Seven Books for Seven Lovers
Page 17
“Okay, then how do you plan on getting another job? You did quit in a pretty unprofessional fashion in a very public venue. People in our field tend to remember that sort of thing.” Josh shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the floor. I glimpsed the flattened cardboard over his shoulder. That wasn’t backed-up recycling. Those were leftover boxes, the kind you harassed grocery stores into giving you when you were packing up.
“You’re moving?” I exclaimed.
“Well, you said it yourself. This is the sort of thing that will follow me. Ray said he would give me a good recommendation, but I’m probably going to have to move somewhere without connections to here.”
“You were just going to move,” I scoffed, anger surging through my chest until I thought my heart would lurch up through my rib cage like something out of Alien. “You were going to leave and not say anything, about Rowley or any of this. You were going to leave me wondering what I’d done to chase you off, what I’d done wrong.”
“Sadie, I—”
“Don’t you ‘Sadie’ me, you jackass!”
“I didn’t want to hurt you! There just wasn’t time to explain!”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I told him. “I don’t have anything to say to you right now.”
I strode toward the door before I threw anything that couldn’t be unthrown. “You know what, that’s not true. I do have something to say. You left Atlanta before, when things got hard. If you leave us—and by that, I don’t mean the lovely people we work with, but us, you and me—if you leave now, it’s going to become a habit.”
No response. He continued to stand in the kitchen, his back to me, not saying a word.
“We’re going to be hiring a new assistant director and I can choose my replacement. If you want it, the job is yours. I’m accepting résumés, but so far the applicant pool has been frighteningly low on guys who inspire me by being as irritating as possible. If I don’t fill the position by the end of the year, I’ll probably lose funding for it. So this is a limited-time offer.”
And still nothing. Just a longer view of Josh’s back. It was a perfectly nice back, but it was still pissing me off.
“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll send everybody your regrets.”
Snagging my bag, I stormed past the kitchen, toward the door, and he caught my elbow, yanking me close. His forehead brushed against my hair as he spoke. “It’s not easy,” he swore quietly. “I promise you. It’s not easy to leave. I just need to do things my own way.”
“Well, your way sucks,” I told him, pulling out of his grip.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek and another to my forehead, making me pull away entirely, out of reach. “Good-bye, Sadie.”
“Good luck, Josh.” I closed the door behind me without looking back.
In Which I Touch Potential Employees Inappropriately
11
If I never saw another résumé, it would be too soon.
People just didn’t know how to accurately assess and account for their strengths and weaknesses. And for the record, knowing how to set up programming on a TiVo is not a special skill. Also, putting your résumé on scented, floral paper is super annoying.
The interviews were not going well. Kelsey was sure I was violating several labor laws by giving hypothetical scenarios designed to measure the applicants’ “douche-bag factor.” But until she could show me the statute proscribing it, I would keep up the tactic. It had already helped me weed out several candidates who lost their cool and stomped out of the interview.
Some people are so touchy when it comes to questions about previous episodes of office espionage or personal flakery.
I was officially director, but we still hadn’t hired my replacement. I was fairly certain that with our current staff, I could get along without an assistant director, but I didn’t want to chance it. So far, the applicants had been underwhelming. They were either just out of college or had been in the marketing field for so long that they felt they had nothing to learn from me or my staff. Oddly enough, a member of each demographic group asked me whether they could just interview for the director’s job. Meaning my job—the job of the person interviewing them.
The closest I’d come to an acceptable match was Jill Worthen, a perfectly nice woman with ten years of experience in the field, including working for the Tennessee state parks system. She seemed motivated, positive, and focused on making local residents just as interested in the state’s resources as visitors. The problem was she was just like me. There would be too much agreement, not enough interplay. If working with Kelsey and Josh had shown me anything, it was that I needed challenges and strengths that complemented my weaknesses.
I was sitting at my desk in Ray’s old office, poring over Jill’s résumé and mentally cataloguing all of the reasons she would make a perfect addition to the staff, when Kelsey came through the door bearing bottled water and her sick kit.
“I know you still rely on me to be your inner mean girl, so I’m just going to say it. She bored the hell out of you, didn’t she?”
“She was so nice.” I sighed. “How can I not hire someone that nice, who knows how to do the job?”
“Because she bored the hell out of you,” she told me. “A few weeks in power and you’ve already started abusing it.”
I made a rude hand gesture at her, which she pointedly ignored.
“Come on, come on,” she huffed, pulling me up out of my chair and straightening my jacket. She pulled my cosmetics bag out of my desk drawer and began rummaging for powder. I looked down at the mini mouthwash bottle she’d shoved into my hand.
“I’m not feeling sick,” I told her. “I’m not nervous about hiring an assistant director. I need one too badly.”
“I just think it would be a good idea to put your best foot forward,” she said in a tone too nonchalant to be trusted. She brushed a fine layer of pressed powder over the bridge of my nose and handed me a coral lip gloss. “Don’t forget to blot.”
