by Amali Rose
Following the sound of the gruff intonations, I find myself standing in the doorway to an office that is roughly the same size as my apartment. Leaning against the doorframe, I fold my arms across my chest and feel my eyes narrow as I take in the man in front of me. He’s hot. The so-hot-I-would-strip-naked-and-blow-him-if-he-even-looked-in-my-direction type of hot. His light brown hair is a tousled mess. Judging by his demeanour this is most likely the result of him running his hands through it in exasperation, however, it looks more like the hair of someone freshly fucked. His skin is sun kissed to perfection, and there is a light scruff covering his jaw that I instinctively want to lick. But more than his physical appearance, it’s the way he holds himself. He grips the phone receiver in his right hand, and talks in a calm voice that belies the antagonism his features portray. As he listens to the voice on the other end, his eyes glaze over with a hint of malice, while a slight sneer lifts his lip. I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of a turn on. I find myself subconsciously licking along my bottom lip before realising and putting it on lock down. A man in a suit is not for me, no matter how fuckable, or lickable, he may be.
I notice Mason see me out the corner of his eye, and I try to school my features into an acceptable look of deference. I’ve learned over the years that it helps if the employer at least feels like they’re the one in charge. Even if that is usually far from the truth.
He swivels his chair around, so he is facing me as he brusquely ends his conversation. As his heated gaze meets mine, I clench my thighs together and do my best to contain the shiver that travels down my spine.
“You’re late.” His tone is harsh, and the hostility in his voice gives me a moment of pause. I promised Skye I would be nice to the assmunch, but seriously, if he wants to play it this way, then my inner bitch is ready to throw down.
“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine,” I state, sardonically.
“I expect my assistant here at eight o’clock sharp, Miss. Jensen. Not,” he raises the cuff of his shirt to check the time on what I imagine is a six-billion-dollar Rolex, “eight fifty-seven.”
I mentally assess the situation. I honestly hadn’t planned on getting off to such a rocky start, so I figure it’s time to play the friend card. Let’s give Mr. Alexander a gentle reminder that I am indeed doing him a favor.
“So, you’re Spanky’s best friend, huh?” My stare is assessing. “Hmm… I don’t see it.”
Mason’s eyes spark with something indecipherable. Something that I find myself desperately wanting to figure out.
“And why is that?”
“I mean, Ben is so goofy, and you…” I trail off as I try to decide how best to phrase the next part. How do I politely say you have a stick up your ass? “You seem to be more of a stick-up-your-ass type of guy.” Yep, nailed it.
His eyes dance with amusement, but only for a brief moment, before the shutters come down.
“Your desk is out there.” Mason points to a desk in the outer office that faces his door. “You should find everything you need. I’m in meetings all day today, and am not to be disturbed under any circumstances. My real assistant’s phone number is on the desk. She has asked that you call her first thing, so she can run you through some things. One of which will be how to best deal with me, I’m sure.” I nod as I take in everything he’s throwing at me.
“Put me through to Samuels on extension three, and then get me a coffee. Black, one sugar. Kimberly can show you where the kitchen area is. Actually, she can show you where everything is. I don’t have time today. Thank you, Miss. Jensen.” And just like that I am dismissed.
Making my way to my new desk, I am already plotting the many ways I can make Sunshine’s life miserable. Although, I really do need this pay check, so I may have to settle for slightly uncomfortable. Oh well, I can have fun with that too.
“Skyeballs, you need to relax, everything is going fine.” I huff out a sigh of exasperation.
“Are you sure? Because the way I hear it, Mason has developed a serious aversion to coffee.” Skye quirks an eyebrow, and her voice is full of condemnation, so I do my best to suppress a smile.
“Look, I’m new. I’m still learning where everything is, that was a complete accident.” My eyes widen in an effort to convey innocence.
“You put salt in his coffee, instead of sugar. Twice.”
“Ugh, Balls, they were right next to each other. That’s just asking for trouble.”
