On His Turf (6 page)

“Who was that?” my boss, Donovan, asks as he approaches my desk.

“Some soccer player. He was looking for Leigh,” I say quickly.

“Then why didn’t he call the Sports Desk?” Donovan eyes the phone suspiciously so I quickly change the subject.

“How was your weekend?” I ask and he gives me a wide smile.

“Great. I spent the whole time outdoors. Have you ever been hiking at Barton Creek?” he asks as he leans his tall body against my desk. He is wearing a dove gray suit with a violet colored pocket square and as always the fit of it shows off that he takes good care of himself. “The views are incredible and there’s a swimming hole there fed from natural springs. I should take you some time.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat since this isn’t the first time that he’s asked me to do something outside of work. Each time it gets more and more awkward because I have a feeling that he’s not asking in a ‘just-to-be-polite’ kind of way. Sure, he’s handsome with his ebony eyes and dark skin and he’s probably only about ten years older than me but he’s still my boss and I’ve never really looked at him in that way.

“I’m not much of a hiker,” I say feebly and he chuckles.

“Alright, Carmelina. Let me know if you change your mind.” He flashes me a grin before heading back to his office.

I walk to the lunch room to brew a fresh batch of coffee before starting in on the mountain of paperwork that is resting on my desk. Most of it is filing that needs to be done but there are a couple short articles to edit from the assignment reporters. A good part of my job falls under the category of technical copy editing with a lot of general ‘assisting’ layered in so it’s basically double the work for half the wages, thank you so much recession. When I finish with the pile on my desk I sort through my inbox. An email at the bottom titled ‘Austin Oil Refinery Purchase’ catches my eye and I click on the attachment to open it. It’s only a press release about the upcoming business transaction but it niggles at something in the back of my mind so I print it off and take it to Donovan’s office. His door is open so I knock on the frame and he smiles and beckons me in when he sees me.

“Did you change your mind about the hike?”

“Uh no,” I say, flustered. “Did you see this?” I hold up the article and he briefly scans the headline.

“It’s simply another oil refinery that’s changing hands. What’s your angle? Environmental emissions? It’s been done before.”

I shake off the dismissal and sit down in one of his chairs. “It caught my eye not because of what is being bought but who is buying it. Remember there was a scandal like this not too long ago involving a foreign government, the bribery of Federal police and a few shifty Texas politicians?”

“I remember,” he says, nodding.

“That same offshore scandal was the result of senators being paid off to push through bad paperwork to fund an expansion that cost the taxpayers millions of dollars. There were even some fairly damning allegations of money-laundering on the buyers end. And guess what that company and the buyer in this transaction have in common?” I push.

“What?”

“The same Chief Executive Officer.”

“You’re reaching. It’s probably just a business transaction.”

“But it might be worth looking into?” I try.

“I know how much you want to prove yourself and I think you have the skills to be a great reporter someday but right now you’re still too green. And frankly with all of the budget cutbacks I don’t have the resources to spend money researching a whim. Okay?” Donovan says gently and I flinch.

“Okay,” I say, dropping my hands into my lap.

“If you find out anything more damning about this new company other than it having the same Latin American CEO then I can have a look but otherwise let it go.”

I nod because I’m too frustrated to speak and I leave his office without looking back.

***

I ignore Donovan’s request and the week flies by as I bury myself in research on the Petroleo Energy Corporation. Leigh’s extension flashes on my call display but I ignore it because I’m halfway through an article on the Texas oil boom and I’m too tired from my shift last night at Fantasy to deal with her right now. I haven’t spoken to her since dropping her drunken ass off after the party last Friday and with all of the extra hours I’ve been working I’ve had no time to see my friends or Shane. That hasn’t stopped him from texting though; every morning, afternoon and evening. Mid-week he stepped up his game and started calling my cell. At first I didn’t pick up but all the ringing and vibrating started to get to me so I gave up and answered. He’s been pushing me to tell him about my second job so he can see me in action but I manage to dodge the subject every time.

