I sit in my large cubicle the day after our meeting with The Hawkeyes owner Phil Carlton and his team.
I fangirled pretty hard yesterday getting to meet Sam Roberts, The Hawkeyes’s very own general manager, who’s a legend in his own right. I kept it together just long enough not to ask him for an autograph. But the high came crashing down when Briggs entered the room an hour after the rest of us arrived. Sam wanted to give us all a chance to voice our thoughts about the project before Briggs came in.
It felt uncomfortable and awkward to feel like I was a part of the unpleasant surprise that Briggs walked into. We all knew he wasn’t privy to the group of people sitting in the conference room when he walked in. It felt more like an intervention than a meeting of the minds to solve the issue of Briggs’s reputation.
The look on Briggs’s face when it first registered with him had me squirming in the buttery soft leather conference chairs at The Hawkeyes’s corporate office.
At first, I swear I saw him give me a once over, and my body lit up with goosebumps at his perusal. I couldn’t tell if my body was excited or nervous; it took on a life of its own. I was just along for the ride.
But then I could see the moment when his eyes latched onto my face, and the acknowledgment of who I was hit him. The slight glint in his eyes when he thought I was a stranger quickly died when he realized, replaced with what looked like a mix of surprise and maybe a little disappointment.
Then when he spun around and stared at me with heated blue eyes and a scowl when Sam announced that I was his new fake girlfriend… well, I couldn’t stop seeing the disapproval in his expression plastered on the back of my eyelids last night as I tried to fall asleep in my tiny studio apartment. I shouldn’t even call it an apartment. It more closely resembles the size of a cat litter box than a place to call home, but Seattle isn’t cheap, and I’m happy that my job affords me just enough to live downtown and close to work. Plus, I don’t have to have a roommate to help with the cost of a place this small.
Maybe with that new promotion, I can consider looking for a slightly bigger place so that I can get a dog, something I’ve always wanted since my parents never let me have one as a kid. Putting a nice chunk down on my student debt will also be at the top of my list.
“Knock, knock,” I hear Derek’s familiar voice radiate through my space.
Our cubicles aren’t the size of the offices, like Derek’s or Erika’s, but they’re bigger than the ones I’ve worked in during my internship while in college. They feature a large L-shaped desk in them, and the best part is that the cubicle walls reach from floor to ceiling, and besides the doorless opening that allows people to enter and exit their cubicles, the space is mostly enclosed. It’s the most privacy you could hope for in a corporate office like this one.
However, if all goes well on The Hawkeyes account, I’ll be moving to a large office that comes with my promotion.
I turn in my chair to see Derek, dressed to impress as usual, his dark thick hair molded into place and his slacks and button-up shirt tailored to perfection. He leans up against my cubicle wall, his hands casually tucked in his pocket. He’s always had this way of looking so cool and confident in any setting, like right now. The only time I’ve ever seen him shook was at the meeting a few days ago in the conference room with Erika when he was trying to backtrack on his suggestion that I date Briggs.
“Hey,” he greets.
His usual grin is back, and I internally sigh of relief.
“Hi.” I smile up at him.
“Want to grab some lunch?” he asks, one dark brow lifting in question.
“Yeah,” I say, looking at the email correspondence between me and Penelope Roberts, Sam Roberts’s daughter and administrative assistant. She’s been keeping me apprised of how everything is coming along for getting Briggs and me into an apartment to fabricate the lie that we’re a serious couple that’s been hiding from view and are serious enough that we’re living together.
She slipped in a few questions about how Briggs and I know each other. She heard that we grew up together and was curious but didn’t want to pry if I wanted to keep that private.
Honestly, I’m relieved she asked about me and Briggs and our past. There haven’t been any opportunities in my adult life to bring up Briggs Conley and our history… or at least, I’ve never had a captivated audience before that I could hash out all this history with until Penelope.
Briggs has never come up while talking with new girlfriends because most of them don’t give a crap about hockey, and when men I’ve dated found out that I know Briggs, they ask two questions:
One, did you sleep with him?
To which I reply, ‘no’.
Then that leads to question number two. Can you get me and my buddies season tickets?
To which I reply again with the same answer.
‘No.’
After that, the Briggs Conley conversation ceases to exist.
I can’t bring it up with my parents because they were there for most of it, so it would seem weird and forced to them if I brought him up out of the blue.
And Isaac will go Rambo the second the name Briggs even leaves my lips. There is absolutely no reason, in my brothers’ head, that I would utter his best friends name unless, of course, we’re sleeping together. Perfect logic of an overprotective brother.
I type the last few words and send off the email to Penelope to confirm the time the movers she booked will be at my apartment to pick up my things next week to move me and Briggs into our new shared apartment.
With Briggs and I likely only having to pretend for two to three months until things blow over, and the apartment that Penelope rented for us to cohabitate in, being fully furnished, I’ll only need clothes and toiletries… along with a few necessary kitchen items for an impromptu baking session if the need hits me. I do my best thinking while whipping up some confectionery treats.
