His Secret Baby

by Jamie Knight

  Fine, Dad. You wanted me to do it myself…well, here I go.

  Chapter 12

  Mariah

  That burst of confidence carries me through the next morning - almost. I make it to the office bright and early…so early, in fact, that the only company I have for the first half hour is the building’s sweet cleaning lady, Doris. She doesn’t speak a bit of English, and I barely know any Spanish, but I try talking to her anyway. She doesn’t laugh at me, even though I’m pretty sure I told her I liked her mop instead of introducing myself properly.

  Kristy, the dark haired secretary, is the next person to arrive. I try to bite down on the inclination to hate her for getting the ‘behind the desk’ job instead of me by reminding myself that a job is a job… and allies are better to make than enemies.

  “Kristy, right? I’m Mariah.” We’re both just standing awkwardly in the half-lit lobby, waiting for someone else to show up.

  “I remember.” She’s still being guarded, and I can’t say I blame her.

  “So, is this your first real estate job?”

  Kristy pauses, but apparently decides that the question isn’t too intrusive, replying with a curt, “Second.”

  “Well, you’re ahead of me. I interned at a small office once but this one feels like it’s really the big time.” I tug on my skirt, trying to keep it somewhere in the realm of my thighs. “Did you have to wear a stupid uniform like this at your last real estate company?”

  This, at least, gets a short laugh from her. “Not a chance. I guarantee you, the office HR person is on vacation and when they get back, one of those losers who hired us for our curves is getting fired. Until then, let ‘em stare.”

  Funny enough, that’s exactly what the next half-dozen people through the door do. On the one hand, it’s fucking annoying, but on the other… it means every person in this building is going to remember me sooner rather than later. And when I sell that million dollar house and walk out of here to claim my rightful place as owner of my dad’s real estate company, they’ll all be left with their drooling mouths wide open.

  Once Matthews’ arrives (with something that smells less like coffee and more like bourbon on his breath), the work day actually begins.

  “Look,” he tells us, “this is incredibly simple. Kristy, sit behind the desk and answer the phones. Never patch them through to anyone, always tell them we’re with a client and take a message. Makes us seem more important. Which we are. Also, take deliveries of packages and mail and distribute them every three hours or so. It’ll brighten up the guys’ days.”

  He says that last, with the kind of smirk that’s usually found on the face of a TV reporter who gets to break some important news. Then he turns to me. “And you, Sarah - ”

  “Mariah,” I correct him quickly. The last thing I need is my reputation and prospects getting screwed because I was too shy to correct this guy about my name.

  “That’s the name you used when we hired you?” Jesus, this guy is already halfway to wasted at 9 a.m.

  “Yes,” I insist.

  “Whatever. Mariah, then,” he continues. “Your job is super important. Look pretty, and deliver coffee to every client who sits down in this lobby. Then let one of the actual realtors know that there’s a client here to see them. Unless they give you a realtor’s name, just randomly assign them. But if they’re wearing a fancy watch, send ‘em my way, know what I’m saying? I could use the commission.”

  “For what, your Wild Turkey?” Kristy says quietly out the side of her mouth. I try not to laugh. Matthews doesn’t notice.

  “Just get started, okay? I have real work to do.” With that, he’s off down the hall, his trusty booze-and-coffee concoction in hand.

  “What a dick.” Kristy slides into the chair behind the desk, staring at the phone console. “I’d patch every call through to him right away just to annoy him, except I don’t want to help him make any money.”

  “The best thing we can do is just our jobs.” This comes out automatically, and I hear my dad’s voice saying it in my head.

  That was his mantra, whether the day was good or bad. Just do your job. Not someone else’s, yours. In retrospect, it’s pretty clear that the subtext there is “fuck everyone else. Especially your qualified daughter who’s been at your side and shared your love of the business for practically a decade now.”

  Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not bitter.

  The comment hasn’t endeared me with Kristy either. She doesn’t even bother answering me. Thankfully, the phone rings just then, and she drops our conversation in favor of picking it up instead.

