Here To Stay

Angel

He bought dog gear for his car. Did he do this today? When did he have time? I want to ask, but… who am I kidding? I can’t help myself. “Did you buy this stuff today?”

“Uh… no. I ordered it the other day, just in case. It wasn’t a big deal. Cheaper than getting the car detailed again.” He pulls out of the parking lot, onto the road heading south.

I’m lost for words because what should be considered a simple thing feels like a grand gesture to a girl who hasn’t been on a second date in nearly a decade and the most romantic thing my last boyfriend did was push me on the swings or grope my boob. The bar is low.

“You look deep in thought. What are you thinking?” Damian glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask that.”

I consider how to respond and opt for an attempt at rattling him. “I was thinking about having my boobs groped.” I raise my eyebrows in a challenge to Damian and suppress the growing urge to laugh.

His eyes are wide as he stares straight ahead, and his mouth is gaping open and closing. After thirty seconds of him saying nothing, I burst out laughing and tell him the whole truth.

“That is a really low standard, but for future reference, I’m up for either of those things.” We both chuckle, then Damian adds, “How am I doing by comparison?”

“On a pass/fail grading system, you’re passing.”

We spend a few hours enjoying the summer breeze off of Lake Ontario and strolling around the pier. Genie has Damian carry her on a few occasions, and I laugh at how easily she’s trained him. She gives him a signature Genie smile and gets whatever she wants.

“So, did you get information about the new job?” Damian’s strolling beside me, letting Genie lead him wherever she wants to go.

“I’m going into the office on Wednesday to meet my manager, and they’ll get me started on my first job.”

Damian’s smile matches Genie’s, and I can’t help but return it.

“Are you excited?” He stops walking to focus on my face.

“Nervous, but yeah. I’m excited to create again, you know?”

His lips turn downward and I’m so confused by the change.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing. I… I just miss creating. That was always my real passion when I got into advertising. There’s a lot less of that in my role now.”

I’m sad for him, but if my time waitressing taught me anything, it’s that you can’t get time back you’ve wasted on worthless pursuits. I could have spent the last few years building my portfolio and training to expand my skill set, but because I got comfortable, that time has passed. “If you don’t love your job, find something you do. Paying the bills isn’t always worth the grief.”

Genie stops to sniff a wilting potted plant set beside an A-frame sign for a cafe. I take the brief pause to study Damian’s expression. His carefree smile from moments ago is gone.

“I’m sorry. It’s not as easy as getting fired and forced into a career change, and I get that. I just hate to see anyone I care about wasting away in a job they hate.”

His eyebrows lift, forming perfect arches over his brown eyes. “Anyone you care about, huh?”

Those words slipped out without thinking, but I don’t regret saying them. “Do you think I’d spend time with you if I didn’t care?”

Damian’s smile rivals Genie’s again. The world feels brighter when they’re happy in tandem. Less intimidating. Less dark. Like the curve of their mouths somehow chases away the nightmares that exist. The way Damian looks at me makes all the bad meals and mediocre tips from Harvest worth it. Because that’s where I met him. That just makes the reality of him getting tired of me hanging around, being a rain cloud, dishing out truths no one wants to hear that much harder.

“Maybe your job is going to lead to something that will change your life someday, and everything will be worth it.” I’m not normally one for hypotheticals and fluffy rainbow bits of positivity, but when I started slinging tables, I never would have guessed anything good would come from it. But I met Hannah and Vida, who I’m happy to call my friends. And standing here, it’s hard to remember all the negatives.

We’re on the move again, now that Genie has sniffed the area to her contentment.

“I can think of one good thing already,” Damian adds a few steps later. “You.”

“That’s the way. The power of positive thinking.” I slap him on the back like we’re sorority brothers. “Not sure what I had to do with your job, though.”

“The day we met, I was having a garbage day at the office and wanted to find somewhere none of my co-workers or clients would eat at.”

“Gee thanks.”

We both chuckle.

“Sorry, but you can’t disagree. I wanted to go for a walk to clear my head, and I ended up at Harvest. Turned out to be one of my best decisions.”

It’s not easy to make me blush, but he does. A lot. “I don’t disagree. With any of it.”

Damian takes my hand and we walk along the waterfront, following Genie’s nose.

For the first time in months—maybe years—my future looks exciting.

As much as I debated what to wear on dates with Damian, my first meeting with my new boss is ten times worse. How does one portray creative but serious? Fun but professional? Beats me. I even called Hannah for input because her aesthetic effortlessly says all of those things, but for some reason, everything I try on screams trying too hard.

I settle on black skinny ponte pants, a red blazer with a black and white floral print, and a white cami underneath. I slip on a pair of nude heels, pray my hair doesn’t grow exponentially between here and the office, kiss Genie goodbye—on her head, despite her eagerness to remove my makeup—and off I go.

Midway on my journey, I receive a text message.

Damian: Good luck today. Call me later. xx

That message puts a smile on my face for the rest of my journey. The fact he even remembered is kind of amazing.

