To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1) (5 page)

He continued writing and then said, “I’m good.” He gave Shasta a spy of his eye, and then returned his sights downward.

She sat along the black club chair. “You’re not even going to ask me how I’m doing?” She gave a smirk.

He still looked down. “Just finishing up approving these invoices.”

Her smirk went unnoticed. She waited for a minute or so. “So, what’s this meeting about? Why am I here?”

He continued signing.

She spoke a bit louder. “Tyson. I’m here. I have my notebook in hand. I’m ready. For what, I don’t know. There was no subject on the meeting invite.”

“Haven’t I always told you; you have to stay ready so you don’t have to get ready.”

“You have. Like I said, I’m ready.  So, fire away.” She tapped her ink pen along her knee.

He looked up at her. One of his eyebrows dipped. “I drove down Roswell Road last Friday night. Late.”

Her mind spun. “Okay. And?”

“And, actually, I made a late night stop at that Target over there in the Prado.”

She nodded, but thought,
oh shit!
She gave him an innocent stare.

His tone was even, no accentuating words. “And it was kind of uncanny, because as it turns out, I couldn’t pull into the lot from the main entrance, so I went on around by where Taco Mac is.”

“Uh-huh.”

He put the ink pen on his desk and leaned back in his red executive chair. “He let you in your car, and you pulled off, and he followed you out of the parking lot?” Tyson now had the look of a jealous boyfriend.

She played it off but was truly surprised by his nerve. “Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

She uncrossed her legs and used both hands to manipulate her ink pen. “That’s funny. I didn’t know you did Target. You prefer Lenox Mall, right?” The question was not meant to be answered, so she followed up with, “Did you follow us? If so, that’s called stalking, right?”

“I did not stalk you. That’s silly.”

She still played with her pen. “I see. So, was your wife in the car?”

He stared. “I’m the one asking the questions.”

“I can see that.”

He then stood slowly and turned his back to her, looking out of the window. “Shasta, I saw you standing around talking to him last week. Wasting time.”

She yawned on purpose.

“You didn’t get much sleep I see.”

She looked down at her notepad and began using the ink pen to scribble.

He still spoke to the window. “I texted you all weekend.”

“I know that.” She wrote the words
I know that
, and then wondered why she did.

He asked, putting his hands in his pants pockets. “Ignoring your boss, huh?”

“I told you, I don’t work on weekends.” She looked at his back. “You have an assistant. I am not your assistant. Now would you please at least show me enough respect to face me. Good grief.” She wrote the words
good grief
.

He didn’t face her. His words dragged as he asked, “Are you fucking Ramón?”

She dropped her ink pen onto her lap and gave him a piercing scowl, tiling her head like
what?

“You know who I’m talking about. Ramón Vaz. That little, short, black guy from the mailroom. The one with the Mexican accent?”

“Tyson, are you here to talk about work, or are you here to get in my business about what I choose to do outside of work?”

“Make that
who
you choose to do. When it comes to people who work here,” he turned and finished, “it is my business.”

She stared at him straight on. “It might be your business as far as what employees do while at your place of business, but outside of that, it’s not.”

He leaned forward, removed his hands from his pocket and balled them up, placing his fists along the top of the desk. “Let me remind you about Bain’s policy that specifically relates to officers, executives, directors, managers, and supervisors. With you being a Senior Vice President, you are an officer of this company. It reads that anyone employed in a managerial or supervisory role needs to heed the fact that personal relationships with employees who report to him or her may be perceived as favoritism, misuse of authority, or potentially, sexual harassment.”

“You memorized that, huh?”

“I wrote it.”

“Tyson, I’m sorry, but that only refers to reporting employees. Mr. Vaz does not report to me.”

“Reporting or not, a manager or supervisor who dates or becomes romantically involved with an employee, like Mr. Vaz, as you call him, creates a serious problem for this company. Dating an employee, even when the employee is not in a reporting relationship, and having extramarital affairs, creates serious consequences for the company.”

