On His Turf

by Jennifer Watts

  I shake off the dismissal and sit down in one of his chairs. “It caught my eye not because of what is being bought but who is buying it. Remember there was a scandal like this not too long ago involving a foreign government, the bribery of Federal police and a few shifty Texas politicians?”

  “I remember,” he says, nodding.

  “That same offshore scandal was the result of senators being paid off to push through bad paperwork to fund an expansion that cost the taxpayers millions of dollars. There were even some fairly damning allegations of money-laundering on the buyers end. And guess what that company and the buyer in this transaction have in common?” I push.

  “What?”

  “The same Chief Executive Officer.”

  “You’re reaching. It’s probably just a business transaction.”

  “But it might be worth looking into?” I try.

  “I know how much you want to prove yourself and I think you have the skills to be a great reporter someday but right now you’re still too green. And frankly with all of the budget cutbacks I don’t have the resources to spend money researching a whim. Okay?” Donovan says gently and I flinch.

  “Okay,” I say, dropping my hands into my lap.

  “If you find out anything more damning about this new company other than it having the same Latin American CEO then I can have a look but otherwise let it go.”

  I nod because I’m too frustrated to speak and I leave his office without looking back.

  ***

  I ignore Donovan’s request and the week flies by as I bury myself in research on the Petroleo Energy Corporation. Leigh’s extension flashes on my call display but I ignore it because I’m halfway through an article on the Texas oil boom and I’m too tired from my shift last night at Fantasy to deal with her right now. I haven’t spoken to her since dropping her drunken ass off after the party last Friday and with all of the extra hours I’ve been working I’ve had no time to see my friends or Shane. That hasn’t stopped him from texting though; every morning, afternoon and evening. Mid-week he stepped up his game and started calling my cell. At first I didn’t pick up but all the ringing and vibrating started to get to me so I gave up and answered. He’s been pushing me to tell him about my second job so he can see me in action but I manage to dodge the subject every time.

  And the gestures - at first I thought he’d lost his mind but the gifts keep coming. On Tuesday morning coffee and fresh-baked croissants were delivered to my door which my ass didn’t need but I ate anyway. Wednesday a huge arrangement of two dozen pink-tipped white roses were waiting for me at my desk with a card that said, are these more your style? They were even more expensive than the last ones. Lucky for you I’m a romantic at heart (do NOT roll your eyes).

  Thursday the whole office was treated to a gourmet catered lunch that came complete with two servers in white jackets and another note.

  I am only just getting started, babe. Do me a favor and go and tell one of the waiters that your name is Carmelina. -Shane

  After reluctantly tapping one of the waiters on the shoulder I found my next surprise - an envelope with a plane ticket to Salt Lake nestled inside.

  I want you to join me at an away game two weeks from today. Leigh already cleared the time off with your boss. Do not over-think it. -Shane

  After a confused Donovan helped himself to a plate of food he tracked me down to grill me. I tried to think on my feet but he wouldn’t stop asking me about the lunch so I eventually caved and told him the truth. I started at the beginning and told him about the game and the party - the PG version of the party at least - and about how Shane’s been calling and texting since then. Donovan’s advice was to disengage and that eventually Shane would grow tired of the pursuit.

  And I tried my very best to follow my boss’s advice but when I got home from Fantasy late Thursday night there was a cute pair of slippers and a little basket of different creams and gels sitting on my doorstep.

  That was a long, hard day for you, babe, at the job you won’t tell me about. I can think of better things that are long and hard for you to focus your attention on. Try the blue cream first - I use it all the time to get relief from my cleats. Miss you. -Shane

  Despite the crude note the gesture was so sweet and thoughtful that I couldn’t let it go unnoticed so after I took the slippers and basket inside and lathered up my tired feet I called him and we talked until four in the morning.

  Today is Friday and I’m a little on edge because I don’t know what’s coming next and I’m operating on only a few hours of sleep. In fact, I’m so tired that I don’t notice Leigh until her butt lands on top of my desk and forces me to look up from what I’m doing.

