by Karen Gordon
Round two starts off only slightly less embarrassing than round one; I hide in the ladies’ room from Joel. This is definitely not my finest moment. When I see him in the hall I duck quickly into the bathroom to avoid questions from him about the Marketing meeting. I wait what I consider a reasonable amount of time to pee and wash my hands then slink into my office.
Just when I think I’m completely in the clear I look up to see Joel coming out of Jack’s office. I’m guessing Jack is in there because Joel is smiling and turns back and says, “Looks great,” before walking in my direction. He glances at me as he passes my door, but his smile is gone.
“How’d the meeting go this morning?” My heart plummets. The fact that he’s asking me right after talking to Jack tells me he didn’t feel like he got the truth from Jack. I choose my words carefully.
“A little rocky, but it was our first meeting. Jack and I have a bit of a learning curve, but we’ve already started preparing for next week.” I motion to the paperwork on my desk. “We’re headed in the right direction.” I end on the most upbeat note I can.
He seems to be weighing my every word as he stands in my doorway silently for a minute. I’m holding my breath, too afraid to make any noise, more afraid of what he will say next.
Shockingly, he nods his approval. “Good.” I breathe out my massive relief. He even says, “Good job,” one more time before turning to leave.
I can’t imagine what his expectations were for that meeting if he thought that was good. I’m dying to talk to Jack now and see if I can get his take on this whole thing. With a notepad and pen in hand I knock on Jack’s door. He seems genuinely glad to see me.
“Viv!”
I cringe, “I really prefer Vivienne.”
“O-kay.” He seems a little annoyed by the correction, but brushes it off quickly. “So, another report, huh?” He looks down at the overstuffed-expanded folder on his desk.
“Just a recap of this morning’s meeting and some things to look at for next week.” No big deal—it’s just your job—and mine. “I also included a dossier on each of the marketing managers and their current projects. I forgot that you might not know them.” I choke on it a little, but add, “Sorry.” I need him to feel like we are on the same team, that I’ve got his back.
He fans the pages like it’s a flip book. “Wow, you are really thorough.” Then he casually tosses the report aside. “Tell you what, how about we do this the easy way.”
“Easy way?” This is a completely foreign term to me.
“Yeah. Why don’t you just tell me all this stuff. It’ll save you the time of making all these reports.” He motions for me to sit down.
Alright, he has a point, possibly a good point. If I can keep myself from constantly sniffing in his absolutely delicious cologne and starring at his dazzling brown eyes, this might work. We need to spend some time together and get to know each other better, in a business sense only, of course.
“OK, I can do that. Do you mind if I work off the report?” I reach for it. “I put it in a specific order and it would be easier if I could reference it.”
He hands it to me. “Knock yourself out.”
I settle myself in the chair, directly across from his desk and sort through the different sections in the folder. He puts his feet up on the desk, leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head as I open to the first page. He looks a little too relaxed and I’m not sure if we’re going to recap or I’m going to read him a bedtime story. Luckily, he keeps his eyes open.
It takes all afternoon just to get through the key players in his department and their backgrounds. He quizzes me like I’m on trial, rapidly firing questions and barely acknowledging my answers. By five p.m. I’m exhausted and we’re only about one third of the way through the folder. We haven’t started on the current projects and then there’s the pending work he needs to understand. I don’t want to be obvious and check my watch, so I’m relieved when he glances at the clock on his desk and stands like he’s ready to leave.
“We still have a lot to go over, huh?”
I looked down at the pile of papers on my lap. “Yeah, but we can start back in tomorrow morning.”
“Tell you what, why don’t we go grab a bite to eat and keep going?”
Like father, like son; asking questions and making suggestions that are anything but. He has that veiled-command thing down at least.
“Uh, sure.” I have no plans and this has been productive, so why not. “Let me get my coat and purse.”
“Great. I’ll pull my car around and meet you out front.”
“OK, I can follow you. Where do you want to go?”
“I’ll drive.” He fiddles with his car keys in his pocket. “Ever been to AJ’s?”
“On Tybee?” Is he crazy? It’ll take us like an hour to get there. It’s the height of rush hour. I don’t go to restaurants that are an hour out of my way, especially when I’m tired. There are hundreds of great restaurants downtown, where we can get to easily, and I can take my car, and remain in complete control.
I’m about to explain my better plan to him when déjà vu hits me. It’s me and Danny, fighting over my color-blocked moving timetable, fighting over doing things my way. My déjà vu is Danny telling me I need to let others take the lead sometimes. Jack and I will only have a work relationship, but it’s still a relationship and one I can’t afford to ruin.
“Sure, AJ’s is great.”
I reason that at least the place is super casual and except for their reputation as the place to watch a sunset, not exactly romantic. The food is excellent, so it really is a good place to have a bite to eat and, hopefully keep figuring out how we were going to work together.
“I haven’t been there in years,” I add, pushing myself to see the positive.
Damn, two ideas that were possibly, maybe a little, better than mine in one afternoon. Maybe I underestimated Jack.
