It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Chick Lit

by S. E. Babin

  I’m not deluding myself that he would ever be interested in me, especially when a woman who looks like Sierra wants him, and especially after seeing pictures of his recent ex-girlfriend. He has a thing for breath-taking blondes, it seems. Tall, exciting blondes with bronzed, smooth legs and full lips. I am the opposite; I have short legs, that are pastier than anything, and shoulder length layered black hair. I recently got bangs which I now regret. My lips are thin and sometimes annoying to put lip gloss on. I am far from exciting. I’m quiet, shy and not one for any type of confrontation.

  “Um, not sure,” I finally answer her as I give my computer screen my attention, hoping she takes the hint and goes back to her evil twin, Michael Wallace, across the room.

  “So cute your grandma sends you cookies.” She sighs, looking up from the tin and throwing me a tight smile before she finally backs away from my area.

  I won’t let her condescending tone ruin my day.

  * * *

  It’s the next morning, and when I get into work I find Jocelyn at my desk. Her floor has already pulled their names from their hats and she has lucked out in picking out her secretary’s name. Somebody she gets along with well.

  “It’s so much more festive on your floor than mine,” Jocelyn steps up next to me, and together we lean against the plastic wall at my desk. “We have a white tree in the corner with a gold star. That’s it.”

  “Did your grandma give you anymore cookies?” Jocelyn then asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but she’s sending you some.”

  Jocelyn’s mouth bursts into a grin. “Sweet.” She plays with the ends of her dark hair, and gives me a hard look. “Did you ask Perry out yet?”

  My mouth drops open just a little as I digest her words.

  “How did—How did you know—”

  “Please.” She throws a hand up at me, “Kinsley. We’ve been friends for two years now. I know you like him, even if you think you’re exceptionally good at hiding it.”

  “I thought I was,” I look down at the floor, covering my face with both hands.

  “You are,” she practically laughs, and I feel her hands wrap around my wrists. She pulls my hands from my face and smiles at me. “Honestly, you are. I mean I had some suspicion but it wasn’t until I mentioned Sierra’s boob popping out in front of him that I saw it on your face.”

  I groan, and she lets go of my wrists.

  “Don’t worry; I won’t say anything to anyone but, Kinsley? You should ask him out. He’s a nice guy.”

  I can’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “Sierra is into him, and I’m pretty sure he’s into her.”

  Jocelyn makes a gagging sound and I smile, looking away from her.

  I notice the evil twins heading our direction and gasp.

  Next to me, Jocelyn whispers a curse word I can’t really make out.

  Sierra and Michael Wallace, her evil twin who works on the blog with her, are in full costume. He’s in a bright green elf’s uniform, complete with a red sleeping hat, and shoes with bells. His dark hair is gelled neatly to the side and his contoured make up is as usual, perfect. He follows Sierra like a loyal lapdog, handing out candy canes to the employees they stop at.

  Sierra is in a Mrs. Claus costume. The skirt ends high above her knee, her legs are draped in knee-high strip socks and her boots are at least five inches off the ground. Her shirt cuts off at the shoulders, and a low v-cut up front holds little to the imagination when it comes to her breasts.

  “Okay, that is so inappropriate!” I hiss at Jocelyn.

  “I don’t know how she gets away with the things she puts on her body,” Jocelyn shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “HR is a joke here.”

  We watch as she and Michael reach Digital Marketing. Both Jocelyn and I get on our toes. Sierra pushes the Santa hat in her hands out at Perry. I watch, almost too eagerly, as he reaches inside. He’s dressed in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt today. His hair falls over his forehead as he unfolds the slip of paper in his hands and nods.

  Sierra leans forward and whispers something to him. I watch him smile, and I fall off my toes onto my heel. As she squeezes his arm, I look away and pretend to focus on the hem of my plaid skirt.

  “You really should just ask him out,” Jocelyn whispers when she sees my expression.

  “I’m not his type.”

