FRAGILE: Part 1

by Kimberly Malone

  “This relationship won’t go anywhere,” Eli says, annunciating each word very clearly.

  I’m a little hurt, but unsurprised, and I manage to hide it by chuckling. “Strictly professional then?”

  Eli blinks in surprise, grins, and then he snickers. “Yes. Business relationships only, Miss Jennings.”

  “Very well, Mr. Richardson.” I turn and give him a full view of my butt while I bend down to get the chicken and pecans out of the oven. I smile as I hear Eli laughing.

  “So no boyfriend?” Eli asks. “I’m shocked.”

  I shrug. “Kind of hard to meet guys when I work so hard on my business.”

  “Have you had any boyfriends?” Eli asks.

  “Two,” I say. “You?”

  “No boyfriends,” Eli says. I laugh, shaking my head as Eli just smiles at me, watching my hands as I use tongs to set the chicken over the salad. “What happened to your last boyfriend?” Eli asks.

  “He got upset that I was as passionate about my business as I am,” I say. “Working Saturdays and sometimes Sundays really bothered him. That’s what he said. Course, Larisa—that’s my assistant—said she’d seen him with another chick the same day he’d broken up with me.” I shrug. “Not sure why he felt the need to make up an excuse to say he was interested in someone else, but he did.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Eli says. “And the one before him?”

  I smirk. “That was a much calmer breakup. We didn’t date long before we realized we just weren’t right for each other. He kept trying to fix me, and it annoyed the crap out of me. So I hired him as an employee, and it’s worked out much better since.”

  Eli laughs. “Well, at least it worked out.” He takes a long drink of his margarita.

  The ring of a cellphone breaks the air, the sound coming from Eli’s pocket. He sets his glass down and pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “I need to take this,” he says. He steps a little away from the kitchen, holding the margarita in one hand. “Hey, Grandpa.”

  Grandpa? At last, I know something about Eli’s family; he has a grandfather.

  “No, you’re fine.” Eli takes a sip of his margarita, staring off. “Yes.”

  I mix the vinaigrette together, but I hold off pouring it over the salad. Since Eli’s busy, I set the dirty dishes into the sink as quietly as I can.

  “Perkins?” Eli says. I look up to see him frowning. “Very well.” He glances at me. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

  I smile, as I pick my margarita up.

  “Yes, tomorrow night will be fine. Thank you. Love you, too. Bye.”

  It’s weird to hear Eli say those words. I watch him, as he sets his phone back into his pocket. “Grandpa?”

  Eli looks at me carefully. “My mother’s father,” he says at last. He opens a cabinet and pulls out two plates. I search around and find silverware, and we take everything to the beautiful dark wood dining table in a room nearby, Eli and I sitting on opposite ends of one corner of the table.

  After a few minutes of eating, Eli nods his head at his plate. “This is very, very good. Thank you.”

  “Aw, you’re welcome,” I say. “Do you cook?”

  “As little as I have to,” Eli says. He smirks, as I chuckle. “I know a few meals.”

  “Alright, you’re cooking next time,” I say. We share a smile and keep eating for a bit. “Are you close to your family?” I ask.

  Eli’s reaction is worse than this morning. I watch, as his body tenses, a shadow overcasts his face, and his eyes glaze over as if an opaque window were closing shut. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, afraid he’ll leave. I reach a hand out and touch his cold fingers. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  Eli, who had started to lean back, stops. His eyes focus on me again.

  I take charge of the conversation and focus it back on myself. “I’m close with my mom. Not so much with my dad and my stepmom and stepsiblings—although I get along with them fine. We just don’t talk much.”

  Slowly, almost cautiously, Eli’s broad shoulders relax back down. “Where is your mom?”

  “Savannah, so not too far,” I say.

  Eli nods once and returns to eating. “How does she feel about your business?”

  “She loves it. I thank her for my name all the time.”

