Cover Up

by Laura Westbrook

  Suzette’s high-pitched voice came on the line after a brief pause. “Hi, Nicole. What’s new?”

  “It’s been a busy morning so far. I was wondering if I’d be able to rehire those two from the shampoo commercial back a few months ago. The client wants to start another campaign.”

  “I can certainly check. Do you have a date in mind?”

  “How about the twentieth? I’ve got my calendar open.”

  “Of this month? Way too soon. How about the second of next month?”

  Nicole clicked the arrow on her calendar. “The second works for me. Nine in the morning, right?”

  “You got it. Just like clockwork.”

  “You’re the best, Suzette. Can you have someone email me the details?”

  “You can expect it by the end of the day. We appreciate your business.”

  Nicole jotted down some notes after she hung up. She’d want to visit the set, just to oversee the project, though she supposed she’d have to delegate the script and other “mundane” details to one of her team members. She was used to doing things like that herself, but she was an executive now, so she had to get used to delegating.

  The phone buzzed again. Busy indeed.

  “Nicole Robbins speaking.”

  “Hey there, Nicole Robbins. It’s Amy, your best friend. Can I come up there for an appointment at ten a.m. please?”

  Nicole laughed. “Yes, I need you on the Lochert Group commercial I just got done lining up. I was just about to buzz you. They want to do a conditioner now.”

  “Oh wow. That’s going to bring in the big bucks. All right. I’ll see you at ten.”

  Nicole leaned back against her white leather chair. The padding was comfortable, and it cushioned her back well. It was the best chair she’d ever sat in, in fact, and the armrests were padded too, to where she barely felt the bruises. The view was also pretty spectacular. She had a large window that overlooked the city. The air conditioning was set to “perfect,” and she’d landed the best job in the world. In advertising, at least.

  She smiled and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift away from work for a moment. She only had to land one big contract per month to meet her quota, and she knew she could handle that. So her mind wandered to the man who now lived next door. His eyes had been so kind, and his smile had set something off inside her. Something different and a little hard to explain. She’d liked guys before, but Branson was unique. He was…genuine. A surprising quality to find these days.

  She thought about the conversation they’d had. He’d spoken and listened in equal measure. He wasn’t rude or egotistical, and he didn’t seem to have an agenda like some other men did. He wasn’t in a rush to get somewhere or do something.

  Speaking of that day, she’d finally found the key she’d lost. It had been inside a pocket that was sewn into her handbag. At the time, she’d forgotten the new place she’d put it, and in a way she was glad she had. Otherwise, she might not have been standing in her hallway when he’d come out his door. That was a good thing, right?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang.

  “Nicole, it’s Leila. Hope you’re settling in okay. I wanted to ask if you’d like lunch delivered—on the company tab of course. We usually get it from that deli across the street. There’s a menu in your top right drawer if you need it.”

  Nicole grasped the handle and slid it open. She looked at the gold embossed menu and saw a sandwich she usually enjoyed. Plus, this meant she could stay in her office, away from any would-be prying eyes. “Oh, yes, thank you. I’ll have the BLT with potato salad.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, I feel spoiled already. I usually just have a granola bar to hold me over.”

  “Welcome to the sixth floor.”

  Nicole glanced at the rest of the menu while she was at it. It boasted a large variety of sandwiches, but also salads as well. Thank goodness. She could make good her promise to stay healthy while enjoying luxury, too.

  Once she got off the phone, she was surrounded by silence. She wasn’t used to quiet. Her old floor had lots of talk, calls, and gossip in the staff room and along the tops of all the cubicles. It almost felt a little too quiet at times, but she didn’t worry about it. There was work to be done.

  Her mind was full of new ideas. She’d need to get her team together for a meeting within the next few days to get the Lochert Group advertisement together. It was nearly ten, and she couldn’t wait to show Amy her new office.

  At two minutes before, there was a knock. Nicole bounced up to get it, and there stood Amy. “Come on in,” Nicole said. “It’s big and quiet in here. You need to fill it with some chatter.”

  “I’m pretty good at that.” Amy walked in with a drawing pad, but she didn’t make it far before stopping and glancing around the room. “This is huge. I never thought you’d get promoted this far.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Nicole said in a dry tone.

  Amy laughed. “Sorry, boss. What can I do for you? Would you like a massage? Or should I fetch your favorite latte?”

  “Very funny. Have a seat.”

  “By the way, how was last night?”

  The image of Branson flashed in Nicole’s mind. “What do you mean?”

  “How you slept. I tossed and turned all night.”

  “Oh that. I slept fine. Like a rock, actually.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  Nicole rubbed the back of her neck. It was rock solid. She had to keep it moving every so often to keep it from getting stiff. “Nothing really. I just…met someone yesterday on the way to my door.”

  “Met someone? But I got out of the cab with you and walked you up to the building. You had to have met this person in the five floors between our apartments.”

  “You hit the nail on the head. He lives in the same building we do.”

  “Can’t be. I know all the single guys in our building.”

  Nicole gave her a look.

  “Aware of them, I should say,” Amy said.