I walk into Harbour Campaigns, my new employer, and make my way to the receptionist’s desk, where I’m greeted by a grumpy blonde with alabaster skin and bright blue eyes. Her attitude is not the only intimidating thing about her. Her manicured nails, blown out hair, and obvious confidence make me feel like I don’t belong here. I try to remind myself we are not in competition. Be polite, and maybe one day you’ll be friends with her.

“Hi, I’m here to meet with Mitchell Donnelly. My name is Angel Blake.”

While I wasn’t expecting a hug and a warm cookie, I certainly wasn’t anticipating the “Sit over there and wait” that I receive.

Okay. Perhaps friendship is not in the cards for us.

Like she says, I sit in the waiting area between reception and the security desk, which has one middle-aged, overweight guard on duty. One can only hope his role model is Paul Blart, and anyone with nefarious intentions will overlook him. Regardless, he smiles at me, so I return the gesture, grateful he’s helped to ease my nerves. I don’t even know why I’m so nervous. I’ve already got the job.

Five minutes later, a man, not much older than me, walks my way after getting directions from the abrasive blonde. She doesn’t act any friendlier toward the tall brunette man, so I’m left wondering if she’s sitting on a beehive or has some other explanation for her demeanour.

The man introduces himself as Mitchell, and he’s friendly but professional. He gestures for me to follow him toward the elevator and makes small talk along the way. I explain my education and work history briefly, but he doesn’t press for more details.

The building is dedicated to various public relations, marketing, and advertising divisions, as well as the standard accounting, legal, and human resources departments any large business requires. Mitchell gives me an abbreviated tour, which consists of telling me what’s on each floor as the elevator ascends. The doors open to reveal the fifth floor, and I follow my new boss to the right as he continues to prattle on about the company’s specialties and mission. Pretty sure their mission is to make big bucks, but they have to put something more profound on their website.

The department I’ll be in for the time being focuses on food and beverage advertising. Not the most exciting stuff to design, but it’s a job with potential for work in other areas.

Mitchell leads me to what’s referred to as “the pit” and does a blanket introduction: “Guys, this is Angel. Angel, this is everyone.” The obligatory nice to meet yous get passed around, whereas I just reply with hello. I don’t know if it’s nice to meet any of these people yet, so I won’t say it.

Once that’s out of the way, Mitchell pulls me into an office to the side of the cubicle area and leaves the door open a few inches, telling me to take a seat.

First order of business is signing a contract, tax documents, and a personnel form to include my profile in the company directory. I’m issued my own business email with expectations I will check it regularly during business hours. So far, so good.

When all is said and done, I have a clear direction for the first project I’m being pulled in on. Mitchell asks if I can return on Friday with any mockups I come up with between now and then. He’ll give his input, along with his boss. I didn’t realize there were so many bosses, because Mitchell’s boss is not Mr. Nicholls.

“How many levels of management are there?” I sound like a total newb at this corporate world stuff.

Thankfully, Mitchell laughs. “I’m just the project manager. We have a team manager who oversees the projects on our team, then we have a department manager who oversees the entire food and beverage department, and then Mr. Nicholls who is a hands-on CEO, but you’ll probably never see him or the department manager. Just myself and the team manager.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of… levels?” I cringe at my awkwardness.

Bless Mitchell for being polite and chuckling at my inexperience.

Before this job progresses any further, I figure it’s best to get everything out in the open. “I’m not used to this corporate life. I mean, obviously. You’re familiar with my work history. In a restaurant, we just had the owner and the head chef to contend with. There were no mystery heads pulling strings from behind the curtains.”

Mitchell studies me for a moment. “From what I’ve seen, you’re very talented. Why did you work at the restaurant for so long? Why not pursue this sooner?”

I hate answering that question. “It’s silly, but the easiest explanation is that I got complacent. I was hesitant to look for a job, especially in advertising, because—”

Knock, knock. “Mitch, sorry to interrupt, but we’re being summoned. You almost done here?” The man peeking his head in the door is short compared to Mitchell, but has a similar beard as if it’s a company policy. He has short, dark hair and a friendly smile. He doesn’t introduce himself, and I don’t ask.

“Give me a minute to wrap up.”

The newcomer’s smile disappears. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

“I won’t if you let me finish up here. If I’m late, I’ll blame you.”

That sends the man scurrying without another word.

What an unusual exchange. It, again, makes me curious. “Why does it sound like you’re headed into the den of a hungry ogre?”

Mitchell grimaces instead of laughing. “That’s an accurate description, actually. I’m sorry for ending this abruptly. Time got away from me. I’ll have a security badge available for you when you come on Friday, so pick it up from the security desk on your way in, then come right up.”

I nod, suddenly on edge over the change in Mitchell’s demeanour. “Thank you, Mr. Donnelly. I’ll see you on Friday.” I stand to my full five-foot-three-and-a-half height, thanks to my two-inch heels, and shake Mitchell’s hand before we both exit his office and I escape to the elevator.

As much as I’m disappointed I didn’t get to explain to Mitchell my personal policy on honesty, my biggest concern is that I hope I never meet the ogre.