Shaking her head, she says apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir, not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as she arrives.”
She leaves and I feel the desperation eating me inside. Where is she?
Trying to distract myself, I take the box and open it and rifle through the layers of pink tissue paper in disbelief. When I see what’s inside, I almost howl with frustration. She wouldn’t, surely, she hasn’t - I’ve been stood up.
Taking the hoodie out from the box, I hold it to my face and take a deep breath, longing to inhale the scent of a woman I am obsessing over. I can’t even sleep at night and just spend most of my time pleasuring myself, imagining she’s with me. I’m a total freak and there’s no hope for me.
The hoodie just smells of fresh laundry and I toss it to the ground in despair. Surely, she isn’t doing this, why is she doing this, it doesn’t make sense?
Thinking back on our last day together, I try to think of anything that may have scared her off. As always, the memories bring a smile to my lips because I think that was the happiest time of my life.
We spent the whole of Christmas Day making love, eating, drinking and watching Christmas movies. I was only happy when I was either inside her, or some part of my body was connected to her. She was funny, good company and had a wicked sense of humor, which held my interest, unlike the usual women I date. Then she was so sexy and loving when it mattered. We shared the same dreams and vision, and I found myself wanting the life we painted together. I no longer want it to be a dream, it needs to be a reality, which is why I spent the rest of the Christmas break planning it.
Sighing, I stare at my computer screen and remember how desperate I felt when I got the call that the snow plow was on its way. It was over, the magic was over and real life was knocking at the door. When we left, I made her promise to meet me here as soon as she arrived, so I can’t think of one reason why she hasn’t shown up—she’s had second thoughts.
That thought hurts my heart and yet there’s a spark of hope somewhere deep inside because the fact the hoodie is here at all tells me one thing—she’s in the building.
“Excuse me, Mr. Steel.”
Sally pops her head around the door and my heart lifts momentarily, “Is she here?”
My assistant shakes her head and my heart sinks, “No, sir, I was wondering if you wanted me to fetch you a coffee.”
“Yes, fine, thank you.”
As Sally leaves, I feel so frustrated. The thought of business as usual is not happening right now, and I need to think. Perhaps I should do something I never have before, actually venture out of my office and walk the halls of my own company. I’ll search the building and I won’t stop until I find her. Just thinking of how many floors that involves makes my heart sink. I need a better plan, she’s here somewhere and I’m not giving up until I find her.
When Sally returns with my coffee, she says pleasantly, “Did you have a good Christmas, sir?”
“Yes, thanks, did you?”
“It was good. To be honest, one of the best because the snow meant we couldn’t get the usual unwelcome visitors, and we just enjoyed a couple of days of food and Christmas movies. I’ve never been so relaxed.”
“No, me either.”
She looks at me with curiosity. “Did you make it home on Christmas Eve, I was worried about you? I mean, the weather came in so quickly, nobody had a moment to lose in getting away.”
“I was fine.”
She smiles and then makes to leave and I say quickly, “Sally.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you happen to pass by the office party before you left?”
“Briefly, to be honest, I normally just show my face and then leave. I don’t really know many of them down there, but always feel as if someone should represent the management. I mean, I think in all the years I’ve worked here, nobody from this floor has ever bothered to join in.”
“Are you serious?”
I look at her in surprise and she nods, looking a little disapproving.
“Yes, it hasn’t gone unnoticed either. To be honest, Mr. Steele, you’re not the only boss who doesn’t mix with his staff, your father was much the same and by all accounts, his father too. The managers rarely join in either, although we always insist on one of them representing the board, they take it in turns.”
“Is that right?”
I tap my fingers on the desk and feel a spark of hope light a trail of excitement inside.
“So, do you know who the manager was on duty this year?”
“Not off hand but I could look it up.”
“Please, if you don’t mind.”
“What now?”
She seems surprised and I nod, “Yes, now please, Sally.”
She turns and leaves and I spin my chair and look out of the window, a seed of hope growing roots inside. If she won’t come to me, I will go to her and find out what’s keeping her away.
25
Carla
I hate the first day back after the holidays. The office has been stripped of the decorations and there is a gloomy atmosphere in the air as the January blues set in. Nobody has any money and nothing to look forward to. I am feeling it more than most because in sending the hoodie back; I sent Oliver an obvious message—I’m not interested. But I am - very interested, so interested in fact, I’m struggling to listen to Mr. Garrison droning on about targets and ad campaigns that need some work.
Even Grady the slobber man isn’t doing the trick anymore because now I can’t even look at him without feeling physically sick. He is sitting across the office, throwing me suggestive looks and demonstrating he is interested in taking our flirtation to the next level. One drunken slobbery kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas and now he wants more. I can’t even look at him, I feel so disgusted with myself.
Mr. Garrison says loudly, “Carla, I need you to take on the Sanderson account. Mr. Steele has been working on it over Christmas and has got the green light to proceed.”
My heart dips at the mention of Oliver’s name and I say in shock, “Excuse me.”
I’m sure my cheeks are on fire as he says a little irritably, “For goodness’ sake, Carla, your body is here but I think your mind is elsewhere, have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“Yes, sir, the Sanderson account.”