“Get help, Cass.” She raises a hand to silence my protestations. “Get. Help.”
I snort out a laugh as I raise my glass to my lips, grateful that Skye clearly hasn’t heard about any of my other “accidents”. Three weeks in, and tormenting Mason has become a definite perk of this job.
Turning slightly, I let my eyes wander over the crowd in Maybe Mae’s. It’s surprisingly busy for a Wednesday night and, as always, the clientele is a varied mix of characters, which is one of the things I love most about this cocktail bar. Stopping short, my eye twitches involuntarily as I notice a tall, bearded man leaning against the back wall, engrossed in conversation with an equally hipster-looking guy. Shit. I swing myself back around on the stool to face the bar, and find Skye sipping on her second Pina colada, deep in discussion with the bartender, Ashley.
Pulling on her sleeve, I throw Ashley an apologetic look before interrupting. “We need to go. Now.” I’m up and on my feet, grabbing my purse and putting on my coat, all before Skye has even placed her glass back on the bar.
“What? Why?”
“I’ll explain in a minute, just move!” I hastily grab her things and throw them at her as I take hold of her elbow and drag her out of the bar.
We practically fall out into the street, and Skye immediately turns on me. “What the hell was that all about, Cass?”
Taking hold of her hand, I pull, and we fall in with the crowd, moving forward and away from what would have been an ugly confrontation.
“Dash was there.”
“Dash, your boyfriend, Dash?” Skye’s confusion is evident.
“He was never my boyfriend, babes, you know that.”
“Were you dating him regularly?”
“Yes.”
“Were you sleeping with him?”
“Well, I was fucking him, not a lot of sleeping was had.” I roll my eyes.
“Were you doing both of these things exclusively, for more than three months?”
I sigh in resignation. “You know we were.”
“Then he was your boyfriend, Cass, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Jesus, fine, but you can now consider him my ex-boyfriend, okay?”
Skye links her arm with mine, and leans her head on my shoulder. It’s comforting, I admit, but it also makes walking fucking difficult.
“What happened?” Her voice is soft, and holds that imploring tone that always seems to get me spilling my guts.
“It didn’t feel right, so I ended it. End of story.”
“Okay.” She lifts her head and stares at me, but I refuse to make eye contact, instead keeping mine fixed straight in front of me. “What didn’t feel right?”
“Drop it, Balls, okay. I don’t want to talk about it.” I feel her instinctively tense up, and she pulls away from me.
“Would you drop it if the roles were reversed, Cassidy? No, you would be on my ass until I gave you every last detail. So, spill.”
I hate that she’s right. I would never let her get away with shit like this. We tell each other everything. But I’m so tired of the whole game lately. Meet someone who seems like a good guy. Have fun. Get attached. Then discover said guy is nothing like he presented to you. They lie. They use. They manipulate. And then when they’re done, they make you the villain so they can walk away with a clear conscience. I’ve grown weary of it all, and it’s so much easier to cut and run before I get hurt.
“He just isn’t right for me. I don’t know why, he just isn’t…”
“Aidan?” Shock causes my ey
es to snap to hers, and I feel like she’s punched me in the gut. No one has said his name to me in a long time. We tiptoe around the subject, talking in metaphors, dancing around it in an effort to allow me to maintain the facade of someone who has moved on. But I haven’t, and Skye is absolutely right. I had the perfect guy. My first love was perfect, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to replace that with something that doesn’t ignite my heart, the way he did. I’m not even sure I want to try anymore.
“Balls, please,” I beseech her.
“Okay, I’ll drop it. Just let me say one thing. Please.”
“Can I stop you?”
“Nope.” She pulls me back into her, offering me support, both physically, and emotionally.
