by Mara White
The guys sang Happy Birthday and Amber got teary. For the last few years she couldn’t help but wonder insecurely if they sometimes thought of her as weak since her husband cheated on her, multiple times, and it ended in a break up. Not like the infidelity was her fault but that she no longer had a man behind her to back her up, which in a sexist corporate America was treated as a deficit, even if it wasn’t. Losing Chase was probably one of the smartest strategic moves she’d ever made.
Anthony cut the cake and gave her the first piece. It was huge and lopsided and the frosting was uneven. Homemade cake was a beautiful thing.
“Tell Rosa I love her and thanks for this masterpiece,” Amber said between mouthfuls.
“You can tell her yourself, she’s coming to this year’s Christmas party,” Anthony said proudly. “She texted me from the dressing room today to help her choose an outfit.”
“Let me see!” Amber said excitedly. Rosa had been pregnant the last two consecutive Christmases and couldn’t make it to the holiday party. “Ack! I hope you said the silver!”
“Oh snap, I said the pink,” Anthony said, huge smile plastered on his face. Amber cared about clothes, shoes, and fashion more than the average person. It wasn’t a secret at the office that she liked to look impeccable. Clothes were her armor.
“You didn’t!” Amber said, covering her mouthful of cake.
“Yeah, I said silver! What do you think I like? Mrs. Doubtfire. The silver is smoking, right?”
“It’s perfect!” Amber said dreamily. I didn’t denote formal on the invite this year, guys, for a few reasons, I don’t think it’s fair to the lower salaried workers in IT. Those guys make up over fifty percent of the group and I didn’t want them to have to rent or buy tuxes, or gowns. It’s expensive. I know last year’s suggestion box killed the Ugly Sweater tradition. Nobody wanted to do it again.”
“Because the thermostat is fucking haywire in this building. My husband’s hair was wet with sweat by the time we left last year. By the way, did you decide on the red or the black?” Amber was pretty confident with the messages she conveyed with her outfits, but she liked Jerry’s sense of style and so she sometimes consulted with him on big event choices.
“Still mulling it over. Cocktail length either way.”
“Right,” Cage said. “I’m cool with whatever. I know some people like to dress up, but I just like the Secret Santa, the Karaoke machine when everyone is wasted, that’s my jam. Speaking of that, did you hire a DJ?”
“Everything is ready. Including volunteers vetted for next year’s party, which Jer took care of. Because I can’t do this alone, guys, It’s too much stress.” She sunk her fork into another bite of moist lemon cake and groaned as the sugary goodness melted in her mouth.
“Amber, if you’re too overloaded, just let us know,” Anthony told her. Cage and Sam nodded in agreement.
“Thanks. I appreciate that, and if I’m being honest, I probably needed to hear it too. This is the best birthday party I’ve had in a while. Is that pathetic?”
All three of her co-workers nodded in agreement.
She left the office last on the night of her birthday. It wasn’t unusual, if there were loose ends, Amber tied them up. She locked the inner doors and even the main door to their firm in the hallway. It was habit more than anything else because operations held master keys and cleaned the office by night. She sometimes wondered if it were Frankie vacuuming under her desk or empting emptying her garbage. It seemed like he usually worked days, but she knew they rotated the schedules. She didn’t leave any identifying markers in her office. No pictures, no name plate on the door or even her desk. It really wasn’t necessary because they rarely held meetings that didn’t involve the key players. Their interactions with clients and bidders from outside was all done over the Internet.
Amber yawned and felt guilty for canceling with Lou. It was something she rarely did and was already regretting her decision. But she had to chill, because tomorrow, like every day, she’d see him first thing in the morning.
When she stepped out into the main lobby the first thing she saw was Frankie in a handstand doing push-ups against the wall. Another maintenance guy was trying to nail the handstand and the guy from the security desk was laughing his head off at the less athletic guy’s attempts.
“Spread your fingers out and don’t put all the weight in your wrist!” Frankie looked as cool as a cucumber while the other guy was so red he’d turned blue in the face.
