by M. E. Carter
“That’s not opinion. That’s a fact.”
“Only idiots end up on reality TV…”
“I never said that.”
“Physicals are the devil’s way of tricking us into exercising, so he can get a good laugh at us trying not to die at the gym…”
“Obviously, you’ve never done the rope. My back was just fine until that day.”
“Stop interrupting me.”
“Well, stop putting words in my mouth.” She grabs my hand and pulls it down, so I can’t count out all her opinions.
“Every single one of those is something you actually said,” I press with a laugh. “Don’t even deny it. You know you called Weight Expectations the devil’s playground. And don’t pretend that seeing flames shooting through the roof reminded you of a random picture you saw of Hell or something. You’ve been calling it that long before the fire. You just hate exercise. You’d rather sit here and watch TV.”
“Uh… duh. Of course, I would.”
This is one of the reasons I like her. As much as she tries to pretend, she’s not chocked full of opinions, she has as many as the next guy. Her presentation of them is just different. It’s full of humor, so even if they disagree, people don’t ever hate her for them. It’s very non-confrontational. No wonder she has such an easy time with clients.
“I do have one thing I need your opinion on, though.”
“What’s that?”
I take a jalapeño almond out of the can I’m hiding next to me and put it up to her lips. “Open.”
She does, which both surprises and pleases me. Popping the almond in her mouth, I watch carefully as she chews.
Suddenly, her eyes widen. “Mmmmm.” Looking a bit stunned at this new flavor combination, she sits up. “Mmmm… what is that?”
Holding up the can, I read the logo on the label. “Jalapeño almonds. Just one of many flavors in the Nutrageous family of nuts.”
“I need some more of those.”
Turning back to the TV, I settle the can in between us so we can share as we veg. Very quickly, I realize she’s not wrong. These people truly are idiots. Frankly, they’re kind of boring, too. Bring back that cooking competition. At least there was some talent there. Alas, Rian has a team she’s rooting for, so I’m stuck waiting for them to lose before suggesting another show.
“Hey.” I nudge her knee with mine not wanting to bring up this topic, but desperate to get out of my boredom. “I need one more opinion.”
Digging for another nut, she doesn’t even look at me. “What’s that?”
“How do you want to handle this at the office?”
Her hand stills, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, her neck begins to break out in red splotches. I hate to put her on the spot like this, but we need to be on the same page. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from people who’ve done this dating thing before. “I don’t really know. I mean, on the one hand, dating isn’t a big deal.”
“But it’s an office romance.”
“Exactly.”
Knowing she’s nervous, I decide to diffuse things a bit. “Do you know we have a code for this? For office romances?”
“Are you serious?” She looks at me wide-eyed. That’s a good sign. “This has happened that many times?”
I nod and pop another almond in my mouth. “I’m not sure what’s in the water there, but for a time, all the lieutenants were dropping like flies. Quinn was the worst about it, but there’ve been quite a few lately.”
“All office romances?”
I have to think about how to answer that. “Sort of. You know how we have that branch in the Fairmont building?” She nods. “That’s where almost everyone lives. So they get to know each other really well.”
Rian grimaces. “That’s a little too much office camaraderie if you ask me.”
“Agreed. Why do you think I live here?”
We go back to watching TV, the elephant in the room lingering in the corner. I don’t say anything, letting her absorb her own thoughts. I don’t want to push her. I’m too afraid I’ll accidentally push her away.
When the show breaks for commercial, though, she jumps right back into the topic at hand. “Anyway, what’s the code?”
“What?”
“When there’s an obnoxious office romance? What’s the code?”
“Oh. Code Red.”
“Hmm.” She grabs another few almonds. “That sounds awfully ominous.”
“It’s the color of Cupid’s arrows.”
Rian breaks out in laughter, and I’m pleased to see she’s already getting used to this. To hanging out and talking about uncomfortable topics so there’s no misunderstanding. “I don’t know who made that up, but it’s a terrible code.”
I shrug knowing full well it was probably me, not that I’ll ever admit it. What I can admit, however, is part of why I don’t want that code to be called out about me. Tossing another almond in my pie hole, I steady myself to tell her the whole story.
“A couple of years ago, I had an assistant named Olivia.”
She nods but doesn’t look at me. “I heard.”
That causes me to pause. “Seriously? The grapevine already gave you their version?”
She shrugs. “I don’t really know what version I got. Just that Olivia was your assistant, you had a huge crush on her, she had a crush on someone else, and eventually the turmoil got to be too much, so she left.”
I rub my hand down my face and shake my head. This is what I get for letting the rumor mill do its thing and not try to correct anyone. “That is not exactly what happened.”
“So, you didn’t have a crush on Olivia?”
“I think the word crush is a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, I was interested in her, but only in the physical sense.”
“You only wanted her for sex.”
Looking at Rian, I consider sugarcoating my answer, but she deserves the truth. “Rian, I’m serious when I say that’s the only kind of relationships I‘ve had before. I know it doesn’t make sense to most people, but until you, I had zero interest in a dating relationship.”