Chapter Five
I try to hide my derisive smile when Jack pulls up to the front of the building. Maybe part of me was hoping he wouldn’t be so damn cliché. His car is black, low, sleek and looks like he took a wrong turn off a race course. I was going to hold it together and be polite, but then he opens my door. Specifically he presses a button and my door raised up and out. I snort out a very rude laugh and the smart-ass in me can’t resist commenting.
I drop my voice to a hoarse whisper and say, “Thanks, Batman,” as I get in.
He seems only mildly annoyed at me making fun of his car. As the door slides closed and he shoots away from the entrance he asks, “Do you know what kind of car you are in?”
“The Batmobile?” I try not to laugh again, but fail. He’s just so teenage-boy ridiculous with his flashy big-money toy. I feel like I’m riding in a movie prop. “Is your cape in the trunk?”
He glares at me. “You are riding in a Saleen S7.”
Clearly, I’m supposed to be impressed by the name, only I have no idea why. I look around at the souped-up interior and nod. “It’s pretty.” This is not the adjective he was looking for and he gives me a sideways smirk. He’s driving fast through side streets but the car feels solid and handles like a dream. “What’s it do?”
The patronizing look I get when he says, “it drives,” really chaps my cheeks.
I fix him in a Danny-worthy glare. “No, how fast does it go?” I say it slowly like he needs me to slow down, so he can understand--and possibly repeat it back to me when he fires me.
“Oh, two twenty.” He states with confidence.
“You’ve driven this car two hundred and twenty miles an hour?”
He backs down reluctantly. “No, I haven’t, but it can.”
“So how fast have you gone?”
“One twenty.” This is where I should let him know I’m impressed and drop it. I should--but I just can’t let him win. And there is the slight possibility that I’m really tired and really stupid, because I’m flirting with him.
“That’s…fast.�
� I concede and shrug.
“You’ve gone that fast?”
“No.” I smile at him. “I topped out at one o’five.”
“You drove over a hundred miles an hour?” He doesn’t believe me. “In what?”
“My dad’s car.”
He still doesn’t believe me. “Really? What’s he got?”
“Sixty-five Pontiac GTO with a three eighty-nine, three deuces and a four on the floor.
He looks over at me to see if I’m kidding, then starts to laugh. “What the hell is that?”
“A car.”
“Is that some sort of hillbilly Hot Wheels?”
The arrogant little fucker! He did not just say that! I’m seeing red and about to tear into him, when the end of my career flashes before my eyes. I decide to take the high road--sort of. I hold back on a tirade and instead tell him the truth, laced with a heaping dose of guilt.
“No, Jack, it was my dad’s pride and joy. He was an excellent mechanic and he rebuilt the whole thing. He left it to me when he died.”
Jack swallows his dose of guilt. “Sorry.”
Yeah, you should be, fucker. “It’s ok, you didn’t know.”
We ride in silence for a while. When we reach the marshlands he pulls into a Publix parking lot and announces, “Your turn.”
“My turn to what?”
He turns off the ignition and presses the buttons to open both our doors. “Your turn to drive.”
I’m not sure, but I think this is his way of apologizing, by sharing his expensive toy. I’m not about to turn it down. “Ok.” I get out and he hands me the key fob as we pass. “Anything I need to know before I start?”
“It’s fast.” We both laugh as we get back into the car and I start making adjustments. I find the buttons on the seat and move it up, then a little back down, then back up again. Forward then backward, then I adjust the tilt until I get it where I like it. The mirrors are next. Jack is watching me, incredulous.
“Do you want to read over the manual before you drive too?”
I smirk at him. “Cool your jets, I got this.” We sound a little like an old married couple, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I need to be able to shoot straight with him.
When I feel like I’m in the perfect position I press the button and the car roars to life. I can’t fight my giddy smile. This is fun.
I drive very slowly through the parking lot, getting a feel for the steering, brakes and accelerator.
Jack whines. “Gun it, Granny. Christ, I want some dinner tonight.”
I give it a little more gas and we’re off. Jack settles back in his seat, again looking like he’s about to nap. He has way too much confidence in me driving his car. I mean I’m a fantastic driver, but I can’t imagine what this beast costs. As I get more comfortable, I push my speed a little more and take corners a little faster. The car practically invites me to do it, hugging the road, all solid top-of-the-line engineering. Jack’s pretending to nap, but I see him smile a little as I whip around a final curve.
✈✈✈
My first clue that this isn’t really a business dinner is the scowl Jack gives me when I grab the prep work folder from behind the passenger seat. He takes it from me and wedges it behind the driver’s seat.
“How about we take a break from this stuff and just eat.”
I let it go, justifying that we have the rest of the week to prep for the next meeting and just getting to know each other is really important right now. Inside Jack is greeted by everyone who works there. He’s obviously a regular. Most shake his hand or slap him on the back, but when we reach the bar on the deck the bartender plants a smoldering wet kiss on him. This is interesting.
He doesn’t introduce me to anyone, even the stunning blonde he just locked lips with. I would think he would want to let her know we are not on a date. He chooses a large table where he can see her and the football game on TV. While I’m looking over the menu, he kicks back and accepts a beer delivered along with another kiss from bar blondie.