“Aidan was a wonderful boy, and he loved you intensely. But you were both nineteen, you were so young, and everything is intense and passionate when you’re nineteen. I know that you loved each other fiercely, and what happened destroyed you. But do you ever wonder if you’re idealizing him?” I feel the denial bubbling up in my throat, but Skye continues before I can verbalize it. “You two had only been together for four months, Cass. You hadn’t really experienced anything as a couple yet. You hadn’t ever had to fight for each other, or with each other. I’m worried you’re rejecting amazing guys because they can’t live up to the memory of a ghost.”
As the words leave Skye’s mouth, I can’t help thinking of Mason, which has been happening more than I care to admit lately. He’s the polar opposite of Aidan, and yet I can’t ignore the way he excites my mind. He’s everything I never wanted in a man. Plus, if I’m being honest, my pussy is kind of a fan too.
“I hear what you’re saying, Skyeballs, and I promise to consider it. Can we change the subject now, please?”
“Ugh, fine!” She takes hold of my hand and we walk in silence for a few minutes. “Oh, wait. Why did we have to run from Dash? I mean I get that it would have been uncomfortable, but your race to get us out of there was a bit excessive.”
“Um, he didn’t really care for the way I broke up with him.” My voice carries a meekness that it so very rarely holds.
“Cassidy Jensen, what did you do?”
I consider how I'm going to answer this. She's definitely not going to like the answer, and in hindsight it probably wasn't my finest moment, no matter how good my intentions were. “I broke up with him with a fruit basket.”
“You what?!” Her voice has that annoying screechy quality it gets when she’s appalled by my behaviour.
“What? He likes fruit! I thought it would kind of help let him down gently.”
“And?”
“It did not. I have many angry voicemails that can attest to that.”
“Oh my god, Cass, what am I going to do with you?” She throws her hands up, and I can’t help but laugh at her indignation.
“Tolerate me, Balls. You’re going to keep tolerating me.” I plant a giant kiss on her cheek, before pulling away. “Now, let’s get you home to Spanky.”
Mason
I lift my coffee cup to my nose and take a sniff. What the fuck are you doing, Alexander? It’s not like I could smell the salt, even if she had added it again. Sighing, I decide not to risk it. As I place the mug on my desk, the intercom buzzes, startling me. Mocha liquid spills over my desk. “Fuck!”
Turning to my left, I see Cassidy smirking at me through the open door. “What!” I thunder. Shaking her head, she points to the phone. Fuming, I reach over to press the intercom button. “This better be good.”
“There’s a Rhonda Carter on the phone for you, Mr. Alexander.” Her voice is all sweetness and light. A stark contrast to the devil horns that must be hidden under those cotton-candy locks.
“Thank you. Grab some paper towels, and get in here to clean this mess up.”
The phone buzzes again. “What?” I bite out in exasperation.
“What’s the magic word, Sunshine?” comes the lilting reply.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and count to ten. “Please.”
“Be right there.”
Sighing, I grab the phone receiver and bring it to my ear. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Hi, honey. I’m just calling to make sure you’ll be at dinner tomorrow night. I didn’t want you to forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Mom, it’s on my calendar, I’ll be there.”
There’s a pause before my mother’s voice finds my ear. “You sound stressed, Mason. Are you okay?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to stem the headache I feel approaching, I consider her question.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. We’re close to finalizing the Thompson account, so there’s been a lot of late nights. Plus, Tanya’s baby has been unwell, so my second assistant has had to step up and work more days. Which in itself has been stressful. There’s a bit of tension there, I’m afraid.”
“With Cassidy?” My mother can’t disguise the surprise in her voice, although I doubt she tried to.
“Miss. Jensen. Yes.”
“Oh my goodness, Mason. That girl is delightful. We just had a long chat before she put me through to you.”
Looking up, I watch as Cassidy enters my office and walks over to my desk. She moves slowly, deliberately. Her hips swaying in a way that I have no business noticing. Reaching me, she pulls my chair out, and rolls me away, before leaning over and wiping up the coffee remnants. Her ass swings in front of me, in a way I find wholly captivating, and I feel my eyes following each movement; wondering what that ass would look like as I slapped it while slamming into her from behind. Would she scream out, or would she bite down on a pillow and moan silently? Feeling my dick start to stir, I shake my head and attempt to drag myself out of the gutter my mind seems intent on crawling into.
