by Alex Rosa
“Okay-Okay. I don’t know what you want me to say. I have my concerns, that’s all.”
“Concerns?” she goads. “Well, I’m not here to take your job, if that’s what you’re thinking —which I know you are.”
Did she say The Valley earlier? Because I hear that twang of attitude.
I sit up straighter, adjusting my tie, forcing my eyes not to notice the opening to her blouse again.
“You’re not?”
“No, Troy. I’m not. I’m here to survive. Does that make sense to you?”
Why can’t I relax around her? Her little slouch tells me she’s fine, but my shoulders are tense.
She speaks of survival? That I know of. Curiosity bubbles in my gut as I adjust my blazer.
“Survival?”
Her brown eyes twinkle mischievously as she waves a dainty finger back and forth while finishing off her martini.
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to know those details until we’re friends.”
I pick up the menu, just to give myself something to do, and I try to refrain from giving her a tone. “I thought we were friends,” I lie.
Her pink tongue peeks out from between her lips, licking over her bottom lip, and her stare goes stale before she reaches down into her purse. She pulls out a manila folder and lightly drops it on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask
“It’s the Soleil’s file. Were you ever going to mention these clients to me?”
I switch to my defensive, making sure my eyes turn to stone as I watch her. “It’s your first day here, Julia. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not getting it. I’m not here to catch you red handed. I’m here to show you when we should be working together.”
“I would’ve mentioned it eventually.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. I don’t know why you’re making me try so hard to get you to accept me. If you‘d mentioned them to me you’d find out that I know them. I sold them my design to their Santa Monica nightclub as a contractor less than a year ago. Plus, they like me. They won’t like you.”
My ears burn at hearing her impressive admission and insult. I’m still fuming.
I run an anxious hand through my slicked back hair. It’s obvious to me even now that if I wasn’t such an ass, we might actually get along. Though, I’m not ready to give in so easily. I can’t just hand over my trust. I’m a skeptic at best.
“Of course they’ll like me,” I reply, but she blatantly hums her disapproval before allowing me to go on. “I don’t mean to make this so difficult. I’ve been working hard on getting that account, and I just got them to come to the city. I’ve put a lot of work in.”
She releases an exasperated sigh, twirling the olive in her empty glass. “I’m not here to claim all your hard work as my own. Give me a chance. I’m just trying to find a place to belong, okay?” she adds bashfully, shaking her head and pursing her lips. It makes me think she wishes she could take back that last part.
A part of me wants to be sympathetic. Her peeking sincerity draws me in, but there’s more on the line than this reflexive need for compassion. Like my job.
“Okay,” I lie, and for once it stings, because if I separate my half-hard on from the equation, it’s possible with her impressive design skills we would make a good team.
“Okay?” she breathes triumphantly, and I find the wispy murmur that slips from her mouth sexy, and I force down the guilt that flutters in my gut.
Her eyes finally soften back into large, doe-like orbs, which I decide since meeting her, is how I like them to look.
“We can work together.” I chew the inside of my cheek as I refrain from telling her I’ve already planned having dinner with the Soleil’s next week. I’ll update her after I find out where we are with the situation, steering this the way I need it to go to impress Paul. I also make a mental note to clarify with Claire which files are mine, and that they should not, under any circumstances, ever be shared with Julia Ferris.
She can’t hold her stare for long as she lets her eyes drop to her hands. I may be impressed by her professional tenacity, but I’m attracted to the dichotomy of her shy side. She continues to twiddle with her olive. Her neurotic fingertips have me holding back a smile as she tries to hide her eyes from me. Julia talks a lot of talk, but she’s kind of dainty.
A weight slowly lifts off my shoulders, because even if I’m spewing this white lie of camaraderie, I like that after this morning’s disaster, Julia and I have found some sense of common ground to work from.
My eyes follow her feminine lines, over her shoulders, to the curve of her breasts, and down to her hips, surveying the enigmatic, but all too enthralling creature before me.
I don’t have a plan. I can’t seem to form one. I’m winging it.
A piercing chirp erupts from her purse, causing her to leap, knocking me out of my blatant gawking. I try to get a grip as she leans down, grabbing for her phone.
Her look of determined businesswoman that was barely there before vanishes, and I get the flashing image of a sprite Julia Ferris. Her eyelids fluttering with what seems to be matched with the rapid beating of her heart as she hugs her phone close to her chest.
I raise a brow, confused and delighted by the transition. Her cheeks redden, matching her lips. She looks her age, young and hopeful. I’d guess she’s around twenty-five. It’s glorious to witness, actually. At twenty-nine, I forget what that looks like.
She lets the silence hang, staring briefly at my face, and then anywhere else but me.
I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time, feeling the need to feed into the hormonal teen that just appeared across the table from me. “What is it?” I ask, shaking my head in dumbfounded curiosity.
“Uh,” she fumbles. “It’s a funny story. I met a guy outside the building this morning. I gave him my number and he just texted me. Silly, I know.”
My disposition, once on the brink of sunny, sours instantly, and I can only glare.
Her angelic, high cheek-boned smile falters under my proverbial daggers.