When she walks away I ask, “Girlfriend?”
He laughs and shakes his head like the idea is ridiculous. “Na, that’s just sass.”
“Sass? Her name is Sass?”
“No.” He smiles in her direction. She must have overheard us talking about her. “Her name is Savanah, she’s from Atlanta, living in Savannah. S-A-S, plus she is a sassy bitch.”
“And a human breathalyzer?”
He laughs at my joke, but then challenges me. “Why, you jealous?”
“Uh, no.” I make the idea sound repugnant. I don’t want there to be any doubt about us.
He studies me for a minute the nods. “The old asshole said you were smart.”
“The old asshole?” I know who he is talking about, but I’m shocked that he would call Joel that, especially to me. He must trust me not to pass that nickname along.
“My old man. He told me to keep my hands off you, said you were too smart for me, that you’d save my ass if I could keep my dick in my pants.”
Maybe it’s because we’re away from the office, but Jack is really loosening up. I can’t say I’m offended. I’m actually more flabbergasted and flattered by Joel’s crude compliment. But I still don’t want things to be too casual between Jack and me. We need to keep some sense of business decorum. I’m saved from having to reply by our waiter approaching the table.
“Hey Jack.” Of course he knows him too.
“S’up?” Jack’s dude-speak highlights the three-year age gap between us.
“Not much. Dozen and a po boy?”
“Sounds good.” Jack’s studying the football game, giving the waiter the minimum attention necessary.
When he finally notices me he asks, “What can I get you?” I order a crab burger and some tea. As we wait, Jack keeps watching the game and occasionally replies to a text. I’m starting to feel like I’m on a really bad date.
“So, is this your hang out?” I figure why not throw in a little bad-date banter.
He shrugs and finishes off his beer. Sass brings another before his empty glass can hit the table. Joel definitely hasn’t told him to keep his hands off her because he slides one up her leg and grabs her ass as she bends over to serve him. My bad non-date is getting worse.
I want to talk to him about business but one, he’s not interested, and two, he knows so little at this point there isn’t much to talk about. We sit in silence and I pretend to be interested in the football game. When the food arrives, Jack announces that he’ll, “be right back,” and walks away. Sass comes over and unnecessarily refills my tea.
“Hi, I’m Savanah.”
I smile at her. I want her to know I’m not the competition. “From Atlanta. He told me. I’m Vivienne, his new secretary.”
She seems relieved. “Oh, that’s right. He said he was going to start at JetStream. How’s it going?”
Now there’s a tough question. The best, honest answer I can come up with is, “Interesting.”
She laughs and casually walks away just as Jack returns.
Our food arrives. We eat. Jack watches TV, drinks beer and texts. I berate myself for not insisting that I bring my car. It’s a l-o-n-g dinner, at least for me.
When the game ends Jack gets up and fishes the key fob from his pocket. He tosses it to me. “Jace is gonna pick me up. Why don’t you take my car home and drive it in to work tomorrow.”
I’m staring at the fob on the table in front of me thinking of lots of great reasons why I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be responsible for the damn thing. I don’t want anyone to see me driving your car in the morning like some walk of shame. I’d rather run you over with it right now.
But I don’t get a chance to protest before Jack walks over to Sass, whispers something in her ear, then walks out onto the back dock. I have no idea what he is doing out there, until I hear a loud boat engine. In the dark I can just make out Jack climbing into a mega jacked-up cigarette boat. Jace is at the wheel and, once
Jack is onboard, he speeds off without so much as a “see you later.”
Chapter Six
To avoid a drive of shame in Jack’s car, I drive forty minutes out of my way to put his car in the company lot and get mine before going home. I have no idea how he plans to get to work the next day, and I really don’t care as long as he shows up.
I’m not exactly thrilled about him bailing on me, but I’m ten times more frustrated that it was a completely wasted evening. We didn’t prep for the next meeting as we had planned, and I really learned nothing about Jack, at least that I could use for work. When he hasn’t shown up by eleven I call Bob to see if he’s in town and can take me out for the super-expensive farewell lunch we never had. Amazingly, he’s at home and headed my way for a late afternoon flight to Japan. We make plans to meet at our favorite over-priced burger restaurant.
The best thing about being with Bob is that I don’t need to beat around the bush. He can read me and knows immediately that I’m stressed out.
He chuckles when he asks, “So, how’s that new boss of yours?”
I open my mouth to speak, but can’t, too many words want to come out at once. Bob nearly chokes on his iced tea laughing at me. “That good, huh?”
I grab his hand and sincerely ask him. “What the hell have I walked in to?”
He puts his hand over mine, a comforting gesture of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Vivienne. I had no choice.”
“No, I know. When Joel says jump, we all have to say how high.”
“Yeah, I loved working with you, but I love my job more. And it’s really your own fault, you know.”
What? Was he crazy? I never asked for this.
“You’re too damn good. Joel noticed. I bet he’s had his eye on you for a while, for Jack.”
I sigh realizing the truth in this. “In any case, I’m there now, and lost. What is with Jack? And Joel? They seem friendly but when they’re both in the office, there’s this tension on the floor that you could cut with a knife.”