by Claire Adams
“Five weeks? Maybe a little more than that.”
She shook her head. “Come on, Daisy. It sounds to me like you’re making a big deal out of nothing. And wanting to uproot your entire life because of it is just foolish. Now, if it were because you were thinking about going back to school or something along those lines, I would be far more receptive. But this whole thing just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.”
I took another sip of my drink, the sweetness hurting my teeth. Before she’d become a professor, my mother had had her own private practice. Many times, I had wondered if she’d ever even think of saying to those clients of hers the same things she’d said to me. Like, someone had just laid bare their soul to her, and she’d just shake her head and say it was nothing more than a bunch of nonsense. I knew for a fact she’d never dream of saying anything like that to them—it still perplexed me why she seemed to think it was okay when it was me.
“I don’t know why I even bother to tell you these things,” I said. “You’re probably the least supportive person in the world.”
“Daisy.” She had that tone that suggested I was being no better than a petulant toddler. “This is not a matter of supporting you or not; this is a matter of indulging these fantasies of yours—”
I choked back a laugh. “Fantasies? I don’t know who you think I am, Mom, but I’m not fantasizing about having a stalker! I’m not making this up!”
The girl a few tables over had put down her pen and was making no attempt now to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping, as was every other table within earshot. But I didn’t care. My mother had a way of bringing out this side in me.
“I shouldn’t have even brought this up. Just forget about the whole thing,” I said. I stood up. “I actually have to get going.”
“You’re being dramatic,” my mother said in a slightly sing-song voice. She shrugged. “But that shouldn’t really be much of a surprise, should it? I was hoping that we’d be able to sit down and have a nice chat today, and you’d tell me that you’d decided to actually do something with your life, instead of wasting it away in some office, dreaming up some scenario where you have a stalker.”
“Did belittling work on your other clients?” I asked. “Because it’s really not working here.”
I left before she could say anything else. I tried not to feel too upset; so far as interactions with my mother went, that certainly wasn’t the worst, but I resented the idea that she thought this whole thing with Noah was some sort of fantasy. Clearly, he was mentally unbalanced, and of all people, shouldn’t she have been able to see that? But when it came to me, she seemed unwilling, for whatever reason.
Chapter Seven
Ian
That Monday, Jonathan and I were both in the office early, and I could tell he was anxiously awaiting Daisy’s arrival. He was dressed a little spiffier than normal, too, and I thought that maybe I caught a whiff of some sort of cologne.
“So what the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a grin. It was meant to be a joke, but Jonathan got this crestfallen look on his face. “I’m kidding, you know,” I said.
But he was shaking his head. “No, no, you’re absolutely right. There is something wrong with me.”
“What? I know you like Daisy. That much is very obvious. You don’t need to be skulking around here, pretending like you don’t.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “Yeah, I do like her—a lot. And I thought that if she was working here, it would just be . . . easier, I guess.”
“What would be easier?”
“Talking to her. Asking her out.”
“So you want to date one of the employees. Isn’t there a rule against that?”
“There certainly isn’t one about sleeping with the employees.”
“But you want more than that.”
“Well, yeah, of course I do. She’s an amazing person. I’m attracted to her, but it’s more than just wanting to sleep with her. I want to get to know her better. Spend time with her.”
“Long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners?” Fucking hell, excuse me while I go barf.
But Jonathan was smiling like a fool, no doubt imagining these long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners. “Yeah,” he said. “I would love that. I want to do all that with her. She deserves to be treated right. Especially after all this shit with the stalker.”
“What’s up with that? She hasn’t said anything.”
A satisfied expression flashed across his face. It was gone in a second, but I caught it—he was happy that she had confided something with him that she hadn’t with me.
“It’s not something she really likes to talk about,” he said. “Can you blame her? The whole thing is sketchy.”
“I suppose you could consider Annie a stalker.”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Well . . . I don’t think you’re in any fear of Annie doing you physical harm. She could try, but there’s no way she could hurt you.”
“You could kick the stalker’s ass. You’d be like Daisy’s knight in shining armor. She’d at least owe you a blow job.”
An image of Daisy down on her knees, that sweet mouth of hers wrapped around my cock, flashed through my mind. I smiled.
Jonathan looked horrified. “For Christ’s sake, Ian, will you stop it?” he snapped. “You’ve got to be so . . . so . . .”
“So what?” I asked.
“So vulgar! I sure as hell wouldn’t be expecting a blow job if I did something for her!”
“Well, something’s wrong with you then. Are you sure you’re not gay?”
Jonathan flushed. He was too easy to get riled up, always had been. “I’m not gay,” he snapped. “If I was, I wouldn’t like her so much.”
“What the fuck is the problem then? Am I missing something? She seems to like you.”
His eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
“Sure.”