  Jocelyn shakes her head at me but remains silent, only because the evil twins are making a beeline towards my work area. Once they stop in front of me, Sierra thrusts the hat my way and gives me a smug smile. Next to her, Michael is spinning the hook part of a candy cane around his index finger, clearly bored.

  I reach inside of the hat, feeling around and noticing instantly that there is only one slip of paper for me to take. As I pull it out, Sierra gives Jocelyn a smile before looking back at me.

  “So Ken, think I could pick your brain later on today about something?”

  “It’s Kinsley,” Jocelyn corrects, frowning at her.

  “Yeah I know,” Sierra smirks, exchanging a look with Michael, who shares her goofy grin. “I was using a nickname.”

  “What did you want to talk about?” I ask Sierra quickly, deciding it is better to jump in before Jocelyn snaps at her.

  “Oh, I need some ideas,” Sierra steps closer to me, whipping her long blond hair over her shoulder. I can smell her perfume, sickly sweet, wafting from her neckline as she leans into my left ear to whisper. “I have Perry for Secret Santa and am at a complete loss.”

  I feel my hands ball into fists and my heart caves within me a little bit.

  I pray the smile I force over my face hides my agony from her. “Sure, I can help with that.”

  “Peaches!” She squeezes her nails into my arm with a grin too wide for my liking and then bids us farewell. Michael follows behind her and after giving me a once over, over his shoulder, he says something to Sierra and they burst out laughing.

  “We exchange gifts Tuesday folks!” Sierra screams out to the room as her laughter with Michael fades.

  “What did she want?” Jocelyn asks me as I turn and walk around to my desk. My legs feel heavy beneath me and when I finally plop down on my chair, I’m relieved that I’m off them.

  “Nothing. Work thing,” I lie.

  I don’t know why I lied to Jocelyn, maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was because I didn’t want her to realize just how much I do like Perry. Right now she thinks it’s just a small crush, and it’s better it stays that way.

  Realizing I still haven’t checked who my Secret Santa is, I unfold the paper in my hands, and groan loudly as I show Jocelyn who I have. She lets out a grunt and sighs.

  Michael Wallace.

  * * *

  “Let’s move the clip for the pre-order sale for Guardians of the Mountain to the left. That way we can put the award ribbons right there alongside of it, so it catches everyone’s eye.”

  By two o’clock, I’ve found myself working alongside Perry at his desk. We sit close, elbows grazing every few seconds as we look from his computer screen to my notes on the yellow notepad.

  I watch him move the mouse cursor across the screen, dragging the images along with them and starting to position them like I suggested.

  “Forgot to tell you, I think your grandmother’s cookies worked,” Perry suddenly says giving me a quick look. “After I ate one, I couldn’t get I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus out of my head the entire day.”

  I let out a small giggle, instantly feeling my cheeks redden as he focuses his dark eyes on me. I have to look back at the computer screen until he whispers to me,

  “So, did you get someone good for Secret Santa?”

  “Did you?” I counter, looking from the screen to him.

  His nose crinkles and he shakes his head when a few strands of hair fall over his eyes. “Nah, I got Vince, my supervisor. I already get him a gift every year for Christmas so now he’s going to get two from me, or a really big one.”

  I smile and look bac
k at his work on the screen. “I got someone lame too, but I think they’d like a Starbucks gift card, maybe…”

  “Yikes,” Perry’s voice gets high and he makes a face at me. “A Starbucks gift card, the go-to gift you give someone you don’t know, or like.”

  “That’s not true,” I stifle a laugh but the smile spreads over my face. “Lots of people love Starbucks gift cards.”

  “Unless someone specifically asks for one, it’s the go to gift card,” Perry motions with his free hand, his humorous tone alive. “Nobody ever turns down a Starbucks gift card, that’s why people get it for people they don’t really know.”

  “That’s absurd! I’m sure there are other gift cards people get for someone they don’t know.”

  “Nope,” Perry answers quickly. “It’s always Starbucks, but you should just agree to disagree on me with this one.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and watch his eyes twinkle at his own jousting. I elbow him in the side and shake my head. “You think you’re so funny.”

