by Julie Cannon
“Again, tough being the boss’s daughter.”
“I hated it.”
“I suppose you would.” Brady’s voice was soft and didn’t hold a hint of “yeah, right,” like she’d heard from so many others.
Feeling like her thoughts were being peeled away and she couldn’t do anything about it, Nicole stood and walked to the window. As ridiculous as it was with her back to Brady she felt less vulnerable.
“I wanted to be treated just like everyone else.”
“You didn’t expect you would, did you?”
Brady’s question surprised her. Not only was it blunt, but saying it to a superior could also be a career-limiting move. Brady’s confidence impressed her. “I know. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want it. Don’t you want things that sometimes you can’t have?”
“I suppose.”
“Yeah, well, you either pine over it, let it eat you up, or get over it.”
“And you got over it?”
“Yes, I did. I couldn’t change it. It was a fact of life. So I just got over it. It wasn’t my problem. It was theirs. But if they couldn’t deal with it and it became a problem, I dealt with it.”
“I bet you did.” Nicole detected a hint of admiration in Brady’s voice.
Nicole had never talked this freely to anyone, let alone someone who worked for her. What surprised her the most was that she wanted to prolong the conversation. She had no agenda or anything specific to talk about, but in addition to simply wanting to, Nicole felt Brady would be very interesting. She had that no-nonsense, no-bullshit confidence guys on the crew had, and Nicole was in desperate need of regular conversation.
“How long are you here?” Nicole asked.
“The travel department booked my flight back to Moss Bluff tomorrow evening.”
“Any plans while you’re in town?”
“Nothing special. Sleep, maybe take advantage of the sights.”
Something different in the tone of Brady’s voice made Nicole wonder what sights she was referring to. She’d noticed the faint dark circles under Brady’s eyes when they met earlier and had considered them a product of too much work and not enough sleep, a common occurrence on a site. Now she wasn’t so sure it wasn’t due to not-enough sleep last night. Why in the hell am I connecting everything that had to do with this woman to sex? The thought made her uncomfortable.
“Well, I won’t keep you then,” Nicole said, rising. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay. I can find my way. You’ve got better things to do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Nicole opened her door and followed Brady through her office reception area. “I’ve got things to do but not better things.”
They walked to the elevator and Nicole said, “When you’re in town again, give me a call. Maybe we can have lunch again.”
“Sure.”
Nicole pushed the down arrow and faced her. “If you ever need anything, please call,” she said sincerely.
“I’ll probably never be in a position to need to call someone like you.” Brady didn’t look at her but must have realized what her words sounded like because then she did look at her and quickly added, “I mean someone as important and powerful as you. You know, the boss.”
A subtle ding indicated the elevator car had arrived on her floor. As the doors opened silently, Nicole extended her hand. Brady hesitated and finally grasped it. Her hands were rough and callused, and Nicole quickly wondered what they would feel like on her body. Flushed, she looked Brady directly in the eyes and said, “Never is a very long time.”
Brady stepped inside and pushed the button to take her to the ground floor. Before the doors closed Nicole said, “Please be careful.” The doors closed and Nicole was alone in the vestibule.
Chapter Five
The same driver was waiting for Brady when she exited the building. He straightened from his position of half-sitting on the trunk and hurried to the rear passenger door. After tipping his hat and opening the door, he said in a heavy Southern accent, “Where to, Miss Stewart?”
“Back to the hotel, I guess.” Brady wasn’t sure where else she could go. She lived about three hours away in a little-bit-of-nothing town called Moss Bluff and had gladly accepted the invitation to stay in town and enjoy a nice hotel.
“Miss McMillan called down and said I’m at your disposal all day.”
Brady stopped before sliding into the luxurious backseat and looked at the driver, surprised.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Wherever you’d like to go. Doesn’t matter where or for how long. I’m with you until I take you to the airport tomorrow evening.”
“What’s your name?” Brady asked.
“Milton, ma’am. Milton Farber.” Milton stood a bit taller, as if pleased and proud someone had asked his name.
Brady didn’t have much experience with hired drivers. Hell, she didn’t have any experience at all and wasn’t sure what the protocol was. She got the sense that Milton, a tall man with dark mocha skin, was a great guy. He called her and Nicole Miss instead of the safer Ms. “Well, Milton. May I call you Milton?” she asked before continuing. When he nodded she said, “I’m not used to this kind of thing. This being chauffeured around,” she said, indicating the car. “What am I supposed to do?”
She was rewarded by a deep, baritone laugh and a smile that filled the old man’s face. “Well, Miss Stewart, you simply tell me where you want to go, then sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Brady thought for a minute. “All right, then, Milton, let’s do it.”
Brady had no specific destination in mind so she asked Milton to just drive around the city. Morgan City was more a large town than a city, and the countryside was beautiful, the houses alternately quaint small-town bungalows or large Southern estates.
