The Boyfriend Project

by Farrah Rochon

  “Thanks for checking on me, but honestly, I’m fine,” Samiah continued. “Now, I really need to get back to work.”

  “Oh!” Keighleigh’s green eyes—probably contacts—lit up. “Are you working on the proposal for Swiss Burger?”

  “I am,” Samiah answered, her Spidey senses on red alert.

  “I wondered what you were thinking when it came to that conundrum their CTO mentioned. I mean, I can understand them wanting to reduce connection speed after someone has been online for more than thirty minutes, but I don’t know how they do that without coming off as, well, cheapskates.”

  “Well, that conundrum is what today’s meeting is about.”

  Keighleigh leaned in closer, her lips turning up in a wily smile, as if she and Samiah were in a partnership and she had a secret to share. In a conspiratorial whisper, she asked, “So what are you planning to present to Grant?”

  Was she serious? Samiah wanted to tell her that she was born on a Tuesday, not today. Instead, she said, “A few ideas I’ve come up with.”

  She matched Keighleigh’s smile with one of her own as she picked up her coffee mug and pushed back from the desk. “You know what? I just realized I haven’t had any coffee yet. No wonder I’m feeling all ragey.” She started for the door, but turned when she sensed Keighleigh wasn’t following her. Samiah arched a brow at her coworker.

  “Oh, I guess that’s my cue to get back to work,” Keighleigh said.

  Samiah nodded. As if she would leave her to snoop around in her office. “I know you want to wow Grant with all those awesome ideas you’ve come up with.” Samiah sent her another saccharine smile. “Meet you in the conference room.”

  Chapter Four

  We call this a semi–open concept work environment. Studies show that team members work better when they’re able to bounce ideas off one another without the obstruction of walls, but too much of an open environment impedes productivity. I think we’ve found a healthy balance here at Trendsetters,” the HR director said, his bald head gleaming under the panel of LED lights high above.

  Daniel Collins nodded and smiled. A response wasn’t expected. Having experienced more than a dozen episodes such as this one over these past two years, he’d learned the subtle nuances of navigating the first day on the job. He knew based on the inflection in Owen Caldwell’s voice when a polite, interested nod would work and when the man expected him to make an actual comment. So far, he’d gotten by with a few hums of approval.

  As they continued the tour, Daniel compared the layout of the software company’s vast office space to the mental map in his head. He’d meticulously studied the floor plan weeks ago, but things changed. Desks were moved, partitions were erected. Being cognizant of the space around him was imperative to the success of his new job.

  “And here we are at your home away from home.” Owen’s cheerful voice was a bit grating, but the man was trying to make a good first impression. Interesting how that went. It should have been the other way around, but Daniel’s résumé had spoken for itself. Trendsetters was lucky to have him and they knew it. He’d made sure of it.

  They approached a polished, six-by-three-foot desk made of thick light oak. It was identical to the two dozen that were arrayed in neat rows in this section of the office, each with two large monitors that angled toward each other. There were a few people milling about, but for the most part, everyone seemed focused on their computers, earbuds and earphones shutting them out from the rest of the world. They could all be in cubicles for this.

  “Jamie set you up with the basics, but if you need additional supplies, they can be found in the supply closet I pointed out earlier. Except for external hard drives,” Owen added. “If you need an extra one, you’ll need to see Laurie in Operations and sign for it.” The HR director clapped his hands together. “Did I miss anything?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I think you’ve covered it all. I’m ready to dive in.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. And remember, we take ourselves seriously, but not too seriously. Work should be fun.”

  Owen clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Daniel fought the urge to knock it off. As the head of Human Resources, Mr. Caldwell here should know better than to put his hands on an employee without their express permission.

  He let the incident pass. He wasn’t here to start shit. At least not with some straight-out-of-central-casting HR director. He had a job to do, and it required him to lie low and not make waves.

  Daniel rolled the ergonomic office chair back from his desk and sat, nearly groaning at the way it cradled him. Trendsetters didn’t skimp when it came to office furniture, that’s for damn sure. He could live in this chair.

  He powered on the twenty-four-inch iMacs and jerked back as a barrage of welcome messages populated the screen.

  Owen’s cheerfulness should have forewarned him that Trendsetters was one of those work environments. He’d hoped for at least a day or two before he would be expected to actually interact with people. That was always the hardest part.

  He’d been stoked when his new supervisor, Justin Vail, explained that the Research and Development Department was trying to get away from emails and migrate to a messaging system. Nothing chapped his ass more than a bunch of Reply All emails. And that one guy who always replied with Ditto to every email? That asshole could go jump in the river. He wouldn’t be surprised if Owen Caldwell was Trendsetters’ Ditto Guy. He fit the part.

  But Daniel wasn’t sure this messaging software was any better than email. Was he expected to reply to each individual message?

  Relief rushed through him when he hovered his mouse over the first one and a thought bubble filled with a half-dozen emojis popped up. He quickly clicked the thumbs-up on each message, then took a few minutes to familiarize himself with the company’s software, opening his orientation folder to the page with his login information and setting up new passwords.

