“About what? I don’t recall there being anything we need to talk about.”
“Why don’t you let me in and I’ll refresh your memory.” I wink.
“Cut the crap, Witt.” Her hand now rests on her hip. Boy, do I love her sass. It is part of the reason I enjoy being around her so much.
“All right. I came to apologize for being a dick to you the other night.” I lift my hands in surrender. “Now can I come in?”
She glares at me for a beat, then huffs and rolls her eyes as she stands aside to let me in. I can’t hold back my smile which makes her huff again. I head over, plop down on the couch and kick my Chucks off.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” she mutters dryly.
“Hey, do you have any blue Powerade?” I look around, taking in what she was doing before I arrived. I see a couple bottles of nail polish and other nail … things on the coffee table next to an open bag of pretzels. The TV paused.
“Really?”
I can see her from the corner of my eye. She’s got both hands on her hips.
“Yeah, you know it’s my favorite. Hey, you watching Riverdale?”
“Yes, and don’t you dare push play. I’m catching up and I don’t want to be interrupted by all your nonsense,” she hesitates for a beat and then turns and walks to the kitchen. I hear more grumbling and then the fridge opening and shutting. I wipe the smile from my face before she turns the corner back into the room.
“Here,” is all I hear before I’m hit in the stomach with an unopened bottle of blue Powerade.
Humph.
“Ow! What was that for? How about a heads up?” I rub my stomach. That hurt.
“I did too, I said ‘here’.” She sits down in the arm chair.
“Yeah, after you threw it,” I mutter.
“Not my fault you’re slow.”
I twist open the cap and take a drink. I lean forward to grab some pretzels from the bag on the table. She clears her throat. I look at her and see she’s … perturbed.
“You’re rather huffy today. What’s up with that?”
“Well?” she asks with attitude.
“Well what?” I ask mocking her tone.
“Are you going to apologize?”
“I did, at the door, before you let me in.”
“No, you said you were going to apologize.”
“Exactly. And I apologized.”
She looks to the ceiling and makes a strange growl-scream sound while shaking her head. I’ve noticed a lot of girls use this sort of reaction.
“Damn it, Link. You are impossible! If I had another Powerade I’d throw it at your fat head.”
And I snicker at that because, I could easily make a joke about my fat head. But I know it will probably get me kicked out and I’m having too much fun.
She glares.
I smile and wink.
Her glare hardens.
I give her my suggestive eyebrow wiggle.
Her lips pinch and I expect lasers to start shooting out of her eyes at any minute. So, I finally give in, because I do need something from her. And I want to be back on her good side.
“Rubes,” I say slowly, “I’m sorry for being a dick the other night.”
Her face relaxes just a tad as she mentally unlocks the eye lasers.
“It wasn’t fair for me to get shitty at you for what some ignorant dickweasel said. Please, forgive me,” I say with genuine sincerity.
She locks eyes with me, making sure I truly mean it.
“You know that dickweasel” —she air quotes the name— “is my boyfriend, right?”
My own eyes roll. “Yes, and I don’t see why.” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice. I just hate him for her. She’s such a nice, fun-loving person. There’s just something about him that I don’t like. Aside from the fact that he isn’t shy about his disdain for video gamers. But I really don’t want to get into that with her.
“Moving on … do you forgive, fair maiden?” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes.
After a long pause, she sighs. “Yes, I forgive you.”
I smile with triumph. “Sweet.” I take another drink and shove some more pretzels in my mouth as we sit in silence.
I look over at her again and she looks concerned as she bites on her lip. The pretzels in my mouth suddenly turn to dust, my mouth going dry. I hate when she bites her lip. It does things to me. I bit that lip once, and it was glorious. Now I think about that one time, and so does the fat head in my pants.
Get control of yourself, man.
“Link, I am sorry about what was said. I know I didn’t say it, but I feel kinda responsible for the person who said it.”
“Don’t worry about it, Rubes. It’s water under the bridge at this point.” I smile at her and offer her the bag of pretzels.
She sticks her hand in and grabs some.
“Now, for the other reason I came by. I need to get another Classic Showdown video up this week. Want to help me plan it?” She loves planning out the videos so I’m hoping the peace offering helps shift the conversation.
For the first time since I arrived, she smiles and launches into her ideas. She’s been thinking about it already and has some great suggestions. I won’t lie, her excitement for what I do makes me want to puff out my chest and hug her tightly.
Chapter Eight
Ruby
I’ve been someone’s girlfriend for three weeks. Three weeks.
I haven’t had a relationship since I was in high school. And I realized then, that they were overrated and unnecessary unless you were ready to settle down. I casually dated in college. It was fun, and I didn’t want to be tied down. It worked for me.
Now, a few years out of college and a few days before my twenty-fifth birthday, I find myself as someone’s girlfriend again.
And I think I’m utterly terrible at it.
Let me explain.
I’ve studied the art of being a girlfriend for a couple of years now. Girlfriends are attentive to their boyfriends’ needs. They show loving support; they provide the ego boosts when needed.