As the miles passed Brady didn’t pay much attention to the scenery around her, but was busy dissecting exactly what had happened this morning. The meeting with Nicole wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She thought it would be dull, full of requisite platitudes from the bigwigs. They’d call them by their first name, stroke their egos, let them eat in the executive dining room with real cloth napkins and sparkling water, and dismiss them to go back into the field to tell stories that included a fancy hotel room and a chauffeur. For a little time and effort spent with a few workers, management would get untold free advertising and employee loyalty.
But that wasn’t what had happened. Nicole had been warm and friendly and had quickly put everyone at ease. The men in the room weren’t at all shy or tongue-tied around the boss and dominated most of the conversation. Brady was used to that and was quite content to sit back and observe.
After the shock of seeing how stunning Nicole was in person, Brady couldn’t keep her eyes off her. It wasn’t just because she was a beautiful woman; she’d seen and been with plenty of those. No, it was something else entirely.
Brady struggled to identify exactly what it was about Nicole that she found so intriguing. She said the right things, connected with everyone in the room, and had looked each of them in the eye. But Brady detected a haunted longing in her eyes that she masked whenever anyone was looking. She’d heard rumors that Nicole had lost all her hair in her accident and had looked at her hair, trying to detect if in fact it was a wig. If it was it was a very expensive one because Brady couldn’t really tell. After a few minutes she thought what the hell difference did it make?
McMillan was the third company Brady had worked for, and she’d played every angle she knew to get hired. McMillan was known for its sophisticated hiring practices, at least more advanced than the other companies that mass-hired employees.
The job application was eight pages long, and in addition to the fill-in-the-blank sections, several essay questions were required. The interview process consisted of not less than three separate interviews with management and peers. The background check was extensive, and McMillan didn’t accept anyone with a history of problems with drugs, alcohol,
or crime. As a result McMillan employees were top notch, and the company was the most highly respected in the world.
How much of this was due to having Nicole at the helm? Brady had been hired prior to Nicole assuming command of the company, but her own interview process had been very similar to what it was today. She had read that when Nicole was younger she worked with her father in every aspect of the company and, with her degree in business, had taken McMillan to the next level.
Not that Brady had been around a lot of people in high positions, but somehow she knew Nicole was special. She used her hands as extensions of her expressions, her voice to modulate her question or comment on a story, and her smile as encouragement. She had every man in the room eating out of the palm of her hand but didn’t seem to know it. But Brady was an expert at reading people, and she couldn’t help but suspect something else behind Nicole’s exterior. Not sinister or conniving, but her eyes were flat and her laugh a little forced. A haunted expression often passed through her eyes, and she seemed just a bit disconnected from those around her. Of course the men had no idea, and even if they did, Nicole seemed to be pretty damn good at concealing whatever was inside.
Brady hadn’t said much during the meeting, learning long ago that, at times, it was better to not be seen or heard than it was to be seen and not heard. When she had been sitting in Nicole’s office, Nicole had asked her about it.
“It’s much more interesting and usually more entertaining to watch people. I’m not shy or intimidated, and when I have something to say I say it. Otherwise,” she’d shrugged as if to say, “I keep my mouth shut.”
“How ’bout we stop and stretch down by the civic center, Miss Stewart?” Milton asked, interrupting her thoughts. Brady looked around, the flat, expansive buildings to her left giving her a clue they were already there.
“You can grab a soda and take a walk on the seawall,” Milton added. “It’s not too hot and the bugs haven’t showed up. Should be real nice.” He extended the vowels of real to sound more like reeeel nice.
“Only if you join me,” Brady replied. Whether it was her upbringing or simple politeness, she always treated those around her with respect, especially if their job was to wait on her. She’d seen too many service workers get no respect or get shit on by the customer who was “always right.” She herself knew what it was like to be looked at from the wrong end of a snooty nose or a very large asshole.
“I couldn’t do that, Miss Stewart,” Milton said. “That just wouldn’t be right.”
“All right then, Milton.” Brady decided on a different approach. “I’m afraid to walk along the seawall by myself. Will you walk with me?”
The old man didn’t reply right away, the up-and-down movement of his broad shoulders in front of her giving away his laughter. “Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to.”
Milton held a Diet Coke and Brady carried a Dr Pepper as they strolled down the curved path. The seawall was a cement border keeping the Gulf of Mexico from spilling over into the park. From what Brady could see, the water was deep, and Milton explained that during certain celebrations, the boats would tie up at various points side by side along the entire wall. They were moored so close together the occupants would easily hop from one boat to another, usually carrying their alcoholic beverage of choice.
“Sounds like my kind of fun,” Brady said.
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“Do you have a boat?”
“Who, me?” Milton seemed surprised Brady would even think that.
“Why not you? You said you’ve lived here all your life.”
“But that don’t mean I have a boat, Miss Stewart. That’s something I just can’t afford, with my kids.”
“How many do you have?”
“Nine,” he said matter-of-factly.
Brady choked, her drink almost coming out her nose. “Nine? Nine kids? My God, Milton, what were you thinking?”
Milton joined in the laughter. “That I love my wife and wanted a house full of kids.”