And the gestures - at first I thought he’d lost his mind but the gifts keep coming. On Tuesday morning coffee and fresh-baked croissants were delivered to my door which my ass didn’t need but I ate anyway. Wednesday a huge arrangement of two dozen pink-tipped white roses were waiting for me at my desk with a card that said,
are these more your style? They were even more expensive than the last ones. Lucky for you I’m a romantic at heart (do NOT roll your eyes).

Thursday the whole office was treated to a gourmet catered lunch that came complete with two servers in white jackets and another note.

I am only just getting started, babe. Do me a favor and go and tell one of the waiters that your name is Carmelina. -Shane

After reluctantly tapping one of the waiters on the shoulder I found my next surprise - an envelope with a plane ticket to Salt Lake nestled inside.

I want you to join me at an away game two weeks from today. Leigh already cleared the time off with your boss. Do not over-think it. -Shane

After a confused Donovan helped himself to a plate of food he tracked me down to grill me. I tried to think on my feet but he wouldn’t stop asking me about the lunch so I eventually caved and told him the truth. I started at the beginning and told him about the game and the party - the PG version of the party at least - and about how Shane’s been calling and texting since then. Donovan’s advice was to disengage and that eventually Shane would grow tired of the pursuit.

And I tried my very best to follow my boss’s advice but when I got home from Fantasy late Thursday night there was a cute pair of slippers and a little basket of different creams and gels sitting on my doorstep.

That was a long, hard day for you, babe, at the job you won’t tell me about. I can think of better things that are long and hard for you to focus your attention on. Try the blue cream first - I use it all the time to get relief from my cleats. Miss you. -Shane

Despite the crude note the gesture was so sweet and thoughtful that I couldn’t let it go unnoticed so after I took the slippers and basket inside and lathered up my tired feet I called him and we talked until four in the morning.

Today is Friday and I’m a little on edge because I don’t know what’s coming next and I’m operating on only a few hours of sleep. In fact, I’m so tired that I don’t notice Leigh until her butt lands on top of my desk and forces me to look up from what I’m doing.

“Where have you been hiding?” she says, popping her gum. “And why won’t you pick up when I call?”

“I’ve been busy. I was going to come up to see you but it’s been crazy,” I say in a clipped voice, not meeting her eyes. Leigh works on the floor above me so we don’t often see each other during the week unless we make an effort to.

“Excuses, excuses.” She sighs.

“You gave Shane Mitchell my phone number,” I say quietly and I can’t keep the accusation from my tone.

“Maybe.”

“Leigh,” I groan. “Now he won’t leave me alone.”

“That was the whole point. You need to get laid.”

“Leigh! Seriously.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Did you also tell him where I work out at?”

“Yep, that was me too.”

“You are evil,” I exhale a weary breath.

“An evil genius.”

“Just do me a favor and please stop feeding him insider information. I don’t like having this guy know so much about me when I know almost nothing about him. It’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic,” she argues.

“You watch too many movies, Leigh,” I say, shoving her off of the edge of my desk. “There’s no such thing as a real Prince Charming.”

“You are a cynic.”

“And if I recall correctly I believe last week’s Prince Charming made off with your wallet. Did you ever get it back?” I ask about Seven and she covers her face with her hands.

“No, I didn’t. And thank you guys for calling to cancel my credit cards by the way.”

“Not a problem. When Matty took you upstairs he found the statements beside your laptop. You were pretty loaded and we were worried you’d forget in the morning.”

“He won’t return my calls. Can you believe that?” Leigh rolls her eyes skyward.

“Believe what? That he won’t return your calls or that he stole from you?” I ask, trying to understand what she’s really saying.

“Both!”

“You are hopeless,” I say, getting up and walking past her to the filing cabinet but she only follows.

“It’s all these sexy little accents around me with your ‘y’alls’ and ‘ma’ams’ and ‘howdy’s’. How is a girl from the West Coast supposed to resist? Take Shane for example. He’s like the sexiest mix of athlete-bad-boy-cowboy a girl only comes across once in a lifetime and he wants you. YOU!”

“I get it, keep your voice down.”