Did he just say extramarital affairs?
In her mind she knew he was the epitome of the pot calling the kettle black. It made her jaw tight but she fought it off. “It also says that company employees may date, develop friendships and relationships both inside and outside of the workplace as long as the relationships do not negatively impact work. I have many friends who work here, including Maya. That has never impacted my work.”

He stood up straight and crossed his arms. “Well I don’t think you and Maya are fucking, unless there’s something I sadly missed out on.” He ended the sentence by turning his ear toward her.

She slapped him with her thoughts. “You didn’t.”

“And so, what I’m telling you is; friends or not, this is a warning and there could be potential consequences.” He looked dead serious.

She shook her head. “How can a jealous boss ever be capable of being unbiased enough to determine what type of consequences would be appropriate? Especially when he’s violating the very company policy that he created? Such a double standard.”

“You’re an employee, Shasta. The security of your job depends on this.”

“And so does yours.”

“Not.”

She sat up straight, looking him up and down. She stared at the frown lines along his forehead. “Not? Is that the best word you could come up with? Not? You, the man who went to Wharton, who is a Mensa, who is a multi-millionaire, who has two heads, one that’s strong and one that’s weak. You’re surely one to talk.”

He brought his hands to his sides. “After all I’ve done for you through the years, you need to stop.”

She struggled to not shout. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re cheating on your wife. You have a whole lot more to lose than I do.”

He paused, giving her the type of look a victim would give a thief. Like she stole his trust and should be penalized. And then he admitted what she knew bothered him most. “A black boy, Shasta?”

“Boy? Tyson, he’s a grown man.”

“Boy. Man. You? Into black guys? Since when?”

That was when she took the ink pen from her lap, and sprang to
her feet. “I’m not listening to this anymore. That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, trust me, I know what you prefer, and it’s not that.”

She spoke at a level that was half as loud as she wanted to be. “You don’t know as much about me as you think.”

“Lower your voice.”

“No.”

He inhaled deep, and then exhaled deeper, giving a quick snicker. Then he shook out his pants. “My dick is getting hard.”

She stepped from in front of the club chair to behind it. “You’re sick.”

“Listen. I’m going to need you to go to the door and lock it. I’m going back into my restroom, that we both know you know and love so well, so we can talk about this. Once I’m on my knees, you’ll see my point of view, like you always do. You’re as weak as water when it comes to that.”

She stood firm. “No.”

He pointed toward the restroom door. “Now.”

“No.”

He placed his hand over the bulge in his pants.

Knock. Knock.

As the door opened he moved his hand.

“Is everything okay?” Maya suddenly asked, stepping one foot inside.

Tyson was quick to reply. His voice was on edge. “Why wouldn’t it be? You come in after I tell you to, not just because you knock.”

Maya’s eyes were wide. “Yes, sir.” She took a step back and pulled the door closed, but not before she managed to cut her eyes at Shasta.

As soon as the door shut he said with an edge, “I want you to be a good girl.”

Shasta’s lip was zipped. She looked at him, giving him the flash of a red light.

He stepped to the side of his desk, eyeing down her bare legs. “Glad you’re wearing that dress today. I know you’re dripping wet right now.”

She shook her head and looked up at his clock on the wall. “I need to prepare for a conference call that starts in twenty minutes. I’ll see you later.”

“As I said, you will stop.”

She walked to the door. “I will?”

Tyson quickly stepped to his desk phone and pressed the intercom. Two seconds later, Maya said, “Yes, sir.”

“Maya, tell Lindsey in H.R. I want to meet with her and Tyrone, the mailroom supervisor right away. It’s about an office transfer.”

“I will. Right away.”

He pressed the button again.

This time it was Shasta who kept her back to him. “You are so two-faced. Just remember, two can play that sorry game.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t.”

“I’m willing to bet your wife knows way more than I could ever tell her. Get a grip.” Her hand was on the doorknob.

He told her in a low tone, “Friday, at seven, I want you in here for our next business meeting.”