  “Drive Realty, this is Kristy. How can I help you today?” She listens, then says, “No, I’m sorry, he’s with a client right now. I can take a message.”

  Perfectly on script, right out of the gate. I could do that just as well.

  But after that, I don’t really have time to pay enough attention to Kristy to be jealous, because I’m working just as hard. The office may have been quiet in the early morning, but not long after Matthews’ arrival, everything else comes alive, too. The elevator doors ding open and shut, emitting a steady stream of men in business suits and women in perfectly pleated skirts and dresses. Each one gets a seat in the lobby, and I’ve taken half a dozen coffee orders before I realize I’ve got no idea where the coffee machine in this office is.

  I consider ducking in to ask Matthews, but I have a distinct feeling that a) he won’t give a shit, or b) he’ll send me on a wild-goose chase just for fun. Plus, I’ve had about all I can handle of his lecherous looks for one day. Considering that it’s only ten a.m., that’s not ideal, but what’re you gonna do?

  Luckily, the coffee machine isn’t as hard to find as I thought it might be. The kitchen is close to the lobby, and there’s even a serving tray in there. Well, less a serving tray and more of a big cutting board, but I throw a colorful towel over it, line up the coffee cups on top, and we’re off to the races.

  Walking down the hall, I spot the corner office at the end emblazoned with a golden nameplate: Wesley S. Drive, Esq. President. One of the realtors walks by, catching me staring.

  “The Big Boss is gone until Friday. Even once he’s back, I wouldn’t knock on that door if I were you. People only go in there when they’re getting fired, anyway.”

  “Great. That’s reassuring.” I’m talking to myself, as the realtor is off down the hall already.

  The routine around the office is actually pretty simple once we get into the swing of it. The clients are happy to be waited on (especially the men), and I make small talk with all of them. I decide my goal for the end of the day is to deliver a client to each realtor in the office so that I can learn all their names and start working towards keeping my ear to the ground about any chances to get out of the lobby.

  That, I figure, is the one big advantage to having free reign of the floor instead of being stuck behind a desk: if anything changes, if anyone quits or gets fired or even misses too many days at the office, I’m going to be the one to know about it first. Kristy can have her cushy chair and her phone - I’ve got bigger plans and better things to do.

  Once I make those decisions, the day flies by. No one questions me about where I came from or how I got the job, and I don’t spill coffee on any of the clients either. I send a few of the guys with Rolexes Matthews’ way, and hope that that gets me into his good graces enough that he’ll go ahead and leave me alone.

  Kristy keeps the stone-faced attitude up, but that’s fine with me. I don’t need friends here to succeed; I just need to be the best at what I’m doing. Even when what I’m doing is serving coffee, it’s still keeping me inside the doors of a prestigious real estate agency, and I don’t have any intention of jeopardizing that.

  Chapter 13

  Wesley

  It’s not until I’m back in the elevator on my way to the fifth floor the next day that I feel the first touch of doubt about coming home to deal with whatever alleged mess is going on at the office. Wonde
rful as he is as an assistant, John can occasionally overreact to things - and it’s no secret that he and a few members of the senior sales team don’t get along particularly well.

  Did I just quit my vacation early for no good reason? What if today was supposed to be the day that my perfect match arrived for her own vacation? And now she’ll be sitting out by the pool all by herself, enjoying cocktails until some oiled-up, musclebound dude with a crewcut from Jersey makes a move on her. And I missed my chance with her because I was unnecessarily worried about what my underlings were getting themselves up to at my office in my absence.

  Then the elevator doors open, and that fantasy is blown away by the reality of what’s happening in the office right in front of me. Our reception area is bustling, filled with activity. There’s a new young woman with dark hair behind the reception desk, currently on the phone and taking notes on the computer. There are half-a-dozen clients (some I don’t recognize, which is highly unusual), waiting in chairs… and in the midst of it all, my heart skips half a beat when my eyes land on the young, beautiful blonde woman pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup held by Mr. Ferguson, one of my firm’s biggest and best clients.

