Ian
“Got this job because I didn’t want to work inside an office,” grumbled Donnie. We were framing up a new office tower.
“You’d rather be freezing your ass off outside?” I asked. It had been blowing snow on my drive into work from Em’s place. Lately we’d been doing more workday sleepovers. Em wasn’t exactly clingy, but she was a people person. When someone offers you a nice home-cooked dinner after a hard day’s work, that was tough to turn down. And sex for dessert was a big bonus. Last night, Em had worn this shiny pink nightie that tied up in the front. It hadn’t stayed tied for long.
“Ian!”
I looked over at Donnie and J.P. They must have been calling me for a while.
“Were you in dreamland?” Donnie asked. “It’s lunchtime.”
“Oh, okay.” We made our way to our makeshift on-site kitchen where there was a kettle and mini-fridge. The three of us ended up on a bench near a space heater. It got pretty cold inside once you stopped moving.
“What the fuck is that?” Donnie asked as I unzipped my lunch bag.
I wasn’t exactly sure. Em had made lunches for both of us last night after dinner. I left first, so I’d grabbed my bag from the fridge and never looked inside. There were rolled up things like burritos, a freaking vegetable medley with dip, and doll-sized carrot muffins.
“My girlfriend made it.”
J.P. leaned over and snagged a muffin. He ate in one gulp. “Delicious.” I had to stop him from taking another one.
I unwrapped a burrito thing. They turned out to be chicken, lettuce, chopped celery and red onions, doused with a spicy spread and rolled up in flatbread.
“Not bad,” I said after one bite. It was fucking amazing.
“No dessert?” asked J.P.
“Nah. She knows I don’t have a sweet tooth.”
As I ate my lunch, the guys were watching with envy. I ended up sharing with them, not only out of pity but because she packed a lot of food.
“Who is this chick?” Donnie asked. “Have you been seeing her a long time?”
“We’ve been dating since Christmas.”
“Is she a chef?” J.P. asked.
“No. She works for the government.” I tilted my head in the general direction of Em’s building. Luckily, the government meant anything from a clerk to a deputy minister, so I didn’t have to explain how someone that smart was slumming it with me.
“What’s that?” J.P. pointed to something pink at the bottom of my lunchbag.
It was a note. As soon as I opened it up, Donnie read it aloud in a high voice. “‘Have a great day, Ian. Be safe. Em.’ And she signed it with a heart.”
“Oh, watch out, man. She’s one of those stalker types,” J.P. said.
Both of them started laughing and mocking me, but I didn’t care.
“Fuck you, boys. All this, and Em’s a rocket too.”
I folded the pink paper and slipped it into an inside pocket. The note reminded me of a friend back in primary school. Blake’s mom put notes in his lunch every day, wishing him luck on tests, writing jokes, or just saying she loved him. Blake would turn bright red when the notes got read out loud, but he seemed proud too.
And it wasn’t until this very moment that I realized I’d always wanted a note of my own.
Maybe Em was buttering me up because she knew I didn’t really want to go to her work party that night. Dating for fun seemed a lot like regular dating.
I stalled a bit by going for a workout first. When I got there, the party was in full swing. Well, for a bunch of business types anyway.
“Can I help you?” A tall, thin guy with glasses stopped me. “This is a private party.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m with Em.”
His face turned friendly. “Oh. You must be Ian.” He held out a hand. “I’m Ken Lederer.”
Ken was someone Em mentioned all the time. She called him her work husband. He looked exactly as geeky as I expected.
I shook his hand. “Hey, good to meet you.”
He was really friendly, and we ended up chatting about hockey. If all her work friends were like this, maybe this party wouldn’t be too bad.
Em came bounding over. She was wearing a navy dress and looked like a schoolteacher or something. “Ian! You’re finally here.” She gave me a hug. “And you’ve already met Ken.”
Ken nodded. “Yes, we were just talking hockey. Since I’m a Flames fan and he’s a Leafs fan, we’re mocking the Sens.”
“Did Ian tell you he used to play pro hockey?” Em asked.
Ken looked impressed. “Really? Which team?”
“Just AHL hockey,” I said. It felt weird to hear Em bragging on me like that.
“Still, that’s high level. You must be pretty good. Do you still play hockey?” Ken asked.
“He’s the best player on his recreational league team,” said Em.
“Cool it, Em.” Now I felt uncomfortable, like she had to build me up to her work friends because I wasn’t enough in other ways.
“Oh, sorry,” Em said.
There was a brief silence. Then Ken started talking about some work project, which totally went over my head. I stopped listening. A few people joined us, and Em introduced them. Marc was a friendly French-Canadian who naturally turned out to be a Habs fan.