“Is that so? A long chat?” With her back to me, Cassidy stills at the sound of my words. Straightening, she turns around and bestows a smile upon me that could light up Times Square, before throwing me a wink and making her way out of my office.
“She really is very sweet, Mason, you need to not be so tough on people. The job isn’t the be all and end all for everyone the way it is for you. Some people like to enjoy their work, you know.”
I ignore the wry tone in her voice as I automatically jump to defend myself. “I enjoy my work, Mom.”
“Do you?” Her voice is soft, and somewhat hesitant. “You haven’t seemed happy for a while now, Mase. Since the promotion, really. You know it’s okay to admit you’re not fulfilled. It’s never too late to make a change. You’re still so young, and you’ve set yourself up financially. Don’t stagnate in a melancholy life, just because you’re afraid to admit you made a mistake, my sweet boy.”
I feel my stomach drop as my mother puts into words everything I’ve been feeling. The consuming fear that I’ve wasted my life chasing something that will never satisfy me. And how incredibly pissed off that makes me.
“Well, that got very deep, very quickly! Don’t mind me, sweetheart. I just worry that’s all.” I hear her try to inject enthusiasm into her words and notice how strained she sounds.
“You sound tired, Mom. What’s been going on?”
“Oh, just these night shifts. I’m getting too old for them,” she replies with a soft chuckle. With those words I’m reminded exactly why I have busted my ass since I was ten years old, to end up right where I am. The hours of study to earn the scholarships. The hours of overtime to prove myself.
“I thought you were going to scale back your shifts, not pick up nights. If you need money just tell me.”
“It’s not your job to take care of me, Mason.” My mother’s voice is stern, and I can imagine the vexed look she is wearing right now.
“Mom, you’ve taken care of me my entire life. Now I’m in a position where I can help you. Let me.” The light on my phone for extension three begins flashing, reminding me of all the work I have to do before I can leave the office tonight. “I’m sorry, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart. I love you.”
“Love you too.” Leaning over to answer my other line, I make a mental note to transfer some cash into my mother’s account tonight.
“Yes?”
“Mason, we have a problem, man. Thompson has found an issue with clause eighty-seven ten in the contract, and is threatening to pull out of negotiations.”
“Shit. Okay, get Stacey, Rob, Joel, Anthony and Joanne assembled in conference room one right now. Let them know it’s going to be a late one and apologize.”
“On it.” Samuels hangs up and I take a deep breath while I try to formulate a game plan. Suddenly feeling constricted, I loosen my tie and undo the top two buttons of my shirt. Fuck, I can’t breathe. Pushing away from my desk, I grab my cell phone and pocket it before walking out of my office, mentally making a list of the documents I need Cassidy to gather. Spotting her in front of the window, talking on her phone in a hushed tone, I stalk over, ready to ream her out. Noticing her hunched shoulders and the tension in her jaw, I pull up short and unabashedly eavesdrop on her conversation.
“Bubs, calm down, it’s going to be okay, I promise.” Her voice is gentle, and full of compassion for whoever is on the other end of the line. This is a side to her I haven’t seen before; I’m more familiar with the antagonistic persona that I seem to bring out in her.
“Lay, breathe, baby. Is Evie there with you? Okay good, just hold tight, bubs, I’ll be there as soon as work is finished. Please don’t cry.” Her body slumps as if overcome with fatigue, and I watch in wonder as this person who has become an intrinsic part of my life over this past month, morphs into someone completely unrecognizable. My chest tightens as this bold, passionate, slightly crazy woman is brought to her knees in empathy for someone she obviously cares for. My conscience gets the best of me, and I move away to give her some privacy, but in doing so, I inadvertently bump into her desk, causing a little cupcake figurine to topple over.