The waiter walks up, too cheerful, as he practically sashays to my side to ask, “What would you like to order this afternoon?”
I clench my jaw, turning away from Julia. I don’t know where this reaction comes from, but I’m in no mood to play nice now.
“Red meat, please. A steak will do.”
I make it a point to grab for the olive in her glass, causing her to freeze. I plop it in my mouth like a petulant child, and the wry smile she throws me in return only riles me up even more.
Dammit, I wish I could hate her.
I press the Enter button triumphantly on my keyboard as the printer on my desk spits out my e-mail confirmation seconds later.
Lunch with Troy three days ago was torturous, yet undeniably enjoyable at the same time. How is that possible? I’m not quite sure yet.
The bickering was more playful than scrutinizing, and I couldn’t help but laugh at Troy’s tightly tweaked brow as he scolded me while cutting into his steak, as if he killed the beast himself. But the best part was hearing his laughter. It’s tone even deeper than his voice, and it wrapped around me like a summer breeze every time.
I would continue to point out his ridiculous nuances of arrogance, and he kept trying to prove I had ulterior motives to take his job among my jokes and jabs. If I’m not mistaken, we might’ve made progress. Although, we departed like strangers once we entered the office. We rode the elevator in silence and then strolled to our offices without so much of a goodbye or a thank you, let alone recognition of the electrifying banter, or raw words that were exchanged—nothing. I had walked into my office and taken a seat wondering if I made up the whole lunch date in my head.
I racked my brain to rid itself of the deep baritone sound of Troy’s laughter that echoed in my head, filling random blank spaces of time, as if taunting me with the debatable memory.
Though, by some innate jerk-ness of a magical power, he’s still managed to annoy me in the empty lulls of time. He’s deliberately been ignoring my existence. I found that with each morning, no matter how early I thought I was getting there after getting a cup of coffee across the street, Troy was already in his office with the door closed. I’d feel his intense blue stare through the open blinds, but we never crossed paths. Like he’s actively avoiding me, and making sure I know it.
The disconnect feels there more than ever, and the word team is starting to feel like a far off memory, too. Troy is serious with his vendetta, and I should’ve assumed he would be a man of his stubborn word.
Regardless, I’ve been using my days to find a way to prove myself, connecting with a developer that just got into town who bought a rundown building in the Lower East Side, a mere block from the growing nightlife area, and this one is close to the water. I already have a meeting scheduled with him tomorrow morning.
I plan on extending the olive branch with this project invite to Troy. Maybe he’ll take the bait.
Even though Troy gives purposeful glares from his closed office, I have to admit I’ve enjoyed having his eyes on me. Even half hidden behind his windowed blinds I can feel how they sometimes travel heavily over my body, making my heart rate pick up. There’s something fun and forbidden about it, but these are absurd thoughts in the grand scheme of things. I should be more concerned with him seeing me as an equal.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t admire his designs that hang all throughout the office. His style is unmistakable: stark colors, clean lines, dramatic spaces, modern elegance. All elements that embody the city I now live in.
This investor, Kevin Jones, has millions to toy with, and is looking to invest in the restaurant business. This is my chance to jumpstart this endeavor. To show I’ve got the initiative and the skill to work here. I’m willing and excited to earn my spot here if I have to.
My fingertips wiggle eagerly as the printer spits out the last page of the e-mail.
I peer down at my feet, my Louboutins tapping their toes in furious anticipation of directing me toward Troy’s office.
I snatch the paper from the tray and fly out the door of my office. I try calming my steps and claw-like grip on the papers once I’m out in the open, but my feet abruptly halt themselves the moment my eyes recognize Troy walking out of the elevator.
That asshole…
Jacques and Louis Soleil, the clients we previously discussed, come strolling out, each standing on either side of Troy. The French brothers are impeccably dressed in matching gray suits, except each wears a different tie to complement their crisp, white linen shirts.
Troy rests his hands in his pockets, to accompany his shit-eating grin, as he talks to Jacques, who adjusts his sunshine yellow tie, but Louis is scowling beside the two men, only nodding and listening intently.
Silly Troy, you can’t get one without the other and think you have it in the bag.
The three men stroll through the lobby of the office without much of a glance in my direction as I stand stoically in front of Claire’s desk, whose petite gasp embodies my evident shock.
But I don’t say a word. I make sure they enter Troy’s office uninterrupted, and I wait until the door shuts before I erratically crumple my two page document in my hand, grumbling as I do so, and dramatically plunge it into the trash next to Claire’s desk.
Claire squeaks, “I’m sorry. I knew he had a meeting this morning, but I didn’t know with whom.”
I release a cathartic squeak of my own as I straighten myself out from my bout of irrational behavior. “Oh Claire, don’t even worry about it. I should’ve seen this coming. Don’t worry though, as frustrating as it is, I’m still going to win.”
Claire’s eyes light up as she pulls a pen I hadn’t noticed before from her messy bun. “Is this war?”
I swivel my body to face her desk. “Um, I cannot confirm nor deny such accusations. And I cannot, in the slightest, have you picking sides, so we’ll leave that questions as is.”