“See, that’s the thing. I can’t tell. Sometimes I get these really good vibes from her, and I think that things are going well, and then other times, it seems way more formal, business-like, almost.”
“Well, you are her boss.”
“No I’m not,” he said, almost recoiling in horror at the suggestion. “You’re the boss.”
“You’re her superior then. Whatever you want to call it. Co-worker, if you want everything to be on even ground. So why wouldn’t she treat you in a business-like way?”
“Because that completely goes against her liking me!”
Growing up, I had wondered if Jonathan was gay. Not because he seemed especially interested in other boys, but because he was so fucking in touch with his feelings. It was probably due to the fact his mom, Jenny, (who still called me most Sunday mornings at ten o’clock) was one of those people who never got mad; instead she’d say something along the lines of, “What was going through your mind when you decided to throw that rock through Mr. Porter’s windshield?”
This conversation that we were having now could go on for hours. And if there wasn’t anything more tedious than having to talk about feelings . . . I didn’t know what it was. If this was going to end, I’d have to be the one to do it.
“Just ask her out,” I said. “You don’t even need to make it formal or anything; just ask her if she wants to go get a coffee or a drink or something.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. All you need to do is grow a pair of balls and then do it.”
“That’s essentially what happened with Noah.”
“Who?”
“Noah. Her stalker. He asked her if she wanted to get a smoothie with him after they worked out. So I can’t do that. If I did that, she’d probably say no, even if she wanted to go out with me, just because she’d be thinking about Noah.”
“Then how about you tell her you want to give her the hot meat injection.”
He looked pissed that I’d dare say something like that and I couldn’t help but
start cracking up. Goddammit he was too easy!
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said. “I really don’t. I can’t remember the last time I liked someone this much.”
I tried—not very successfully—to not roll my eyes. “If that’s the case, then do you think it was such a smart idea to get her a job at the same place you worked?”
“I thought it was a great idea. That way I’d be able to see her a lot. Plus, I’d be helping her out, because she really needed work.”
“You mean I’d be helping her out. Since I’m the one signing the paychecks.” The paychecks were not actually signed, though they did have my stamped signature on them.
“She needed a job, and we needed an admin. I’d get to see her more. Five days a week. Maybe more than that if we kept up the same gym schedules. It all sounded pretty good to me. Except . . . it’s not going exactly how I’d hoped.”
“She seems fine. That whole thing with changing the water was pretty mint, if I do so say so myself.”
“You should have offered to help her.”
“I did. And she turned me down. What did you want me to do? Force her to accept my assistance?”
“No, of course not. And she is doing great here—I don’t think it was a mistake to hire her. I just thought I’d have an easier time talking to her.”
“You’re such an amateur.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t say you’re an expert in the category, either. How well did things go with Annie?”
I waved my hand. “She ended up being a little more unbalanced than I first thought. We all have a lapse in judgment from time to time. Listen, Jay, if you like her that much, just ask her out. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of making a fool of myself! I’m afraid of her saying no. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”
I thought of saying that there was no way Jonathan was going to be overwhelming anyone, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Maybe you could sort of . . . I don’t know . . . get an idea from her whether or not she’d be interested.” He wouldn’t look at me as he said this.
“Really?” I said. “What is this—middle school? Do you want me to write her a note and pass it to her across the aisle? Circle ‘yes’ if you like Jonathan. Circle ‘no’ if you don’t.” I laughed.
He looked at me in agony. “This isn’t funny! It’s not a joke. And was I laughing at you when all that shit went down with Annie? When she tried to throw that stapler at you? I had your back.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m not really laughing at you, though. I’m laughing with you.”
“But I’m not laughing.”
“Well, if you were in my shoes, you might be. Sure, I’ll help you out, Jay. I’ll suss out the situation for ya, I’ll report back. Sound good?”
The look of relief on his face was clear as day. “You’ll do that for me?”
“Sure. We can call it . . . Operation Daisy Dukes, how ‘bout that?”
“That’s sounds totally sexist. How about we don’t call it anything? Because then it’s making it sound like a much bigger deal than it actually is.”
“If anyone is making this a big deal, it’s you.”
He took a deep breath. “I know, I know, you’re right. I don’t want to turn this into something . . . something that it’s not.”
“Right,” I said. “Well, I’ll get right to it.”
“Getting right to it” in this case meant leaving my office door open and going out into the main office to mingle far more than I would under other circumstances. With the door open, I could look out and see Daisy’s profile as she sat at her desk, and it seemed that every so often, I’d catch her watching me, though she’d always immediately look away when I looked up.
Around lunch time, she got up and disappeared, then came back with a lunch box, a soft fabric one, like a little kid would have. It was light blue with pink and purple flowers on it.
“I think we’re going to order some Thai food,” I said as she started to unwrap what looked to be a sandwich. “You want in on that?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ve got my lunch right here.”