  “I was voted most likely to be a stand-up comedian in high school,” he tells me, a comical tone of arrogance coming over him, “so yes, I do think I’m quite funny. Probably the funniest, if I’m being honest.”

  I laugh and look down at the notes between us.

  My hands may be sweaty and my skin warm from nerves as I sit close to him, but I like it. I don’t want to get up from my seat and go back to my work station.

  “Delivery.”

  We both look up and see our mailman, arms stretched over the plastic wall at Perry’s desk. In his hands is a large square box, wrapped up with an Express Shipping label over the sides. Perry thanks him for it, taking it with both hands and then sets it down underneath his desk.

  “What’s with all the packages lately?” I ask, remembering what I saw on his desk yesterday.

  It takes him a moment to respond as he sits back up and pushes the box further beneath his desk with his foot. “Uh, Christmas presents. I avoid the stores during the holidays.”

  I narrow my eyes at him again, and he lifts his eyebrows high, shrugging at the same time. Something in his answer wasn’t genuine and I think about calling him out on his lie.

  “Oh hey. Moving my gramps in at Morningside at the end of the week,” Perry tells me, as he pulls himself up against his desk again. “I think he’s more excited to get out of my mom’s house than she is.”

  I smile softly. “He’ll like it there.”

  Perry reaches for the mouse and begins to move the graphics across the page again.

  * * *

  By the time Friday hits, I am more than relieved. Next Friday is Christmas, which means after this weekend we have only two days of work until we all get two weeks off for Christmas and New Year’s.

  Then I remember we have the company Christmas party tomorrow night, and on the e-vite Sierra sent out, it said “Classy Dress Only Please.” I can only guess what she will be wearing to it. My black mini dress will look like a garbage bag compared to her outfit, I’m sure.

  Upon leaving work Friday afternoon, Sierra cornered me at my desk and kept me hostage for thirty minutes. She has done it for the last two days, ever since we pulled names. She sat on my desk, her long smooth legs swaying back and forth in front of me, because she was in another short red skirt. As if she was bragging about them.

  “I kind of want, like, I know I want it to be a cute gift, but not cheesy. Like, cute and romantic and really, really fun,” she kept telling me. “Maybe I want it to be a little bit sexy? I don’t know…We flirt all the time. He makes fun of my Insta account, and I make fun of his love for board games…”

  It was the worst thirty minutes of my life. Not because talking to her brought my IQ down, but because today she has confirmed my fears.

  Perry does like her, and that the smile I saw on his face when she came to my desk earlier in the week was genuine.

  How could Perry like her? What is it about her, other than her obvious looks, that draws him to her? Could I stand to be a little bit more like Sierra?

  The thought alone has me shudder in terror.

  Suffice it to say, I’m in a mood again when I get to Morningside to see my grandma. After saying hi to the nursing staff, and noticing that they had a platter of Grandma’s freshly baked cookies at their station, I make my way to her room. It’s empty, and after throwing my coat and purse on her made-up bed, I leave in search for her.

  A few rooms down from her room is the kitchen so I decide to check there first.

  I am not five feet from the door when I hear someone give out a grumbly shout. Then comes a loud wooden bang that has me jump.

  “Get out of here before I whack you like a male dog!”

  I know that voice.

  I unglue myself from my place and rush into the kitchen. The shared kitchen is small, made only for the residents to cook their own meals if they choose. The dining hall is across the hall, and they have their own cafeteria for the residents who choose not to cook.

  One side of the wall is all pale counters with generic pink countertops. I see a cutting board, a bag of flour, a carton of eggs and a half used bag of sugar positioned carefully onto it. A used rolling pin rests against the floured up cutting board, and my grandmother stands in front of it with an even larger rolling pin.

  She has it high over her hair, her apron stained with colored icing and flour. Standing just a foot in front of her is an elderly gentleman I have never seen before. He is well over six feet, with gracious wrinkles over his oval face, and bushy grey eyebrows. His hair, the color of my grandma’s flour, is parted elegantly to the side.