I chew my lip, looking down at my clothes as a diabolical plan sparks anew. I reach for my blouse, unbuttoning the top button, lessening the conservativeness of it. I don’t have it in me to look at Claire this time.
“Hey Claire, you wouldn’t happen to have red lipstick on you, would you?” I ask, knowing I left that shade at home, normally saved for evenings out, not days in the office.
However, this is a special occasion.
I watch Louis and Jacques take a seat at my desk, and I’m more than chuffed with how easy it was for us to go from coffee to here, but this isn’t my first rodeo. They expect the full treatment. As they should.
“So, how long are you two thinking about staying in town?”
Louis does not attempt to reply, but his eyes are on me, and they have me feeling anxious. I keep my cool.
Jacques long fingers stroke his jaw to reply, but he doesn’t get three words in before my office door swings open.
I’m about to snap at my assistant who’s come in unannounced, but I’m wrong with the assumption.
My mild panic at the interruption shifts into shock as my mouth falls slack. I watch Julia’s heart shaped face poke in. Her large eyes grab my attention. Her plump, bright red lips reveal a wicked, wide grin.
Both men swivel around in their seat, and even Louis can’t help but lighten up at her presence.
“Mademoiselle Julia! How did we manage the miraculous feat of running into your beautiful face in this part of the world?”
Julia’s cheeks turn a glorious color. “Oh my goodness, bonjour Jacques and Louis, ça va?”
Louis, who I haven’t been able to get much more than a nod out of the past hour, rises from his seat, taking hold of both of Julia’s shoulders, holding her out at arm’s length to give her a once over. “How did I let you get away in California?” Louis leans in and places a delicate kiss on each of her cheeks.
The corners of her mouth are stretched wider than I have ever seen, and that giggle that I only recently became familiar with during our playful lunch tirade sounds in my office. My chest tightens, and the only reaction I can seem to manage is rising from my own chair as I straighten my tie, hoping that the half hard-on in my pants isn’t visible.
She waves him off. “Louis, you’re such a ham! I work here now. I’m trying out the East Coast. How long are you in town?”
I’m petrified to the spot as I watch Jacques join his brother at her side, and for some reason I cannot help but feel the business deal slipping through my fingers.
Giving her a once over, I know I can’t compete with that.
She captured both men by simply appearing, and I haven’t even managed to convince one completely within the past two hours.
Jacques cordially compliments the city of New York, but adds he could use some sunshine. If I’m not mistaken, when Julia takes her dainty hand to brush through her thick wavy hair, she shoots me a glance. It’s a subtle look, but I catch it, and I know I’m right about this whole thing.
She planned this. She must have.
That lipstick, the open blouse, the length of her skirt … am I being played? Hell, I’d have trouble fighting her at this point, too.
“No-No, Louis,” she says, dragging my attention from her impossibly long legs to her face where her wolfish grin smacks me in the face as she says, “Actually, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just came in to tell my partner about a new lead I snagged, and I happened to find you sitting here! What a nice surprise!”
Jacques bobs a finger back and forth between Julia and me. “You two work together?”
Julia’s nod is exaggerated and somewhat condescending as she replies, “Yes, but I didn’t know he’s been talking to you two.”
I want to jump up and shout “Liar!” just to prove to them that she’s messing with me; that she’s a fraud —but I know that isn’t entirely true. That need to feel guilty again bubbles within
me. She knew I had the Soleil file, and now she knows I was still trying to keep them from her. Now that the cat is out of the bag, what’s she going to do about it?
I haven’t said a word thus far, and I should explain myself. I speak up, “Well, of course I was going to pull her into the project,” I reply, seeking out some sense of sincerity, but I’m floundering. I attempt a different angle, playing to what they obviously admire as much as I do. “Julia’s design skills are far better than anything I’ve witnessed within our company. We’re excited to have her join our team.”
Did I just say that? What the fuck am I doing?
With both men’s attention on me, Julia scrunches her eyes in annoyed, confusion at me from behind them, and all I can do is shrug. Yeah, I don’t know why I said it either.
Louis eyes me warily, but pouts with feigned interest, and I’m tempted to roll my eyes but keep still as he speaks, “You hadn’t mentioned her up to this point.”
I’ve played this game before with bigger business, and I will not cower. I smile, chewing the inside of my cheek while sticking my hands into my pants pockets. “I just wanted to gauge how serious you were about your project before announcing it to my team.”
Louis pats Julia blindly on the shoulder as he says while still looking at me, “We haven’t agreed yet. We’d like to see what the city has to offer first, monsieur.”
“Let us show you how much fun this city is and what it has to offer in the market you’re looking to get into,” I reply crisply.
The same slithering smile appears on Jacques face, and I swear they could be identical twins. However, the look cements the fact that even among this friendly banter this is clearly about business.
“Convince us, Monsieur Troy. We need to be convinced before we consider anything. Though, your secret weapon works in your favor, it’d be hard to refuse.”
This bemused expression involuntarily appears on my face, not understanding.
Jacques, seemingly satisfied by my reaction, swivels around to Julia, who is more wide-eyed than she was before as a spectator. He leans in and places his own adoring kisses on her blushing cheeks, and my secret weapon becomes clear.