  “He lives across the hall, actually. Just moved in a few days ago. When we got back from the hospital,” Nicole said, lowering her voice. She was pretty sure no one could hear her, anyway, but she couldn’t be too safe. “I couldn’t find my key and he invited me in for coffee while I got my bearings back.”

  “Finally, we can talk about that. It’s been so hard not saying anything all morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore all over. I feel like I fell down a flight of stairs.”

  “At least it wasn’t worse.”

  “True,” Nicole said softly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m really sorry about what happened. I feel terrible. Seriously, whenever I think about it, I get a stomach ache.”

  Amy looked down. “I wish it didn’t happen, but it’s not something we can take back now. It was an accident, and after a few weeks, the insurance company will pay up, we’ll be healed up, and things will be back to normal.”

  “But you won’t have a car.”

  Amy shrugged. “Only if I don’t want another one. I could use the insurance money to get another one if I want.”

  “That doesn’t stop me from feeling bad about it.”

  “You can make it up to me by buying me a drink next time. How’s that?”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t mention drinks. I already have a twitch thinking about that.”

  “But I was the one drinking. Not you.”

  “I know. It’s just…tough.”

  “We’ll get through this. I promise. I haven’t told anyone else about it, so the secret is safe with us. Anyway, let’s change the subject. Tell me about your new hunky guy. Is he nice or a weirdo? And what did he think of you, showing up in sweatpants at eleven in the morning?”

  “He’s a nice guy. We had a nice talk, although it didn’t last all that long. He didn’t give my sweatpants a second glance.”

  “That’s how you know he’s a keeper.”


  Nicole gave her a look. “Oh, so you know already, do you?”

  “I do. Woman’s intuition.”

  “Anyway, he asked me out for dinner.”

  “What? Why did you wait so long to tell me that part?”

  “I told you just now, didn’t I?”

  “This is a big deal, chica. You haven’t found a guy you like in ages. The last time you were interested in someone was…”

  “Yeah, I know. I should’ve seen that one coming,” Nicole said. “But in my defense, I thought he cared about me. He said all the right stuff, and his eyes were like diamonds.”

  Amy looked straight at Nicole. “And does this new guy have sparkly eyes too? Says all the right things?”

  Nicole pouted her lips without realizing. “Maybe he does. So, about this advertising campaign.”

  “Trust me, I’m on your side. There’s no harm in giving a date a try. And a real date, not a quick conversation kind of thing.”

  “Well, you’ll be getting your wish on Wednesday. So, about the campaign…”

  After a back-and-forth, they finally got the components of the ad down on paper. Two of Nicole’s old cubicle neighbors would write the script and be in charge of the artistic direction. It would be Amy’s job to provide the graphics, and they’d have a collaborative design meeting at nine in the morning on Wednesday, which seemed to be a significant day in more ways than one. Everything would be perfect. Advertising only worked as well as one’s team, and Nicole was more than thrilled that she could finally choose hers.

  When Amy left, Nicole just had time to prepare for meeting her new assistant. Usually she did everything herself, so she wasn’t sure how she’d handle having a helper. She just had to figure out what she was supposed to delegate and what remained her responsibility. That would be key.

  A key. She wondered how Branson’s day was going. Was he finding his new job a challenge? He didn’t seem like the trading type, but maybe he had a work-mode she hadn’t seen. He seemed so calm and gentle. She could hardly imagine him yelling into a cell phone while on the stock trading room floor. She didn’t usually daydream about men, and this would hardly qualify, but she found herself enjoying having him in her thoughts.

  Amy had been right to point out her past pitfalls, though, and how some men seemed to know exactly what to say. She didn’t want to fall for anyone, but if she did, it would be for a man like Branson.

  Her daydream was interrupted by a knock at the door. She crossed her office and opened it.

  Barrett Parsons, one of her old colleagues, stood there with a sour look on his face. “Your order is here.” He had other orders in his hand—undoubtedly delivering for all the executives—but she hadn’t realized he’d be bringing her lunch. He’d been working for the company about as long as she had, and from the looks of things, he wasn’t happy that she’d been picked for the promotion and not him. He probably walks each delivery to the executives to help his chances. Brown-nosing for sure.

  She offered her best smile to Barrett as she took the food from him, welcoming the amazing smell into her office and closing the door as quickly as she could without being obvious. She didn’t have anything to hide—at least, she didn’t want him to think she did. Who knew what would happen to her reputation if someone like him found out about the accident? This is why I’m not telling anyone. Not here at work…not Branson at home.

  She walked to her desk, then opened the paper bag and pulled out the takeout box. A plastic fork in hand, she dove straight in, enjoying the exceptional flavors and keeping any other thought far from her mind.

  “I love this deli,” she said to herself.

  She tried not to race through her meal. It was hard to stop herself, and she closed her eyes as she ate. It was the best lunch she’d had in a long time. A definite change from her usual ham-on-rye from the nearby diner.

  I’ll have to take Amy to this place. Or if Branson worked nearby, maybe they could have a lunch date. They’d enjoy more of their relaxed conversation, provided he didn’t turn out to be a fake like the last guy she’d liked. And going to the restaurant might be a good idea. It meant people like Barrett wouldn’t be prowling around her office. He couldn’t deliver anything if she wasn’t there. For the next week or so, while her bruises healed, that seemed like an excellent idea.

