Come and Get Me

by Julie Cannon

  A few minutes after nine, she walked into her office, almost running into a maintenance man on his way out. She was calm outside but seething within. “Good morning,” she greeted Teresa, as if all was well.

  Her assistant returned the greeting, only hers didn’t sound phony. “How was the party?”

  “You know,” Elliott replied. “Same food, same faces, same pleadings for money.”

  “Good God, Elliott, it’s barely nine o’clock in the morning and you’re in a shitty mood. You need to turn right around and go back out the door you just came in, and this time, shuck the attitude.” Teresa steadied her eye contact, not afraid to confront her boss.

  Elliott gave a wry smile and dropped into the guest chair across from Teresa’s desk. Teresa had been her assistant for several years, and in that time they had shared their experiences with men, women, lust, heartbreak, and an occasional skirting of obsessive lovers. They could talk about anything and generally did. Elliott treated her more like a friend than an employee, and in return, Teresa kept Elliott’s life in order.

  Letting her briefcase slide out of her hand and fall to the floor, Elliott leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and hiding her face in her hands. She felt even smaller than she had when she’d screamed at the frantic mother earlier. Is there anyone else I can piss on this morning?

  “Jesus, Teresa. What is going on with me? Know what I did this morning? I screamed at a lady who was on the way to the hospital with her sick baby.” Elliott still could not believe she had acted so horribly.

  Teresa frowned at her. “You did what?”

  Elliott leaned back against the chair, feeling exhausted before the day had begun. She relayed the ugly events of her encounter with the woman an hour earlier. “She was on the phone with her pediatrician, who was telling her to get the baby to the hospital immediately, and I’m screaming in her face to hang up.” If she could have rolled into a ball and disappeared at that moment, she would have.

  “That’s deplorable.” Teresa’s disgust was clearly evident. “I’ve never known you to do anything like that, and you’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

  Teresa was right—since taking over the reins at Foster McKenzie, Elliott had never once lost her temper or overreacted to any situation, however challenging. On the contrary, when it came to her work and particularly her actions in the office, she had the demeanor of a saint and the patience of molasses in winter. Nothing shook her or caused her to react the way she had this morning. At least, not until the steady decline in her mood over the past few weeks.

  She picked up her briefcase and slowly rose from the chair. “I need a vacation. Maybe someplace warm and tropical with an unending supply of drinks with those little umbrellas in them.”

  “Yes, and served by bikini-clad blondes,” Teresa added, knowing her too well.

  Elliott thought for a moment. “No, I need to stay away from women, particularly the bikini-clad ones, for a while.” She suspected from Teresa’s expression that her face had given her away.

  “What else is bothering you?” Teresa hesitated. “Has Rebecca contacted you again?”

  Elliott had confided in Teresa after Rebecca left seventeen phone messages in the span of three days and would not let Teresa take a message other than The bitch better call me.

  Elliott grimaced at the thought of their conversation two days ago. “She showed up at my door Saturday night and I didn’t handle it very well. Now she’s really pissed at me, and Ryan is pissed at me. And you’re pissed at me, and I’m pissed at myself for not keeping my mouth shut.” The list was even longer, in reality. But Elliott didn’t want to think about her nasty-minded brother-in-law and his latest attempts to rock the boat at Foster McKenzie.

  “I’m not pissed at you, Elliott,” Teresa sympathized. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through with her. What does she want this time?”

  “Three hundred thousand dollars.” Elliott dealt with amounts larger than this on an hourly basis, but there were no personal principles at stake in those transactions.

  “For what?”

  “For half a dozen spins in the sack.” Teresa’s expression made Elliott revise her explanation to be a bit less crude. “I think her exact words were something along the line of to make me go away.”

  “You aren’t considering it, are you?” Teresa asked.

  One of the traits that she admired most about Elliott was her honesty and integrity. She didn’t think her boss would cave in to blackmail, but at this point she wasn’t sure. She sensed that Elliott had been more affected by Rebecca’s threats than she was letting on. Elliott always set an example of professionalism and never allowed her personal life to interfere. She was as tough as they came in her business dealings, but always fair. Teresa admired anyone who could manage the intricacies of hosting a conference call while answering e-mails and ordering lunch and never miss a beat; however, she thought that Elliott was in a class of her own for more important reasons, namely the checks she signed on a monthly basis in the folder marked Our Future. These generous donations went out to several children’s organizations, and Elliott never sought publicity for them. Teresa’s heart ached to see a woman who was so giving and good-hearted be involved with someone as ugly as Rebecca.

  “Absolutely not. I will not give that gold digger what she wants.” Elliott paused. “Oh, yeah, I’m expecting a call from Ryan later this morning to chew my ass again, so put him through.”

  The thick carpet muffled the sound of Teresa’s footsteps five minutes later, and Elliott was startled when a cup of coffee appeared in front of her. “Thanks,” she murmured, not looking up from the pile of papers she was reading.

  “You’re welcome. A Lauren Collier called just before you came in, by the way.” Elliott’s head jerked up so fast Teresa drew back. “Uh-oh, does she have something to do with Rebecca?”

