by C. L. Donley
Butterflies formed in his gut.
Really?? He’d long been over the groupie thing, so what was the deal?
“I made you cry,” he said.
“Lolololol Yes, but then…you touched my hand.”
Yikes. Butterflies somewhere else. Perhaps she’d felt something too, but likely for a different reason.
“Washed it yet?”
Her response was quick.
“Nope.”
Doing anything else with that hand?
Grayson looked at what he had just written, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, a nimble finger grazing his upper lip.
He was going to erase it, but he let it stand there suspended for a moment. Threatening to alter his life in unending ways.
If he were just a regular guy he could get away with sending it. Then again, if he were a regular guy he’d probably get shot down. He could see Amara was typing.
He thought about how Dale suggested in the early days that they add some way to indicate the other party was typing. Grayson had argued against it, saying something about altering the brain chemistry of every human by decreasing their collective capacity to delay rewards in the pleasure center of the brain. In the end, Dale got his way, and it turned out they were both right. It sent Webster soaring beyond their competitors within months. Grayson hit the backspace button until his inward confession was no more. Go to bed, he counseled himself.
“Good night, Amara.”
Amara had stopped typing too. He wondered what she’d almost said as he read her simple response.
“Good night.”
Four
Chapter 4
Amara didn’t necessarily think she could single-handedly bring down the company by not working, but she was pretty sure that a person should not be allowed to stare at a blank screen for seven hours, and still get paid.
Last week’s course of events had a devastating effect on her already dismal work ethic.
She was now two days into her final two weeks’ notice.
Her supervisor had called Amara into her office after receiving the parting email, and Amara cried at work for the second time in a week.
“I want to care about your drink order, I really do,” Amara sobbed, “but I just don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”
Her supervisor gave her a frown and sighed.
“I don’t want you to care about my drink order, Amy. I want you to find your place, and this just isn’t it. I know how much you wanted to find it here.”
She felt guilty that she wasn’t able to stick it out as Grayson Davis had wanted.
But she couldn’t stay objective about the roller coaster of emotion that she was on, that he had put her on.
He’d given her a taste of what it was like to be desired, in one capacity or another, and the awakening had been so excruciating that she simply could not stack a single other useless piece of paper on top of another. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but it couldn’t be here, at the scene of the crime.
The eventual conference call with the girls did not exactly help her adjust.
Mya, her roommate, cuddled up with a pillow next to her on the comfortable couch while Amara held the phone in front of both their chins so that Kim could hear. Kim was two time zones away and lounging with a glass of wine while Mya and Amara had just barely survived the rush hour traffic.
“GIRL!” was the only thing Mya could say as Amara ran back the details of the day.
Mya was best friend #1, a ballet dancer who supported herself by doing hair. She’d convinced Amara to move to California with her and currently had more revolving hair clients than she had auditions. Which was a good thing, because Amara was about to make herself available to the industry yet again.
“GET OUTTA HERE!” was Kim’s only chorus until Amara was done with the last incredible detail.
Best friend #2, Kim, had just finished law school and got hired on at a prestigious company as a corporate lawyer back in Nashville where the girls were all from. Her life was the stuff of Oscar-nominated tragedy and she was a resilient, boisterous, gorgeous, walking miracle.
“And now all I want to do is have his babies,” Amara concluded. Kim was laughing but Mya wasn’t. She was studying Amara with an expressive look of shock.
“He was flirting with you, Amara!” Mya said soberly. Mya was the second person to conclude as much that day, but what could it mean beyond a random encounter? People acted as though it were a reason to get her hopes up about something.
“I don’t know if he was or not, but —”
“Amara please staahp you know guys are constantly on you.” Kim warbled through the phone.
“Well one, dudes hangin’ out the passenger side of their best friend’s ride don’t count and two… I think I would know if I ever caught a white billionaire’s attention.”
“Really, cuz you did, and you have no idea,” said Mya.
“What does ‘billions’ have to do with anything, girl men are men. Okay? They all gotta get it the same way,” Kim opined between sips of wine.
“He can afford to have his flown in though,” Amara countered.
“I don’t know, guys like him are working all the time, and wasn’t he like a programming nerd hermit growing up? His social skills are probably nil,” Kim suggested.
“Um no…I definitely got the impression that he is drowning in it.”
“Well yeah, bet you don’t need social skills when you’re a billionaire,” Mya shrugged with an exaggerated look of DUH.
“He’s like, electric. You should’ve seen them all in the cafeteria crowded around him like Jesus at the last supper,” Amara recounted.
“Girl, Jesus was a loner, so crowds don’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, he’s the boss. He’s the boss of the boss. Of course he can talk about work, but I bet he’d be awkward as hell at a party,” Mya continued.
“I’m awkward as hell at a party,” Amara interjected, “what does all that have to do with anything?”
“I think Mya is trying to suggest that this might be a nerdy match made in swirl heaven, and I might have to agree,” Kim’s voice lilted. Mya shrieked and clapped her hands as Amara looked on.
