by Kayla, Mia
Maybe I didn’t need to meet with the marketing team just yet. Maybe I just needed to pick Charlie’s brain on what she’d said earlier to get a better direction on where we should be going.
“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, I think I need to buy you a drink tonight.”
Chapter 4
Charlie
O’Malley’s was a small bar in the South Loop of Chicago. TVs surrounded the main area, and circular leather seats outlined the bar in the center of the room. Autographed pictures of sports stars I didn’t know hung on the walls. Except for Michael Jordan. I knew that much.
“And here, darlings, are your Miller Lites, as requested.” Alyssa settled by Casey in a booth, handing her a drink and sliding my bottle across the table.
“To new and ever-lasting friendships. Cheers!” Casey lifted her bottle to mine and then clinked her bottle against Alyssa’s wineglass.
O’Malley’s wasn’t a wine place, but she’d insisted that it was. Business professionals were dressed in work attire but with undid ties, suit jackets placed on the back of their chairs, indicating that this was an after-work bar. And after work meant hard liquor or at least a cold bottle of beer.
Their conversation continued about the company, and I simply listened.
“All I know is that if we do not think of something soon, layoffs are going to be made because the profit margins are thinning.” Alyssa placed her wineglass to her lips, and a line creased in between her eyebrows.
My stomach sank at the news that Colby’s was struggling. “I had no idea. Why are they still hiring then?” I asked.
“You’re the only person they’ve hired on in months. They were in desperate need of a computer technician in Chicago since Bert, our former tech, retired.” Alyssa tipped back her glass, almost draining all of her wine.
“I just don’t get it.” Casey ruffled her silky brown hair and rubbed at her temple. “Are people all of a sudden not buying candy? How does that even make sense? Seriously, who doesn’t love chocolate or candy? It’s a staple food, like mac and cheese. But better because you have to have a piece of chocolate after every meal.” Her mousy voice was animated and echoed through the room.
Alyssa pursed her lips, leaning toward her in their seat. “Quiet down, Casey. If everyone knew about this dilemma, there would be an uproar because thousands will be losing their jobs if the company goes belly up.” She straightened and placed the wineglass at the center of the table, her fingers sliding up and down the slim, thin neck.
“Plus, I hear that they are working on some new products and an improved look, and it’s gonna be great,” Casey said, pride heavy in her tone, sitting taller.
“Yeah, I’d work on the overall look first. The fact is, the branding is outdated. The packaging is something out of the ’80s, which I get. It should be out of the ’80s because Thomas Colby started the company in the ’80s.” I reached into my purse, plucked out the black leather-bound notebook that my father had given me, and placed it on the table.
I remembered the day he’d brought it home, wrapped in thin silver gift-wrapping paper. It was an actual sketchbook—not the normal lined paper from school, but my first actual sketchbook.
My father had been the first to point out that I had an innate talent to draw. Not only did I love to draw, but I was also good at it.
During the last days when he had been sick, I remembered him looking up at me from the hospital bed and simply saying, “Draw me something, Charlie.” It was like him saying, Sing me something.
I pushed the memories back to where no one could touch them, where they couldn’t hurt me, where I didn’t have to think about them anymore.
My hand did what I always knew how to do—sketched. “This is what I’m talking about, guys. It’s all about the packaging, the feeling, the look.” I lightly tapped the pen against my chin, thinking.
“Maybe it’s the color. This brown is outdated. We need something neutral that would appeal to the older generations but also kids.” I sketched a rectangular box and then did little strokes inside of the box. “Let’s think of the name of an imaginary candy bar that we own.” I twisted the pen within my fingertips. “It can be … Chewy Caramel, and then in tiny lettering, we could have the signature Colby name.”
I drew horizontal lines inside of the box, my mind twisting with new ideas. “I think their Crunch Bar is the most popular …” I sketched little bite marks on the inside of the rectangle. “Funch,” I said without a second thought. “A fun approach to crunch. It could also mean, family with crunch.” I lifted my head and shrugged. “It’s a Funch bar.”
I placed the name on our imaginary chocolate.
Alyssa turned my sketchbook around, toward them, and shrugged. “That would work. That would actually work. You can always say, I’m gonna Funch you in the face with this Funch bar.”
Her statement caused Casey to laugh.
“What do we have here?” Casey flipped to the next page of my sketchbook, to a picture of the beach and some seagulls.
The beach was one of my favorite places to go. It reminded me of my youth, of family times. When I had been younger, during the weekends, we’d have a picnic in the sand and build sand castles.
I stared at the sketch for a long while, nostalgia hitting me directly in the chest.
“You, Charlie, have talent. Shit …” Casey flipped through each and every page, breaking me from my thoughts, and confidence filled my shoulders, forcing me to straighten. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”
I threw my beer back and smiled, my gaze dipping down to the table. “Thanks.”
There was nothing like getting validation through compliments about your craft, nothing like it on earth.
“Chin up. Take it like a woman. Say thanks and acknowledge that you’re good at what you do.” That was what my father always told me because I had a hard time with taking compliments.