She nods, but I can’t read the look on her face. Is she upset with me for having sex with other women? Is she disgusted with me for not even bothering to get to know them first? I can’t tell and it jars me. “So, then what happened?”
“Nothing happened. That’s the thing. The rumor mill decided I had legitimate feelings for her because they don’t understand how someone can be happy being single.”
“Well, it is a bit unorthodox,” she jokes, a small smile gracing her lips.
I smile back. “It is. And honestly, I didn’t feel like I needed to set the record straight for anyone. I’m the boss. And it was no one’s business. So, I just let them think what they want. I can see now that it’s been biting me in the ass behind my back.”
“Well, behind your back is where your ass is located.”
I pretend to be shocked by her joke. “Are you making fun of my pain?”
“No. I’m making fun of the totally cliché predicament you’re in. That’s what happens when you work in an office full of women.”
I snort a laugh. “You’d think so. But no. It’s the lieutenants who give me the most shit about it still.”
She clears her throat and her neck begins to splotch again.
“What?” I nudge her with my shoulder.
“Oh, nothing.”
So, denial is going to be her game? She’s got another thing coming if she thinks that’ll work on me.
“Nope. Tell me.”
She shoots me wide, phony innocent eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You are a horrible liar, and I made you delicious quinoa. Spill.”
Rian laughs at my attempt. “You’re going to try to convince me to throw someone under the bus because of quinoa? Oh, you have a lot to learn about women, don’t you?”
Reacting before I can think, I squeeze her knee in the right spot to make her squeal and grab my
hand.
“Don’t do that! It tickles.”
“Oh, it does, does it? Tell me.” I squeeze again. She squeals again. “I’ll keep doing it until you tell me who told you about Olivia. I know you’re holding out on me.”
“No, I’m not!” she shrieks and tries to bat my hand away. “I don’t know anything! I know nothing!”
“You are the world’s worst liar and have really strong fingers.” I move my hand to her ribs and begin tickling her there.
She continues to shriek while I continue my assault on her body, until eventually we find ourselves lying down on the couch, me on top of her wedged between her thighs, kissing her with abandon. And boy, can she kiss. I swear she has magical lips as she sucks on my bottom lip and my tongue. She has no idea how wild she is driving me. Normally, I’d take this as my green light to get to the good stuff, but with Rian, this is the good stuff. Or at least the beginning of it. I don’t want to risk driving her away by taking things too quickly.
Finally, after what seems like hours, and quite possibly is based on the fact that the television suddenly has an entirely different show on, I pull back.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I whisper and give her a soft peck.
“Then don’t.” She kisses me back.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I don’t want to give the office any reason to get in our business. And they will, ya know?” She nods, and I can tell she truly understands what I’m getting at and why. “Until you and I know where this is going, I’d prefer to keep it to ourselves. I don’t want anyone to influence us on purpose. And you know they will.”
Rian nods in agreement and smooths my shirt down my chest. Or at least she pretends to. Really, I think she’s trying to feel me up. It would be rude of me to stop her. “Especially the lieutenants.”
“Especially the lieutenants,” I agree and lean down to kiss her again. Before our lips meet though, it hits me out of nowhere. “Wait. It was Steven who told you, wasn’t it?”
She throws her head back, whooping up a storm. Finally, she nods again.
“Son of a bitch. They’re worse than the Golden Girls in church the day after Mardi Gras.”
“Shut up, Carlos.” Rian grabs my shirt in her fists and pushes on me. “I wanna make out with my boss, and I’ve got limited time until I have no choice but to go back to work.”
Smiling, I lean back in and go for the kill.
Day one of my newfound dating life, and I can already call it a success.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RIAN
I am late. So, so late. I’m not worried about being fired, or even reprimanded for that matter. Call it perks of dating the boss, but I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I’m not that kind of girl.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be that kind of girl? To put in half the effort because you’ve got the boss right where you want him? But alas, I’m full of integrity and care about my work ethic. And I’m not a total bitch.
Racing to my desk, I throw my purse into my drawer just as my phone rings.
“Why do you look like you just ran here?” Teresa asks.
“Because I basically did.”
“You realize no one cares if you’re a few minutes late, right? Next time, just bring food. That way you aren’t late, you just brought breakfast.”
“Isn’t that the pitch for a burger joint?”
“Huh.” She looks up to the ceiling in thought. “I knew it sounded too good to have come from my brain.”
Picking up the phone, I try to get my breathing under control so I don’t sound like a total spaz while talking to a client.
“Cipher Systems. This is Rian.”
“Um, hi. Yes.” The voice on the other line stammers. “I’m looking to get my home outfitted with security. I was given a referral.”
Dropping into my seat, I grab a pen to make notes while I wait for my computer to boot up. “Well, great. I’m glad you called. Can I ask who referred you?”
“The Landon Michaels Agency.”
