by Mara White
Amber grabbed her phone out of her pocket to see if she had any messages. There was still shit she had to do for work tonight so she needed to hit the showers.
“Keep going,” she shouted to Lou, putting her hand up to keep him from cutting off his flow. He pressed again and she watched his whole chest quake with the effort. Amber spontaneously took a knee to be closer to his level and started taking pictures of Lou on her iPhone. Just because she wanted to capture the beauty in his grit, the essence of perseverance and mind over matter. She cropped the picture, changed it from color to black and white, then she uploaded it to Instagram to immortalize the moment.
Frankie
He sat at the coffee shop on Columbus two blocks from his apartment. The Hot Spot had yet to pull in the sidewalk tables even though the leaves had long fallen and he could see his breath in the cool morning air. He had a large cup of coffee and a green pistachio muffin. Peebo stood in his lap in his miniature neon-orange puffy parka nibbling on bits of muffin Frankie fed him by hand. Lou would kill him over this breakfast, but Frankie wouldn’t let him find out. He usually ate three hardboiled eggs, a cup of plain Greek yogurt, and a cup of cubed chicken breast. This morning it made him want to puke so he told Peebo they were splurging on bagels. But then at the Hot Spot the green muffin had caught his attention. He hadn’t had one since he was a kid so he ordered it on a whim. The barista who’d rung him up had also tried to pick him up. He was used to it, getting hit on by both women and men. He didn’t let it go to his head. Lou said that even if you’re a model, you need to cultivate your power from within. Frankie took it to heart and didn’t source his confidence from his looks. Everything was a balance and the last guy he wanted to be was the egotistical muscle bound jerk who was obsessed with the mirror.
“Oh my God, he is sooooo cute! You two should be in a J Crew catalog or something. Do you model?” the barista asked him with caffeinated enthusiasm.
“He doesn’t, but he does end up in a lot of YouTube videos from the dog park.”
“Oh, I meant you! Where’d you get his cute little jacket?”
“I didn’t. He’s my nephew. His mom does the shopping, if it were up to me I’d just cut the fingers out of a pair of gloves and shove it on him.” Peebo yipped and licked up his cheek. “Quiet, Peebs!” he admonished the dog.
“Like Peeves from Harry Potter? I love those books!”
“Nope. I‘m a fan too, but my sister named the dog. Actually, I think he might have come with that name when she adopted him.” He stuffed a dollar in the tip jar, then stuffed in another few because it was the holidays and maybe it would also get her to stop talking.
“I have a friend who makes really cute dog clothes. Spiked collars and everything. She sells on Etsy. I could give you her card, or—my number?”
“Wow,” Frankie said, his mind going blank. “Sure, I’ll take her card. Maybe get him a leather mask and some chaps for Christmas.” The baristas face fell and she moved on to the next person in line. Frankie grabbed his steaming coffee and his muffin, or “oily glutton and sugar ball,” as Lou would call it.
His back was sore, either from work or the gym. They’d put up the interior Christmas decorations and even though it was a chore from hell, the end result was admittedly enchanting. A tree on every floor, plus pine boughs, lights and ornaments. All one hundred and two floors decked out in full holiday merriment. And of course the tower lights would go to blue for Hanukkah and red and green for Christmas. He opted out of doing a tree because he’d strung enough balls at work to last him a lifetime.
Frankie made Peebo pose with him for a quintessential New York shot, coffee at a café with a tiny dog in a designer jacket. It was shallow but his followers would eat it up. He uploaded it to Instagram and scrolled through his feed. Checked in on a few of his favorite accounts and liked all of Lou’s pictures. He decided to take a peek at Red_Jimmy_Shoes and sat straight up in his seat when he pulled up the picture.
He was expecting a carefully crafted sexy image possibly in the style of what he’d posted last night. But instead he saw a shot of his trusted and long-time trainer Lou lying on a bench in the gym.