I feel mortified as I catch Stacey’s eye and she smiles sympathetically.
Trying to get my head back into business, I say quickly, “What do you want me to do?”
“Work with Grady on this. The client has agreed the budget and the media they want to pursue, put a plan together and present it at our staff meeting on Thursday. Mr. Steele is apparently keen for this one to fly because they have a budget that could keep you in Tequila for the rest of your life.”
The ripple of laughter runs around the room and I shrink back in my seat. It’s always like this after the Christmas party. I have quite the reputation as a party girl and am reminded of every distasteful thing I’ve done for much of January. It always makes me vow to remain sober at the next one. It never happens, though.
I catch Grady’s eye and my heart sinks because he is throwing me a look that tells me this is going to be a painful experience. Why on earth did Mr. Garrison choose him, why couldn’t it be Stacey, we get along great? What the hell is Mr. Garrison playing at?
The meeting ends and Grady wastes no time in sauntering over and slides into the seat beside me. “Hey, that’s a result, I’m sure we will work well together.”
“Yes, um, great.”
He leans a little closer and says in a low voice. “Maybe we should grab a coffee and work out how to proceed.”
“Good plan, shall we go?”
I am keen to remove him from my personal space and quickly stand and head to the door. We can grab a coffee in the small room every floor uses as a mini kitchen, and I dread being in the confined space with him for even a second because it’s obvious he’s interested. I can see it in his eyes and my heart sinks as I realize Oliver has
now officially ruined me for any other man. Great, just great!
As we walk, Grady says with excitement, “I can’t believe we’ve got this. The Sanderson account is Mr. Steele’s latest baby and by all accounts, he will be closely involved in the process.”
“Wait, what?” I stop in my tracks and stare at him in horror, and he nods. “Mr. Garrison told me he’s scheduled a meeting in the board room later this afternoon. We must accompany him and listen as Mr. Steele briefs him on the client. We are then expected to set up a meeting with their people. I’m not going to lie, Carla, this could be our big break.”
“Or biggest fall.” I stare at him with utter terror in my eyes and he throws me a strange look. “Are you ok? You’ve turned a little pale.”
“Um, yes, I’m fine, maybe I should just grab a minute. Can I leave the coffee to you, mine is weak with two sugars, thanks?”
Quickly, I duck into the rest room and stare at the total freak looking back at me in the mirror. This is a disaster. I’ve been waiting for a break like this since I got here. I never once made the grade and was entrusted with one of the newer accounts. I was always given the work nobody else wanted. Failing accounts that needed a fresh eye, difficult customers that needed a diplomatic account manager, but not the freaking boss’s pet project. Just thinking of sitting in the very boardroom in which I fucked his brains out several times, makes me feel light headed.
Having to stare at him in all his god like glory, wrapped in an Armani suit, will have me weeping tears of loss and frustration. Maybe he will be so disgusted at having me there at all - the office whore on his pet project. This is bad, so bad I think I should resign on the spot. I can’t do this, it’s an impossible situation.
A little voice inside my head whispers a message of hope, “What if he wants you too. It doesn’t have to be like this, your dreams could come true. This may be fate pushing you together.”
Then another voice says angrily, “You stupid freaking hoe, look at the mess you’ve screwed your way into. You should just leave and never come back.”
My heart thumps so madly I’m praying for a heart attack to put me out of my misery, but instead, just splash some water on my face to bring me round. Maybe nature will interfere and a tornado will hit. A hurricane maybe, a freak electric storm that makes the building unsafe. Perhaps aliens will land and take me as their chosen one and spirit me away to Mars to find out the secrets of all mankind.
I can only hope, and with a sigh, I head back to find Grady and hope he’s got some brandy in that coffee because I feel as if I’m going to need it.
26
Oliver
Sally comes straight back with the name I need, Mr. Garrison.
I tell her to summon him to my office immediately because this is something that’s tearing me up inside and I can’t rest until I have connected all the dots. I need to find her because until I do, I can’t get my head into business.
It doesn’t take long for him to beat a trail to my door and it’s times like this I love the position I hold.
He looks nervous as I say abruptly, “Please take a seat, Mr. Garrison.”
He perches on the edge of it and I say bluntly, “I believe you were the manager detailed to supervise the office party this year.”
He nods and says nervously, “I’m sorry if it was left in a mess; we had to evacuate quickly because of the approaching storm.”
“I don’t care about the housekeeping, Mr. Garrison, I have a team of cleaners who make that their business.”
I know I’m being an asshole, but every minute that ticks by is a minute my little fairy isn’t by my side.
“I want to know if you know the name of the woman who was dressed as a fairy.”
He looks at me in surprise and stutters, “Carla?”
Carla, it suits her. I roll her name around in my mind and love the way it settles there. Carla Steele, I like the sound of that.
“Do you know her?”
He shifts on his seat and looks a little uncomfortable, which sets the alarm bells ringing.
“I do, sir. She is one of my most capable junior account managers. In fact, I have asked her to head up the Sanderson account with Grady Richardson, I hope that was ok; I can replace her if you think better.”