  Five minutes in, he got an uneasy feeling. It prickled the back of his neck. He glanced to his right and discovered the source. The pretty brunette with the Catwoman glasses was staring at him.

  Morgan Broomfield. Twenty-five. Graduated top of her class at Texas State. Considered a genius for her work with data structures and algorithms. Was arrested for staging a Black Lives Matter march on campus her senior year.

  No one he had to worry about.

  She smiled. He smiled back.

  Daniel returned his attention to his computer. He counted to four before looking up to find her standing at his desk.

  “Hi. I’m Morgan,” she said, sticking her hand out. “Welcome to Trendsetters.”

  “Nice to meet you, Morgan.” He shook her hand, his eyes following her movements as she settled a hip against his desk.

  “You’ll be introduced to the entire team at the Morning Crush—that’s what they call the daily department meeting where everyone gives a brief update about what they’re working on for the day—but I wanted to introduce myself ahead of time.”

  She had a pretty smile. And those light gray eyes were stunning. Daniel knew exactly what she was saying with those eyes, which is why he kept his expression intentionally neutral.

  It happened every time he started a new job, usually within a matter of hours. He could count on at least one or two new coworkers—male or female—to engage in some kind of behavior that broadcasted their interest. A flirtatious smile. Overly aggressive eye contact. Some were brazen as hell, but others, like Morgan here, were refreshingly subtle.

  Planting her backside and thigh on his desk was a bold move, but it could also be seen as just an open, friendly gesture from a coworker who wanted him to feel welcome. It was the eyes that gave her away. They were assessing, with just a hint of eagerness. Daniel could sense her trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if he would reciprocate.

  He would not.

  A workplace romance wasn’t on his agenda. That didn’t mean he would immediately rebuff her advances if any were forthcoming. He needed t
o discern whether his extremely friendly new coworker could be a possible asset before he threw any I don’t do office hookups vibes her way.

  He would have to revisit his notes before he decided what to do about Morgan. Just because she didn’t automatically stand out to him didn’t mean she wasn’t useful. Maybe he’d missed something.

  “Thanks for the warm welcome,” Daniel told her. “It’s been a while since I went through this whole first-day-on-the-job thing,” he lied. “It means a lot.”

  “It wasn’t that long ago since I was the new kid on the block,” she said.

  She’d been here a year already.

  “You’d think I’d be used to it,” he said. “Military kid.”

  He knew Morgan would jump on that. He remembered from her dossier that she’d spent much of her formative years traveling from one Army base to another.

  “Same here.” Her teeth sparkled like freshly polished pearls, and that flirtatious glint in her eyes moved her closer to the aggressive category.

  Rule number 50 in the handbook. Make them believe you share something in common. It encourages people to let their guards down.

  “We Army brats have to stick together,” Daniel said.

  Shit. She hadn’t revealed that her family was Army.

  His heart began to hammer within his chest as he waited for her to call him on his mistake. His entire body wilted with relief when she continued smiling the kind of smile that told Daniel she was mentally staging the Instagram selfie that would announce their new relationship.

  Damn. He’d caught a lucky break with that one. He would have to be more careful.

  Her ringing cell phone saved him from having to endure any more of this conversation. She looked down at the screen and said, “I have to take this. Enjoy your first day on the job. And if you need anything, I’m right over there.”

  She pointed toward her desk, and Daniel caught sight of another of his new coworkers—Jessica Lui, UCLA grad, owner of a budding homemade soap-making business—giving him serious eye action.

  Unlike Morgan, Jessica already had a spot on his potential asset list. Not only did they have the connection of their Asian heritage, but she’d also been a member of the development team that launched Trendsetters’ WiMax software. It had been over a year since she’d been a part of the team, but it was still worth building an alliance with her.

  Maybe an office romance wasn’t off the table. Whatever it took to get the job done.

  * * *

  “Are you ignoring me?”

  “I’m not ignoring you. I’m working.” Samiah glanced up at the camera on her computer screen and shot her sister an exaggerated smile. “See. I’m still here.”

  “Stop smiling like that. You look like a deranged serial killer. Have you checked the view count today?”

  “If you keep bringing up that stupid video, you’re going to turn me into a deranged serial killer.”

  “Just look at the view count!” her sister shrieked. The giddiness in her tone was so uncalled for, but then Denise thought the response to the video of her fight with Craig was something Samiah should be excited about.

  “Again, I’m working,” she said. “I don’t have time to look at YouTube every five minutes, and to be honest, I don’t care how many views it has.”

  Lie.

  “Over eight hundred thousand,” Denise said, not catching Samiah’s not-so-subtle hint to drop the subject. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it hits a million by the end of the night,” her sister prattled on. “Oh, and I heard that sushi place is getting inundated with reservations. The three of you should be given your own special table there. You’ve put that place on the map.”

  “It was on the map even before that video went viral.”

  “Well it’s not just on the map now, it is the map. Maybe they’ll name a sushi roll after you! Hey, don’t roll your eyes,” Denise said. “It could happen.”

  The doorbell chimed and her sister’s face froze on the screen. A moment later, she reappeared, sporting a huge smile. “Sorry, my phone automatically switches to the doorbell app whenever it rings. Guess what’s being delivered?”