  “Where have you been hiding?” she says, popping her gum. “And why won’t you pick up when I call?”

  “I’ve been busy. I was going to come up to see you but it’s been crazy,” I say in a clipped voice, not meeting her eyes. Leigh works on the floor above me so we don’t often see each other during the week unless we make an effort to.

  “Excuses, excuses.” She sighs.

  “You gave Shane Mitchell my phone number,” I say quietly and I can’t keep the accusation from my tone.

  “Maybe.”

  “Leigh,” I groan. “Now he won’t leave me alone.”

  “That was the whole point. You need to get laid.”

  “Leigh! Seriously.”

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  “Did you also tell him where I work out at?”

  “Yep, that was me too.”

  “You are evil,” I exhale a weary breath.

  “An evil genius.”

  “Just do me a favor and please stop feeding him insider information. I don’t like having this guy know so much about me when I know almost nothing about him. It’s creepy.”

  “It’s romantic,” she argues.

  “You watch too many movies, Leigh,” I say, shoving her off of the edge of my desk. “There’s no such thing as a real Prince Charming.”

  “You are a cynic.”

  “And if I recall correctly I believe last week’s Prince Charming made off with your wallet. Did you ever get it back?” I ask about Seven and she covers her face with her hands.

  “No, I didn’t. And thank you guys for calling to cancel my credit cards by the way.”

  “Not a problem. When Matty took you upstairs he found the statements beside your laptop. You were pretty loaded and we were worried you’d forget in the morning.”

  “He won’t return my calls. Can you believe that?” Leigh rolls her eyes skyward.

  “Believe what? That he won’t return your calls or that he stole from you?” I ask, trying to understand what she’s really saying.

  “Both!”

  “You are hopeless,” I say, getting up and walking past her to the filing cabinet but she only follows.

  “It’s all these sexy little accents around me with your ‘y’alls’ and ‘ma’ams’ and ‘howdy’s’. How is a girl from the West Coast supposed to resist? Take Shane for example. He’s like the sexiest mix of athlete-bad-boy-cowboy a girl only comes across once in a lifetime and he wants you. YOU!”

  “I get it, keep your voice down.”

  “Who wants what?” Donovan interjects having just come back from the copy machine.

  “Shane Mitchell wants in Carmelina’s pants,” Leigh says crudely and Donovan frowns.

  “Is that what all of this is about? The flowers and lunches and phone calls?” he asks and I instantly feel bad that he knows Shane’s been calling the office on work time. “From what she told me about it he’s been trying to ask her out to dinner.”

  “He has been asking me out to dinner,” I protest and Leigh laughs.

  “That’s only because there isn’t a card made for ‘I want to have hot, steamy, marathon sex with you,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Leigh!” I shout at the same time Donovan bellows, “enough Miss Simpson!” Leigh immediately stops laughing and she looks a
little shocked by his outburst. Her cheeks turn bright red and she looks down at the floor.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, already heading in the opposite direction. “I’ll call you later, Caramel,” she adds before fleeing down the hall to the bank of elevators at the end.

  “Caramel?” Donovan raises an eyebrow.

  “It’s her nickname for me,” I mumble.

  “I like it,” he says softly. “But I’m worried about you, Carmelina. All of this - these displays - it isn’t like you and after hearing what Miss Simpson said I think I have a better understanding of what is going on.”

  “Nothing is going on,” I say, my face flushing. “And with all due respect sir it’s my personal business.”

  “When your personal business starts interfering with your performance in this office then it becomes my business,” he says in a voice that’s laced with disapproval.

  “How is it interfering? Because he sent lunch and flowers?”

  “You seem different,” he exhales. “I understand that he’s a minor celebrity around town and also an athlete but those are two very good reasons for you to stay away from him.”