“Hey Amber! You’re leaving late. Want to do some push-ups before you go?” Frankie asked her, but he was laughing and probably wasn’t serious. He was also upside-down. She was just glad they didn’t know it was her birthday. What kind of loser stays after hours, alone, and only has one demolished slice of cake to show for it on their special day? At least Rosa remembered and was kind enough to bake for her.
“Ms. Hamilton, you want me to call you a car or you’ve got one already coming for you?”
“Thanks, Clyde. I called one.” The Christmas tree in the lobby was stunning. At least ten feet tall and as wide as the elevators.
“Ignore these guys,” Clyde told her still smiling. “Frankie there is a real superstar. Probably moonlights as a gymnast.”
“It’s okay, Frankie and I are friends. This seems like a great way to spend your break. Get a new perspective. Fresh blood to the head.”
Oh lord, why did that sound sexual? And now that she’d walked into his space she realized they had an up close view of her slutty shoes and probably could see straight up her skirt to boot. His face was already red so she couldn’t’ tell if he was as heated as her.
“At least someone around here gets me,” Frankie huffed in Clyde’s direction. “Have a good night, Amber! Killer shoes if you don’t mind me saying!”
She walked by the two upside down men and felt heat spread though her chest. He didn’t know about her spying. Couldn’t know that Amber didn’t take her heels off—for anything, including sex.
Frankie
He got home after four in the morning. Took the one train uptown and it never ceased to amaze him how many people rode that train in the dead of night on a Monday. Maybe he was a loser and missing out on one hell of a New York social life. His neighbor Lavinia had fed and walked Peebo for him. She usually did so on nights he worked the late shift. The tiny teacup Terrier, more like teacup terror, would be grumpy as hell. Probably chewed up his dress shoes or peed on his pillow.
The lights were off in his apartment and he flicked them on. Peebo was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, eyes wide, but sleepy, giving Frankie the death glare.
“What? Listen you eat that fancy food so you don’t get kidney stones. Your grooming bill is more expensive than my wardrobe, and you never say thank you!”
Peebo barked and then jetted toward Frankie, lifted his tiny leg and urinated on Frankie’s shoe.
“Fuck, dude!” Frankie jumped shaking the offensive drips off his black work shoes. “You are going down, little man. I was going to do pistachio muffins with you in the morning, but you are getting dog food!
Peebo whimpered and cocked his head at Frankie, giving him the saddest puppy dog eyes.
Frankie squeezed his forehead and shook his head at the tiny animal that ruled his life. He took his shoe off and stuck it in the dishwasher, tossed in a pellet and turned it on “sanitize.” The shoes were expensive but they were guaranteed “weatherproof.” He grabbed paper towels and cleaning spray and wiped up the little yellow drops off of the floor.
“Go to bed!” He yelled at Peebo. The dog put his ears back and did his clackity paw dance cocking his head at Frankie. It felt like an apology. “Go!” He pointed down the hall to his bedroom. Peebo took off running, legs barely touching the hard wood floors.
When he got into his bedroom, Peebs was on the bed pawing the comforter, ass stuck up in the air.
“I’m still mad,” Frankie told him. The dog leaped up to his pillow and stuck his nose under the h
eavy blanket, effectively lifting it up. He burrowed underneath the covers. Frankie couldn’t help but smile when he watched the little pee ball wiggle all over the mattress. Peebo loved going under the covers. “I’m gonna take a picture and then I’ll come to bed.” Like he needed to tell the damn dog. Lifting his hands into the air above his head, Frankie cracked his back and rolled his neck. He stripped down to just his boxers and T-shirt. Even though Amber always took his mind off nearly everything, the Red Shoes woman still niggled at the back of his mind. He wanted to find out for sure if she was trying to communicate with him, and the only way to do that was to take more pictures. He set up the camera quickly on the end of his bed and flipped up against the wall into a handstand. His white T-shirt fell nearly to his face exposing his abs. He bit the material in his teeth and smiled for the camera. He was semi hard and he didn’t even care. At this point he couldn’t tell if it was Red Shoes or Amber who was driving him crazier.