“Wonderful. Can you give me just one second? I’m going to pull up a new screen to get all your information and get my hands-free set plugged in, okay?”
“Okay.”
Placing her on hold, I finally turn my computer on and get everything set up and ready to go. Carlos surprises me when he reaches over my shoulder and places a large cup of coffee on my desk.
Smiling up at him, I don’t bother hiding my surprise. “Well, that’s unexpected, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says in between sips. “New client calling already?”
“Yep.” I grab my headset and plug it into the phone, situating it on my head. Years in customer service has me unconcerned about how ugly these things look. They’re effective. That’s about it. “She said the Landon Michaels Agency referred her. Why does that sound familiar?”
His coffee cup freezes, midway to his mouth. “I did a presentation to them a few months ago.”
“I wasn’t working here a few months ago.”
“I know. They’re everywhere, but subtly. The Landon Michaels Agency works with victims of sexual abuse. More specifically, human trafficking and bringing offenders to justice. We monitor all their online activity to makes sure no one can get through the firewalls. And we do security in one of their safe houses pro bono.”
“Whoa. I had no idea. But why would they give someone a referral?” Turning back to my screen, I open up the data system.
Carlos puts his cup down and settles in next to my desk. “They must have a really high-profile case that needs our help.”
I pull my hands away from the keyboard like I’ve been burned. If it’s a high-profile case, that means it’s really, really important. I don’t want to screw it up.
“Relax,” Carlos says, reading me like a book. “Just do what you do best. I’m going to stay right here so I can help you if you get stuck. Just write anything down you need help with.”
I take a beat to center myself and nod once. Then, reconnecting the line, I put everything out of my mind except the job at hand.
“Okay, sorry for the delay. Are you still there?”
“Yes, that’s okay. I’m still here.”
“Let’s get started with some of the basics. Can I have your name?”
“Janet.”
We take a few minutes to get some general information on what kind of service they’ll need. It takes a bit to get through it because she’s hesitant with every question. Whatever happened to her is making her extremely paranoid and harder to assess. But Carlos continues to oversee my conversation and never gives any indication that I’m going about things wrong, so I take my time.
“Okay, Janet, let’s talk about your security needs. The Landon Michaels Foundation doesn’t normally refer clients, so I’m assuming you’re going to have some very specific needs. Can you give me some details so I can start figuring out what kind of package might work for you?”
She pauses long enough for Carlos to take more than one sip of his coffee, but I don’t want to push her on this. Finally, it’s as if she’s found the words she’s looking for and she goes for it. “Okay, listen. This is for my sister. You might know her. Jennifer Johnson is her name, but you probably know her under the name Jenny Juggs.”
I try really hard, but I can’t stop it when my jaw drops open. Everyone knows Jenny Juggs. Not because she’s a porn star, but because she’s an EX-porn star who just won millions of dollars from her former production company in a civil lawsuit. Turns out, while Jenny was the most popular online star at one time, she wasn’t exactly a willing participant. According to the television magazine show I watched last weekend, Jenny was essentially manipulated into the life and given drugs daily to keep her complacent. That’s not hard to believe. Clips of interviews over the years show her to be clearly on something, sometimes to the point of being almost incoherent.
After a botched suicide attempt a couple of years ago, she was put on an involuntary psychi
atric hold where she refused to allow her “manager” to visit and called her estranged sister instead. It took about ten seconds for one of the hospital case managers to call the feds and list her as a victim in the situation.
The details that came out were almost unbelievable. Her having no memory of making her first movie, her having a sober moment during a porn award ceremony where she suddenly realized what she was being awarded for, her virtual disappearance from the public eye until it was time to testify against the man who claimed to be her employee for all those years. I remember being gripped to the program and so sad for this woman who slipped through the cracks. And yes, the porn industry is changing and there are organizations devoted to making it a respectable industry with good working conditions, but Jenny was sucked into the dark side. It was ugly, and it’s a miracle she made it out alive.
Carlos immediately nudges me, a look of question on his face.
“I have.” Concentrating on keeping my voice stable while I twist and turn, I look for my pen that has suddenly disappeared. Figuring out what I’m looking for, Carlos grabs it from under my keyboard and hands it to me. “The story was all over the news a couple months ago. Congratulations on your win. I was genuinely pleased to see a little bit of justice done.”
Jotting down Jenny Juggs on the paper I flash it at Carlos whose own response mirrors my own.
Janet huffs in annoyance. “Yeah. Well, it’s little consolation. My sister has been so traumatized she refuses to leave the house but is still terrified to be here. I’d give the money back in a second if it meant she could live a normal life again. Preferably before she ever met that immoral asshole.”
“Hopefully we can help with that. Let’s start with what you’re hoping to get out of this.”
Good, Carlos writes. Don’t get caught up in the drama. She’s a real person who needs our help.
I nod at him. I admit to being stunned that I’m talking to Jenny Juggs’s sister, but mostly because my heart hurt so bad for her when I watched that story. To be able to genuinely help her gives this job a whole new spin.