“Ian, this is Aisha and Troy.”
“Oh, you’re the one who’s leaving, right?” I asked her. They both nodded and started talking about Brussels and the European Union. Then the subject moved onto monetary policy and something called quantitative easing. Em, Ken, and Marc jumped into the conversation while I zoned out completely. As well as I knew Em, she lived in this whole other world that I’d never get.
“This thing blows, right?” a voice whispered in my ear. I turned and saw this guy my age. He was on the beefy side like he used to be an athlete but didn’t work out anymore. He grinned and stuck out a hand.
“I’m Cody. Good to meet you, bruh.” After we shook hands, he continued, “So you’re the guy hooking up with our little Em these days. Tight.” His eyes roamed over her in a way I didn’t like.
“Yeah, I am,” I said firmly. As in step back, asshole.
“So, when did you start hitting that?” He was being way too pushy for someone I’d just met and already didn’t like.
“Do you work with Em?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Yeah, I’m also in the Financial Markets Department.” That was hard to believe, but there must be all kinds here.
Em was watching the two of us and blinking nervously.
Then everything clicked together. This was the jerk who was harassing Em. “He uses slang that’s ridiculously young.” And he was a total douche.
I smiled at him with fake friendliness. “Em and me met through friends. She’s a dimepiece, eh?”
He nodded. The guy’s tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. “Smokin’. She’s one sweet POA.”
As much as I wanted to rearrange his face, I held back. “You know it. Hey bud, can I get you a drink?”
Now he looked a little confused. “Hell, yeah. Thanks.”
“Come with me,” I urged him, and he followed along. Guys like him wanted to belong, but they never understood why nobody could stand them.
When we reached a quiet corner, I turned around and leaned in close.
One thing I learned from pro hockey was that there were guys who loved to mix it up. They loved the contact, the hitting, the fighting. And the scariest ones were nuts—they’d destroy you for the fun of it and they didn’t know when to stop. But outside of hockey, all I had to do was channel that psycho-energy, and I didn’t need to lift a finger. Not that I was opposed to lifting a finger because I’d been one of those guys who liked getting physical.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen up, asshole. I don’t want you bothering Em ever-fucking-again. Don’t touch her, don’t go near her, don’t even think about her—except with greatest respect.”
His mouth hung open, but no words came out.
“If I hear that you’ve even breathed near her, I will find you, reach right down your throat, and pull your balls out through your mouth.”
Then I thought of something else. “And that goes even if we’re not dating. Em’s a good friend, and I’ll be keeping tabs on her.”
He was frozen. He wasn’t even blinking.
“Nod if you understand me.”
He nodded slowly.
I left him there and continued to the bar. I ordered a beer for myself. “And what d’ya got that chicks like?” I asked the bartender.
“A cosmopolitan? A strawberry daiquiri? Or maybe a Mai Tai?” he suggested.
“Let’s go with the daiquiri.” Em liked pink.
She suddenly appeared beside me. “Are you okay?” She looked worried.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. I saw you leave with Cody.” Her forehead creased when she said his name. “Where did he go?”
“No clue.” But I suspected he might have gone home to change his pants after our little chat.
The bartender slid our drinks over, and I paid him.
“For you.” I handed her the daiquiri.
“Oh, thank you. It’s so pretty.” She took a sip and licked her lips. “Yummy.”
“Glad you like it.”
“Are you having a good time? It’s not too boring here, is it?”
“I’m fine,” I reassured her. Yes, it was boring, and I was out of my league, but settling the Cody-issue made up for that.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself. I was wondering, there’s a luncheon in March. A paper I co-wrote is up for a prize. Would you like to go with me?”
“A luncheon?” I asked.
“Yes. Sorry, you might have to take a longer lunch hour.”
Em had no clue about my work either. It wasn’t like an office where I told my boss I needed an extra hour off. And I’d have to get changed and wear a suit or something. This meant taking a whole day off. But it sounded like a big deal for Em.
“Sure, I’ll come. What prize is this?” I asked.
Em ducked her head. “The MacLean Medal. But we’re probably not going to win.”
“Still, it’s a big deal. Is this like the Stanley Cup of economics?”
She giggled. “No, not even close. Oh Ian, I’m so happy you’re coming. You keep me calm.”
“No worries, babe. Let’s go back so I can find out more about quantitative squeezing.” I squeezed her shoulder.
“Is that a joke? You know it’s quantitative easing, right?” she asked.
“Whatever.” It wasn’t like I needed to become an economics expert. I could just smile, nod, and count down the minutes until I got to be along with Em.