by Lauren Wood
Izzy laughed, and it was as sardonic a laugh as I had ever heard. “Darren was an ass, and I found out very quickly that he was an ass. He joined the Marines, and I’m sure he’s guarding a gate somewhere. He didn’t have the brains for anything else, even in Corps. No, Jack, when it comes to me, your memory sucks. Like really sucks.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that,” I replied, determined to not take offense with anything she threw at me. I deserved a great deal more than that when it came to her tossing loaded bombs. “But I did mean it when I said you were too good to be single. You’re gorgeous, you’re kind, gracious, and deserving of a man who loves you.”
3
Izzy
Just why the hell did he have to go and say that?
I was doing great at keeping an emotional distance, keeping him from getting too close, preventing myself from liking him. Then he throws that little cherry bomb into my lap. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe, I’d have made a good wife to you if you hadn’t been busy working your way through the entire cheerleading squad.
Naturally, I couldn’t say that. Jack never noticed the likes of me. No doubt, he still thought of me as “Dizzy Izzy”, and never once considered that maybe I was more than the kid in pigtails with scabbed knees he remembered.
Unable to keep looking into those dark, mysterious eyes, wishing that maybe once, just once, he had looked beyond the scabbed knees and the thrown rock, he might have seen one who actually loved him. My high school crush on him would have developed into something more had he just simply looked at me.
“Thanks,” I said, gazing down.
He was my boss now, not a high school crush. He was a man, not a gangly teenager with an outsized libido. I needed this job, and if I started out our new relationship by calling him an asshole, a whoremonger, and a high-minded jerk, I’d be out before I even began.
Changing the subject, I asked, “So do I have an office?”
Jack blinked as though coming to reality. “Oh. Yes, you do. I’ll show it to you.”
He led me to the smaller room next door with a sliding window built into the wall between. That way, we could communicate without having to walk through the doors and around the wall. Closed for privacy when needed, opened for the occasional conversation. I pictured myself sliding the window open and telling him that Mrs. Joe Blow likes his ass enough that she’s buying the five point two-million-dollar property outside Louisville.
I kept my snicker locked behind my teeth.
Experimentally, I sat behind my new desk and looked at the phone, the computer, the printer, the digital camera in its charger on the credenza. I nodded. “What’s the pay?”
Jack named an hourly figure that had me impulsively wanting to genuflect, even though I wasn’t Catholic. “Where are you getting the funds for this?” I asked, fearing he might have overextended himself and I’d be out of a job in a month.
“While that’s really none of your business,” Jack answered without evident annoyance, “I will say that I have financial backers. No, I won’t be going under, and the backing is for five years only. After that, the profits are all mine.”
I nodded, thinking of the shabby apartment I lived in and could move out of sooner than I had expected. Growing ambitious, I considered the idea of owning my own house, with a dog and a cat, and having the inside scoop on good properties. “I’ll work hard for you, Jack. That I promise.”
His very white teeth gleamed in a smile, and I had to look away from it or I would surely start creaming my panties. Jack Stanton was far too good looking for my peace of mind. Or my hormones.
“I know you will, Izzy,” he answered. “If I doubted it, I’d have never made the offer.”
Debbie Watson, a middle-aged woman who I knew only slightly, arrived for work precisely at nine o’clock. “Good morning, Mr. Stanton,” she said, putting her purse in the drawer and seating herself at the reception desk.
“Morning, Debbie,” Jack answered, gesturing for me to come with him to the outside office. “You know Isabelle Naveau, don’t you?”
Debbie, Ms. Watson to me in my younger years, smiled in delight, recognizing me right away. “Why, yes, of course. Isabelle. I used to work with your mother at the old mill.”
I shook her extended hand, smiling. “I remember.”
Her tidy brown hair had a streak of silver in it, and the lines of her face gave her a cheerful, smiling aspect. She and my mom had been friends, not close, but friendly enough that Debbie babysat me now and then. Her cookies were top notch, and she never failed to send me home with a bag full.
“How is your dear mother these days?”
“Moved to Florida with my stepdad,” I replied. “They can’t deal with these northern winters anymore.”
“Oh, I know how that is,” she exclaimed with a wave of her hands. “I swear I can’t do so well with them either. My bones ache when it gets cold.”
“So do Mom’s,” I told her, remembering how much I liked her when I was young. “Hence, the warm Florida sun.”
“When you next talk to her, dear, tell her I said hello.”
“I will.”
“Isabelle is my personal assistant,” Jack continued, “and her duties will include leaving the office to photograph properties for the MLS listings.”
“How exciting for you, Isabelle,” Debbie stated with a broad smile. “You get unsupervised trips from the office. How I will envy you.”
That made me laugh, the genuine thing. “I guess that means I’ll have to bring you lunch from the barbeque pit.”
“Mr. Stanton, you certainly hired the best possible personal assistant in Hattiesburg, I’m telling you.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Right. If barbeque was the way to your heart, I’d have bought you lunch from there long before now.”
“We girls have to stick together.”