  “Did you say Lauren Collier?” At Teresa’s nod she said, “No, she has nothing to do with Rebecca. At least not that I’m aware of. Jeez, I hope she doesn’t. Did she say what she wanted?”

  Elliott was surprised at her reaction to the mention of the beautiful woman from Saturday night. She normally didn’t receive personal phone calls at her office, and she was certain that she had not given Lauren her number. A strange tingling trickled through her veins at the knowledge that Lauren had gone to the trouble of tracking her down.

  Teresa placed the pink While You Were Out note near the top of the black blotter covering Elliott’s desk. “She asked that you give her a call. She has a meeting till eleven but then she’ll be free after that.”

  Elliott reached for the message. “What was the maintenance guy doing in here? Is it the air-conditioning again?”

  Teresa paused on her way out. “I didn’t call anyone. He said it was routine maintenance.”

  Elliott glanced around the vents. At least this guy had tidied up after himself, unlike the last one. She stared at the opposite wall, strangely unmotivated to work. She had two hours to kill before she could phone Lauren, enough time to meet with a couple of senior staff members and ensure the presentation for their client meeting tomorrow was finished. Yet she was hopelessly distracted. Annoyed with herself, she pictured her grandfather sitting right here behind this same cherrywood desk. What would he think of her now?

  It didn’t take much imagination for her to hear the patriarch telling her that it was about time she grew up and assumed the responsibility that was her birthright. She hadn’t known the old guy very well, but he seemed to come alive when he entered this office and Elliott knew she had inherited that gene. She loved what she did; she was good at it and could hardly wait to come into work most mornings. But today all she wanted was for the hands on the Waterford clock to move. With a gloomy sigh, she turned her attention to a stack of files and forced herself to focus on business.

  *

  Across town, on the forty-second floor of the Bradley & Taylor building, Lauren was also sitting in her office, but she was
not alone. She was struggling to keep her mind on what was being discussed by the three people seated around her conference table. Lauren was always focused when she was working, but her mind kept drifting back to the stunning tuxedo-clad woman she had met two nights before. Something about Elliott Foster had colonized her thoughts and she wasn’t sleeping well because of it. But what troubled Lauren even more than tiredness and a loss of concentration was her uncharacteristic behavior this morning, when she’d picked up the phone and called Elliott.

  Lauren never did anything without thinking it through ad nauseam, and she certainly would never waste any time on someone as fickle as Elliott. Lauren had seen her cycle through anger, rudeness, frustration, humility, and the ever-present charm and, inexplicably, she found each more enthralling than its precursor. Yesterday she’d spent hours searching the Internet for information about the intriguing woman. Fortunately for Lauren, there was an abundance of material, and a few articles even openly referred to Elliott as a lesbian. Those that did echoed what she’d pried from Alan and provided a few additional juicy tidbits.

  The more she read about Elliott, the more she wanted to know until she finally dragged her bleary eyes to bed well after midnight. She was totally dumbfounded when she found herself speaking with Elliott’s assistant first thing this morning. Wasn’t it enough that she’d researched the CEO of Foster McKenzie as if a lawsuit could come out of it?

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lauren was embarrassed to have lost track of the conversation. Focus, Lauren. She banished all thoughts of Elliott from her mind as the question to her was repeated for the third time.

  “He should go.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Lauren didn’t know whether to laugh or smack Thomas Merison over the head with a brick. He had just asked if he could fire an employee because he was queer, as he put it. Merison was the chief financial officer and a twenty-three-year employee of Bradley & Foster.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I can’t have that kind of disruption in my organization.”

  From their first meeting, Lauren knew this guy was a pompous ass who wouldn’t know a progressive thought if it bit him in the butt. He was so far to the right he was soon going to fall off the face of the earth. This guy and his attitude need to suffer extinction. She smothered a smile.

  Lauren knew John Briggs, the employee in question, and admitted to herself that he was a flamer, but she had never heard any complaints about him. On the contrary, he seemed to have a good working relationship with his peers and she often saw him in the cafeteria, sitting at a table full of his coworkers. She cocked her head. “And exactly what kind of disruption is happening?”

  “It’s so obvious,” Merison said as if that was the answer to it all.

  “And?”

  Merison was no good at hiding his emotions. “What do you mean and? He prances around the office all nelly-like with his limp wrist and swaying hips. He’s always chatting and giggling. And those clothes.”

  An image of Merison dressed in a Victoria’s Secret teddy flashed in Lauren’s mind. She took a large swallow of her coffee to erase that scary thought. “Have you received any complaints about his work?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not causing disruption. People are probably afraid to say anything.”

  “And why would that be?”

  Merison looked at Lauren as if she were stupid. “They are afraid that he would start rumors and say that they were queer too.”

  I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation. This guy is a moron.

  Merison continued with his justification. “I have to answer to the federal government. This company has an impeccable reputation and I intend to keep it that way. I run a tight ship and I don’t stand for any dissension in my ranks.”