“Let me see what you have there.” Alyssa pulled the sketchpad away from Casey, and both of them leaned over my drawings, flipping through the pages—the abstract figures, one of a billboard I’d passed on the train, the Chicago skyline. The one they were currently gawking at was a naked figure … a male naked figure … a very attractive male naked figure.
“I think I will have to take up drawing really soon.” Alyssa’s sultry voice was tinged with amusement. She grabbed the base of the wineglass and took another sip. She smiled, assessing me. “You’re definitely in the wrong profession.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though she were saying the sky was blue and the grass was green or that this beer was wonderful.
I wished she could speak to my mother, who thought art was just a hobby and that my drawings were simply there to entertain myself.
I could hear her words loudly in my ears. “Pretty paintings are not gonna make you money, honey.”
I’d show her that Daddy was right. That I had a gift that needed to be shared with the world. That I could unveil my paintings and drawings, and people would actually buy them. I would definitely show her that other people enjoyed my creations. Sometimes, I believed that this exhibit I had planned was for her more than me.
I shook my head, not wanting to think of it that way. I wanted to showcase my talent. I was just sad that my father wouldn’t be here to see what I’d done.
Casey’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you a computer tech?” She stared at me as though I’d committed a crime.
I wanted to tell her I didn’t know. I wanted to tell her that, if anything, I hated my job, fixing computers. But I couldn’t. Not when my mother had paid my college debt and worked two jobs to do it. Not when my mother had told me computer science or engineering was the best thing I could do for my future. That, with those career paths, I’d never be without a job because someone would always want to hire me.
When I didn’t answer, Alyssa answered for me, “We all eventually end up where we are supposed to be without thinking about it. Do you think I dreamed of being a CPA at a candy manufacturer when
I was younger? How about you, Casey? You work for quality and assurance because you love candy and you like to watch your employees eat it and taste it and stuff their faces with it, right?” She tilted her head and looked at her. Really looked at her.
Casey lifted her chin with pride. “Because I love this company. I believe in this company. And I wanted to do what my dad did, and I’d like to think I’m a good manager.”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A guy with an arm tattoo and hazel eyes rested his elbows on our table, his beer in his hand.
Right behind him, strolling in, looking too handsome to stare at, was Connor.
“Hey, Pigtails,” Tattoo Guy said.
Casey scoffed and reeled back. She threw him, I swore to goodness, the dirtiest look that I’d ever seen her throw at anyone. Holy crap, one person who Casey didn’t like.
“Get away from me, Loser.” Her words burned like acid, but the guy didn’t flinch. “Anyway, who invited you here?”
Alyssa raised her hand. “Sorry.” But she didn’t sound sorry.
“I’m Kyle.” He extended his hand toward me in greeting.
“Charlie,” I said, introducing myself.
“Oh, I know.” He sported an all-knowing smirk, which had all of me curious.
I took his hand and gave it a little shake. Connor remained silent behind him. But his eyes were burning a hole on the side of my face, just simply watching me.
“Do you work for the company?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m just this jerk’s brother.” He tipped his chin toward Connor. “And I’m Casey’s special friend.”
Casey pinched his shoulder, and he yelped, rubbing at it.
“Hey!”
“Shut up.” Casey motioned between Connor and me. “And you have already met Connor.”
I waved at him from my seat.
Kyle tapped Casey’s shoulder with his pointer finger, purposely being annoying. “Scoot over, Pigtails. I want to sit down.”
“The hell you are,” Casey screeched. “Sit over there.” She pointed to the other end of the room. “There’s no room here.”
“But I want to sit by you, cutie.” He lowered his tone to an overly flirty voice, and Casey’s scowl deepened.
Alyssa and I shared an amused glance.
Alyssa moved over and forced Casey to move closer to her. “Kyle, sit down. Casey, you behave.”
I was by myself in the seat, and there was only one place where Connor could sit. But he stood there, watching me, like a statue, utterly still.
“Connor?” Alyssa lifted an eyebrow and motioned to the empty space beside me. “Sit down. You’re making all of us nervous here.”
I scooted over, and Connor slipped in right beside me. He was like a heater. His closeness radiated warmth, and the warmth spread all through my body. I couldn’t look at him, so I sipped my bottle. I stared at my chipped nail polish. I stared at the lines on the table. I stared at everything, except for him.
They talked about work and about Helen—a coworker of ours I hadn’t met yet—and all I could do was sit there and listen and notice every single quality in Connor. The way he laughed in a deep baritone, that oh-so masculine intonation of his voice, the beer that he was drinking, the way his fingers tapped on the table. His woodsy scent of either his aftershave or his shower gel was so enticing that it had me leaning over, wanting to sniff him.
And all of a sudden, I turned mute, too shy to speak, too shy to do anything other than steal glances his way.
I was acutely aware of his thigh brushing next to mine, and I could not breathe. And it felt like the bar had turned into a sauna. I pulled all my hair to the side, trying to give my neck some air to cool down.
The only thing that broke me from my thoughts was him reaching for my sketchbook.
“Did you draw this?” His voice was full of wonder but then also full of shock.
I placed my hand on top of the sketchbook, as if to block him from seeing anything further.