“Who wants what?” Donovan interjects having just come back from the copy machine.

“Shane Mitchell wants in Carmelina’s pants,” Leigh says crudely and Donovan frowns.

“Is that what all of this is about? The flowers and lunches and phone calls?” he asks and I instantly feel bad that he knows Shane’s been calling the office on work time. “From what she told me about it he’s been trying to ask her out to dinner.”

“He
has
been asking me out to dinner,” I protest and Leigh laughs.

“That’s only because there isn’t a card made for ‘I want to have hot, steamy, marathon sex with you,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Leigh!” I shout at the same time Donovan bellows, “enough Miss Simpson!” Leigh immediately stops laughing and she looks a little shocked by his outburst. Her cheeks turn bright red and she looks down at the floor.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, already heading in the opposite direction. “I’ll call you later, Caramel,” she adds before fleeing down the hall to the bank of elevators at the end.

“Caramel?” Donovan raises an eyebrow.

“It’s her nickname for me,” I mumble.

“I like it,” he says softly. “But I’m worried about you, Carmelina. All of this - these displays - it isn’t like you and after hearing what Miss Simpson said I think I have a better understanding of what is going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” I say, my face flushing. “And with all due respect sir it’s my personal business.”

“When your personal business starts interfering with your performance in this office then it becomes my business,” he says in a voice that’s laced with disapproval.

“How is it interfering? Because he sent lunch and flowers?”

“You seem different,” he exhales. “I understand that he’s a minor celebrity around town and also an athlete but those are two very good reasons for you to stay away from him.”

“Stay away from whom?” A familiar voice interrupts us at the same time a tanned, muscular arm circles around my shoulders. I close my eyes and curse the Gods of fate that Shane would choose this exact moment to come waltzing into the office. He pulls me against him and I am enveloped in the delicious scent of fresh cut grass and soap. “There you are, babe. I’ve been looking all over this place for you.”

“You must be Shane,” Donovan addresses him but I notice he doesn’t smile or extend his hand.

“I am. Funny, I have absolutely no idea who you are since Carmelina’s never talked about you,” he counters.

“That’s not surprising since she mentioned to me that you only met last week. I’m Donovan, Managing Editor of the features department.”

“You’re her
boss
.” Shane stresses the last word and there is a brief pause while the two size each other up. Shane is bigger and more muscular than Donovan but my boss is slightly taller, and from the way they are standing I feel like I’m caught in the middle of one giant pissing contest. Shane keeps his eyes on Donovan as he leans forward and presses his lips against my ear. “I brought you something,” he whispers.

“Of course you did.” I roll my eyes and his other arm lifts over my shoulder to reveal a six-pack of beer from my favorite local micro-brewery. I can’t help the big smile that spreads across my face and it makes Shane laugh out loud.

“You see Donovan? I’ll never understand women. I send her the most expensive flowers I can find, gifts, gourmet foods and plane tickets and the thing that makes her the happiest is half a dozen bottles of cold beer.”

“There’s no alcohol permitted in the office,” Donovan replies coolly.

“It’s not even open, man. Besides, I’m saving it for when Carmelina takes me back to her place.”

“Who said you are coming back to my place?” I shout, a little too loudly and a few heads pop up from the surrounding cubicles.

“I’m afraid this has turned into a bit of a scene,” Donovan says while glaring at Shane. “Miss Dahl, please see your guest and his beer down to the lobby and meet me back in my office right after.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer and stalks into his corner office and slams the door.

I walk over to the elevators with Shane in tow. “That guy wants to fuck you,” he says matter-of-factly and I gasp in response.

“Jesus, Shane! This is where I work,” I shush him as the mail guy passes by and gives us a weird look.

“You know that he wants to fuck you,” he says and I can’t tell if it’s a question.

“I know nothing of the sort. He’s asked me out a few times, it’s not a big deal,” I answer as I slam my hand against the elevator button with all of the pent up aggression I am feeling.

“It kind of is a big deal, babe. Like a sexual harassment-position-of-power-lawsuit kind of deal.”