“That’s not a houseful. That’s practically a football team.”
“Yes, ma’am. On Sunday when they all come over for dinner with their kids, it is.”
Brady wondered what it would be like to be a part of a large family. More important, a family that loved each other like it appeared Milton’s did. She’d never given any thought to having kids. They’d tie her down and get in the way of achieving her goals. Kids meant diapers, clothes, furniture, shoes, and toys. Kids had needs and wants, were constantly growing, and regarded parents as their personal ATM. And kids also meant commitment to one woman.
Brady had a goal and that was to have as much money as she needed to be able to do whatever she wanted, when she wanted to do it. She’d been poor and gone without all her life, and as soon as she’d realized it, she’d vowed never to be poor again. Never would money, or the lack of it, rule her life, and nothing or no one would get in her way of achieving that goal.
After another hour of driving around, Brady had Milton drop her off at her hotel. As she walked into the lobby she couldn’t help but be amazed to be in such a fine hotel. Her typical lodging was the Motel 6 or Econo Lodge or any number of low-rate places she’d rather not remember. This place was upscale, even for Morgan City, and she took it all in as she walked across the lobby.
The front desk was to her left, with three clean-cut employees, each clad in dark-green matching blazers, white shirts, and ties. The only thing that separated them as individuals was the color of their hair and the shiny gold name badge. Brady recognized one of the men that had checked her in last night and gave a casual wave in his direction.
Across the tiled lobby and to the right was the restaurant, and the cocktail lounge was past that. Why was a bar called a cocktail lounge in a hotel but a bar anywhere else? They both served drinks and munchies and had the requisite three or four TVs mounted in the corners. It was in this bar last night where she’d met the woman she had to drag out of bed this morning. Brady risked a glance inside, hoping she didn’t see her again. She couldn’t remember her name and didn’t do two nights in a row. That gave women the wrong impression. Maybe Milton would know a discreet out of the way place that would suit her—what did Nicole call it—Bond element.
As she rode the large elevator to her room Brady was still trying to figure out why Nicole had asked her into her office. She had asked out of hearing from everyone and obviously after the meeting ended.
“Jesus, Stewart, what were you thinking hitting on your boss? And the big boss, for God’s sake,” Brady said to herself, looking around the hallway and relieved to see it empty. She slid her card key into the lock and turned the knob when the green light flickered.
It was late afternoon, and the maid had been in erasing any evidence of her nocturnal activities. The bed was perfectly made, the drapes open, the towels neatly folded and stacked on the large marble counter in the bathroom. The minibar hummed and Brady reached inside for a beer. Flick had told her that the company would pay for her hotel and meals, and Brady wondered if that included the $6.25 can of Michelob in her hand. Yikes, she thought as she read the prices on the menu inside the small door. She closed the door, popped the top, and sat in the chair next to the bed.
Why had Nicole wanted to talk with her? Judging by the questions she’d asked and what they’d talked about it wasn’t anything special that she could put her finger on. She hadn’t asked if she had the right equipment, good food, and a comfortable place to crash. She hadn’t tried to get Brady to spill the beans or divulge any secrets about her team members, or anyone else for that matter. The other guys here today could have said all the same thing. Of course except for the part where Brady outed herself. She wasn’t in the closet by any means, but she also didn’t have to tell Nicole the full meaning behind her crew name. She could have just left it at Bond.
No way was Nicole interested in her. Sure, she smiled at her a little longer and held her hand a second longer than she had the men, but
first, she was the boss, second she wasn’t oil-field trash, and third, no way in hell was Brady even in the game, let alone in her league.
But that was okay. Brady had learned long ago not to nibble from the stove, and she certainly wasn’t going to start with Nicole McMillan, even if she was interested in her. The interlude could be very interesting but it would be two big strikes against her game plan, and she didn’t allow any changes in her plan, however attractive.
Chapter Six
“Nicole, are you even listening?”
“Of course I am,” she lied. She wasn’t and hadn’t been since Brady left her office earlier that afternoon. She had stood staring at the elevator doors for several moments after they closed behind Brady, trying to gather herself together enough to go back to work. But now, several hours later, she was still thinking about her.
Brady had completely surprised her. Other than the fact that she was a woman, and Nicole made a note to make sure she never made that mistake again, Brady wasn’t like other women she’d known on the fire crews.
Nicole hated to stereotype, but those women were often crude, brassy, and generally big, beefy butches. And a bit scary as well. Most but not all were lesbians, but none were anything like Brady Stewart. Brady was tall and lean, showing a hint of the muscles that lay beneath the khaki trousers and her jacket. You needed both brute strength and raw finesse to fight oil-well fires, and from what Nicole saw, Brady had both.
She had read in the report that Brady had been burned on her right arm while rescuing that numskull Steckman from the fire. Nicole hadn’t seen any indication of the injury, but then again the long sleeves of Brady’s shirt and jacket didn’t allow for much skin to be exposed. She knew too well how to hide scars behind layers of fabric.
“Then what did I say?”