“You don’t have to eat at your desk, you know. You can leave, or go in the break room.” Or go sit in Jonathan’s office. I didn’t say this last one out loud.
“I’m fine right here,” she said. “This way, I can do a little work, too.”
“Just don’t get peanut butter on the paperwork.”
She smiled but didn’t say anything.
I pretended that I was doing some work on the computer, but really, I watched her as she (neatly) ate her sandwich, followed by a baggie of carrots, a few pretzels, and finally, an apple. She caught me looking as she bit into the apple.
“I always save the apple for last,” she said. “It’s like nature’s equivalent of a toothbrush.”
Holy fuck she and Jonathan were meant to be. “Good to know,” I said. “Does Jonathan know that? About the apple?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Probably. He seems like he’d know that sort of thing.”
I couldn’t quite tell if that was a simply a statement of fact or a compliment.
“Where is Jonathan, anyway?” she asked. “I saw that he wasn’t in his office.”
“It’s Monday, so he’s out on call right now. He’ll be back at some point.” My cell phone started to ring. I looked down at the screen, then picked up the phone and carried it over to Daisy.
“Answer this,” I said. “Except don’t say Hard Tail Security or anything. Just say hello.”
She had a skeptical look on her face but took the phone from me and answered. “Hello?” she said again. She waited a second and then pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen. “They hung up. Or the call got disconnected.” She handed the phone back to me. “Who was that?”
“Someone I didn’t really feel like talking to,” I said, taking the phone from her. She looked like she was about to ask me who it was that I didn’t feel like talking to, but then the office phone rang, and she reached over and answered it.
A few hours later and Jonathan still wasn’t back yet. Daisy appeared in the doorway, knocking lightly on the frame.
“Chris Robertson is on the phone,” she said. “He says that he has to reschedule the meeting with you tomorrow, and he was hoping to do it Wednesday. Later, though; he has something during the day.”
I shook my head. “Can’t do it Wednesday. I visit my stepfather then. Tell him Thursday, early afternoon; he can choose the exact time.”
I waited until she’d gotten off the phone with him to go out there. I leaned against her desk. “So he’s all set?”
“Yeah,” she said. “For Thursday at one.” She dropped the pen she was holding back into the cup holder and looked at me. “You visit your stepfather every week? I think Jonathan had mentioned something about it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “My mom died, but I still go say what’s up to Pete. Don’t want him to just languish away there.”
“That’s really great of you. My parents got divorced, and I had a stepfather for a little while. He was a pretty nice guy. But that marriage didn’t last long, either.”
Of course I’d let her think that I was going to visit Pete out of the kindness of my heart, because I felt I owed him something for being such an upstanding stepfather. I was a little surprised that Jonathan hadn’t mentioned what a dick Pete really was, but, then again, Jonathan was all about forgiveness, regardless of how badly the person had wronged you.
“I really don’t see my father much,” Daisy continued. “He moved to Maine and got remarried, and they’ve got a couple kids now. Who I only met once, back when I was a teenager. They were little, like toddlers, but it was nice, considering they’re my brother and sister. I don’t think my dad’s new wife liked me much, though.”
Yeah, I’ll bet. “That’s t
oo bad,” I said.
“I have no hard feelings toward her or anything like that. I wasn’t trying to steal all of my father’s attention or anything. She just didn’t seem to like me.”
Daisy frowned, a crease forming in the space between her eyebrows. She had exceptionally smooth skin that I could practically feel underneath my fingertips.
“Of course she didn’t like you,” I said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“I can just imagine you as a teenager. Most stepmothers aren’t going to be wild about their new husband’s teenage daughter.”
“Why not?”
Was she really this naïve or just playing dumb? “Because women are jealous and territorial, that’s why. Because she’d feel competitive with you, even if you two are vying for two completely different types of your father’s affection.”
“Well, I never wanted to take anything from her. I thought it would be weird if I had these siblings out there that I’d never met, but I guess that’s really how it’s going to be, because she wants it to be, and he doesn’t seem like he’s willing to stand up to her. But I understand. I wouldn’t want the conflict, either.”
“He’s pussy whipped.”
She blushed.
“Really,” I said. “And maybe that’ll make it so your feelings aren’t as hurt. It’s not you—it’s the fact that his new wife is insecure, and your dad is pussy whipped.”
“Could we please not talk about my dad and pussy in the same sentence?”
Mmm, just hearing the word out of her mouth made me hard. But she was obviously uncomfortable. If she was such a freak in bed, as Jonathan claimed, then there’s no way something like that would have made her so uncomfortable. Perhaps I should try to suss that out, too, and maybe while I was at it, figure out which positions were her favorite. Though that probably wouldn’t be the sort of report that Jonathan was looking to get back from me.
“We don’t need to talk about our fathers,” I said. I glanced over at the clock. “You know, the workday is just about over. Want to go get a drink?”