  Chapter Four

  That night, when Nicole arrived home, she stood at her apartment door for a moment. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. She felt happy about her new role with the company, but she found it a little lonely. Even having an assistant didn’t help that much. She still felt distant from everyone else. She figured that was simply part of the job, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  She sifted through her purse, glad she’d put a new key chain onto her new key—a round silver globe that made it easier to find. She grabbed the key and began to place it into the lock. Then the door next to her opened.

  Branson stepped out with a little oilcan in his hand, the kind she’d seen Charlie use on hinges. Clearly, he was the handy type too. He looked up and smiled, clearly surprised to see her. “Good evening. How’s your day going?” he asked, his project all but forgotten.

  “It was pretty busy. I started as an executive today. A huge office, way too much responsibility, and a massive fake plant. I could probably hide in that thing if I wanted to.”

  He laughed. “Sounds like fun.” He acted like he wanted to say something more, so she waited. “Look, I know our dinner date is supposed to be tomorrow night, but I’ve got a problem.”

  She wondered if this was when he admitted he was seeing someone else. Or that he wasn’t interested. Or a thousand other things that could go wrong. Typical.

  “The thing is, I thought portions would be tiny here in Manhattan, as everything’s supposed to be overpriced, so I ordered way too much food. Would you like to join me?”

  She hadn’t expected a dinner date early, but her stomach rumbled as if it wanted to answer instead. “Sure. I’ll be dressed in my comfy clothes, though.” Long-sleeved versions. “I’m warning you now. I have a thing about relaxing after work.”

  “Same here. I wear a tie most days, so it’s nice to be out of it. You can wear slippers if you want.”

  “Sounds tempting. I don’t have any, though. Maybe pineapple pants.”

  “Pineapple pants? What’s that?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. They’re pajamas with giant pineapples all over them. They’re one of my go-to comfy clothes.”

  “Whichever it turns out to be, I support you.”

  She laughed. “Thanks. It means the world to me. I’ll be over soon. I just need to change, unwind a bit, and I’ll be over. If that’s okay.”

  “Perfect. See you soon.”

  She waltzed into her apartment with a skip in her step. It was the perfect way to end her day…provided he didn’t ask too many questions.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, standing at his apartment door, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d put her hair in a braid and had decided on jeans and an oversized, long-sleeve sweatshirt. The pineapple pajamas would’ve been way too much. But she’d picked the pink ones, her favorite color. Still, she worried about the neckline. It wasn’t sagging by any means, but one particular bruise, turning a remarkable shade of purple, had made its way up the side of her neck, and standing or sitting at the wrong angle would easily expose it. The only alternative would be canceling, which she considered doing three times before walking out the door.

  Her mind went to their first meeting. He’d been relaxed. Calm and casual, but there had been hints of interest, such as when he’d asked her for their dinner date, along with a pinch of worry that she might turn him down. He didn’t act like he was just playing a game, passing time until he found someone better.

  If there was something to worry about, the more time she spent around him, the quicker she’d discover the problem, right? She just wasn’t sure she’d be very good at hunting fo
r difficulties.

  She realized she was picking at her nails while she waited. A bad habit. She forced her hands down by her sides. I’m not that nervous.

  He’d also decided on jeans. His fitted T-shirt was a different color, although it still managed to mold around his impressive shoulders. Even from that distance, he smelled of aftershave—nothing too strong, just the right amount. It blended with his own masculine scent and made her defenses feel like they were coming undone.

  “I forgot to tell you, I ordered pizza. It’s lazy, I know, but I was hoping to make up for cooking you an amazing dinner with my personality.”

  The abruptness of his honesty almost got a belly laugh out of her, but she managed to tame it down. “That better be a good personality. I like a home-cooked meal.”

  “I’ll do my best. It might not be homemade Thanksgiving dinner good, but maybe closer to boxed macaroni and cheese good.”

  Cute. “I think it’s better than that.”

  For a moment, he stopped, and they made eye contact. He smiled and kept moving, grabbing plates and cups. No matter how executive she got, she was always game for pizza. She lived on the stuff in college. Back then, she was afraid she’d get burned out on it, but that never came close to happening.

  “We’d probably be more comfortable on the couch, but I wasn’t sure if you mind being that casual,” he said.

  “After work, it’s my middle name,” she said. He was lucky she’d gone with jeans and not sweatpants after his pajamas comment earlier.

  “Great. Make yourself comfortable and we can get started.”

  She felt herself getting warmer. She knew it wasn’t from the temperature of the apartment, though her sweatshirt probably wasn’t helping. It was because of him. His looks, his voice, his gorgeous smile. She needed to focus on the food and try not to get herself lost mid-conversation. It felt like she was falling over her words, and for all she knew, he was just a neighbor. Just a new friend.

  “God, it’s warm in here. Did you order summer too?” she asked.

  “Funny,” he said. “No pineapple pajamas? I would’ve liked to see them.”