“What the fuck?” he said under his breath. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Was Red Shoes fucking Lou’s daughter that he’d never met? His wife? No, they’d been married forever. Could she be a client of his too and that’s how she found him? Who the fuck was Red_Jimmy_Shoes? And more importantly, how the hell did she know him?
Amber
Work dragged and she was grouchy. It was up to the partners to plan the annual Christmas party and as usual her three contemporaries had ditched the chore and left all the decision making up to her. They wanted it off-site and she didn’t want to spend that kind of money. They wanted open bar and didn’t care about music, decorations, catering or entertainment. It was like working with three teenage brothers. Sometimes she wished she’d left the company to Chase even though she was the one who built it from the bottom up. She pressed the intercom button on her office phone.
“Jerry, what’s the name of that catering company that does the duck with Barb-b-que sauce?”
“Peeking Duck.”
“Yeah, whatever it’s called. They do Christmas Eve without charging a limb and the food was great from what I remember.”
“That’s the name of the caterer, Amber. Peeking Duck. I’m getting a ten thousand flat fee on the open bar. Bartenders are separate.”
“Jesus Fucking Christmas. I could buy the bottles myself and set it up Friday morning.”
“I think that’s illegal. You don’t have a liquor license. You go live at four. And by that I mean go get your salad now and have a diet Coke so you’re not a total meanie during the auction.”
“You shouldn’t be allowed to talk to me like that,” Amber said smiling. Jerry was her favorite employee and eased her stress continually. “Can’t you just order for me?”
“No because you need to walk around and get some fresh air, Amber. Go get your own damn salad.”
The stupid elevator took five minutes to come. She would have taken the stairs out of spite, but she was a quarter of the way up the whole building and power heels were her secret weapon at work—so that wasn’t going to be possible.
“Oh hey,” Amber said to Fit_and_Full_Frankie when the doors slid open and he was standing alone in the back. Her smile was shaky and she could feel the heat rising up her neck. Even though she was nervous to run into him, it was also the one thing she really looked forward to at work.
“Hey! Happy Holidays!” he said. He seemed so earnest and genuine. He had a large janitorial cart loaded down with cleaners and a large garbage can.
“I’m sorry about the other day in the bathroom. I didn’t read the sign, obviously.”
“S’okay, happens all the time!”
“Probably doesn’t happen too often.”
“Yeah, it’s actually never happened before,” he said grinning sheepishly.
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. Luckily for my generation Victoria spilled her secrets and men know their way around a twisted garter belt.”
She was redder than a beet. He looked like he was sweating.
“Liar.”
“I fixed it didn’t I? Anyway I liked your self-talk. It gave me some insight into corporate sexism. You probably have to put up with a lot, just because you’re so beautiful and that certainly isn’t fair.”
Amber opened her mouth to speak and the elevator doors simultaneous opened on a tourist hub floor. A huge group of gawkers drunk on Christmas lights and wearing Santa Clause hats piled in like a clown car.
Beautiful? Her? He was the beautiful one.
“What did you say your name was?” There were three people wedged between them. Frankie. His name is Frankie. Fit and Full and she already stalked him like a creep.
“I’m Frankie. Francisco, but nobody calls me that.” He reached his arm across the crowded divide and offered his hand out to her.
“Amber. Nice to meet you.” His handshake was warm. Strong but friendly, like he wasn’t trying to prove himself or show how macho he was. “I was just running out to grab a sandwich, you want anything?”
“I’m actually finishing up. Gotta run to the gym and then get home to walk the dog.”
“Okay, well Happy Holidays to you and your family if I don’t see you before then.”
“Same to you! You guys don’t go to the building staff party?”
“No, we do a private function. Which reminds me, do you know anything about office restrictions for Christmas Eve? Is there a building-wide closing curfew?”
“Not really sure. You’d have to ask security. I’m off that day.”
“Security, right. Nice talking to you! Thanks, again, Frankie!” She waved at him through the crowd of people who were piling off in the lobby with her.