Before I could even say a word, Casey piped up for me, “Yes, she drew it. We were imagining our very own Colby’s candy bar. Charlie is multitalented. Not only is she Superwoman, who can fix computers, but she is also a talented artist.” She embarrassed me further and flipped to the next page. “There’s more here. Charlie, show them your drawings.”
My ears turned unbelievably hot—super hot, as though someone were lighting a torch against my lobes.
“It’s nothing. It’s nothing really. Just a hobby.” As soon as the words left my mouth, acid burned the back of my throat. Because wasn’t that what my mother always said—that it was just a hobby? I hated that word—hobby. As though I didn’t have passion for it, as though I did it just to pass time, as though it didn’t burn inside of me and I didn’t have this need to wake up and draw every day to express my artistic ability. As though everyone could do what I could do. “It’s just something I do in my spare time.”
“You have talent. Accept it.” Alyssa tipped back her wineglass and lightly slapped the table with one palm. “Don’t be shy. You have to show your abilities off, not dim them.”
I didn’t fight it any further because she was right. I needed to own it, so I lifted my fingers from the pages.
Immediately, Connor reached for my sketchpad. He opened it and flipped through the pages, slowly taking in each individual sketch of art.
He didn’t say a word. Not a single word. And his silence was deafening.
I watched his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way his mouth slipped ajar, the way his finger ran down the paper in appreciation.
Kyle pointed at me. “Charlie, what the hell are you doing, fixing computers?”
The whole table laughed—well, everyone, except for Connor, who just simply stared at the sketches.
“That’s exactly what we were trying to tell her,” Casey said.
Kyle bumped his shoulder against Casey and then smiled. A dimple popped on one of his cheeks. “See, Pigtails, I told you. We don’t disagree about everything.”
She scowled and lifted her nose, bumping her shoulder against his. “Just stop talking.”
“Why does he call you Pigtails?” I asked.
“We went to grade school together … well, high school too. She wore the same pigtails to school every day.”
Ah, now, I got it. The way he teased her reminded me of little boys teasing girls because they had a crush on them.
“Shut up.” Casey pushed at his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “Get out of my booth!”
I’d have to ask Alyssa about this later. Casey seemed to be the type that was slow to anger, and he wasn’t even doing anything annoying other than just being there.
“You’ve got pure talent, Charlie. Absolute pure talent.” Connor’s words were soft, but they seared through me. There was no humor in his tone or his features.
He’d said it just like my dad had said it years ago. Dad would repeat it over and over and over again.
“Charlie, there are few people who can do what you can do. Not everyone can sing. They can be trained to sing, but some are born with a voice to sing. God gave you this gift. You were born to share your art with the world.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip of my beer, letting the cold liquid cool the warmth inside of me.
I averted my gaze because looking at the beauty of this man made my body heat tick up in temperature.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.” Kyle raised a hand, waving over a waitress, and ordered a bunch of appetizers for the table.
“You didn’t even ask what we wanted to order,” Casey snapped, her voice harsh.
She was like Jekyll and Hyde in one person, and the flip of her switch was this Kyle guy.
“I ordered you chicken strips without the breading. I thought you’d like that.”
“Who eats chicken strips without the breading?” She leaned into him, eyebrows scrunched, her lips pursed, and an absolute scowl taking over her features.
&nbs
p; “Well, you know, with your condition and all, you should monitor your carbs.”
It was like watching an old married couple on TV argue. It was quite comical. I bit my tongue to prevent laughter from seeping through my lips.
“I have diabetes, and it is controlled. I eat normal food, you know.”
“Chicken is normal food.”
Alyssa leaned over, so she could look at them both. “Do I really need to sit in between you guys? Can you behave for the next few hours?”
“Can’t you see it’s him?” She poked her finger into Kyle’s shoulder, and he jumped.
“You’re hurting my feelings, Casey.” And when she went in to poke him again, Kyle grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. “Seriously, I’m just looking out for you.”
She shoved at his shoulder and pushed him so hard that he slipped out of the booth. “Get out. I’m playing pool while we wait for food. I can’t sit here by you because you are so annoying.”
Instead of getting back into the seat, he followed her to the pool tables. “I challenge you to a match. If I win, you eat my chicken with no breading, and if you win, I won’t say a single word throughout dinner.”
“You not talking? Impossible.” Her smile turned glorious. “Fine, I might be little, but I can play pool.”
“I can’t miss this.” Alyssa slid out of the booth and headed to the pool table at the far end of the bar.
And then there were two.
“Are they always like that?” I gripped my bottle a little tighter, focusing on my friends on the opposite side of the room. Having Connor this close to me made my pulse tick up in tempo and the inside of my palms sweat.
When I lifted my head, Connor was staring directly at me, and I immediately slid my stare back to the trio at the pool table.
“Yeah. Casey, Kyle, and I grew up together. They are more like siblings who don’t get along. I think Kyle gets a kick out of annoying her. At one point, it was his hobby of sorts.”
“That’s pretty cute.” When my eyes flittered back to his, I noticed his business-casual blue button-down, opposite to what I had seen him wearing this morning. “So, where’s the candy-cane uniform?”