  “Stay away from whom?” A familiar voice interrupts us at the same time a tanned, muscular arm circles around my shoulders. I close my eyes and curse the Gods of fate that Shane would choose this exact moment to come waltzing into the office. He pulls me against him and I am enveloped in the delicious scent of fresh cut grass and soap. “There you are, babe. I’ve been looking all over this place for you.”

  “You must be Shane,” Donovan addresses him but I notice he doesn’t smile or extend his hand.

  “I am. Funny, I have absolutely no idea who you are since Carmelina’s never talked about you,” he counters.

  “That’s not surprising since she mentioned to me that you only met last week. I’m Donovan, Managing Editor of the features department.”

  “You’re her boss.” Shane stresses the last word and there is a brief pause while the two size each other up. Shane is bigger and more muscular than Donovan but my boss is slightly taller, and from the way they are standing I feel like I’m caught in the middle of one giant pissing contest. Shane keeps his eyes on Donovan as he leans forward and presses his lips against my ear. “I brought you something,” he whispers.

  “Of course you did.” I roll my eyes and his other arm lifts over my shoulder to reveal a six-pack of beer from my favorite local micro-brewery. I can’t help the big smile that spreads across my face and it makes Shane laugh out loud.

  “You see Donovan? I’ll never understand women. I send her the most expensive flowers I can find, gifts, gourmet foods and plane tickets and the thing that makes her the happiest is half a dozen bottles of cold beer.”

  “There’s no alcohol permitted in the office,” Donovan replies coolly.

  “It’s not even open, man. Besides, I’m saving it for when Carmelina takes me back to her place.”

  “Who said you are coming back to my place?” I shout, a little too loudly and a few heads pop up from the surrounding cubicles.

  “I’m afraid this has turned into a bit of a scene,” Donovan says while glaring at Shane. “Miss Dahl, please see your guest and his beer down to the lobby and meet me back in my office right after.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer and stalks into his corner office and slams the door.

  I walk over to the elevators with Shane in tow. “That guy wants to fuck you,” he says matter-of-factly and I gasp in response.

  “Jesus, Shane! This is where I work,” I shush him as the mail guy passes by and gives us a weird look.

  “You know that he wants to fuck you,” he says and I can’t tell if it’s a question.

  “I know nothing of the sort. He’s asked me out a few times, it’s not a big deal,” I answer as I slam my hand against the elevator button with all of the pent up aggression I am feeling.

  “It kind of is a big deal, babe. Like a sexual harassment-position-of-power-lawsuit kind of deal.”

  “He’s never pressured me.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Would you just shut up already?” I huff.

  “I don’t like him,” he states and when I look over at him I see that his face is locked in an angry grimace.

  “You don’t have to like him.”

  “I’m going to have to keep my eye on that guy,” he mutters to himself as I step into the elevator in front of him.

  “You do that,” I answer rudely. We ride down to the lobby in silence and I walk him out to the front doors. I’m about to say goodbye when he pulls me into a hug.

  “There’s a reason I came by. I want you to come tubing with us on the Guadalupe this weekend.”

  “I work Saturday but considering that you’re a stalker-in-training you probably already know that.”

  “You work at night and we are tubing in the daytime. It will be a handful of friends and a few guys from the team. The weather is supposed to be good. It’ll be fun,” he says and he looks so eager that it warms my heart a little bit.

  “If I say yes will you go and take your beer with you?” I ask and he looks up to the ceiling as if he’s considering.

  “Okay, if you say yes I’ll go peacefully.”

  “Fine, yes. I’ll go tubing with you on Saturday as friends,” I stress the last part and he holds up his hands in surrender.

  “As friends,” he repeats back in a sexy voice that sends a shiver down my spine. How he has the power to do that to me with mere words I’ll never understand. I let my head fall back and sigh as he walks away.

  “I’ll take this beer with me babe, but there’s something you should know.”

  “Yeah?” I challenge. “What’s that?”