“Have your assistant send me the topic of the “business meeting” and a list of the other attendees. I will accept it.”

“Damn right you will.”

She turned the knob.

“And that ass looks as good as ever. White girl got back.”

She opened the door, stepped out, and shut it behind her with a yank, then strutted away while Maya asked, “Good meeting?”

“It was short.” She resumed walking. “Got to go. Talk to you later.”

Maya said, “Sure.”

As Shasta stepped away, she heard Maya’s intercom buzz, then Tyson’s voice saying, “Come in.”

“Yes sir.”

Shasta then heard the office door open and close.

As she made her way to her office, with all of her heart, she couldn’t believe how Tyson could have had the unmitigated gall to accuse her of seeing someone on the job, when he was fooling around with her.  She couldn’t believe how out of all of the places for him and his wife to be on Friday night, he saw her with Ramón.

She stepped inside of her office and heard a funny laugh down the hall.

She paused as the sound of Ramón’s Puerto Rican voice was clear.

His voice made her smile inside.

She frowned outside, wanting to walk over to him and tell him to watch out. But instead, she closed her office door, and locked it.

Chapter 5

Downtown Atlanta

That evening, Shasta closed out her long day, having managed to avoid actually speaking to Tyson Bain again, or Ramón, though Ramón had texted her to say hello. She replied with the same hello. And then his next text was:

Ramón: Dinner 2nite?

Shasta: Sure.

Ramón: How’s the Highlander in Midtown. About 8?

Shasta: See you then.

She grabbed her purse and locked and closed the door to her office.

Keisha had gone home an hour earlier. As Shasta placed a yellow Post-it along Keisha’s computer screen, reminding her to stock Shasta’s mini-fridge with bottled water, Shasta heard, “Where are you on your way to so early?”

Shasta turned and saw Maya, smiling. She paid close attention as to the look on Maya’s face, wondering if the expression was real or fake. It was the exact opposite of the look Maya had given her when she closed the door to Tyson’s office. “Early? It’s after seven. Early for you maybe.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Anyway, I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Someone, as in a date?”

Shasta wondered if she dare tell Maya about Ramón. She remembered that Tyson knew, and then assumed Maya would soon know anyway.

She stood a few feet from Maya. “Maya, listen.” She looked around and then turned, taking her office keys from her purse. “Come into my office please.” Shasta turned and stepped to her office door and unlocked it, then opened it. She entered and placed her bag along the guest chair, and then stepped to the desk and leaned along on the edge of it. “You cannot tell anyone what I am about to tell you. You promise?”

Maya closed the door and proceeded closer to Shasta. Her face was dipped in question marks. “I do. Who is it? It’s not Conner is it? You’re not back with his crazy ass?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Not even.”

“Then what?”

“Maya, the thing is that I have a new friend. He’s really nice. He makes me laugh. He’s pleasant. It’s really only been less than a week, and I’ve only seen him once. But tonight will be my second time. And, the thing is, I’m not really seeing him, seeing him. All I’m doing is meeting him tonight for dinner. Like I said, he’s fun.”

Maya looked at Shasta like she needed to stop the prelims. She put her hand on her hip. “Damn, what the hell? You are rambling like your mind is going a mile a minute. Who is it? Are you dating Jay Z or somebody?” She then paused and gave a suspicious look. “Or is it that he’s a married man?”

“Oh, no, Maya. He’s not married. Actually, you know him. It’s Ramón from here at work.”

Maya’s eyebrows lifted. “Ramón? You mean mailroom Ramón?”

“Yes.”

Maya put her other hand on her hip. “But wait. Isn’t Ramón shorter than you?”

“He is.”

“And?”

Shasta put up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say that he’s black.”

“I know that. If I did say that, it would only be because after all that we talked about the other night, you now turn around and get together with a black man, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“Shasta, it was a mighty big deal on the other night.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was for you, not me.”

Maya leaned closer. “Oh, I am very clear about what you said about black men. And also, about what you said your father would think about it.”