“No.” I almost shout the word, and he looks surprised as I laugh inside. What a stroke of luck. Our paths will definitely cross again today and I wonder what she will think about that.
Leaning back, I breathe a sigh of relief and say a little more agreeably. “Good. I will look forward to meeting your team and briefing you on what I expect later on. That will be all.”
He appears confused and the poor bastard is probably wondering what the hell is going on. He doesn’t need to know the details, so I say dismissively, “Please send my assistant in on your way out.”
He leaves and I settle back in my chair, feeling strangely excited. She’s here and fate is delivering her to me this very afternoon. This should be interesting.
Carla
I can’t concentrate on anything Grady is saying. He is so fired up at the opportunity that has fallen into our laps, but I’m dreading it. I have been waiting for a shot like this my entire life. Finally, an account that could further my career. Why does fate deliver me everything I want in one hand and then take it away with another?
I feel so on edge I miss the signals Grady’s sending me, and it’s a huge surprise when he leans a little closer and clears his throat nervously. “Um, Carla, I think we should talk about that kiss.”
“Kiss?” I look at him in horror as he reminds me of how low I sunk before I sunk even lower on Christmas Eve.
He smiles and his eyes promise a repeat performance if I give him any sign of encouragement and he shifts a little closer.
“Yes, I haven’t thought about anything else all Christmas. You must know I like you; it’s been building for several months now and I suppose when we kissed under the mistletoe, I thought it was the start of something promising.”
“I see.” I really can’t deal with this right now and yet I’m not some kind of mean girl who knocks a man down for trying, after all, I did give him rather a lot of encouragement, so I shift a little on my seat and say as gently as I can, despite the fact I am freaking out right now, “I’m sorry, Grady, that was unprofessional of me. I’m sorry, I like you, you’re a nice guy but we work together? What happens if things don’t work out, I mean, it would be a little awkward, don’t you think? I suppose the alcohol destroyed the part of my brain that thinks rationally and I’m sorry but I have a golden rule never to mix business with pleasure. What can I say, I’m sorry?”
God, I’m such a hypocrite, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He looks so disappointed and I really feel bad but the thought of those wet lips anywhere near me again, makes me shiver in revulsion, especially now I’ve tasted the finest on offer, which brings me back full circle and I start hyperventilating at the thought of that meeting this afternoon.
Mr. Garrison heads toward us and looks a little stressed, and as his eyes find mine, I see a thousand questions in them. He nods to Grady and says, “Carla, may I have a brief word?”
I’m not liking the look in his eyes at all and yet I’m grateful for any excuse to escape Grady and so I push back my chair and say quickly, “Yes, of course.”
I follow him to his office and wonder if somehow, he’s discovered what a lush I am because something has just occurred to me, I never thought about once the last time I was here. What if there are security cameras that have recorded every distasteful moment of my Christmas? What if security is sitting down to an x-rated movie while we speak and my reputation as the town whore will be out there for the whole world to get off on?
This is a very bad day and my anxiety levels are at maximum, making me long for that bottle of Tequila to take the edge off.
Mr. Garrison gestures to the seat in his office and says bluntly, “Um, Carla, is there anything you want to tell me about the o
ffice party, anything at all I should know about.”
I feel every last drop of color drain from my face as my day goes from bad to worse and I struggle to even remember a word, let alone speak it. My mind is racing away like a rocket to the moon, and I briefly consider faking a fainting attack to get me carried out of here on a stretcher. This is so bad and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.
“Nothing I can think of, Mr. Garrison.”
Thank god my rational mind has taken over and pushed aside the crazy woman who is living inside my head right now and he narrows his eyes and says with obvious disbelief, “Are you sure about that? I mean, I can only help you if I know all the facts.”
Inside I’m screaming like a woman who is about to face death row, and it’s as if I’m a lunatic as I struggle to remain calm and professional under the cruelest interrogation.
“Nope, can’t think of a thing.”
I plaster a surprised look on my face and it’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience because inside, I’m a hot mess, a whoring hot mess that should be working the streets, not presiding over multi-million-dollar ad accounts.
Mr. Garrison sighs. “Ok, you may go.”
I don’t even ask why he’s asking, I’m not sure I can cope with that conversation and as I scurry out of his office, I briefly wonder whether to keep on running out of here and straight to the job center.
Instead, I sit at my desk and pretend I’m doing anything other than panicking. I try to calm and reason with myself, after all, what’s the big deal? Yes, I fucked my boss - our boss, who fucked me right back, so that makes him just as bad. Yes, that’s it, he’s worse than me because he’s in charge and should know better. I was drunk, everyone knows that he took advantage of me and I should sue. I should leak it to the papers and I should never be let out again.
“Are you ok, honey?”
Stacey stops by and looks at me with a kind sympathy I could sure use right now, and I shake my head and place it in my hands. “I just don’t feel so good, Stacey. Maybe I’ve got bird flu or something like that. Perhaps the Turkey I ate was past its sell by date and has laid dormant in my body until the stresses of work sparked it into destruction mode.”
Deck the Boss: A holiday office romance Page 9