Whetted Appetites (2 page)

     Oh, and she was fired up.  This happened to be the third time.  Three!  In only five months.  It was the final straw.  Something had to give and it sure wasn’t going to be her.

     She walked over to the phone to call Hughes’ Catering back.  She was going to give them a piece of her mind.  She quickly dialed as she sat back on her gray swivel chair.  After two rings, a secretary picked up.

   
Well,
Victoria fumed silently,
if only their deliveries were this prompt.

    
Victoria felt like being rude but it wasn’t the secretary’s fault for screwing up her orders.  Victoria wasn’t a witch but when she paid out that much money, or any amount for that matter, she expected the payee to hold up their end of the bargain.  She gave them money; they gave her the supplies as promised and on time.

     “May I speak to the manager, please?” Victoria forced herself to remain polite.

     “Yes, ma’am.  Please hold.” 

     Victoria drummed her fingers on her desk restlessly when a male voice answered with the same upbeat attitude.

     “Hello.  This is Max Sheldon of Hughes’ Catering Supplies.  How may I help you?”  He sounded courteous enough but he spoke the phrase as if he said it a million times and it was becoming tedious to do so.

     “Yes.   This is Victoria Bradley,” she replied sharply.  “The owner and manager of ‘The SweetTooth’.

     “What can I----“

     “I was expecting my order four days ago,” she cut in.  She didn’t have time for any small talk.  “But, for some reason, I am delayed in receiving my delivery. 
Again. 
I can’t seem to get anyone to tell me why my supplies are late.”  She sucked in a frustrated breath.  “If this is the way it’s going to be every time I order from your company, I
will
take my business elsewhere.”  There.  She said what she had set out to say.

     She waited for a response but all she heard was silence on the other end of the line.  Victoria started to believe he had hung up on her.

     “Hello?”

     “Yes.  I’m here.”  Max cleared his throat nervously.  “Miss Bradley, I’m only the manager of a small part of this company.  If there’s a problem in shipping, you’ll need to notify the manager in the shipping department.  His name is-----“

     “Mr. Donegan.  Yes, I know.  I’ve already spoken to him.  All he said was that my shipment was going to take a few more days,” she explained as if she had done it over and over again.  She was beginning to sound like a broken record herself.

     “You could always lodge a complaint,” Max offered.

     “I’ve done that once before,” Victoria informed him gruffly.

     “Would you like to speak to the president of the entire company?  His name is Mr. Dalton Hughes.  He could be of more help since he oversees the whole business.”

     “As a matter of fact, I would,” Victoria remarked shortly.  “I would like to speak with Mr. Hughes as soon as possible.”

     “Very well, Miss Bradley.”  Max ruffled some papers before he spoke again.  “Well, tomorrow around three o’clock would be convenient.  Is that fine with you?”

     “Wonderful,” she said as she wrote the information on a notepad.

     She hung up with Max Sheldon and sat back in the chair.

    
Well, well, well,
Victoria mused as she laced her fingers behind her head. 
Now maybe I can get at this stuff straightened out.  Finally. 

     And when I see Mr. Dalton Hughes, I am going to give him a piece of my mind. 

    
She hoped he had a good appetite for what he had coming.

     Dalton checked the clock hanging on the wall opposite his desk.  Seeing that it was almost five o’clock, he shut off his computer and went about tidying up his desk.  He was just about finished when Max, his billing manager, walked into his office.

     Dalton looked up from his files and smiled.  “Hey, Max.  You finished for today?”

     “Almost,” Max answered, waving a piece of paper in front of Dalton.  “Got another complaint from Victoria Bradley.”  He handed Dalton the paper.

     “Who?” Dalton asked, etching his brows.  He looked at Max, waiting for him to elaborate on the name.

     “Victoria Bradley,” Max repeated.  “She’s the owner of that new bakery on Third Street called ‘The SweetTooth’.  Said her order has been delayed again.  I told her to come by your office at three tomorrow to fix the problem.  I took the liberty of making the appointment since I knew that would be the only time you’ll be free for a few weeks,” he explained, obviously proud of himself.

    Dalton nodded his approval and hid a smile.  Max did get a little over confident at times but he was an excellent manager.

     “Well, the sooner the better.  I’m not partial to heated confrontations,” he admitted.  He knew he should be ashamed of himself for admitting that bold women sometimes made him forget the English language.  It wasn’t that he was all thumbs when it came to women who could give it as good as they got.  He had no problems with a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it.  It was the subject matter that bothered him.  He was perfectly fine with heated conversation but not because one of them was unhappy with a certain situation. 

     Max chortled at this.  “You’d better watch out for this one.  She might have a bit of a hot temper.” Max wiggled his eyebrows.  “She sounds like a spitfire.”

     Dalton shrugged his shoulders in a defensive gesture.  “How bad could a little old lady that owns a bakery possibly be?”

     “Yeah.  Even little old ladies can give it as good as they’ve got.”  Max clapped Dalton’s back.  “Don’t worry.  All we have to do is fix the problem as quickly as we can and give her a great discount on her next shipment.  Just let me know how much so I can adjust her bill.”  Max started towards the door before he turned around.  “Oh, heads up.  I think this one’s wound a bit too tight.” he laughed.

     Dalton snorted and gave Max a disapproving stare.  “Max, you know better than to talk about our customers that way.  Even if they can’t hear you.”

     “Yeah.  I’m sorry.  Won’t happen again.”

     Dalton sighed.  “Great.  Tomorrow should be wild and crazy,” he said with false enthusiasm.