  “Lunch?”

  “The baby’s crib!” The unmitigated joy on her face triggered the first genuine pleasure Samiah had felt since Saturday. “I need to let the delivery guys in. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Wait!” Samiah stopped her before she could hang up their FaceTime call. “I had to listen to you go on and on about that stupid video for the past twenty minutes, and now you want to disconnect? No! I want to see the crib too.”

  “Not until the nursery reveal,” Denise said. “Besides, it’s still in a box. The delivery guys have to assemble it.”

  “Fine. But text me a selfie of you standing in front of your microwave with the time showing once they leave. I want to make sure they don’t murder you.”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “No more Forensic Files for you. And I know it’s my fault,” she added before Samiah could speak. “But maybe you should take a break from it.” Denise was the one who’d forced her to sit through an all-day marathon of the true-crime show. Now she was hooked.

  “Love you, honey,” her sister said.

  “Love you too,” Samiah returned before ending the call.

  She tried to focus on the presentation she was set to deliver at lunch, but thoughts of the escalating view count on that damn video continued to grab at her attention. A couple more minutes ticked by before she gave up the fight. Minimizing the window with her presentation, she opened the browser and went to YouTube.

  She did a double take. Had the video made the home page?

  “No way.”

  It was in her browser history. That’s why it was the first thing she saw. Had to be.

  Yet, even as she begged her brain to believe the lie, Samiah knew better. She peeked over at the Trending tab and saw the still image of her mouth wide open, preparing to light into Craig’s lying ass. Denise was right, the video would definitely hit a million views before the end of the day.

  She tipped her head back, releasing an aggrieved huff toward the ceiling. She wanted to take a nap and wake up to find all this humiliation behind her.

  Samiah pushed away from her desk before she gave in to the urge to throw the monitor against the wall. For one thing, she’d probably hurt herself. Second, she doubted her boss would appreciate the destruction of company property.

  She grabbed the WORLD’S GREATEST AUNTIE mug Denise and Bradley had given her—their way of announcing that, after four years of trying, they’d finally gotten pregnant—and went in search of a caffeine boost. She’d blown past her two-cup limit an hour ago, but it was either caffeine or alcohol, and Saturday night had put her way over her limit. Her boss probably wouldn’t approve of alcohol consumption on the job either.

  The moment she walked out of her office, the redhead from Quality Assurance, with bad acne and a penchant for wearing plaid flannel shirts like her grandfather used to wear, approached her. He held his phone up to her face.

  “Snapping a pic for my roommate. He didn’t believe me when I told him I work with you,” he said, his thumbs flying across his phone screen.

  Stunned, Samiah just stood there, watching him walk away. Was this how it would be from now on? Being accosted by coworkers whose names she didn’t even remember?

  No. She wouldn’t allow it. She just had to make it through today. The fervor over her encounter with Craig would die down and things would get back to normal. Just make it through the damn day.

  She inhaled and exhaled, allowing the deep, calming breath to flow through her.

  There. That’s better.

  She rounded the wall that separated Trendsetters’ kitchen from the rest of the office and sent up a silent prayer of thanks when she found it relatively empty. It wouldn’t be that way for long. This was more than just a place to heat up leftovers for lunch; it was the epicenter of the entire office.

  A half-dozen octagonal alco
ves were cut into the walls, housing individual booths that were designed more for impromptu breakout sessions than eating. That was normally reserved for the twelve-foot-long frosted-glass bar, with a dozen stools on either side. The kitchen area’s left wall housed two stainless-steel microwaves, an industrial refrigerator, and a beverage cooler stocked with juices, sodas, and most recently, kombucha. Taylor would be proud.

  To the right was the coffee bar, which rivaled anything you’d find in a coffee shop. At the press of a button one could enjoy a cappuccino, macchiato, latte, or any number of beverages. An array of coffee and tea accompaniments resided next to the space-age coffee machine, from flavored syrups to individually wrapped chocolate-covered spoons.

  As usual, Samiah opted for straight black coffee. On occasion she’d add a couple pumps of toffee syrup when she was feeling fancy. Today wasn’t a fancy kind of day. The lingering effects of those Moscow Mules from Saturday night demanded nothing less than the strongest coffee she could find.

  “Hey, hey, hey! It’s our own Real Housewife!”

  Samiah cringed at the sound of Peter Stawell’s voice. She turned and immediately wanted to slap the jovial grin from his face. Why did everyone think this was some kind of joke? This was her life that had been plastered across the Internet for everybody and their mamas to judge.

  Peter nudged her arm. “I have to say, I’m disappointed a catfight didn’t break out between you and that girl with the braids. She looks like she can throw down.”

  “Oh, do you want me to contact her for you?” Samiah asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m sure she’d be willing to demonstrate by kicking your ass.”

  Peter’s smile disappeared. “I was just kidding around. Sheesh, Samiah, don’t take things so seriously.”

  Yep. She should have taken the day off.

  A week ago, she would have apologized to Peter for being a bitch. After what happened Saturday night—and the public’s reaction to it, how people now felt as if her private life was a free-for-all—she felt justified in her bitchiness. She had no intention of apologizing ever again.