“Swirl heaven? Wow. You’re both crazy,” Amara deadpanned.
“Amara, don’t be afraid to want something impossible,” Mya counseled soothingly. She was the encourager of the group.
“You are terrible at giving advice, you know that?” Amara shot back with laughter in her voice.
“I mean it, Amara. You always think amazing things can’t happen to you, but luck is preparation meeting opportunity, you understand? You got a crazy energy of opportunity swirling around you right now, and the next crazy thing that happens, whatever it is, you just need to say yes.”
Amara’s mind drifted to all the sexual things Grayson could do to her that she could say yes to.
“And just what is this amazing impossible thing I’m supposed to not be afraid to want? Love? A booty call? A baby daddy?”
“YES!” Kim confirmed all three emphatically.
“Well, anyway it doesn’t matter because he only visits headquarters like, less than once a year. I doubt I’ll see him again.”
“Girl, forget about work, you better be texting him at 3 am,” Kim said.
Amara was horrified at the thought.
“No way. The only way I’d ever text him is if he texts me first,” Amara lied. “And I’m not gonna hold my breath for that one.”
She didn’t tell the girls that she’d already sent him a message earlier that day asking how he’d known her name.
Nor did she tell them when, four hours later, he’d answered.
The playful chime that indicated his response nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. It was just like her early days of online chatting and suddenly she was 12 again, racing home after school to chat with men twice her age. At least she thinks they were men.
It was strange territory being forged then, and it was t
he same for her now. Only this time she didn’t have to pretend to be blonde or white and, for some reason, with him she hesitated less than she ever had with anyone.
* * *
From the time Amara had come back from the infamous lunch to now, the third floor had been a buzz.
When she put in her notice, strangely the news traveled.
“Isn’t this the infamous Amy Riley?” they’d whispered in HR.
“She quit her job anyway?? Awkward,” they texted to each other.
“Were they screwing?” they wondered at lunch.
“Grayson Davis only dates blondes.”
“Yeah, I think he considers brunettes a minority group.”
Dale, the COO and Grayson’s best and oldest friend, thought it wise to give his best and oldest friend the news over the phone, along with some other choice words so that he could feel him out.
Dale put Grayson on speaker.
“So I thought you should know… your white whale turned in her notice a few days ago.”
Grayson said a curse to himself. He knew who he was referring to.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“Grayson.”
“Dale.”
“What the hell, dude.”
“What?” Grayson asked as if genuinely oblivious to the implication.
After a beat of silence, Grayson continued.
“I saw something in the girl, and I know you saw it too.”
Still more silence.
“She’s ballsy and smart. She deserved the full Grayson Davis experience,” Grayson defended himself, however cringey. Grayson saw in his mind the look Dale was giving him.
“She was in a cubicle black hole doing third-floor inanities.”
“Not every wandering, aimless bleeding heart is you, Grayson,” Dale finally said.
“That’s not what that was,” Grayson protested.
“No you’re right, that was something… way less appropriate.”
“Oh, come on.”
“The fact that you would try and deny it… to me of all people….”
“Name one unprofessional thing I did.”
“Um, how about two? You did your weirdo creeper routine from the corner hallway AND YOU WERE SEXTING HER,” Dale announced slowly and loudly from the plush privacy of his office.
“Okay, first of all, no one saw that, and secondly, I was not ‘sexting’ her that is ridiculous.”
Dale wiped his face down with his hand. “I can’t believe this conversation exists.”
“It’s under control, Dale. I was never gonna act on it, and now you’ll never have to worry.”
“Under control? Have you even stopped to think how the hell I would know whether or not a 2nd tier assistant to a project manager put in her notice?” Dale asked.
“Sorry, I don’t spend my days pondering how you come to know things.”
“This little outburst of yours has reverberated through the entire building, Grayson.”
“Was it really ‘an outburst’?” Grayson minimized.
“I felt like I was watching Black Swan.”
“No pun intended right? Dude, you’re racist,” Grayson accused.
“Really,” Dale sounded uninterested in the assessment.
“Hardcore.”
“Look, before you start deflecting to death, I bring it up not because I’m desperate to talk about it, but because you haven’t. At all. And that’s really fuckin’ weird. I don’t like to have to guess about where your head is.”
“My head is where it’s always been,” Grayson replied.
Dale ignored the pun. “Well I have no choice but to believe you. But dude, we really can’t afford to have anymore incidents like that. The dress code violations are already through the roof when you stop by. We’re going to have to start handing out garbage bags the next time.”
“Excuse me for taking personal interest in the professional development of an employee.” He continued after a beat. “Honestly, it’s pretty sad that our people see it so rarely that they have to resort to rumor mills.”
“So you’ve heard the rumors then?” asked Dale in an exaggerated tone.
“Such as?”
“Such as Amy had to leave because she’s secretly carrying your child?” Dale repeated.