Amber
Amber confirmed the caterers order, reserved a coffee service and picked out cutlery and table settings all on a Saturday morning. An hour with Lou ended in a huge dose of endorphins. She showered, drank green tea while she read the Times. And when she couldn’t stave it off anymore, she opened Instagram and looked at Frankie’s picture. Coincidentally, she’d touched herself last night when she got home imagining him just like that. With just a T-shirt and boxers on, the stance was really powerful. His shoulders and biceps bulged with exertion. His shirt he was biting like a goddamned animal. But the crown jewel of the shot was his junk. She could see the outline of his hard cock through his drawers and it sent a rush of desire flying up her spine. She was warm and wet between her legs imagining how good he’d look completely naked. Her fingers curled wanting to grab his length and run her hand up and down the smooth skin. Frankie worked as a janitor when he could easily be the face and body for Hugo Boss if he wanted.
She grabbed her vibrator from her bedside table and took care of the need. Succinctly, but with a desperate passion that practically made her crawl out of her own body. She pinched her own nipples and fucked herself deep with the silicone penis. They’d been so close just a handful of hours ago. Was she too scared to ask him out? Who cared where he worked? His obliviousness to his own looks was refreshing, adorable even. In the bathroom she brushed her teeth in front of the mirror. Her hair was a mess and she was clad in only a white spaghetti strap tank top and matching white boy shorts. Amber spit the toothpaste out into the sink and was struck with an idea.
She practiced a few times first since she didn’t want to break her head open. She probably hadn’t done a handstand since cheerleading back in high school. After setting the camera up at the edge of the bed, she cartwheeled into the wall and caught her balance just in time. Amber faced the wall instead of the camera. Her ass was in full view, and her shirt rode all the way up too, but it would be the muscles in her back on display and only a hint at her naked breasts. She repeated the task a few times until she finally got the shot she wanted.
She filtered it to black and white and with a deep breath, posted the picture to Instagram.
Frankie
He woke up to a text from Lou. He’d slept past noon and Peebo was still under the covers probably holding his tiny bladder. When Frankie stirred, he poked his head out and started licking his chin stubble.
“Peebs, Christ! Brush your damn teeth!”
Lou’s text was totally out of character and Frankie could tell he felt guilty.
Sorry for my reaction yesterday. I don’t think you know, kid, how many women ogle you on bad day. You do what you want. Not sure if you even heard my comment about the modeling agency.
I did. I know. And I do do me. You old bastard!
He immediately replied. You still in bed, milquetoast?
What a dick. He thought.
Been up for HOURS. At brunch right now with a hottie. He typed out.
Nope, you ain’t. Cause I’m standing out front your door and I could hear you sawing logs. You had a 5 K to run today for Lymphoma. I dropped out when you were MIA ‘cause I worry about you like I do my own kids, ya dumb shit.
“Fuck!” Frankie exclaimed jumping out of the bed and taking half the sheets with him. Peebo barked out his warning song as they both raced to the front door. Frankie skidded on the wood floor and leaned down momentarily to remove his socks. Peebo jumped in the air like an insane circus dog. He wiggled his back at the peak trying to jump high enough to bite the doorknob.
“Sorry, boss,” Frankie said letting his loving and grizzled coach into his apartment. “I fucked up. Can’t believe I missed the race,” he said running his hands through his disheveled bed hair. “I’ll still match the donations.” He went to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and downed the contents quickly.
“I know you will. I got worried you were angry at me about your internet girlfriend. I can see why you’re into it, but I would, you know, encourage you to try some real life dating as well.”
“Coffee?”
“No, I’m green tea only.”
“I’ve got it. I’ll make some.” Frankie took down a box of tea from the cupboard above the sink. Filled the tea kettle and pulled a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “I was on the late shift. That’s why I knocked out so hard.”