  “I’ll be drinking a bottle of this in your bed in less than twenty-four hours.” He winks at me as he pushes open the glass double doors and leaves me gaping after him.

  Cocky son-of-a-bitch.

  Chapter 6

  I’m so emotionally and physically exhausted by the time I get home from work and I’m looking forward to doing nothing more than throwing on some sweats and watching re-runs of Sons of Anarchy so I immediately tense up when I see Matty sitting on my sofa with my favorite pair of heels in his hands.

  “We’re going out,” he says, tossing the shoes in my direction but I don’t move an inch and they hit the wall behind me.

  “I am not going anywhere for at least another twelve to twenty-four hours.”

  “The thing is…” he continues, dropping his eyes to the carpet. “I kind of promised Leigh that you’d be there.”

  “Be where, exactly?”

  “The Terminal,” he answers.

  “No way!” I shout, placing my hands on my hips. The Terminal is one of Austin’s most trendy nightclubs featuring some of the best DJs in the country and it is always shoulder to shoulder no matter what day of the week it is. It is also one-hundred-percent not my scene and the last time they dragged me out to one of these house-music horror shows I spent the whole time against the wall watching frat boys with popped collars thrust their pelvises in the air. “I’d rather poke my eyes out.”

  “Carm, please, please pretty please? I need to get out. This Kyle thing is just…” he trails off and I know he’s serious if he’s bringing out the big guns. Matty isn’t one for guilt trips so the fact that he’s even going in that direction tells me this is important to him.

  “But why did you have to promise Leigh that I’d be there? The two of you can go,” I whine.

  “She is convinced that you need to get out there and start living your life and I agree with her. You can’t hide in here forever, honey.” Matt comes over to where I’m standing and pulls me into his arms. “Just this one time. I know how you feel about clubs - I won’t ask you again.”

  “One time,” I relent and he starts jumping up and down like a little kid.

  “Alright, let’s go get you all sexed up.” He takes me by the hand and drags me to my room as I glance back longingly at the televisio
n. I guess I will just have to save my date with Jax Teller for another night.

  ***

  Matty pulls the straightener through my hair one last time before unplugging it from the wall. I’m wearing a white jersey halter dress that shows off my olive skin. The bottom is fitted and comes to just above my knees and the draped neckline shows off just the right amount of cleavage. I have paired the dress with my favorite electric blue satin heels and cobalt blue drop earrings. My hair is now falling straight down my back thanks to him and my makeup is a mix of dark, smoky eyes and pale lips.

  “Crazy sexy.” He comes to stand behind me as a turn from side to side in the mirror.

  “You too, handsome,” I say as I survey his fitted black pants and shiny dark gray button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s forgone the glasses for the night and his hair is a little tamer than usual and if I didn’t know better I’d think looking in the mirror at us that we were a couple.

  Even though it’s an extra expense we can’t really afford we call a cab so neither of us have to be the designated driver. If I’m going to be subjected to a sweaty and overcrowded nightclub then drinks are a must-have. The cab drops us off in front of Terminal and Matty walks right up to the bouncer and tells him that we are on the guest list. I give him a questioning look and he shrugs.

  “Leigh made arrangements,” he dips his head to whisper in my ear as the bald-headed bouncer unclips the red rope.

  I can’t deny that Terminal is a beautiful nightclub with its sleek wood floors and copper tiled ceiling. VIP booths surround the rectangle space and big vintage chandeliers hang level to the second floor balcony that wraps the length of the room. One wall is all exposed brick and the already crowded bar is in front of it. There’s no way any of us can afford bottle service so I don’t even bother searching the booths for Leigh, figuring she’s probably waiting in line for a drink. And just as I’d guessed I find her perched on a stool at the bar talking to a young guy in a business suit. I wave to her as Matty and I elbow our way through the thick crowd. When we reach her the guy in the suit gives me a once over and grins, then his eyes travel to Matty and he gives him a dismissive look.