FLIRTING WITH 40

by K. Bromberg

  He already has.

  On me.

  Blakely

  “Let’s start with you, Blakely, since it seems you couldn’t be bothered to make it here on time this morning.” Heather’s smile is anything but warm as she tries to pass off her comment as benign.

  “Gladly.” I sit up straighter in my chair, refusing to take the bait. “What would you like to start with?”

  Heather takes a sip of her coffee as the rest of the ladies sitting at the circular table pull out their pens to take notes.

  “And what’s the point of this?” Minka asks. Clearly, she isn’t a morning person and is probably pissed that she was here on time when I wasn’t.

  “Our goal is to better understand how to be constructive with criticism in order to keep the team moving forward.” She glances down at her pad of paper. “I’m going to give you a scenario, Blakely, and then you explain to the group how you’d handle telling your coworker that the idea doesn’t fit with the direction the company is taking on a campaign.”

  “Okay.” But I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.

  “Let’s all look at the first slide, shall we?”

  I glance to the screen, and my brow slightly pinches with confusion. Even though my name is blacked out, I know it’s my proposal and graphics from a campaign I spearheaded a few years back.

  “As you can see here, we have a well put together proposal, but it completely misses the mark. The person has no vision. She clearly doesn’t understand the demographic or how to target them. This proposal would be dead on arrival once it hit my inbox, and I’d wonder if the employee who handed in something like this rubbish was qualified to work here.”

  When Heather completes her spiel, she turns her attention from the slide and levels it directly at me.

  I have a very short time to figure out if I want to challenge her, and if so, how exactly I go about doing so without pissing her off and rallying her minions to her defense.

  She’s such a bitch, and the smarmy smirk on her face and her shady example emphasizes it.

  “Blakely?” she prompts.

  Heather vs. Blakely: Round One.

  I take a deep breath and speak. “As her boss, I’d sit with her and ask for more specifics. Why she chose to market this demographic. What factors she considered while making her plan. What her secondary goal was with this proposal.”

  “Secondary goal?” Heather asks.

  “Yes. Obviously, the main priority is to produce sales, but what else is Glam trying to achieve? Brand awareness? Repeat customer purchases? A new customer introduction into our line of products? There always has to be a secondary goal to a campaign. So, that’s what I’d ask my employee because every idea deserves to be heard regardless of what you think on the onset. You never know what other ideas it might spark.”

  Heather continues to stare at me while my coworkers nod. I wait until she goes to speak, and I continue, purposely cutting her off.

  “The question is, how did this campaign do?”

  “How would I know?” she scoffs.

  “Well, there is a date on this campaign, so we know it was run. If you click on the second tab of that spreadsheet right there, it will tell you just how well it did.”

  “That isn’t needed,” Heather says and switches the screen.

  “If you’re going to criticize my work in front of my coworkers, then at least show the whole picture.”

  There’s a sharp intake from my right by Cliché Karen as others shift uncomfortably in their seats.

  “Criticism is how we learn,” Heather says, a sharp rebuke in her tone.

  “If that were the case then you’d be fair and look at the whole picture. You’d click on that second tab and show that despite your comments about the campaign, our launch was successful. The new line we were pushing had one of the best releases to date on top of a forty percent spike in overall sales. That spike sustained for four months, which is longer on average than others. So, while the campaign may seem dated to you, it was actually quite successful.”

  Funny how when I finish, it seems all of the air has suddenly been sucked from the room.

  “Moving on,” Heather dismisses with a quick shake of her head. And on she drones from one slide to the next. None of them mine like the first one was, but they are someone’s nonetheless.

  By the time we’ve worked through her slides, nature is calling me. And I don’t mean going to the bathroom. I mean the outdoors that I’ve never liked before now seems a hundred times better than being in this stuffy room with Horrible Heather.

  That, and I get to see Slade again. The thought makes me giddy like a high school crush. I should be ashamed of it, but I’m not.

  “So, we’ll see you in forty minutes down at the dock for paddleboard yoga, everyone!”

  I catch Gemma’s wince and am glad that I’m not the only one who isn’t fond of the combination of two activities. On their own, I can manage, but putting them together is going to be a disaster.

  “Blakely, can I have a word?”

  The air deflates in my chest, but my voice remains chipper. “Sure. Yeah.” I keep my back to her with my hand on the door.

  “I wasn’t trying to offend you with the critique today.”

  I plaster my fuck-you smile on my lips when I turn to look at her. “Of course you weren’t. You were too busy pointing out to everyone how inadequate I was in an effort to undermine any support I might have for the VP position.”

  “I’d never do such a thing.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You have more experience than anyone for the job.”

  Exactly. I have more experience than even you.

  “Barbie was telling me all about her run-in with you and Slade last week.”

  “Oh?” I’ve been waiting for this to come up.

  “She was just saying how Paul thought it was interesting how you’d been hanging on to hope that the two of you would get back together and then, there you were, with Slade. Pretty convenient if you ask me.”