“Speaking of that shitty job. Did you see the copy of the Wilhelmina contract I emailed you? Six figure offer with that brand you always wear.”
“What? Seriously?” He stood slack jawed at Lou’s statement.
“What, you think I’m gonna joke about it? You got the chops kid. They want you and, mark my words, this won’t be the only contract you’ll get offered.”
“Holy crap, Lou. Can’t even process.”
“You worked hard for it, Frank. You can quit the job. Dedicate your time to training and fitness modeling exclusively.”
Frankie dropped six eggs into a hot frying pan scrambling them as they hit the surface.
“I’ll try to go on more dates. It can be my New Year’s resolution.”
They sat at Frankie’s kitchen island and ate scrambled eggs and toast. Frankie grated cheese onto his while they were still steaming. Lou got up and made a protein shake while Frankie went over the contract. It was a big deal, the biggest thing to ever happen to him. All thanks to Lou too. Sure Frankie worked hard, but Lou had coached and guided him every step of the way. From the physical side to cultivating his inner strength. Hell, Lou even taught him how to use Instagram, advised on posts and took half the damn pictures that gained him his huge following.
“You’re coming with me, right? Be my agent or whatever it is you do?”
“I’ll always be there for you, kid. But at this stage in the game, you need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“You get a cut of this, man. That’s for sure. I wouldn’t be at this stage without you.”
“I won’t take shit, so you better stop talking about it.” Lou waved a hand through the air.
Frankie wanted to punch the wall or maybe even shed a tear. It felt like Lou was breaking up with him and he was about the most important person in his life.
“You gonna go find your next prodigy?”
“Something like that.”
Frankie fed Peebo bits of egg and cheese, leaning off the stool and dropping his hand to the floor.
“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend. Married to that damn dog!”
“Peebs is a boy,” Frankie retorted. Lou shook his head at Frankie like he was an amateur.
They both sat silently scrolling through their phones. Frankie was responding to comments on Instagram, Lou was reading the news. He couldn’t wait to tell his followers about the new gig. They would flip. Even he was flipping the fuck out. Like Lou said, he’d been a life-long fan of the brand. Begged for his first track suit from his dad at thirteen. Now his life had come full circle and they were offering to pay him to wear it.
He checked his favorite pages to follow which le
d him to Red_Jimmy_Shoes. There she was in all her splendor, upside-fucking-down. Ass to the camera, and what an ass it was. Breasts exposed to the wall, what a tease, and filtered in black and white again. She blew him away with her subtle and sexy homages; they turned him on like crazy.
“Check it out,” he passed the phone to Lou.
“Same girl?” Lou asked. He reached in his front pocket and pulled out his glasses. He held the phone away from him and squinted, then pulled it in close and let out a chortle.
“Sexy, right?” Frankie said. “I put up a handstand one last night too, that’s what it’s in response to.”
“That’s Amber. One of my clients. The hair would have tipped me off if it were in color, but I’d recognize that ass any day.”
“Why, you were involved?” Frankie’s eyes bugged out.
Lou removed his glasses.
“No, you dumb shit. Involved in a client—trainer relationship, thank you. I been training that girl for nearly five years. One hell of a squatter.”
“So she found me because she’s also a client of yours? Wait a second—Amber? That’s the woman from work!” Frankie jumped to his feet and grabbed the phone back from Lou. “Amber and I have the same trainer?”
“Guess so,” Lou said going back to his news.
Peebo was racing around the kitchen island and barking. He’d jump once every lap when he got close to Frankie.
“How come you never told me?”
“What? I don’t talk about my other clients.”
“We work in the same building!”
“Great! Ask her on a date,” Lou yawned.
“Is she single?”
“Divorced. I actually starting training her ex-husband first. Paying client, but the guy always rubbed me the wrong way.”
“Should I let her know I know?” Frankie asked him. He felt flattered and excited and nervous as hell.