“Well… that’s just ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, obviously I’d never make someone quit their job because they were pregnant with my child,” Grayson quipped.
“You’re hilarious.”
“Honestly, why would I want her to work at Webster if I wanted to sleep with her? If that were the case, I would’ve been urging her to quit, not finding her a permanent place in the company. Where I’d have to constantly avoid her so she wouldn’t drive me crazy.”
After a pregnant pause, Dale began again, his brow wrinkled.
“…Okay, well when you’re ready to be honest with me, you know where to find me.”
“Dude get over yourself, I don’t need to lie about who I decide to be interested in.”
“You know I’ve never judged any of your… choices. Personally I think it would be great for you to date a real person with actual human qualities and attributes. It might even last longer than one moon cycle.”
“I see no reason to fix what isn’t broken,” Grayson said.
“Well, that’s debatable.”
“It’s been seven years since I saw my first billion with a ‘b’ dollars. Do you have any idea what that does to a man’s libido?”
“Yes I do, I was there.”
“A moon cycle is more than adequate. There’s not an ounce of settling down in my blood right now. And I will never have to worry about finding someone. Because I am a billionaire.”
“You’ve said that.”
“With a ‘b’.”
For the millionth time, Dale made a futile attempt at introspection.
“And you’re gonna share that with just… any old gold digger.”
“Dude, we’ve been over this.”
“The old 80/20.”
“Exactly. The 20-year old that survives 80-year-old sex with me gets it all.”
The 80/20 was Grayson’s way of saying he didn’t know, and didn’t want to talk about it, Dale knew.
“You’re a depraved individual,” Dale simply said.
“Will I see you in Malibu?” Grayson changed the subject.
“Yeah, if I can survive this ridiculous conversation with you,” Dale chided.
“As you were, then. I’m seriously backed up, and I need a wingman.”
“Dude, I thought we talked about the plumbing metaphors.”
* * *
Amara must’ve typed “hey” to Grayson Davis a million times in the subsequent two weeks.
She never sent it, only typed it. And then erased it.
As much as she dreamed of Grayson Davis being completely accessible to her, the idea of potentially being a nuisance to him was an unbearable nightmare.
A couple of times she wrote him some pretty long, fanciful sonnets about what that morning meant to her, and his voice and his eyes on her, and his hope, however fleeting, on her.
She erased those too.
Then once she actually wrote that she hated him for what he’d done, making her normal life utterly unbearable. And also how she’d like to lose her virginity to him.
Erased.
It was reckless to do it that way. One knee-jerk pinky to the enter key and she would’ve been found dead in her room from embarrassment.
But it was a total rush. Cathartic. The only way to cope after dozens of resumes sent out into the ether, only to receive a gaggle of automated replies. Amy Riley’s resume wasn’t even enough to get a face to face anymore.
Had Amara’s time at Webster been one dead end position too many?
She’d found two jobs that she was particularly excited about. One was an on-air talent position, which was terrifying, but it was a position doing interviews. Press
junkets. The prospect thrilled her. She didn’t trust she’d be any good in front of a camera, but she knew she would be a killer interviewer. She had no experience, but it wasn’t needed. And it paid peanuts. She was overqualified, really. She’d thought about calling in a favor with Grayson but in the end the prospect just made her sick. She had access to one of the richest, most influential men in the world.
But then again, he did have 500 million connects. What were the odds he would be willing to take time out of his insane schedule to call in some rinky dink favor? He sort of seemed like that type of guy.
But what if he wasn’t?
In the end, she just ended up following up with them incessantly, until they told her over the phone that the position had been filled.
The other one turned out to be, well, fake let’s just say.
Hence, the desperate unsent messages.
Besides, knowing that instant messages work two ways, every non-message day that passed chipped away at the confidence he’d tried to instill in her.
The first time was a fluke, she convinced herself.
The hours between his response had been unbearable enough, but she’d muddled through. She just had to find out how he knew her.
She’d received a satisfactory answer. At least, it seemed satisfactory at the time.
But then she only had more questions like, did he know her name before he’d called as Travis from QC or after? And how had he recognized her? And why hadn’t he revealed to any of the team that he had spoken to her once before?
Would he ever talk to her again?
The easiest way to live day to day was never to have to guess again.
So, after ten days of torture, she blocked him.
By day 5 of Amara’s two weeks’ notice, things seemed to settle back to normal.
The buzz of Grayson’s visit was slowly drowned out by the ocean of minutiae that needed looking after by the human machine that is Webster.
Amara had gained a few friends through her notoriety, a few brash souls that introduced themselves and had all kinds of questions. The lack of familiar faces reminded her just how large the company was, even though it started as just two friends in Dale’s apartment just ten years ago.
Little was known about the very private Dale, the man behind the man behind the company, except that he was the Chief Operating Officer and had been Grayson’s best friend growing up. If he was brilliant no one even knew that, though it had to be true to be where he was. He generally walked softly and carried a big stick, which earned Amara’s respect on a level par with Grayson’s.