She admonished herself all the way to the chain salad joint. She should have invited him to their stupid party. She should have been more direct about thanking him for coming to her rescue and offering understanding about the challenges faced by women in male dominated work spaces. She should have invited him to straighten out her garters at home, or to kiss her in the elevator over the garbage can and through the sea of tourists. She could have kicked herself with her own heels. Was she condescending? Was she rude? He seemed like a really great guy. She was just as bad as the men in her office for lusting after appearances and not looking deeper to see the real person underneath.
Frankie
Amber. The Phoenix, which he couldn’t call her anymore now that she had officially introduced herself. He’d have to say, “Hello Amber, Hey Amber, Happy Holidays, Amber!” At least she hadn’t introduced herself by her last name. He was pretty confident that she wasn’t married. Also confident that she was smoking hot and super endearing, even adorable with her weird mixture of professional executive, sexy dresser, and occasional hot mess. Their interaction was a blessing because he’d been obsessing all day about the Red Shoes profile mystery lady who happened to take intimate portraits of his trainer, confident, and best-friend, Lou.
He shoved his duffel back into his locker and yanked out his backpack, transferring only the necessities and leaving the rest of his junk to drag home tomorrow. He was going to run to the gym. Peebo had his wee wee pad in a corner of the kitchen and could make due until dinner. He stepped out onto thirty-fourth street into the full holiday bustle. The sidewalks were teeming with shoppers carrying bags and tourists clamoring to get shots of the decorated store windows and the landmark buildings. He took off jogging up Sixth Avenue, off the sidewalk, along the side of the street. He jumped up the curb to avoid busses or cabs pulling up to pick up and drop off passengers. The neighborhood was a zoo this time of year. Hell, even in off-season, the area was a no-go zone for New Yorkers with any sense. He did all of his shopping online to avoid the crazy masses. It dawned on him it would be nice to get Amber a gift, but he probably couldn’t afford her taste. Maybe just flowers.
He rounded the corner and sped down seventy-second, checking his watch. Two miles in fifteen minutes. Not terrible with a backpack, traffic lights, traffic and clueless pedestrians.
He slammed his locker and dove into the shower, letting the water jet off the sweat and loosen his shoulders.
He scrubbed his head with a towel and jumped into his Adidas track suit. Put on his lifting gloves and marched out to the free-weight section determined to find Lou and get an answer about the mystery woman. Frankie didn’t usually bring his phone because Lou was against it. He certainly wasn’t allowed to check it during one of their workout sessions. Lou was a spiritual guy and he believed in whole body and mind synergy. He’d be pissed about the phone, but Frankie wanted to get to the bottom of the sexy vixen who apparently knew him.
“Frankie!” Lou said, setting down a barbell. He was working with a young guy named Hans who had just started training a few months ago. Frankie could already see a difference in the guy’s physique. He wondered if the poor kid knew what he was getting into when he hired the master ass-whipper himself to get in shape. “Be with you in five, Frankie,” Lou said, giving him his special handshake.
“Take your time!” Frankie said. He pocketed the phone and picked up the jump rope.
He was covered in sweat by the time the newbie was released. Lou walked over and slipped on his weightlifting gloves.
“Let me show you something,” Frankie said. He tried to catch his breath.
“The Wilhelmina agency called and they want to set up a meeting.”
“Really, that’s fantastic! Who is this?” he shoved the image of Red Shoes in Lou’s face. The rest of what Lou said barely registered.
“Holy crap!” Lou took the phone and studied the image. He looked impressed. The shot was really sexy. “Looks kind of like the one you did with the shower, reminds me of it somehow.”
Frankie cut him off, grabbed the phone, and pulled up the other smoking picture. Lou took it and studied it again. This was the black and white image where the woman’s hair obscured her face.
“Damn, wish I knew Frankie. But I haven’t got a clue.”
“Not your daughter?”
