your response, Marissa?” Hugo asked, interrupting my rather satisfying fantasy.

  “I . . .” I knew I was beat. It was either this or something a whole lot worse, perhaps even losing my job, a job I loved. I nodded, pressing my lips together. “All right. I accept the terms. Antoinette can have Pukeko’s.”

  Antoinette smiled and batted her eyelids. “Thank you, Marissa. I am certain your generosity in giving me this account will help me heal.”

  Good Lord, kill me now.

  Laura’s face broke into a smile. “That’s that, then. Hugo, can you please note the complaint as resolved, and we can all get on with our days.” She stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.

  As I shuffled, defeated, out of Laura’s office, Antoinette shot me a triumphant look before turning away to give “Auntie Lore” a hug. I let out a heavy sigh. She’d gotten what she had set out to get, and I’d been the mug who had helped her achieve it.

  * * *

  My head still trying to make sense of what Antoinette had done, I arrived at the Cozy Cottage where I had asked Eddie to meet me. I needed his support more now than ever, now my hope of a promotion to Account Director was officially as dead as a dodo.

  I stood in line to order, my mind bouncing all over the place. Had Antoinette planned this all along? Had she chosen me that day in the team meeting because I was an easy target? Or was it more about winning the new business, to launch her career as an Account Manager at AGD?

  “Hi, Marissa!” Bailey said, grinning at me over the cabinets.

  I shook myself out of my reverie and shot her a smile. Even though I had lost Pukeko Chocolates, I still had my job. I should be happy about that. “Hi. How are you doing?”

  “I’m great. I’m really looking forward to your performance at the open mic Cozy Cottage Jam. Paige has posted all the promotional stuff about it.”

  Singing. Now that was something I could look forward to—and dread at the same time. “Oh, me too. It will be realizing a dream for me.”

  Bailey raised her eyebrows.

  “I know that sounds dramatic, but I’d never had the confidence to do it before.”

  “But you do now, and that’s what matters.” Her face glowed as she shot me her beautiful smile. “Your usual, I assume?”

  I opened my mouth to say “yes,” then closed it again. Shaking my head, I replied, “Just a coffee, thanks. A skinny latte. Actually, make that a skinny latte and an extra strong black coffee. I’m meeting Eddie.”

  “Really? Bringing a boy here again, huh?” She laughed.

  After paying, I found a table and sat down heavily. Our usual girls’ table was occupied as I was here at an odd time and Bailey hadn’t reserved it for me, so I had to make do with one of the smaller tables near the door. It didn’t feel the same, but then my mood was hardly conducive to me doing a cheer-leading routine right now.

  “Hi, babe.”

  I pulled myself out of my reverie to smile up at Eddie, standing in front of me. “Hi.”

  He pulled a chair out and sat down next to me. “How did it go?”

  “Weirdly. It turns out all she wanted was this big customer. Shooting me down in the process was just collateral damage.”

  “So, it wasn’t personal? This woman isn’t out to get you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  Eddie sat back in his seat. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I was too stunned by the morning’s events to feel anything, although I knew Eddie was right. For now, at least.

  “Here you are,” Sophie said, placing the cups of coffee on the table in front of us. “A skinny latte and a black coffee.”

  “Is it extra hot?” Eddie inquired, looking up at Sophie.

  “Sure, it is!”

  I darted Sophie a questioning look. She winked at me, turned her back, and returned to the counter.

  Eddie took a sip of his coffee, replacing the cup in the saucer in disgust. “Luke warm at best.” He looked toward the counter. “Who makes the coffee here?”

  Not wanting Eddie to create a scene in the café I loved, I searched my brain for a way to distract him. “I have something exciting to tell you,” I said, leaning in to him.

  “What is it?”

  “See that spot over there by the back wall?” I pointed to an area where a group of tables were currently located, near the fireplace. “I’m going to sing there on the twenty-fifth.” My chest expanded with anticipation. I could still barely believe it: Marissa Jones, Live Performer. I had been practicing and practicing, hoping to conquer my nerves and deliver a great performance.

  “Oh, babe, that’s fantastic!”

  I beamed at him. My boyfriend, Mr. Supportive. “It’s an open mic night at the Cozy Cottage Jam, and Bailey and Paige are letting me sing the first song of the night.”

  “I’m so happy for you. Have you always liked to sing?”

  I squished my eyebrows together. How could Eddie not remember how much singing meant to me? Back then, I was always singing along to the radio, in the shower, wherever the mood hit me. “Yes, I have. You know that. But this is a big thing for me. I’ve never sung in front of an audience before, so I’m kind of nervous about it.”

  He rubbed my hand. “You’ll do great.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Was it the twenty-fifth?” he asked, and I nodded. “Let me see. Oh, darn it. I’ve got a work dinner that night. It’s for partners, too.”

  My smile dropped a fraction. “Can’t you get out of it?”

  “Not really. In fact, I was kind of hoping you would come with me. It’s at The Salon,” he said, naming one of the city’s swankiest restaurants. “I thought I would introduce you to the partners as my partner. You know, make this thing official.” He picked up my hand and kissed it, looking up at me with hope in his eyes.

  A satisfied, euphoric feeling swept over me. Eddie wanted to announce us to the world.

  I beamed at him. “Really?”

  He returned my smile, gripping my hand to his chest. “Really. I’ve told you already, you’re mine. And I never want to lose you again.”

  My heart contracted. This. This was what I wanted. I let out a contented sigh.

  He leaned in and kissed me, the world spinning around us. “I’m sure there will be another open mic night. Why don’t you talk to your friends about it? It would really mean a lot to me if you were there at
the dinner.”

  I nodded at him, pressing my lips together. Sure, I was disappointed I wouldn’t be performing the song I’d been practicing all this time, but Eddie was right, there would be other chances. Being with Eddie was so much more important than me singing some song to a bunch of people who probably didn’t even particularly want to hear me do it.

  I needed to look at the bigger picture. And Eddie was the leading man.

  Chapter 20

  At work, Antoinette avoided me like the Black Plague, which suited me just fine. She had stolen my big new customer, wrecked my chances of getting a promotion, and made me look like a jealous, spiteful woman.

  Really, I should be the one avoiding her, not the other way around

  She had reverted to her former attention-grabbing attire, turning up each day in seemingly shorter and tighter ensembles, with bigger and blonder hair, leaving about as much to the imagination as a stripper at the end of her set.

  The office gossip was all about her and me, and I was certain that old sexist adage “cat fight” was being bandied around O’Dowd’s over a beer after work by the “He-Men” salesmen from my team. Although I wanted to scream I had been set up and hadn’t done anything wrong, I didn’t. Instead, I threw myself into my work in the hopes of making up for the lost revenue Pukeko Chocolates’ disappearance from my portfolio had created, and meeting my annual targets on time.

  That week, Friday could not have come around fast enough. The idea of two solid days without Antoinette lurking nearby was more appealing than an ice-cold soda on a hot and humid afternoon.

  Saturday was the day of the motorcycle swap meet, and I was up bright and early with those early birds who catch the worm, ready to spend the day with my wonderful boyfriend. The swap meet was south of the city, and Eddie wanted to get there early so he didn’t miss out on the parts he was looking for, so we set out before the city had even opened its eyes, let alone had its first cup of coffee.

  I skipped out the door and down the steps to Eddie, straddling his bike, his helmet held under his arm. I was instantly reminded of him on campus, all those years ago, and my heart squeezed at the memory. We greeted each other with a kiss, and he handed me a hot pink helmet with an image of Smurfette on the side.