  She smiles, chatting to him with words I can’t hear - and he smiles back, laughing at something she’s said. So, this is the new coffee girl. John didn’t exaggerate after all.

  I thought I’d be more upset…but as I stand here with the elevator doors closing behind me, I can’t help but marvel at how attractive the new coffee girl is. She’s dressed in a tight-fitting skirt, and a blouse that hugs her curves perfectly. She leans in to another client to serve him a cup of coffee, and her skirt rises up just a bit in the back, almost far enough to -

  No. You’re the company President, not some randy college kid. Focus up and stop ogling the new employee. Even though you didn’t hire her. And never would have in the first place.

  I shake my head to clear it, and start walking across the lobby toward the hall leading to my office. It’s a bit of a surprise when the young blonde pops up in front of me, and firmly but professionally says, “Good morning, sir. Welcome to Gruber Realty. Please, have a seat, and one of our staff of realtors will be with you shortly. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  My first instinct is to correct her - she clearly hasn’t got the first clue who I am. And I have work to get to. This company doesn’t run itself. Obviously.

  But then, on impulse, I decide to play along. I try to tell myself it’s just a good way to determine if she’s actually worth keeping around, but there’s more to it than that. The blonde hair, the pretty blue eyes, the tight outfit… she’s practically the perfect woman I’ve imagined for myself so many times. Even though I know she can’t possibly be the real thing, spending a few extra minutes around her certainly won’t hurt… right?

  “Thank you very much.” I let her lead me over to a seat. “And I’ll take some coffee too, please. Cream, no sugar, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not!” She flashes that grin again, and my breath catches in my throat. “I’ll be right back with that.”

  I can’t even bring myself to pretend that I’m not watching her walk away. She’s toned and sexy, and the skirt is almost tight enough to see a panty line.

  Wesley. You old pervert. This time, the voice in my head isn’t even mine. It belongs to my Aunt Shelly… the one member of my family I do seem to actually get along with. We’re incredibly close, and most of what I know about life, I’ve learned from here.

  She’s completely batty, but she’s rarely wrong. In this case, I force myself to remember, she’s exactly right. The woman - girl, practically - can’t be more than twenty-one. I’m twice her age, and I’m her boss. Get your shit together, Wesley. And don’t spill that coffee.

  What? I snap back to reality just in time to take the cup of coffee from the woman.

  “Here you go, sir! It’ll be just a few more minutes, all right? Thanks for being so patient.” She’s looking at me with more than just a businesslike expression now - no, Wesley, stop that. She is not. And even if she is, you’re way too old for her, anyway.

  I take the cup from her, smiling. “No problem at all.” Then, before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you mind if I ask your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. And I know most of the staff pretty well.”

  “Of course not! I’m Mariah. Mariah Young. And don’t tell anyone, but I just started working here a few days ago. This is all new to me.”

  “Well, you’re a natural. I never would’ve known if you hadn’t said something.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” Mariah smiles again, and this time, it’s not just a business-like one. “What I really want to do is be a realtor - I have a degree in business management, and I’m trying to climb the ladder here.”

  Interesting. “And it doesn’t bother you to be spending your time serving coffee in the lobby? Even as someone who might be qualified to work as a realtor already, or at least as an assistant?”

  Her lips twitch just a bit, but the professional facade slides back down to cover it immediately. “Of course not. Everyone has to start somewhere, right? So, I’m starting here. More coffee?”

  “No, thank you, Mariah. I don’t want to keep you from your other work.”

  I sip from my cup and watch her as she bustles around the room, chatting and pouring coffee with ease. She acts like she’s been doing this job her whole life. She’s a natural, even winning a thin smile from Roger Powell, one of my best (but also most uptight) clients, as she tops off his coffee cup. Maybe she’s worth keeping around after all…

  It’s not long before Matthews, one of the senior sales staff, appears in on the floor.