Communications several times a day. Seeing one another, if living in the same city, as often as every day, or at least a few times a week.
After watching Morgan and Gia each flourish as supporting girlfriends, I feel like I have a good idea of how to be one myself.
I try to send a flirty or sexy text daily, or even call. But Mason isn’t always available. That’s okay, though. He’s super busy. If we see each other in the evenings, I try to remember to ask how his day went. I show support by letting him talk on and on and on about sports. Mostly the White Sox. I might be lacking on the ego boosts though.
Meh.
Maybe I’m trying too hard at this girlfriend thing.
It’s a Friday night. Normally, I’d be out with the group. Instead, I’m sitting at a nice table covered with white linen in a classy Italian restaurant with Mason. We haven’t really seen each other much this week, so I’m looking forward to a fun date to start my weekend. I may also be looking forward to a little time between the sheets after dinner. I’ve had a stressful week at work and could use a big O.
I’m sitting by myself at our table, waiting for Mason to return from the call he had to take. He gets a lot of calls. I get it, he’s a local sports reporter in a big city that is home to several professional sports teams. But when we are on a date, he never seems to give me his full attention. As soon as his phone alerts him to something sports related, it’s like I’m no longer in the room. After a few more minutes, he finally returns.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he says, sitting back down and replacing the napkin across his lap.
“Oh, no problem. Is everything okay?” I ask, spearing some calamari with my fork.
“Yeah, just some last-minute work thing,” he replies while doing the same. He studies me as he chews.
“I know I already told you this, but I really like your hair up, and that little black dress is sexy as hell on you, Ruby.” He grins a
t me as I thank him. I wore my hair up because I know that’s how he prefers it.
“Thank you, I had a purple wrap dress picked out, but I changed my mind last minute.” I take a sip of my wine. I’m not really a wine drinker, but Mason asked me what kind of wine I wanted, so I asked for a sweet white. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m drinking.
“You made a good decision; the black looks stunning on you. I know you like your colors, but the classic naturals just look so elegant on you.”
I smile at him and take another sip.
Yeah, but those classic colors are so boring.
Our food arrives, and we make casual conversation. “So how was work this week? We didn’t chat much.”
“It was great. I told you that work comes first, babe. There’s a lot of stuff happing in the sports world right now. It’s my job to stay on top of it.”
“Yeah,” I draw out.
It’s not like I’m asking him to pick me over work, I just wouldn’t mind if he would respond to even one of my texts during his busy weeks.
“You know, you should probably try a little harder to stay up with what’s going on in the sports world. It would help if I didn’t have to explain it all to you.”
I blink, long and slow as I stare at him. He isn’t paying attention to me though. And before I can even reply, he’s onto a story about some player for the Bears.
I’m nearly done eating when he finally asks, “Did you have a good week?”
I sigh and set my fork down. “It was rough. We have a lot of new features we are adding to the gaming hub and it’s just been a testing hell.” He’s nodding in understanding and it feels good to talk about the stress of the week and put it behind me.
“Good, good. Well, you know, you just say the word and I’ll pull some strings and get you an interview at the station.” He shoves a fork full of spaghetti in his mouth.
My brows furrow, I wasn’t complaining about my job, was I? I shake my head. “No, I’m not interested in leaving. I like what I’m doing but some days are more stressful than others.”
“So, did you happen to read my blog post on the website today? I got some inside scoop that the GM of the Chicago Red Stars might be firing their head coach soon.”
He looks up from his plate and my face must be all kinds of confused because he sighs.
“You do know the Red Stars, right? Women’s soccer … I figured you’d at least be familiar with women’s teams, Ruby.”
He shakes his head but continues to talk about whatever sport he’s onto next.
We finish up dinner with more of the same sports talk. He walks me to the front of the restaurant with his hand on the small of my back.
“You want to go to my place?” I ask.
“Meh, are your roommate and her boyfriend going to be there?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure what they they're doing tonight. If they are there, we can always hang with them. If they aren’t, we can hang out in my bed.” I waggle my eyebrows at him.
His lips quirk up a tad. “Ah, I’d rather hang at my place.”
We are standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, trying to figure out where we are going next. He hails a cab and as we wait for someone to exit the one that just pulled up, his phone dings.
“You know what … I’m gonna have to take a rain check,” he says, opening the cab door for me.
“What? Why?” I ask, halting my descent into the cab.
“I have to head back to work and prep for an interview I’m doing in the morning.” He leans in and kisses my forehead.
I pull my lip through my teeth. We talked about hanging out after dinner. Maybe I misunderstood.
“Did you forget about the interview? Two minutes ago, we were heading back to your place.” I’m trying not to whine, but I’m really confused.
“Sorry, babe,” is all I get with a sad smile. “I’ll grab my own cab, you take this one.”
I stare at him for a second longer. Why would we talk about whose place we were going to if he was planning on going back to work?
My brow furrows as I get into the waiting cab. I’m kind of ticked, so I just shut the door and don’t say goodbye. He doesn’t even notice. His face is buried in his phone. I hate that phone of his; it’s a freaking clam jam.
