Get Mine, Get Yours

Damian

No word from Angel before I have to go into my next meeting. I hope everything went okay with her intake interview. Her job was supposed to be a done deal, but that doesn’t mean anything before a contract is signed.

Whatever the outcome, I’ll have to find out later. I wait until I see the other team members file into the board room before I make my way over. The door is wide open, so I can hear their conversation from the corridor.

“She was pretty hot, but that’s an HR nightmare. Steer clear, man. Trust me. You don’t want to mess up your career for a fling or whatever you’re looking for.” Elliot’s familiar voice sounds more stern than I’ve ever heard it.

“But she’s a literal Angel. I’ve never met an Angel before.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands like a defensive dog. I continue to wait at the doorway, out of sight—which is tough with the walls of windows in this place—listening to their conversation, reeling in my urge to exercise my managerial power. Angel is a common name. Relax. But this conversation, along with the email I just received from my boss informing me of a new freelance designer, is enough to have me grinding my teeth.

“I don’t care what her name is, man. Focus on the job.” Elliot gets bonus points for being a voice of reason.

“She’s just freelance. I’ll ask her out and see what she says.”

I don’t want to hear any more of this. I clear my throat, walk into the room, and drop my manila folder on the table with a loud thwap. Pretty sure my face is set in a furious scowl, but for the life of me, I can’t relax it.

Once I have their attention, they both look startled. I haven’t said a word and they look like scolded children. All these months I’ve been trying to endear myself to my staff, and right now, knowing Mitchell was ogling the woman who has occupied my dreams for the last seven weeks, I am finding it difficult not to go full alpha male. I know that’s not me. I’m not this guy who views a woman as a possession, but I have a spark of jealousy. Mitchell and Elliot both got to see her today, and I haven’t heard a word.

Through gritted teeth, I say, “Where are we at with this project, gentlemen? I need an update.”

Mitchell raises his hand, and if there were more than three of us in the room, I might make him sweat by pretending I don’t see him. I nod at him to proceed. My anger—no, I’ll call a spade a spade; my jealousy—is making it hard to speak to him right now.

“We’ve hired a new freelancer who is going to work with some ideas and try to lock down some graphics for us to experiment with. She’ll have some mockups on Friday.”

“Who hired a freelancer?” I already know, but I don’t know what else to say.

“Mr. Nicholls thought we needed some fresh eyes, and since Crystal is off on maternity leave, we were short a designer.” Elliot rattles off his answer while digging through his own files. “Once this one is done, another project is hitting a wall and could use some new ideas, so this could be good to get us over this block.”

“You can’t expect one person to come in and save all the ongoing projects from your bad ideas. What’s the point of paying you?” My voice hits an unnecessary volume, and my anger—ahem, jealousy—isn’t directed at Elliot. Pull yourself together, Damian.

He fidgets with his tie before replying, “Of course not, but we’ve all been looking at the same images, the same tired slogans, the same computer programs for weeks and inspiration hasn’t struck. She might be what we need to get things rolling in the right direction.”

I stand in front of my two staff members with my eyes closed, trying to get my mind focused on the work at hand. More work for Angel is a good thing, and completing projects is a good thing. This should all be good. Excellent, even. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that it won’t be good at all.

The role of a freelancer is to connect with the team or project managers directly. I’ve never spoken to a freelancer, so if that streak continues, Angel will never know I work here. That’s stupid, Damian. If you keep seeing her, one day she’s going to know your company name. That, of course, wouldn’t bother me, but I don’t want her thinking I pulled strings to get her a job after I promised I wouldn’t. So I have a dilemma. Do I tell her I had no idea and hope she believes me? Or not say a word and hope we don’t run into each other?

“Um, Sir?” Elliot clears his throat.

I give my head a shake and open my eyes to find him and Mitchell staring at me. “Sorry, I was running through ideas in my head.” About my personal life, but I’ll leave that bit out. “So, should we just reconvene Friday? I want to have something to tell Mr. Nicholls before the weekend.”

“That would be a better use of our time—”

I cut Elliot off as I collect my things and leave the room. If I stay, I’ll say something to Mitchell about interoffice fraternization, which isn’t against any policies we have, so that would have raised more questions I don’t have an answer to. Why don’t I want you to ask out the new freelancer? Um… well… because she’s… what is she? I don’t even know. We’ve been on two dates.

My phone vibrates against my thigh from my pocket. My work emails send notifications to my phone, so I’m used to it going off, but I’m hopeful that’s not what it is.

Angel: Back home. Don’t want to bug you at work. Everything was fine.

I stare at her message for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that something is off. Does she know I work here? Did Mitchell say something about me? Her texts are usually funny and quirky. This is dismissive.

Damian: Everything ok? You don’t seem excited.

Angel: Lots of work to do by Friday.

I’ve never been ditched before, but this must be what it feels like. Payback for stringing along women before.

Damian: So that’s a no to a Thursday date?

Angel: It’s a probably not.

Ouch. I’m typing out a reply when another message comes through.

Angel: Unless you want to come here and give your input so I don’t make a fool of myself.

That message makes me smile and relief flush through my system. Maybe I was being a tad dramatic.

Damian: Done. I’ll bring dinner.

Angel: See you tomorrow.

As smug as it is, the next thing to cross my mind is take that, Mitchell.