“I won’t,” I grumbled, swiping the gloss across my bottom lip.
“Just one more interview,” Kelsey promised. “And then I will drive you home so you don’t endanger the other drivers with stoplight hysterics.”
“I’m not having ‘stoplight hysterics,’ ” I protested. “That would imply that I’m just having hysterics at stoplights, which isn’t accurate.”
“Trust me, I know.” Poor Kelsey had been propping me up with foreign chocolate and non–Dr. Phil–approved pep talks for so long that it was wearing on her nerves. I hadn’t heard from Josh since my uninvited visit to his apartment weeks ago. And frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. What was I going to say? Please come back? You were wrong? I’m sorry that I may have overreacted to your absence in such a way that my cop cousins have arranged for you to be pulled over and ticketed at every opportunity?
“Buck up, little camper,” Kelsey cooed, “and there’s a Toblerone in it for you.”
“Stop patronizing me,” I grumped.
“I think we can both agree that’s not a good idea.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes and waited for the door to open. This interview was going to go well, I told myself. This time, I would behave like a professional. I would not make the potential employee afraid of the possibility of working for me. I would think optimistically instead of fine-combing their personality for flaws. The next person who walked through the door would be perfect for the job.
A familiar rat-a-tat-tat had me turning toward the door. My mouth dropped open as Josh walked in, wearing his good blue suit and my favorite blue-and-green-striped tie.
What. The. Hell?
I was torn between the urge to pole-vault over my desk and wrap myself around him like an affectionate squid and the urge to whip my nameplate at his head. He was okay? All these weeks, I was worrying about him, picturing him jobless and lost and possibly living in a refrigerator box, and he was okay? Hell, he looked tanned, happy, in his element. Other than a touch of int
erview nerves, he seemed to be doing just fine.
Josh tugged at his tie, as if he were any other nervous applicant who had not, in fact, seen the interviewer naked. “Ms. Hutchins? I’m here for my interview?”
I raised an eyebrow, barely catching a glimpse of a triumphant Kelsey peering through the door just before Josh closed it. I narrowed my eyes at her.
Josh gave me his most expectant, charming smile as he stood in front of my desk, briefcase in hand. My mouth hung open and I could not seem to make actual word sounds. I had no idea what to say. And his attitude would determine whether I forewarned him about the tickets.
Josh reached into his briefcase and pulled out a copy of his résumé, carefully placing it into my hands. I cleared my throat, deciding to play along. If we were going to role-play our way through this, I could at least enjoy one of these interviews. “Oh, of course. Mr. . . . ?”
“Vaughn.” He stretched his hand out to shake mine. “Josh Vaughn.”
His warm fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed them tight. Lord help me, my knees almost folded under me right there. I gave him a little squeeze back and then motioned to the chair opposite my desk. I sat in my own chair and primly folded my hands in front of me. “So, tell me about yourself.”
The most dreaded and lame of all interview questions. I was keenly interested in how Josh would make this bearable.
“Well, I’m a Kentucky native. I grew up in Ohio County. I’m familiar with the tourism industry here in the state and believe I could provide all of the support you need to produce successful campaigns. Kentucky has so much to offer. I think that the people here are unique and interesting, and we should do everything we can to preserve and promote that character.”
I smirked, recognizing the words I’d used to get things off to such a rough start on Josh’s first day. Josh preened.
So much for professional.
“And can you tell me a little bit about your last job?”
He grinned. “Well, I just got out of a position that I really enjoyed.”
“Really? Well, if the position was so enjoyable, why would you leave?” I asked, a bit more pointedly than I’d intended.
“Well, the fit wasn’t quite right,” he told me. “I think I need something with a little less control, a little less stress. It will give me time to learn a new style of campaigning. A bit more relaxed, user-friendly.”
I tilted my head, giving him a long, pensive once-over. “How would you feel about working under a woman?”
“I’m very comfortable under women,” he assured me, letting that thick molasses accent creep back into his voice. He lowered it, leaning closer as he grinned up at me. “Particularly pert, complicated brunettes with a penchant for historically accurate corsetry. I’m willing to put a lot of time and effort into making sure you’re satisfied.”
I shook my head, clucking my tongue as I stood and rounded the desk. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to show me exactly what you mean by that.”
And no, I didn’t care that I was re-creating every workplace-themed porn ever made. If working with Josh had shown me anything, it was that sometimes being direct, and a little vulgar, is the best route.
Bracing his hands against the desk, a palm placed on either side of my hips, he stood and hovered a hair’s breadth away from my face. His lips parted over that white, wide smile, and he nudged his nose along my cheek. He slipped his hands under my jaw and pressed his lips to mine. I sagged into him, ignoring the way my stapler was digging into my back while I wound my arms around his neck
“You were right. I’m so sorry,” he said, sighing against my lips. “I should have stuck around.”
“I’m going to need to hear that one more time.”
He kissed me again. “I’m sorry.”