“All right, before we have the newest women’s liberation protest start, all females in my employ will wear bras. While I have no objection to the lack of them, the clients surely will. Now. Are we all clear on that subject?”
I snickered, sharing a glance with Debbie. “He’s a real kick in the pants, isn’t he?” I whispered.
“You have no idea, child,” Debbie whispered back. “I’m almost believing he’s gay with all his feminine talk.”
“Debbie!”
I laughed again at Jack’s outraged expression, hardly believing I could be so comfortable with him after being in his company for a whole thirty minutes. Debbie’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Mr. Stanton,” she protested. “Why, it’s all the rage these days, and gay people have the right to marry and to have kids. You shouldn’t be ashamed, if you were. That’s all I’m saying. I accept you for what you are.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Debbie – just do your thing, all right? Answer the phones, take messages, you know.”
“I will, as soon as the phone rings, Mr. Stanton.”
Leading me back to his office, I heard Jack mutter, “Aye, yi, yi, yi.”
“She’s a real piece of work,” I said, still laughing. “I like her.”
Jack snorted. “Of course, you would.” He glowered. “Do I look like I prefer men to women?”
I tilted my head and pursed my lips, examining him. “In a certain light.”
“Get a chair and get over here,” he snapped. “I’m going to show you the computer programs.”
The computer proved the easiest part of the job, and I learned the programs and the system quickly. Debbie sent a few calls back to Jack, and as he spoke on the phone, I explored on my own. I inspected the photos of properties and knew I could do a far better job. The descriptions were easy enough, and with a handy Google map, I learned where many of these listings were.
“Now other online organizations are there to help us,” Jack said, clicking through some to show me, “even if we pay for the privilege. Get familiar with them, and soon you’ll be adding the listings you
rself.”
He answered my few questions and showed me how to use the MLS site. “You add photos and the descriptions here,” he said, showing me with the mouse pointer, “and voila – you have a new listing for Buyer Bob to look at.”
He showed me the scheduler, his nearness affecting me more than I liked. Jack’s dark eyes had my heart flopping like cats fighting in a sack, and his aftershave wafted into my nostrils. They say scent helps us to pick our mates, not unlike animals, and if Jack’s odor was anything to go by, I’d be jumping his bones in a week.
He gave me time to set my office up the way I wanted and popped for pictures to hang on my walls from the local five and dime. By the time six o’clock rolled around, I was comfortable in my new office and felt ready for the next day. I bade Debbie good night and ambled to my Mustang with fresh confidence.
With the promise of my new and extremely generous salary, I felt I could afford to pop for a pizza on my way home. I knew Nellie would be anxiously awaiting my call, so I buzzed her while waiting for my dinner.
“Izzy,” she exclaimed. “How’d it go?”
“Great,” I told her, excited and letting her know it. “Jack is paying me a ridiculous amount to be his personal assistant. He showed me some of the ropes, and I’ll be out at the properties to take photos.”
She squealed in delight. “I am so happy for you, sweetie. Now you can afford to move out of the trash pile.”
I laughed. “I know, right? I can save money, and maybe even buy my own house.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?”
“And Jack isn’t nearly as dark and broody as I remember.”
“I told you he grew up. Have you called your mom?”
“Not yet. I will, sometime.”
“Izzy. You have to call her.”
“What are you? My conscience?” I folded my arms, uncomfortable and irritated, wishing Nellie hadn’t mentioned my mother, of all people. “This can wait until one of our usual calls, I don’t want to make a big deal out of a new job.”
“She worries about you.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t I wish.”
Nellie stayed quiet for a few seconds, then said, her voice subdued. “She does, Izzy.”
“Let’s not argue about it, Nell,” I pleaded. “Tonight, I want to be happy, to think of a good job with a decent pay, and a future.”
“I know, sweetie. Let’s get together tomorrow night. I’ll bring the beer.”
“My place?”
“Sure. Just rein in the cockroaches and the rats. Last time I came over, they plotted to kidnap me.”
“Hardly,” I snorted. “They want money for their ransoms, not Cheese Nips.”
“Ha, ha. You are so not funny. At seven?”
“You bring the beer, and I’ll buy dinner.”
“Barbeque now, not that nasty hamburger joint across town. You know I’m allergic to their crap.”
“You and me both. My pizza is ready. See you.”
“Bye, love you.”
“Ditto.”
I paid for my dinner, and took the warm box out to the car, setting it on the seat beside me. The delicious odor quickly filled the small Mustang and tempted me to open the lid and munch on a piece as I drove. But that meant risking tomato stains on my blouse or skirt, so I refrained.
All through the evening, I could not keep my thoughts off of either Jack or my new prospects. My mind bounced from one to the other indiscriminately even as I lounged on my worn sofa in my t-shirt and sweat pants, sipping from a glass of wine. Whether Jack had truly changed as he grew into a man, or if this particular personality had always lurked within him and I never saw it, I didn’t know.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reminded myself as I yawned my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth before going to bed. “Too much water under the bridge and all that rot. Hands off the boss at all times.”
4
Jack
“I can help you build the website.”