It seemed a bit overkill to send a moving company to help me with the few boxes and luggage I packed. It would only take me a couple of trips in my 4Runner to get it all to the new apartment, but she insisted that this is how things are done in her organization, so I gave in and sent her my address.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I tell him, grabbing my rain jacket for the drizzly fall day we’re having and then pulling my purse out from under my desk, following him down the hallway of our office and toward the elevator. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Figured we could hit the little sandwich shop a couple of blocks down the way and find a quiet spot to talk if the rain lets up.”
That actually sounds really nice. I sort of feel bad for comparing him to Briggs the other day.
Who cares if Briggs is taller, in better shape, or exudes unnatural amounts of confidence? Derek is the one trying, right? He’s the one interested and not storming out of doors to get away from me.
The elevator doors open and then close before he speaks. This project is on a need-to-know, and therefore, most of the staff here don’t even know that Erika is trying to bring on The Hawkeyes as a client. Their company is listed under a different name in our system, and everything is password protected so that only Erika, Derek and myself have access to it.
“How are you feeling about everything?”
“With the new client?” I ask to clarify.
We’re alone in the lift, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Security monitors the cameras in the elevator, so it’s not as if we’re completely alone.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect he’d be happy with the idea we came up with, but I didn’t think he’d bolt,” Derek says, referring to Conley but not uttering his name out loud.
“He wasn’t expecting it to be me,” I take a stab at guessing Conley’s reasoning.
I shift uncomfortably, the memory again of the cold yet beautiful face of the man I’ve known since I was in diapers storming out of a meeting once he heard that he was going to be stuck pretending to date me.
Was it a hit to my pride for everyone in that room to witness it? Yes.
Will it stop me from doing my job and earning this promotion? Not in the least.
“Yeah… actually, that’s what I wanted to get lunch to discuss.”
The elevator doors open, and the instant smell of coffee and chocolate croissants from the coffee shop downstairs fills the elevator immediately.
We both walk out of the elevator and into the lobby of our high-rise office building downtown. The loud whistle of milk being steamed by the barista as a large line is already forming from employees taking their lunch breaks, and the clacking of shoes against the bright white glossy marble tiles of the lobby from other employees working in this building fills the air around us.
Our office takes up the entire fifth floor with about forty employees on staff, but with twelve other stories, this place is busy every minute of the day from seven in the morning until Security locks up at eight in the evening.
“Discuss what?” I ask as we head for the massive glass doors to the entrance and exit of our building.
He takes a few rushed steps in front of me to get ahead and pulls open the door for me to walk through. “Thank you.” I flash a smile over my shoulder.
I take a deep breath the second I step outside. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve lived in Washington; the smell of rain after being cooped up in a stuffy office for hours without a window gives me this small dopamine hit.
I can’t prove it, but I can feel it the effects.
Once he walks through the door to join me, I pull on my jacket under the cover of the building overhang. The rain must have calmed down since this morning because it’s now more of a mist than actual drizzle or rain, but it doesn’t bother me to stand in a little bit of moisture while we eat our lunch as long as it isn’t a torrential downpour.
We begin our walk, weaving through thick pedestrian traffic downtown, attempting to dodge the puddles of rainwater that accumulated in areas along the sidewalk. The sounds of everyone’s shoes slapping against the wet cement sidewalk is the backdrop noise we’ll hear the rest of the way to the sandwich shop, as everyone else is getting lunch around this time too. I’m glad I wore my rainboots today because anything else would be soaked through by now.
Now that we’re out of earshot of any employees in the firm, he seems to relax a little, and I almost forgot that I asked him a question.
“Discuss what you’re going to say when you tell Erika that you can’t date Briggs Conley.”
“I’m sorry… what now?” I ask in confusion, looking over at him as we wait for the light to change so we can walk with the crosswalk and move down the next block toward the little shop.
He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, I mean, come on… she can’t really expect you to fake date some guy for a promotion. And anyway, you and I might not be serious yet, but there’s something going on between us.”
The green ‘WALK’ sign illuminates, and we step off the curb and cross with several other people.
“We went on a few dates, and they were really nice. I liked getting to know you but—”
He isn’t going to ask me to turn down career advancement just so he and I can try to see if this thing between us has longevity, is he? I mean, I’d get it if we had been dating exclusively for an extended amount of time and a future with Derek was already in motion, but we’re not, and this promotion is everything I’ve wanted since I picked my major in high school. I want this, and I doubt if the shoe was on the other foot, that he’d give up a promotion to date me.
He cuts me off as we get close to the restaurant’s front door. “Which is why you need to tell Erika that you can’t agree to the project and that we’ll need to find a different fill-in woman to date Briggs,” he says.
His deep green eyes look over at me, almost willing me to agree. We stop in front of the little standing-room-only sandwich shop.
“We can just hire a high-paid escort to pretend to be his girlfriend, and she’ll probably give him as many lap dances as he wants, and he won’t have to pay a future for them.”
My nose scrunches up at the thought of Briggs getting lap dances from anyone, but it doesn’t matter what I think because the reason that Erika doesn’t want to go that route is that she wants this fake relationship to feel authentic. And since Briggs and I do have history, a history that we can prove, she believes that will go a long way in selling people on the idea of us and its plausibility.
“Derek,” I say slowly.