  I laugh and hope I pull it off. “Convenient? Just because your bestie is marrying my ex, it doesn’t give you the right to have any commentary on my personal life. Paul lost the right to have any thoughts or opinions about me a long time ago, so I wouldn’t put much stock in his opinions considering he knows nothing about me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and get my suit on for paddleboarding.”

  Right when I reach for the doorknob, her words hit me from behind. “Good luck trying to keep a man like that.”

  I freeze as I try to figure out how to respond. I think of the girl in the bar and how I let her scare me away without my saying a word. I think of how I vowed to never cower from a comment again, and then I rationalize that I don’t have a choice but to walk away without a word this time.

  Why give her more fuel for her fire? Why bark back when I know she’s looking for a fight?

  I grit my teeth, swallow my urge to lay into her, and then turn and look at her with the professionalism I don’t really feel. “For someone who’s spent the last twenty-four hours preaching about us coming together as a team, comments like that from our team leader seem counterproductive. But what do I know, I’m just the person who turned down your job before they offered it to you.”

  Blakely

  I yelp when arms wrap around me and pull me off the path toward the cabin. Like full on freak out. In those few seconds, I lived my own horror story in my overactive imagination. One where I’d been abducted off the trail at Red Mountain Lodge, never to be seen again. Slade would search endlessly for me to no avail before vowing never to be with another woman because I was his everything.

  My ridiculousness lasts only seconds before my abductor spins me around and slants his lips over mine.

  “Slade.” His name is a breathless pant of relief before I get lost again in the carnality of Slade’s kiss. In the desperation I can taste on his tongue and the need I manifest by fisting my hands in his shirt. I allow myself to forget
what Heather said and how much it has owned my thoughts since leaving the meeting room a few minutes ago.

  Slade and his lips are exactly what I need.

  “What was that all about?” I murmur when the kiss ends and he leans back.

  “I needed a little something to motivate me before I have to go do this next activity.”

  I reach up to pull a piece of leaf from his hair. “Paddleboard yoga not your thing?

  “Is it anyone’s thing?” He laughs, pointing to the cabin. “Go get our swimsuits on?”

  I nod and playfully stomp my feet like a kid. “Do we have to?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, or it defeats the whole purpose of coming here.” He lifts a chin back to the direction where I came from. “How was your meeting?”

  “Oh so fun.” I shake my head. “Not.”

  “What happened?”

  I avert my eyes and shove Heather’s comment from my mind and pretend that the inadequacies it evoked aren’t still there.

  It’s funny how I can handle her bashing my work without a second thought, but when she implies I’m not enough for Slade, I have a little mental health lapse.

  I force a smile onto my lips. “She was just being her charming self as per usual.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Nope.” I shrug it off. “Not worth both of us having our mood ruined.”

  “Hey?” he says and gently pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger to direct me to look at him. “Screw her. She isn’t going to stand a chance once we put our plan to win her over in motion.”

  “We have a plan?” I ask and raise my eyebrows.

  “Do you think I ever don’t have a plan?” he asks with a flash of a smile before linking his fingers with mine and directing us back to the trail.

  “What is it?”

  “Hell if I know.” He laughs. “Right now, it’s to go and have a blast making idiots of ourselves as we try not to fall into the water.”

  “That’s a plan?” I glance his way and love the sheepish smile he gives me.

  “It seems like you being happy pisses H-squared off, so while it won’t exactly win her over, it’ll still feel good to just be happy.” He shrugs. “And who knows, it might be contagious and others might end up admiring you for just being you. If you win over the masses, she’ll have no choice but to follow.”

  “That’s a very sound plan.”

  “Did you doubt me?”

  We swing our arms back and forth as we walk toward the cabin. I try to clear my mind of all of the negativity from earlier and just enjoy this simple moment with Slade as much as I can.

  “The way I see it, it’s officially day one, so we need to turn it up some.”

  “Is this you figuring out your plan?” I tease and get a boyish shrug in response.

  “What do you know about me so far?”

  “You like bets. You’re pushy.” You’re adorable.

  “And I’m competitive as hell.”

  “So?” I ask as the cabin comes into sight.

  “So, we’re going to win every damn challenge.”

  I laugh. “You don’t exactly win at yoga, Slade. It isn’t a team sport.”

  “No, but you can win by captivating others. Making them want to be more like you, who is charming and welcoming, instead of being like her, who is controlling, demanding, and off-putting.”

  “Easier said than done since they’re all friends with her,” I say as we walk up the steps to the door.

  “That’s where I think you’re wrong. Give them a lifeline, and they’ll take it,” he says, and before I have too much time to think about his comment, he pushes open the door. “I’ll wait out here while you change into your suit.”

  “I thought we were coming here for you to get changed?” I set down my notebook and pull my hair up into a messy bun.

  “I already have my board shorts on. Get your suit on.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “You actually think I’m going to open myself up to criticism around those perfect bodied women I work with? No freaking way. I’ll take my carbs and my rounded curves and wear my tank top and shorts”—I hold them up as if he doesn’t know what a tank top and shorts look like—“thank you very much.”