  A small smile appears on Eli’s face. “She must be very proud of you.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  I debate asking Eli a reciprocating question about his family, but as I watch him sip at his margarita, I decide against it. Mental note to self: Never ask Eli about his family again unless I’m hanging onto him and he’s got nowhere to go. I search for something non-personal to talk about.

  “So, when do you exercise?” I ask. I’d seen Eli’s exercise room. It had mirrors on all sides, something that had amused and delighted me, imagining watching Eli from multiple angles getting all sweaty working out.

  “In the mornings,” Eli says.

  “Would you mind if I joined you tomorrow?”

  Eli smirks. “I don’t have any workout clothes for you. Should I ask Mary to get some?”

  “No need. I’ll just do stretches.”

  “Oh. Naked, then, I hope?”

  I laugh, feeling relief that Eli is at ease again. “Sounds good. So how early?”

  “I start exercising at five in the morning.”

  Pointing my fork at Eli, I shake my head, glaring at him. “That’s an unholy hour! It’s a good thing you’re freaking hot.”

  Grinning, Eli shrugs. “I’m a morning person.”

  “Obviously. I’m not.”

  “Obviously.”

  Snickering, we share another smile as we finish eating. Eli stares at his empty plate, and then he looks up at me. I can tell he’s searching for something, but I don’t know what, and I give him a smirk. He suddenly reaches a hand across and takes mine.

  “I’m still hungry,” Eli murmurs, his voice gaining a husky edge.

  My heart skips a beat, and I give him a wry smile, as I feel desire course through my body. “Ready for dessert?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you want your dessert, you’ll need to match me,” I say.

  Eli smiles, as he undoes his tie.

  CHAPTER 3

  I’m trying not to show it, but I’m giddy and feel practically drunk with love, as I sit at the café table, waiting for Larisa. It’s been difficult to think this morning, and I’m just getting my thoughts together and finally calming down when I see Larisa walk through the door.

  I’d warned her that I am dressed in the pretty blue cocktail dress that Eli had gotten me, so I’m unsurprised to see her enter in a very cute lavender dress that reaches to her ankles, accenting her curves, and a cream-colored short jacket. I wave at her, and she smiles as she walks over.

  “Hello there, lover girl,” Larisa says. “You certainly look like you had a good time!”

  I pat down my hair, which is still a little damp from the shower that morning. “I do?”

  “I can see the mischief in your eyes,” Larisa says. She peers at me over her glasses, as she sits. “Miss Jennings.”

  Despite myself, I giggle. “Ah, yeah, well. It was good.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” Larisa asks. At that point our waitress shows up. We both order coffee and water, and I order a chicken avocado sandwich while Larisa gets a BLT.

  I wait till the waitress is out of earshot, and then I lean in. “The love-making part? Amazing.”

  “But he was still really secretive with you?” Larisa asks. “Even after the second night?”

  I nod. “He does not like to talk about himself! And, there were even a couple of times I’d asked something that made him basically shut down.”

  Larisa’s hazel eyes are watching me intently, and I can see that I have her interest. “Past stuff?”

  “Anything personal beyond interests and hobbies. Even his work!” Our coffees
and waters arrive, and I add lots of cream and sugar to my cup before taking a sip.

  “Do you think your initial meeting might have something to do with it?” Larisa asks. “Maybe he’s just being cautious.”

  “That could be,” I admit. “But at one point I asked him about his family, and I thought he was going to walk right out of the room.”

  “Hm.” Larisa adjusts her glasses, a habit she does when she’s very intrigued. “Does he want to see you again?”

  “He didn’t say.” I sigh, trying not to show how disappointed I felt. “I gave him my contact info. I’m hoping I get to see him again.”

  Larisa, watching my face, suddenly laughs. “I’ve never seen you so love struck, Ruby!”

  “I’m not love struck.”

  “You’re getting a dreamy look on your face, and I’ve never heard you talk about a guy like this before.”

  I blush, embarrassed. “So how was your day yesterday?” I ask.

  Grinning, Larisa shakes her head. “Uh-uh, you’re not getting out of this that easy, Ruby. I’m not letting you pull an ‘Eli’ on me. You like the guy. A lot.”