  “Mariah, next client, please.” he calls to her.

  Down goes the coffee pot onto its warming pad, and up pops Mariah, walking straight over to me. Oh, this is going to be interesting then, I have time to think before she reaches me, a confused Matthews in her wake.

  “Mr. Matthews, this gentleman is your next appointment… Mr.… oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” she stammers, “I didn’t even ask your name.”

  “Is this some sort of joke, Mariah? If so, it’s not humorous at all.” Matthews looks at me askance, clearly expecting me to put a stop to things, but to be honest, this is the most fun I’ve had in the office in years, so I let it go just a moment longer. Then I stand up.

  “The name’s Wesley. Wesley Drive.” I stand, tilting my head towards Mariah just a bit in a ‘nice to make your acquaintance’ gesture.

  “Mr. Matthews, Mr. Drive. Your next client.” Mariah recovers nicely - for a brief second. Then, “That’s so funny, the President of the company’s last name is Drive too…”

  That’s when she catches the look on Matthews’ face fully. He’s none too pleased, and for some reason, that makes me unreasonably happy. Matthews never had learned to take a joke.

  The color drains from Mariah’s face as she puts the pieces together. “…Wesley… Drive. The head of this company.”

  I nod, fixing her with what I imagine is a stern glare.

  “Exactly. So, you have some explaining to do.”

  Chapter 14

  Wesley

  “I am so sorry, Mr. Drive. We weren’t expecting you back until Friday at the earliest, and I just didn’t even think - ”

  This poor young woman is scrambling to right herself, and she’s almost managing it. Almost. I decide to stick with this for a little longer… it’s worth finding out why she’s here, at least. If Matthews hired her just for her looks, keeping her around is going to be a waste of payroll. But if not…

  “Mariah - it is Mariah, correct?” I ask her.

  She nods, cheeks still filled with color. A wisp of her hair has escaped the ponytail she’s got it in, and it brushes against her cheek as she stands there. I have to resist the urge to reach out and tuck it back behind her ear.

  “Well, Mariah…who hired you?” I already know the answer to this, and even if I didn’t, th
e sudden paleness in Matthews’ cheeks as I asked the question would have tipped me off.

  Mariah gestures towards him. “Mr. Matthews did. Sir.”

  “All right,” I say. “You two, come join me in my office.”

  I catch the withering glare that Matthews directs towards Mariah, and that helps me make up my mind about what’s going to fucking happen next. I stride ahead of them down the hall, then look back.

  “Now. If you don’t mind,” I say.

  They both follow me. Matthews is seething, and the new girl, Mariah, is thin-lipped but oddly… poised. She doesn’t seem afraid, or flakey, or stupid. Just embarrassed - and even then, she’s hiding it well. I’m impressed, but now’s not the time to show it. Not yet, anyway.

  Inside my office, I sit down at the desk and stare at the two of them as they stand in front of me. “So, what exactly is going on here, Matthews? I leave the office for a week, and before my office is cold you’ve hired two new people? Yes, I noticed the other new receptionist too. But she seemed to actually be working, so I didn’t feel the need to drag her away from that. You, though…” I start to say, turning my gaze towards Mariah.

  Matthews chooses to pipe in, finally. “Sir, we’re short-staffed. We needed to bring people in, and I determined that expediency was in order. Having these two around takes pressure off the agents to manage all their own clients as they arrive, and - ”

  “ - And it lets you enjoy some eye candy while you’re at it? These uniforms are absolutely absurd, and they don’t make the company look even remotely professional. I’m not impressed.”

  That’s a lie. I’m quite impressed, just not with Matthews. With Mariah. I’ve had to remind myself several times even as I’ve been sitting behind my desk to not let my eyes wander up and down her body. She’s exactly the type of woman I was hoping to meet out on my vacation - at least that’s what it looks like so far.