     Max laughed sympathetically.  “Everything will be fine.”  He glanced at his watch.  “Well, got to get going. 
My
old lady’s probably got supper on the table.  See ya.”

     “See you tomorrow, Max.”

     Dalton finished putting his files away and sat back in his chair.  He took a deep breath.  He always got a little nervous when something went wrong and he was confronted by an angry customer.  He just wished everything would run according to the plan at all times.  But he knew that was just wishful thinking.  Nothing worked out one hundred percent of the time.

     Max thought Victoria Bradley was wound tight.  He was constantly tight as a bowstring.  He knew he needed to relax but he didn’t have the time.

     Max said she sounded like a spitfire.  Though, he envisioned a much older lady.  About fifty or so with her graying hair twisted into a tight bun.

     According to Max, she was already wound tight enough.

     But the truth was that Victoria has every reason to be acrimonious with his company.  It was obvious she had let it slide.  If the shoe was on the other foot, he would feel exactly the same way she did.  Super ticked at the company for letting him down.

     It worked both ways.  Without their business, they would be out of business.  And without hers, they would be packing up as well.  In the end, they had to work out compromises and keep each other balanced and happy.

     So tomorrow, when she dropped by at three, he would apologize and let her know that he would help her out in any way possible.

     He would not say anything to hurt her feelings or form impetuous opinions of her.

     He mentally kicked himself. He did that earlier when he pictured an older woman running the bakery.  It wasn’t a bad picture but, nonetheless, he formed a picture of her based on personality and he wouldn’t do it again.

     Hadn’t he been ridiculed enough in school to know he didn’t like that feeling?  It hurt.  It hurt even worse than the bruises he had gotten from the school bullies.

     Victoria was a valued customer.  He prided himself on working extremely hard for all of his buyers.  It left little time to sit back and relax but he was now financially secure.

     He lounged back in his chair as his early childhood memories flooded his mind.

     He knew he came from a poor family.  His mom and his two brothers and sister had to live on welfare and food stamps for a number of years.  And that had just barely gotten them by.  He was skinny because his mom had to make the food last longer.  They had to ration food until they only got a few spoons apiece.

     He had to get his clothes at a thrift store or the Good Will.  He took meticulous care of them.  He knew, eventually, his clothes would go to his other brothers once he grew out of them. 

     He was made fun of because of his frame, his clothes and the fact that they had government help.

     Eventually, he grew tired of the bullying and as soon as he turned twelve years old, he found odd jobs to do.  Cutting grass for the neighbors.  Walking dogs.  Raking leaves.  Painting fences.  Anything to earn money to save for college.

     He also worked intensively at school.  Doing extra credit.  Even some extra-curricular activities to earn scholarships to go to business school.

     By the time he was sixteen, he had gotten a job at the local grocery store a few blocks from his home.  Good thing, because he couldn’t afford a car of any kind at the time.

     He worked hard, putting in overtime as much as possible until he was promoted to assistant manager. 

     All of that back breaking work finally paid off.  He earned the scholarship to go to the University for Business Management.  The fact that he had been assistant manager for over a year at Tom’s Grocery Store gave him some experience in the management field.

     Working his way to the top, Dalton ultimately reached the president position for a catering company.  Not long after, he bought out the other partner and renamed the company, ‘Hughes’ Catering Supplies, Inc.’ 

     Not bad for a thirty-five year old poor boy.  He smiled, mentally patting himself on the back.

     But the only saddening part about it was that his father wasn’t here to see him.  His father died when Dalton was only nine.

     His dad’s life was taken at such a young age.  Thirty-one.  Killed by a drunk driver as he was coming home from work.

     He remembered the times he could hear his mother crying in her room when he was younger.  At that age, how was he supposed to comfort her?  He was too hurt by it all and was grieving just as much as she was.

     He also remembered the anger he had felt when his mother had told him that the driver had been drinking.  After learning that awful news, Dalton had never touched alcohol in all his years of living.  He equated alcohol with trouble.  It was branded in his brain.  He didn’t want to end up killing himself or some innocent driver or pedestrian.  He knew he could be a responsible drinker, but it still scared him.  Maybe on day he would try a glass of wine or something light.  But not right now.  It was still too soon.

     Eventually, he learned to move on.  He was healthy and had a lot going for him. 

     Except one thing.

     The love of a good woman.

     He hadn’t had a date in so long; he probably forgot how to go on one.  And what about the sex?  He certainly hoped they hadn’t changed it from the last time he’s had it.

     For one wild night, he wouldn’t mind having a hot, vibrant woman to make him forget about work for a few hours.  On hot-blooded female to seduce him and ride him senseless.

     But since he knew he wasn’t the type for a one-night stand, the probability of burying himself in a sexy woman was nada.  Zilch.  Zero.

     Running his hand over his face, he got up, grabbed his jacket and keys and locked up his office.  No use in wishing about what he couldn’t have.

     Dalton stepped out of the building after making sure everyone was gone.  He got into his Lexus and drove to his lonely house where the only date he had was with a shower, a sandwich and some television.

     Talk about a hot date.

     Victoria examined the contents in her closet, looking for a business-type suit.  Nothing too formal but nothing too casual either.  After a few minutes of searching, she found what she was looking for.

     “Perfect,” she said as she took the garments off the hangers and placed them on her bed.

     A soft, baby powder blue blouse with her gray slacks and matching jacket would do the job.

     She went back to her closet and rummaged around for her bone colored pumps.  After unearthing them from the very back, she set them beside her clothes.  She walked over to her bureau and grabbed her nude thigh-highs and her with lace bra and panty set.