“Nope, the other part.”
“You were right.” He rolled his eyes.
“What changed your mind?”
“I went back home to see my family, turned off the phone, and thought it through. I missed you. I missed this office and the people here. Everybody else I know is too damn normal. I don’t want to work with anyone else. I want to work with you.”
“Thanks,” I scoffed, trying to pull away from him to smack him or something, but he just held me tighter. “You’re sure you really want to work for me? It’s not exactly running your own firm. I don’t want to make you give up your dream.”
“Dreams can change, especially when you had them for the wrong reasons,” he said. “Besides, what good would it do, running my own firm, when I wouldn’t be able to take the team with me? I’d have secretaries who could make nonchewable coffee, interns without distinct personality disorders. Where’s the fun? I want to be with you. I want to work with you and watch you achieve these bizarre, wonderful visions of yours.”
I chuckled, running my fingers through his hair. “I missed you so much . . . It’s not as much fun without you here tormenting me. I . . . I don’t love you,” I told him. “I really like you. But I think we should actually, you know, go out on a few dates before we make the big pronouncement. And you will have to take me somewhere without cloth napkins, preferably with wall-mounted paper towel dispensers tableside.”
“That’s all I’ll be able to afford for a while anyway.” He snorted. “And I don’t love you either, by the way. I just want you to know that. I have strong feelings of like for you, that’s all. You being adorable, and gorgeous, and incredibly smart, and the only person who could possibly understand the way my twisted head works, those are just bonuses.”
“We would still need to put off dating for a while,” I said. “You know, the whole ‘unwelcome sexual advances’ thing. It’s one of those frowned-upon things that won’t exactly impress, hiring my new boyfriend as one of my first acts as marketing director.”
“So, we behave like normal people—for us—at the office, and then when we’re off the clock, you can make all the sexual advances you want. Trust me, they’re welcome,” he said. “Please let me come home, Sadie.”
I told him, “You’re putting yourself in an awfully weak position, you know. You don’t want to at least ask some questions or set some conditions? No special requests for vacation time or a parking spot?”
“Okay, I have two conditions,” he said, his hands settling at the small of my back. “One, I get to work with you from square one, so I can figure out your creative process. And two, whatever evil phobia-based revenge you have planned for C.J., you let me help.”
I grinned, just sharply enough to make Josh wince a little. “Actually, we don’t have to do anything to Rowley. He’s got enough problems to deal with.”
Josh frowned. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“Well, these are the sort of problems you wouldn’t post in the fraternity alumni newsletter. Let’s just say that some of Kelsey’s technologically gifted friends intervened on our behalf. And now the federal government is acutely aware that Rowley owes forty thousand dollars in back taxes, has six years’ worth of unpaid parking tickets, and has several bench warrants for failure to appear for those unpaid tickets.”
Josh’s mouth fell open. “Kelsey has friends that can change government records?”
I waffled my hand back and forth. “They didn’t so much change the records as flag them so Rowley’s problems would come to the attention of the court system and IRS sooner. Last I heard, Rowley came barreling out of his favorite bar to yell at some poor traffic cop for ticketing him—he was parked in a handicapped spot, by the way. The cops noticed the bench warrants and he was hauled away. And in front of all his friends, too.” I clucked my tongue and shook my head as if I felt some sympathy for the tool.
“Could you please tell Kelsey that we’re on good terms now?” Josh asked, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I have enough problems with my credit report.”
I laughed. “I think we can arrange that.”
Josh pressed his mouth to mine and pulled me into the office chair, into his lap. I presse
d my forehead against his while he twined his fingers through mine. “So do I get the job?”
“You’re hired,” I told him solemnly. “But we need to talk about your first Casual Friday.”
“What about it?”
I grinned wickedly. “Don’t forget your pom-poms.”
He frowned for a split second before he figured out my meaning. He groaned. “You’re not serious!”
“Of course I am; you lost. Therefore, you wear the cheerleader uniform.”
“You wouldn’t,” he scoffed as I crawled off my desk and rooted around in a drawer until I found a red-and-black bow. I tossed it to him, and he blanched when he saw the little U of L cardinal imprinted on the material.
“Try to put your hair into two tiny pigtails,” I told him. “For authenticity.”
“This isn’t funny, Sadie.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
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Afterword
If you are interested in visiting any of the locations or events described herein—and I hope you are—please visit the following Web sites:
Kentucky Department of Travel
www.kentuckytourism.com
Columbus-Belmont Park—For the record, there is no summer encampment. But the fall event is awesome.
www.parks.ky.gov/parks/recreationparks/columbus-belmont/default.aspx
Vent Haven Museum—Not nearly as creepy as Josh believes it to be. An extremely cool collection of showbiz history.
http://venthavenmuseum.com
Kentucky State Fair
www.kystatefair.org
My personal favorite sites in Kentucky:
Wickliffe Mounds
http://parks.ky.gov/parks/historicsites/wickliffe-mounds
Lost River Cave