  Slade chuckles, but when I don’t move to get a suit out, his amusement fades. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “What part of you thought I wasn’t?” I laugh and play it off. “All I hear about at work is how perfect they are compared to everyone else. The last thing I want to do is put myself in the position for them to judge me even more.”

  “And what exactly would they be judging you on, Blakely?” he asks as he walks up to me, brows furrowed. “Because I certainly don’t see anything they can pick apart.”

  A hundred things zoom through my mind. How the skin on my legs isn’t as firm as it used to be. How my tummy isn’t perfectly flat like theirs are. How my boobs definitely aren’t as perky as they were ten years ago. All the imperfections I see when I look in the mirror blare in my head like a tornado siren.

  Most of all, I don’t really want Slade seeing them in broad daylight either. I mean, sure we had sex last night, but it was in the dark. Moonlight glow never makes anything look bad.

  “Blakely?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just—”

  “You’re just refusing to own how gorgeous you are.”

  Thump. There goes my heart when my heart isn’t supposed to have any skin in this game.

  “Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

  “Oh. I know what it is. You don’t want to show them up with that incredible body of yours.”

  “I’m beginning to think that trouble you said you were going to get yourself into was in a liquor cabinet somewhere,” I say, and a coy smile plays at the corner of his mouth. The sight of it says he’s up to something. “What?”

  “I dare you to wear it, Blakely.”

  “Nice, try, but I’m not like you. I don’t accept dares.” I move toward the small bathroom.

  “C’mon, everyone loves a good dare,” he says to my back.

  “Not this girl.” I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers.

  “I’m so disappointed in you,” he says dramatically, and I hate that I feel like I’m letting him down.

  No, not letting him down.

  Letting myself down.

  The man’s been inside me. Did I really think he was going to balk at seeing that the backs of my thighs might have a dimple here or there?

  “Okay then . . .” He sighs and sits on the bed.

  Mad at myself and pissed that I’m so in my own head about this that I can’t see the forest through the trees, I blurt out. “Wearing a bathing suit isn’t even a good dare in the first place.”

  “No? What exactly is a good one then?” he asks as he leans back on his elbows.

  “I don’t know, but that isn’t it.” I laugh because this conversation is ridiculous.

  “A dare is something like, I dare you to somehow knock Heather and her perfect yoga poses into the water so she doesn’t look so perfect anymore.”

  “Deal.”

  Slade replies so quickly that I think I get whiplash from snapping my head up swiftly. “No. That is just an example because I’m pissed at her for now. For earlier.” I force a smile onto my face. “Do not push her into the water.”

  He bites back a smile and shifts so he can hold his hands up. “Accidents happen.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Partially,” he says through a laugh. “How about this? You put your suit on and Horrible Heather is saved from her mascara streak demise.”

  “What’s in it for you?” I ask.

  “For one, I’ll have something to concentrate on while trying not to lose my balance and fall off the paddleboard.” He lifts his eyebrows and lets his eyes roam down my body.

  “And two?”

  “And two, we’re trying to find Blakely again.” He points to the napkin on the nightstand and continues, “Not caring what
people think is part of that.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “You act like you’re surprised.”

  Blakely

  I put the damn suit on.

  Not because he told me to but because he was right. If I’m going to be wearing lacy boy panties, then I sure as hell should be able to wear my bathing suit.

  It isn’t anything revealing, by any means, and I have to admit that I don’t feel as insecure as I thought I would.

  My coworkers have imperfections just as I do. Now I need to work at seeing myself as just as beautiful as I see them.

  “It’s all about balance and finding your chi,” Heather reiterates, continuing what sounds like lines she found in Namaste Magazine or whatever yogis read. “Inner peace exists if you look for it.”

  If I thought Horrible Heather was self-righteous before, I was wrong. She’s reaching for new levels right now. Though, I shouldn’t have been shocked when she anointed herself as the instructor.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for yoga. I’ve taken classes before, I’ve become mindful, and I’ve released the negativity. But relaxing is not exactly something I want to do with my boss who was a catty bitch an hour ago.

  Also? She’s suggesting we do poses that are far from beginner. She’s either setting us all up to fail so she looks awesome or is so wrapped up in herself she hasn’t thought otherwise.

  As it is, four of the significant others skipped out on this bonding experience. I’m sure Slade was wishing he was one of them.

  “Hold these poses as if they are prayers. Worship your body as if it’s a temple.”

  Don’t look at Slade.

  Don’t look at him.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I struggle not to laugh. Heather calls for another pose, and of course, I have no idea what she’s talking about, so when I look up to see what I’m supposed to do, her eyes are laser focused on me.

  I bite down so hard it hurts.

  “We should be focusing on our inner light and not laughing at our inner-selves in this moment.”

  Jesus. Really?

  “It’s obvious that some of us are struggling with finding the maturity it takes to do this activity.”