I’m not sure what I’m more pissed about, the fact that he doesn’t want to continue our date, or that I’m missing out on the big O tonight.
The ride home alone gives me some time to think about this whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing.
I really do think I’m doing this all wrong.
Chapter Nine
Ruby
“What do you mean you are required to take the day off?” Link asks me from the iPad I’m FaceTiming him with. He doesn’t like talking on the phone, so this morning when I texted asking what he was doing today and told him why I wasn’t working, he FaceTimed me. He’s in a white crew cut shirt and his hair is perfectly messy. It’s half-past eight in the morning, so I may have woken him up, but I don’t care so much. I’m nice like that.
“I work for one of those new age, hip workplaces, bro,” I say between bites of cinnamon roll. Since I have the day off, I took the time this morning to bake.
No, not from scratch, from one of those two-dollar tubes from the grocery store.
“Yeah, yeah, but I don’t understand,” he replies.
“If we haven’t taken any time off or haven’t been out sick, we are required to take a PTO day every 90 days.” I’m reminded of this rule quiet often, as I don’t take a lot of time off from work.
“What happens if you don’t have any time off? I’ve never worked in an office, but I assume that you don’t just get the standard amount of time off right from the start.” He contemplates.
“Oh, well we have unlimited PTO. I chatted with my friend in HR about it and she said that studies show that companies that have unlimited time off actually have higher productivity rates. That most employees don’t abuse it. So, if you’ve put in 90 work days straight, they want you to get out of the office. Something about brains starting to go stale. You actually aren’t even allowed to check email when you’re off.”
“Wait, so you have unlimited days off, yet you only take time off to go to SDCC each year. Why don’t you take more time off?”
“I dunno. I like my job, I guess. And I see my besties more than most people do, so I guess I don’t really feel the need to take a lot of time off,” I tell him truthfully.
“Huh.” He looks deep in thought. Which is kinda funny since the guy works for himself and can really take whatever time off he wants. But I know he’s always working. Always.
“We actually have several of these work-life balance benefits,” I offer.
“Like what?”
“Hmm. Like we can work from home at least once a week. We get six volunteer days a year with 100 percent pay.” I lean across the table to snag another roll.
Oh, the gooey goodness.
“Oh, and we can bring our pets to work. That’s pretty cool.”
“Are there ever any cat fights in the office?” He smirks.
I shake my head but smile. “No, if you want to bring your pet, your pet has to go through some kind of induction, I don’t know all the deets but there are a couple office cats and Phyllis in accounting brings in her dog, Buster, on the regular. It’s really not that common, but it’s a benefit.” I pause to take another delicious bite. “So now that we’ve just talked corporate benefits on my day off, what are you up to today?”
“I’m thinking I need to give my people time off, this has been an enlightening conversation,” he's scratching his chin, that I can see sports day-old stubble
“Your people?” I ask dubiously.
“Yeah, my people. I’ve got four of them.” He’s looking at me like I’m dumb.
“You have four people? Like chained up in the basement of the apartment building?”
He laughs. “No, as in people I employ, Rubes. I'm what you call a boss
. Multiple meanings, of course.”
I ignore the last part of his comment. How did I not know this?
“How do you not know this?” he echoes my thoughts.
“I don’t know! What do they do? Why do you need employees?”
“I make more than three hundred thousand a year, my net worth is more than most people could imagine for what I do. I can’t do it all myself. I shouldn’t have to do it all myself,” he tsks. He’s got a point.
“What do they do?”
“Well, I have PA, two video editors, and a social media manager."
I take a minute to process this. Big-headed, charming as hell, too-smart-for-his-own-good Link, has employees. He’s a boss. Apparently, a bad boss.
“Shit, Link! You don’t give them time off?! You’re a shitty boss!” I nearly shriek. Does he really not give his people time off?
Chuckling, he raises his hand in front of himself defensively. “Calm down, woman. I’m not a bad boss. My PA, Kim, works from home and she always just tells me when she’s isn’t available. And Dave, my editor, is in New York so it's a virtual thing. So is Beth, my PR lady. As long as they get their work done, I don’t care if they work two full hours a day or not.”
I don’t know whether or not I should be impressed or concerned as to why I didn’t know this about him. I mean, I feel like I know a lot about my friends. Was I just not paying attention?
“We have a weekly video conference call which is why I’m booked this morning and then I have my monthly lunch meeting with my financial adviser. So, unfortunately, I can’t be your partner in crime today.” He looks kinda bummed about it.
“Wow, I should call you Mr. Businessman from now on.” Really, I think I’m leaning more toward impressed.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you know I have a business degree, right?”
I just nod and finish my milk.
“Why don’t you hang with good ol’ Mase today? I’m sure he’d love to play hooky with you.” His tone is mocking, but I’m not going to get into it with him.
“He’s really not the hooky type. He has a full schedule and he doesn’t like changing his plans. Plus, he really loves his job. I don’t think he’d work well for a company who would make him take a day off,” I answer him truthfully.
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