“Sheesh, no! My wife is black. Kids are bi-racial. Besides, my daughters a Marine, she’s not posting those kinds of pictures.”
“Then explain this,” Frankie said, his heartbeat was rising. He pulled up the portrait of Lou on the bench looking centered and focused in all of his guru glory.
“That’s me,” Lou said. He scratched his head and shrugged his tank top exposed shoulders. “Looks like Equinox? In Chelsea? No, maybe Upper East Side?”
“No shit that’s you? But who the hell is she, Lou? One of your clients?”
“I don’t have any clients who look like that. They wear workout clothes. Probably just a random in a gym who likes to snap photos on the down low.”
“Too much of a coincidence,” Frankie insisted.
“How do you mean? You trying to get out of doing work?”
“Never, can’t wait to get started. Like you said, that one similar photo seemed intentional. This one is too. Check out the side by side!” Frankie was raising his voice, practically manic with excitement.
“Looks like you have an admirer, Sherlock. Put that phone away and let’s get to work! Not to overstep my professional boundaries, Frank, but you might need to get laid.”
Frankie sighed and jumped on the treadmill, turned it all the way up to insane and started sprinting.
He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Lou thought he was an idiot and maybe he was overreacting when he tried to look at it from another’s perspective. Maybe if he weren’t a janitor, he could ask Amber on a date.”
Lou popped up a half hour into his cardio.
“Message her, Romeo, if you think she’s talking to you!”
“Listen, forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Frankie said looking forlorn.
“Drop and give me fifty push-ups. No negativity on my watch.”
Frankie felt like the living dead when he dragged his corpse through the front door of his apartment. Peebo put up a loud protest, dancing with his front feet all over the kitchen floor and howling.
“You too? Can’t a dude catch a break?” Peebo nipped at his sneakers and continued his nail clacking dance. Frankie grabbed the dog’s tiny jacket and carried him downstairs. Ordered Chinese from the local joint on his street, too tired to cook. Peboo loved Lo mein. Frankie took Advil, fell into bed, and slept like the dead.
Amber
She worked like a demon in heels to prepare for the Christmas party. She had the urge to hire a clown to throw pies in the partner’s faces for how little they did to help her out. Sam, Cage and Anthony were nothing more than a bunch of grown frat boys at times. And Sam and Cage were in fact frat boys who’d gone to school with Chase and they’d formed unbreakable bonds over beer bongs. Anthony she’d handpicked herself from thousands of candidates. He was black,
a Harvard and London School of Economics grad who knocked her socks off in every single interview. The others too were immediately convinced after meeting him and the decision was unanimous. When she and Chase broke up one of the things she most feared was losing Anthony too. He was a powerhouse, smart as a whip, heavy on the charm and a born entrepreneur. But Anthony stayed with her and so did Sam and Cage. Maybe it wasn’t a hard decision for them because they realized that Amber was the real brain and elbow grease behind the brand. Chase had been pretty coked out by the time he left. All three of the partners were married and couldn’t keep up with Chase’s downward spiral. The money and the success got to his head. The other partners managed to remain grounded.
“Surprise!” Anthony came into her office holding a lopsided birthday cake with pink sprinkles and candles.
“Oh shit, you remembered. You didn’t have to do that Ant.”
“Rosa made the cake, I just had to remember to bring it in. She wrote it on the calendar,” he smiled at her while Sam and Cage filed in behind him with balloons and Jerry came in last holding two pints of ice cream.
“Did you get enough for the whole office?” she asked Jerry compulsively.
“Fuck them. How ‘bout “thank you,” Jerry said. He set the two frosty pints down on her desk and stuck his hands under his armpits.
“Thanks, guys. I mean it.”
“Course I got enough for the whole office, but they got doughnuts instead of cake because I’m still budgeting for the Christmas party,” Jerry told her. He yanked down all the blinds in her office and pulled a giant cake cutting knife out of a closet in the corner.
“Jesus, you hiding butcher knives in my closet, Jer?”