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Carter
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I walk into work smiling at the nice weekend I had. Despite the rocky start of me acting like a caveman Saturday night, it was nice to have her at my place. I slept like a rock knowing she was in the next room safe.
Of course, it would have been nicer to have her wrapped in my arms all night, safe and secure with my scent all over her. But all in due time.
I realize I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a quandary. There’s no way I’m giving up Taryn and whatever this is blooming between us, but I still have to keep it professional.
“Morning, sir. You’ve got a ten a.m. with IT, a lunch meeting with Jim Shaffer, and a board of directors meeting at three,” Briana says as soon as I walk into my office.
“Sounds good. Busy, busy,” I comment as I open my office door and set my briefcase and coffee on my desk.
After booting up my computer, I unbutton my shirt sleeves and roll them to the elbows. Truth be told, I hate wearing a stiff shirt and stuffy tie, and have been strongly considering just letting employees wear what they want within reason—me included. But everything I’ve read stated that dressing nicely—dressing for the job—made people more confident and productive, so I haven’t done it yet. I may try a “causal Friday” thing to see how that goes over. People are generally less productive on Fridays, anyway.
My phone chimes. Who the hell is texting me this early? I look down at my phone.
Richelle: Guess what? My sister’s getting married in September and I’m the maid of honor! Will you come with me? I need a date.
Fucking-A. Why won’t this psycho leave me alone?
I can’t resist a dig, so I type a reply: I hope your bridesmaid dress fits since you’ll be as big as a house by then.
I smile and set the phone down. Immature? Yes. Regrets? No.
The phone beeps and I look at the screen.
Richelle: I’m not pregnant anymore. I lost the baby. Due to stress since you wouldn’t do anything to help me. I was in the hospital, you know.
Me: Well, seven months along is pretty far along to lose the baby. Do you have a death certificate?
Richelle: I was only two months along!
Me: Sorry to hear that. I hope you told the father of the baby, since it wasn’t me.
She doesn’t respond and I smile in triumph. Crazy biatch.
I’ve finished up signing a bunch of contracts and other things when my phone chimes again.
Richelle: I still need a date to the wedding. Come on, Carter. I look good on your arm.
Me: Ask your baby daddy. I’m busy that day.
Richelle: I didn’t even tell you what day!
Me: Exactly.
I decide then and there to block her number. Why I hadn’t done it earlier, I’m not sure. Richelle came from a not-so-nice home, same as me, and I guess I always took pity on her. But you can’t fix crazy and I’m done trying.
A sense of relief washes over me as I block the number and hope to never hear from her again.
I realize the Mile High Rooms date is coming up, so I glance at the door to check that it’s still closed and log into the program that will get me into the app. I check the RSVPs and see that there are 502 people planning on showing up. Holy crap.
Even though we have over a thousand subscribers, according to the building codes of that place, I have to cap it at 550. This means I have to watch this program all day then promptly cut it off when it gets to about 540—it’s a first come, first served type of system, like concert tickets. I’m aware some people don’t show up, but others bring people and pay extra for them at the door without RSVPing with a plus-one. The app has 1,090 users but strangely, there are quite a few who pay for it but never use it. We have to scan their phone at the door so I get a report of who used it and who didn’t. If they bring a guest, that guest’s ID is scanned as well.
A knock at the door has me minimizing the app. Briana pokes her head in. “IT is here.”
“Send ’em in.”
Every month, I have a meeting with each department. IT. Human Resources. Accounting. Contracting. Marketing. It seems the employees appreciate getting an audience with me and it keeps me in the loop as to what’s going right or wrong, or where we need improvements or where we need to cut back.
I steel my features as I see Taryn walk with Jeff Chin and the other three guys from IT. She’s in a black pencil skirt and a white top with strappy heels and a pearl necklace. She looks absolutely fuckable.
They sit in the chairs while Briana stands in the corner with her tablet, ready to take meeting minutes which she will later distribute out to the IT team so they can have what we talked about in writing in case they need to refer back to it.
“So how is Taryn working out?” I start, smiling at her.
Jeff beams a smile and slides the sleeves of his plum-colored V-neck sweater up each arm. “She’s amazing. Does a great job. We’re happy to have her.” He looks at the other nerds in the department. “Aren’t we, boys?”
They all nod.
Yeah, I bet they are. A little eye candy is always a plus at work.
Jeff then goes into numbers, app download statistics, and other issues that need to be handled. I trust Jeff and his team to take care of them. He’s never steered me wrong, and in meetings like this, it seems they just want to hear my approval before doing anything. Especially things that involve big changes.
“If that’s all, you guys can get back to work,” I state.
Briana leaves the office, and the IT employees go to leave. Once they all head for the door, I say, “Jeff and Taryn, can you stay behind for a quick second?”
“Sure,” they reply in unison.
“Close the door,” I tell Jeff.
He obeys and looks at me nervously. “Everything okay, boss?”
I look at Taryn. “The next time you’re in here after hours and see the lights turn off, please make your presence known. But if this happens again, do not ever leave the stairwell door unlocked. Call someone and wait by the door or notify Security to come lock it. Are we clear?” I stare into Taryn’s horrified eyes.
She nods slowly. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Just next time... we have to be cognizant of security around here. There is a lot of expensive equipment that can be stolen on this floor.”
Jeff looks at her, confused, then at me. “What happened?”
“I locked up Thursday night and she was still here, but I wasn’t aware anyone was still on the floor so I secured the elevator and left. She texted me later she had to use the stairwell and left the door unsecured. She should have been briefed on this when she was hired. I’ll talk to Lisa about it for future employees, but it would be good if you did a briefing as well when we hire someone new, Jeff.”
He nods and says, “It won’t happen again, sir.”
“I hope not,” I reply, turning back to my computer, essentially dismissing them.
Jeff leaves and I can still feel a presence so I turn in my chair to see Taryn standing there, glaring at me with her hand on the doorknob.
“You’re an asshole,” she mutters loud enough for me to hear but too low for anyone outside in the hall.
I have nothing to say to that. I’m already well aware I’m an asshole. She leaves out the door and I decide it’ll be business as usual for the rest of the week. Nobody can know how much I want her. Nobody can know how I need to have her in my bed every night. It’ll have to be my secret. My self-punishment and torture that only I need to endure. She’ll understand when we talk later. It’ll be a little game we play at work.
I check the app again to see no more RSVPs. I leave the screen open to remind myself to check periodically. It would be awful if we had to turn people away. Not to mention, Jim would have my head.
That reminds me that I have a lunch meeting with him today. I’ll have to comment again on him finding buildings that can accommodate at least 900 people in case those other users decide to start showing up. A large warehouse or something. If I had it my way, I’d be the one finding the locations, not him. But he insists on doing it himself. He is the one collecting a hefty cover charge on top of the yearly $1,500 app fee, so that’s on him.