He turns to face me and reaches out for my hand, and pulls it into his. “Yeah?”
“From the minute I started working here, I’ve looked up to you.” He smiles down at me. “You’ve worked your butt off to get where you are today. Working your way up to find your spot as the right-hand of one of the biggest PR firms in Washington, and I admire you so much for your accomplishments…”
He beams down at me, basking in my compliments. “That means a lot to hear you say that,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the hand that he’s holding.
“…Which is why I know that you wouldn’t want me to miss my opportunity to do the same.”
His smile turns into a frown instantly, and he looks perplexed.
“What are you talking about?”
“I think our timing is off.”
Which is true. If Conley hadn’t gotten dropped in my lap… ironically by Derek, I’d still be interested in seeing things with Derek progress. But he can’t truly expect me to walk away from this offer from Erika for him when we have only gone on a few dates. Can he?
“Are you being serious?” he asks, his forehead creasing with confusion or frustration, I’m not sure.
“This project with Briggs is only a few months, Derek, not a lifetime. I need to see this through. What Erika is offering is—”
He shakes his head. “I know, I know. Operation De-sleaze Conley… It’s a huge opportunity for you.” He doesn’t look back at me. Instead, he watches cars on the roadway slowly passing us by in the lunch rush. Horns beeping in the distance, the ocean breeze whipping between us softly, and the smell of rain from earlier this morning.
I place my hand on his arm. “Thank you for understanding,” I say, even though I have a feeling he isn’t really okay with this and wants me to put my career on hold for a guy I’ve only been casually dating for a month. “This could be a huge win for the company as well if I can land The Hawkeyes as a permanent account. We’ll all benefit from this.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, shifting his sights from the traffic to the sandwich shop and releasing my hand. He starts walking toward the shop’s front door. I follow behind, even though I’m not sure if I should just head back and grab a yogurt parfait and a coffee at the coffee shop in the lobby of our building instead. He doesn’t seem happy about this. Maybe a little breather for him to think this all through and see that I’m right would be good.
I follow behind cautiously, waiting for him to dismiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he holds open the door for me to walk inside first.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling up at him.
He looks down at me with a polite but halfhearted smile and nods. He’s never smiled at me like that before. His smiles are usually warm and flirtatious when they’re directed at me.
I’m not exactly surprised by his reaction, considering our conversation, but I am surprised that it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.
We stand in line, and I’m relieved to see several other coworkers inside. Paul, one of the other managers that works with Derek, gets in line behind us and starts chatting Derek up. The woman in front of me is Erika’s assistant, and she turns around to discuss the memo she plans to put out about getting rid of all the paper cups at the water fountain and requiring everyone to bring a reusable one that they keep at their desk. I’d rather listen in on Derek’s conversation behind me or watch paint dry, but I’d never be rude to a coworker, and Erika’s assistant doesn’t have many friends in our firm… for good reason.
She continues…
“This will not only save the company money but also think about how great it will be for the environment.” She beams back at me, her strawberry blonde hair pulled back in its usual tight bun. She’s about my height and somewhere in her early thirties. She’s covered from head to toe in rain gear, but her face shows off her light skin, which highlights all of her unique freckles.
She takes a step forward as the line moves. I take a step as well to keep up.
“That’s true, but there will be a lot more dishwashing going on now that people will need to wash out their cups regularly, and that could cut into the efficiency of the staff if they’re spending time washing out their cups once a day. People tend to get chatty in the break room. Not to mention more water waste for washing cups.”
“Good point,” she says thoughtfully, glancing up at the ceiling in consideration. “I’ll add that to my report to Erika, and she can make the final call.”
I nod back at her as we move again, closer to the cashier.
I think her idea makes sense, but I can already hear the groans of all my cohorts when they realize they will now be responsible for keeping a clean cup at their desk.
Erika’s assistant is a bit of a busy bee, which can rub some people in our office wrong, but her heart is in the right place.
She steps up and makes her order, and then it’s my turn. Lately, Derek and I have been ordering together when we take lunch at the same time, but he doesn’t step up with me. Instead, he hangs back with the employee he’s talking with. I can feel his eyes on me, so I know he sees that it’s my turn.
I guess he got the message that whatever we were doing before our meeting with Erika a few days ago has now ended, and that’s for the best since I need to focus on my job and my promotion. I’m not so sure office romance is a good idea anyway.
I step over to the pickup window, and both my lunch and Erika’s assistant’s order comes up at the same time.
I glance over to find Derek finished his order but went to stand with a couple of guys that work alongside him in upper management.
“I’m heading back with Erika’s order,” she says, offering up the two sandwiches. Likely one for her and one for Erika, “Want to walk back together, or are you staying?” she sends a quick look over at Derek. Evidently, the office must have caught on to Derek and me spending time together.
Derek doesn’t look our way as we both look over at him. He’s laughing at something that Paul, the other manager in his department, says.
“No, I’m not staying. I have a large project I’m working on. I’ll come back with you,” I say, turning to follow her out of the sandwich shop.
“Great! We can discuss my thoughts on bonus vacation pay for employees who ride their bikes to work instead of driving.”
Oh joy, it’s my lucky day…