I eyed Izzy as she stood in front on my desk, her expression eager, almost challenging. Though I hated admitting it to myself, she learned faster than I had thought she would, the computer programs not fazing her a bit. Now that she mastered those, she wanted more work.
“You know you need to let people know you’re here and operational,” she went on as though I told her no. “I know a little bit about graphic design.”
“I didn’t hire you for your charm and good looks,” I replied, keeping my humor stifled so she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Though those attributes of yours are quite nice.”
“Is that a yes?” Izzy met my gaze evenly, and I easily saw the shield she erected to keep the emotional distance between us. While I couldn’t blame her for it, I did wish it wasn’t there. Why? So you can break her heart as you did so many others?
“It’s a yes,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. “I like how you’re taking to this business so quickly.”
At my request, Izzy had toned down the very formal business attire of blouses and skirts, and opted for attractive business casual. This is a farming and ranching community, I had told her, and folks expect us to be a little less big city-like. She favored blue and gray hues in her clothing, which contrasted nicely with her long blonde hair and pale skin.
“I like it,” Izzy told me, her smile making my pulse turn somersaults. “It seems to suit me.”
“When you have a few minutes,” I went on, “create a couple of advertising mockups for the local publications. If they’re good, then I won’t have to farm out the design work.”
“You got it.”
“Now make sure you’re giving yourself time to study for your license,” I reminded her. “You have to pass the test.”
Rolling her eyes slightly, she said, “I’ve been studying at home after work.”
“You are entitled to personal time at home, you know.”
“It’s better than sitting in front of the TV.”
“You keep this up,” I said with a grin, “you’ll be a full-time realtor in no time at all.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“I like your ambition. You remind me of me.”
“Okay, now that’s a scary thought,” she answered, but she smiled as she said it.
Izzy returned to her office, giving me a quick opportunity to admire her firm, round backside before she vanished. I sighed, seeing her enter her office from the corner of my eye. I tried not to stare at her too much, as it was both inappropriate for an office setting, and she might take it the wrong way.
She had told me what had happened at her last job, and as much as I might have wanted to get my hands on her, that would make her run from me. Or sue me. Or both. Maybe hiring her wasn’t the best avenue for trying to get her into my life. Dating one’s employee is so uncool these days.
Debbie buzzed the intercom, forcing me to drop my thoughts about Izzy. “Mr. Foreman to speak to you.”
“Great, thanks.”
Picking up the phone, I greeted my primary investor. “Hey, Chuck, what’s happening?”
“Jacky boy.” His voice boomed all the way from Indianapolis. “How are things?”
I glanced at Izzy through the plexiglass window between us. “Great. Absolutely great.”
“Awesome.”
We talked about the business and my plans for it as well as his financial backing. “I’m planning to drop by in a few weeks.” Chuck said. “We’ll have to have dinner and drinks.”
“That’ll be terrific,” I replied. “Be good to see you.”
“I’ll give a holler to let you know when I’ll be there.”
“Later, dude.”
I hung up the phone and spent a few minutes staring at my nearly empty calendar. I need to get more clients if this outfit is gonna fly. Picking up the phone again, I called a number on my computer’s screen, a potential buyer for a small plot of land for sale outside the city.
Just as I got him on the phone and started my pitch, Roger Andrews
ambled into Izzy’s office. I felt my irritation rise but kept my voice level as I spoke with the client regarding the land, determining what he wanted it for. Turning all my attention to the customer, I made an appointment to show it to him again the following afternoon.
I scribbled the time on my calendar and glanced into Izzy’s office. Roger sat in the other chair, and, though I couldn’t hear what he said as the window between us was closed, it appeared he was busy chatting her up.
I didn’t like it one bit.
Not that I objected to my employees being friendly with one another, Izzy and Debbie spent time visiting, and often ate their lunch together. No, I knew exactly what the trouble was – I was jealous. Very jealous.
I have no claim on Izzy. It’s abundantly clear she likes me as a boss and a coworker, but she drew the line. Anything more than a professional working relationship may not ever happen between us.
A man in his mid thirties, Roger busily grew a beer belly and a second chin, and exercise, to him, was a foreign country. He had years of experience with the real estate markets, and his clients loved him. If Izzy prefers that guy….
I couldn’t finish the thought.
Trying to focus on my work, Roger’s distant rumble grated on my ears. Looking through the window, I realized Izzy’s slightly reddened face and her stiff body language told me how uncomfortable Roger was making her. She barely looked up from her computer screen, and when she did, she gave him only lightning glances. She nodded once in a while and hardly spoke at all.
I had caught Roger staring at her multiple times over the days since Izzy started work. But unless Izzy said something to me about it, there was little I could do. Okay, this has gone far enough. He’s been in there longer than necessary for a single hello, how are you.
Rapping on the plexiglass, I caught both of their attentions. Crooking my finger at Roger, I beckoned him to my side of the wall. As he got up to leave, I caught Izzy staring at his plump back with a mixture of both disgust and dismay. She met my gaze briefly, shook her head, and returned to her work.