  “Yes, I like the guy a lot,” I finally say. “But he’s already told me he doesn’t want a girlfriend.”

  “You’ve been known to change minds,” Larisa suggests.

  “What happened to you wanting to date Eli?” I ask. I actually don’t like the idea of Eli with anyone else, as much as I want the best for Larisa, but I’m trying to find a way out of this conversation.

  “Not with the way you talk about him,” Larisa says. “Not my type. Of course, you need to be careful, or you might go knocking his door down to see him again—which we can’t have right now.”

  I giggle again. “Whatever.”

  Larisa, still smiling, pulls out a legal pad full of notes. “I had some thoughts about other client possibilities. Since,” Larisa adds, “there is always the possibility that your encounter might cause Marnvell Jewelers to not renew their contract with us.”

  I lift my head up, startled at the thought. “Really?”

  “I’m not saying they will,” Larisa said quickly.

  “They haven’t mentioned anything about stopping business with us, have they?” I ask.

  “No,” Larisa says. “I haven’t checked when their contract ends just yet, but I suppose there is the possibility that your, uh, visit was probably sufficient to keep Mr. Richardson on your good side.”

  We share a grin before I look back down over everything on the legal pad as the waitress brings out our sandwiches. “There’s a couple of these I’ve never heard of before,” I say. I eat some French fries before I start on my sandwich.

  “The sales team’s been doing some research on up-and-coming companies,” Larisa says. “And they really think we have a shot. I think Icarus is going to give you a run down on all of this during tomorrow’s meeting, but I wanted to give you some insight before the meeting.”

  I smirk. Larisa has a habit of prepping me before the meeting when my other employees would prep me. I don’t mind it; I just often feel bad that I’ve got folks whose efforts are overlapping. I’d redirect Larisa’s work if I didn’t always find out something from her that no one else noted. And, my other employees did great reports and often had stats that Larisa didn’t bother with. It always worked out. It is just funny.

  After a long drink of my coffee, I set the legal pad down and look out the window. I’m partly thinking about the list of new names, but most of my brain is thinking about Eli.

  He’s so fascinating. So mysterious. So sexy. I’m drawn to his self-assured demeanor, and I’m puzzled by his dislike for personal questions. I want to know more about him, and I’m surprised that I’m already missing him.

  “Ruby?”

  I blink my eyes and look back at Larisa. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

  “Are you okay?” Larisa asks me.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. Just thinking.”

  Larisa grins. “So how long until you move out?”

  “Move out?” I ask, confused. I like my penthouse, even if it feels oddly fancy for me.

  “So you can move in with a rather attractive man that I won’t name just yet, but you’re probably thinking about,” Larisa says.

  I raise my eyebrows at Larisa, and she laughs. “Realistically? Or ideally?” I ask.

  “Come on,” Larisa says. “Give yourself more credit!”

  “I’m not going to claim I’m ugly,” I finally say. I’ve had enough compliments to believe people—at least most of the time. What girl doesn’t feel ugly from time to time? “But the guy isn’t exactly swooning over me. And I told you, he’s not interested in a long term relationship. That was probably it.” As the words come out of my mouth, I can’t help sighing, saddened.

  “Whatever,” Larisa says. “I’ve got no doubt you’ll change his mind.”

  We laugh as we finish our sandwiches, sketching out a plan of attack to earn some more distributors.

  ***

  I’m looking at sketchpad filled with crossed-off ideas for a new design line when my phone rings. Glad for the interruption, I pick it up. “Hello, this is Ruby,” I say.

  “Miss Jennings,” Larisa says. “Jeff Hendricks from Chargene Jewelers wants to schedule a meeting with you.”

  Jeff Hendricks is the CEO of Chargene Jewelers, another of Ruby Jewelry’s distributors. I tense at the tone in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Jeff wouldn’t say, but he said it was urgent,” Larisa says. “I went ahead and booked it for Thursday at two o’clock next week.”