  “Easy there now, sugar lips.” He has both hands out in front of him, and if I had to guess, a Jersey accent. “I was just curious.”

  “Grandma!” I hurry over to her and grab the heavy rolling pin from her hands.

  Immediately my grandmother glares at me, strands of her greying hair coming undone from her usual bun. “He was being all handsy with my cookies!”

  The man chuckles behind me; it’s a loud, deep laugh that echoes around the small room. I find myself trying not to laugh at how grandma’s statement could be misconstrued.

  “You don’t hit him with a rolling pin,” I tell her, holding it firmly in both hands now.

  “He deserved it,” my grandmother throws a finger at him. “I’d be careful if I was you, or you may just end up with a laxative in your morning coffee!”

  “Grandma!” I grab her arm firmly and give her a look before I turn to the man. “She didn’t mean that.”

  Again, the man laughs. His smile is unexpectedly sincere, two dimples surfacing at the corner of his mouth as he nods at me. “I’ve been threatened with worse. Don’t you worry young lady.”

  “You’re not even here an hour, and already causing a problem, Dad?”

  I look over at the door to see a tall, slender woman with curly brown hair leaning against the doorframe. She’s in a long grey sweater and black pants, her face full of exhaustion and it shows from the way her eyebrows have raised in annoyance. Her dark eyes strike me though, and I can’t help but stare at them a tad longer than I should. Something about them is familiar and comfortable.

  “No, he’s not,” I say to her, shoving the rolling pin at my grandma. She takes it with a mumble. “He was just admiring my grandmother’s baking.”

  “Smells lovely,” the woman nods, pushing up from the doorframe. “I could smell it all the way down the hall.”

  “Every year I make Christmas cookies.” My grandmother leaves my side and crosses the room. She throws a glare at the woman’s father as she passes him. When she reaches the stove behind him; she picks up the baking sheet full of cookies. She extends them outward and motions for the woman to take one. “Fresh from the oven.”

  “Thank you.” The woman smiles as she looks down and chooses one of the nearest, brightest, star cookies. She bites into it quickly and makes a hmmm sound at its taste. “So, what was my Dad doing to you?”
>
  “He was getting at my cookies, without being asked.” My grandmother straightens herself up, still gripping the baking sheet in her hands. “And then he was being rather inappropriate.”

  The woman swallows the cookie and narrows her big eyes at her father. “Dad, are you kidding me? Again?”

  “What can I say?” He shrugs his shoulders and nudges me in the side with his elbow. “I can’t control myself when there’s a pretty lady around.”

  “This pretty lady,” my grandma turns her head at him, “is not interested.” The man winks anyway, and when I see my grandma bare her teeth, I make my move.

  “Okay, Grandma.” I walk towards her, “let’s take the cookies into the dining room now.”

  “I have to put them on a plate.” She pulls away from my grasp and heads back to the oven.

  We hear footsteps at the door and turn around to face our new visitor.

  Standing in a grey ski jacket, with a pair of black gloves in his hands and his hair blown wildly to the side from the winter air, is Perry. He looks from the woman in the room to me, to the old man, back to me.

  For a moment I’m confused as to why he’s here.

  “Kinsley,” he says, producing a smile. “I see you’ve met my mom and grandfather.”

  “This—this is your grandfather?” I motion at the older man behind me, who I’ve seen has wandered back towards my grandmother and the oven.

  “You two know each other?” Perry’s mother finishes the cookie quickly and looks from me to her son.

  “We work together,” Perry answers. “Kinsley was the one who gave us the referral for Morningside, and her grandmother got us the interview.”

  “Oh, that was you.” His mother turns to me with a smile. “Well I should thank you both. This really is a nice retirement community.” She side-eyes her father. “I only hope he behaves himself so he doesn’t get kicked out.”

  “You beast!”

  We turn around to see my grandmother slap Perry’s grandfather in the hand before turning her back on him, holding the cookies on a large white porcelain plate. She adjusts her posture and gives us all a nod as she leaves the room, cookies in hand.