  So far the third member at the table, their CEO Charles Comstock, had not uttered a word during this topic of conversation. Lauren glanced at him, inviting his opinion, but he remained silent, so she said, “From what you’ve told me, you can’t fire him, Thomas.”

  “What more do you need?”

  Stay calm. Remember this guy is an idiot. “First of all, Thomas, the term is gay. Second, it’s against the law to fire him solely on the basis of suspicions about who he might date in his own time. Third, this company and you personally can be sued for simply uttering the word queer in this context.” Lauren was sure to emphasize the you personally in her last comment. “Fourth, no one has complained, either officially or unofficially. And finally, you have no grounds for termination.”

  “What do you mean no grounds?” Merison’s back had stiffened, and Lauren could actually see the Windsor knot in his tie tighten.

  “I mean you haven’t shown me anything that he has done that would justify termination. His performance is exemplary. You’ve said so yourself in his last three performance reviews.” Lauren indicated the file sitting in front of her. “No one has complained and he hasn’t violated any company policy. He has done nothing wrong,” she said with finality.

  Merison turned a pleading look toward the CEO, who finally spoke. “Now, Lauren, surely there is something we can do here?”

  She didn’t miss the inflection in his question nor the expectation he had that she would support Merison’s position. Lauren knew her next comment would be a defining point of her career at Bradley & Taylor.

  “No, Charles, there is nothing we can do. We cannot fire him for simply being gay. I will not support a position that is unethical, not to mention morally wrong.” She watched as both men tightened their eyes at her last statement as if seeing her for the first time, and she knew she had just stepped into a minefield.

  “Lauren—”

  “It’s obvious that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but it’s my decision nonetheless.” In her opinion there was nothing more to be said about it.

  The two men rose from her table. Merison spoke through tight lips. “All right, I’ll accept that for now, but I can guarantee that Mr. Nelly-Fairy will be a problem. You can mark my words on that.”

  Before he stepped away from the table, Lauren stood and nailed him with her eyes. “Thomas, my advice to you as chief counsel is to stop using inappropriate terms and stop making derogatory comments about an employee of this company.”

  Lauren collapsed onto the small sofa in her office. “Holy Christ. I think I’m in deep shit now.” There was no one in the room to confirm her observation.

  *

  Elliott could swear that the hands on the crystal clock had not moved in the past hour. The papers on her desk had moved from one side to the other, giving the appearance of completion when in fact they had not even been read. Finally, after an hour, she gave up the pretense of getting any work done and went in search of something to eat. When she returned, Teresa handed her a pink message note. Lauren Collier had called again. She was now out of her meeting.

  Elliott didn’t wait to hear if there were any other messages. She hurried into her office and shut the door behind her. She had never felt this type of apprehension before making a phone call. Every day she made calls that could change the course of people’s lives, but this feeling was totally foreign to her. As she dialed, her mind raced through various reasons why Lauren might have called and what she wanted but went completely blank when the line started ringing. Elliott tried to rehearse what she intended to say, but got stuck at “hello.”

  Lauren was opening a file that was at least two inches thick when the phone began to ring. Jesus, why can’t we lawyers just say something in fifty pages or less? It rang several times before she remembered that her assistant, Michelle, was in the copy center making the necessary copies of the material Lauren needed for her meeting tomorrow morning.

  “Lauren Collier,” she answered distractedly.

  “It’s Elliott Foster.” Why am I so nervous?

  Lauren’s heart began to race at the sound of the rich, smooth voice on the other end of the line. She let the folder drop back on her desk and rem
oved her reading glasses. “Hi. Uh, thanks for calling me back.” That was stupid. Why wouldn’t she call me back?

  “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. I finally succumbed to an insatiable craving for a Snickers bar and went down to the snack shop in the lobby.”

  Lauren could hear the smile in Elliott’s voice. “Personally, I’m addicted to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” she admitted guiltily.

  “Ah, you see, no matter how grown-up or how successful we are, we all have our hidden vices.” Elliott laughed.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” Lauren said as though the secret was a matter of national security.

  “Deal.” Elliott didn’t really know what to say next.

  Lauren held back a nervous chuckle. She felt absolutely ridiculous, scared, and as excited as she had been in years. “I wanted to let you know that I accept your apology.” The pause on the other end made her nervous.

  Finally, the soft voice answered, and Lauren relaxed her death grip on the receiver. “Thank you. I was kind of worried. I was afraid I was gonna have to tell my sister that I made an ass out of myself and she would give me holy hell for weeks until I made amends. And trust me, that would not be a pretty sight.”

  “I’m glad I saved you from her wrath. Does she have many opportunities to fuss at you like that?” This insight into Elliott’s life was fascinating to Lauren.

  Elliott glanced over at the photo of Stephanie that sat prominently on the corner of her desk. “More than I’d like, but not as much as she used to. I’ve settled down quite a bit in the last few years, and she now focuses her attention on matchmaking among her friends. I don’t think they’re completely thrilled about it.” Elliott’s heart rate increased when she heard Lauren laugh. What a wonderful sound.