  I wince, immediately dreading this meeting. “Thanks,” I say. “Would you ask Icarus to get me reports on our line item sales through them, and a copy of their contract?”

  “Of course,” Larisa says. “I’ll get it on it. Talk later.”

  “Talk later,” I say. I hang up, set my phone down, and stare at my chicken scratches on the page.

  It’s a good thing today’s Thursday, because I’m already worn out. While Ruby’s Jewelry continues to do well, we’ve had a slow in distributors willing to show our line recently, so I’ve got a lot of trade shows to attend and distributors to talk to in an attempt to get more business. Now, I’ve got a bad feeling that we’re going to lose Chargene Jewelers. And, while we haven’t had any word about Marnvell Jewelers backing out, it’s still in the back of my mind, especially since I still haven’t heard from Eli. Let alone the fact that I still haven’t come up with a new design line.

  The stress certainly keeps giving me headaches, and I take a couple of pills for headache relief before switching over to make some calls to current distributors to touch base. I can’t afford to lose any more.

  ***

  Despite how tired and off I feel, and how sad I am that there’s still no word from Eli, when Saturday rolls around I head to the local soup kitchen and food pantry that I volunteer at, called Lark’s Food Pantry. Erin, the head of Lark’s Food Pantry, greets me with a warm smile as I bend down to hug her. Erin’s short and plump, and she’s got the most contagious smile and laugh and a huge heart, something that I just love about her. We’d met at the coffee shop once, and when she asked me if I’d be interested in donating to the organization, I’d given her not just money but my number. That had been two years ago, and since then, I’d started volunteering one Saturday out of every month.

  “Hi Ruby!” Erin says. “It’s so good to see you!”

  “Good to see you too, Erin. How are you?” I ask.

  “I’m great! And yourself?”

  “Doing well.” Really, outside of just wanting to see Eli again and stressing about work, I’m fine. “What do you need help with today?”

  “I was wondering if you’d mind delivering food with Homer today?”

  Homer’s an older man with a toothy grin and the funniest jokes, and I beam at Erin. “Sounds like fun!”

  Homer’s already gathering the paper lunch bags with the food into plastic bags, his whit
e frizzy hair sticking out every which way under his baseball cap, and he smiles and holds his arms wide when he sees me.

  “Ruuuuuuby!” Homer exclaims.

  “Hi Homer!” I give him a hug, and he pats me on the back heartily.

  “It’s been forever since I saw your pretty face,” Homer says. I help him gather up the remaining paper bags.

  “It’s only been a month,” I say.

  “But we didn’t get to work together then,” Homer says. “How’s the business?”

  “Ups and downs, but overall still doing well, thanks. And how are the ladies?” I ask. Homer’s married, and he and his wife have five daughters, and their three eldest already have children of their own, and they’re all girls too. Homer joked with me once that at this point he’s had a couple of periods because of all the estrogen floating around his family.

  “Good, good! The wife’s been fighting a cold, so she’s not here today.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. “Tell Stacy I miss her and hope she feels better soon.”

  “Thanks, Ruby. I know she’ll be glad to hear from you.”

  I zip my black fleece jacket closed over my red t-shirt, as we walk out into the city, the wind a little cool as we’re walking. I have a very intimidating presence according to some people, and I often have to wait and let Homer do the talking before I approach folks on the streets. Of course, there are some of the men that are far more interested in me than the food, and Homer handles those ones, too. I’m usually able to get children to come to me. I have no idea why children aren’t afraid of me but some adults are, and I ask Homer about it while we head towards a crosswalk.

  “I think it’s your energy,” Homer says. “Adults are afraid of your energy because they know you could get feisty with them. Children are just drawn to energy though—and you’re full of energy.”

  I laugh. “Thanks, Homer. I haven’t felt like it recently.”

  “You getting old?” Homer asks me.

  “I’ve definitely felt like I am,” I say. I shift the bags in my hands. We have a few more left, and we’re waiting for the sign to change, so we can cross the street to another section where we know there’s more homeless folks.