“Hello, Mrs. Lancaster,” Larry, the front desk guy in the lobby greets me as I walk past.
“It’s Ms. Lancaster now, Larry, “I remind him. He nods.
“I forgot. I’m sorry, Ms. Lancaster.”
I smile and continue walking past. As I punch the elevator button, Taylor, my admin, rushes up to me as though she’d been waiting for me. She hands me messages, chattering a mile a minute as we wait for the elevator.
“Were you watching for me from the window?” I ask suspiciously.
“Of course not,” she answers innocently. “I happened to be downstairs in the lounge at the vending machines.”
“With my messages in your pocket?” I ask doubtfully. She shrugs.
“Coincidence?”
I have to smile. My assistant is a damn good one. She runs my calendar, she thinks for herself and she puts out fires for me all of the time. And even though she has a nose-ring, I’m happy to have her. One of my biggest dreads in life is the day she turns in her notice. She has assured me that this will never happen, that she will stay with me until we both die and then we’ll be cremated and share the same mausoleum space. I suspect that she’s being facetious.
“Oh,” she says as she turns to me. “Rick the Dick’s lawyer called. Said something about you running down his fiancée?”
(Side-note: Yes, I refer to my ex-husband as Rick the Dick to anyone who will listen, except for my daughter. It tends to stick with people. They re-use the term, which causes me great joy. Okay. Carry on.)
The elevator doors open and we step in. I sigh.
“Seriously? I can’t believe he actually called his lawyer.”
Taylor stares at me, waiting for an explanation.
“I might have slightly run over Vanessa at the mall yesterday morning. It wasn’t a big thing and it was her fault. Please call back Rick’s attorney and tell him to contact my lawyer, not me. I’m done talking to them.”
“Done,” she says, writing on her little notepad. “And you really ran her down? You’re badass, boss.”
I don’t bother reminding her that it was an accident. I sort of like being called badass.
“Also, don’t forget that we’re meeting your new boss this afternoon,” she reminds me as we wind our way through the marketing department that I oversee to get to my corner office. “You might not want to mention to him that you ran over someone yesterday.”
I roll my eyes.
“I know,” I tell her. “I haven’t forgotten. Have you seen him yet?” I only ask this because Taylor keeps an eagle eye out for everything. Nothing escapes her attention. Plus, she networks with the other admins in the building. Nothing happens without them knowing about it.
“I have,” she tells me proudly as I walk into my office and drop my briefcase into a chair at my conference table. “He’s drop-dead gorgeous, for an older guy.”
I eye her.
“What do you consider older?” Since Taylor is twenty-five, it’s hard to say.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she muses she hands me an afternoon agenda. “Maybe thirty-five or forty.”
“Hmm,” I answer absently as I look at the agenda. It looks like my afternoon is shot because of the new guy. I have a meet-and-greet with him in his office at 3:00 after he addresses my department at 2:00. “Sounds promising.”
“Definitely promising,” Taylor confirms. “He’s delicious.”
I stop what I’m doing and look at her. “Don’t even talk like that,” I tell her. “It’s against the rules to date co-workers.”
“No, it’s not,” she answers. “It’s just frowned upon. He could be the one for me. Do you really want to stand in the way of true love?”
I roll my eyes. Am I really surrounded by lunatics in every aspect of my life? Before I am able to answer, there is a soft rap at the door. Taylor and I both turn to find a middle-aged man striding confidently into my large office.
I inhale sharply, then hope that no one noticed.
He’s a very, very attractive middle-aged man. Wow.
He’s tall, maybe 6’1” or so. Dark hair that is cut close and clean. He’s distinguished and sexy. And I’m once again reminded of how unfair Mother Nature actually is. And there’s no way that she’s a woman. A woman wouldn’t give men such unfair advantages in life. She would make men the ones to give birth and get stretch-marks, then breastfeed until their male boobies drooped like two socks filled with wet sand. She would not allow them to age like this. No way.
Focus, Allison, I tell myself. Focus on the beautiful man in front of you.
Beautiful Man is wearing a dark, very expensive suit and he holds out his hand to shake mine.
“You must be Allison,” he says. I find that I am staring so intensely into his dark blue eyes that I almost forget to answer. It takes Taylor nudging me to jolt me into action.
“Um, sorry. Yes, I’m Allison Lancaster. You can call me Alli.”
“Good, “he says briskly, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m Alexander Harris. You can call me Alex. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m going to say a few words to your department here in a bit and then I look forward to speaking with you one-on-one. I’d like to hear how you do things, how things run, etc. Does that sound like a plan?”
He seems so familiar, like I’ve met him before. But I know that I haven’t. I would definitely remember Beautiful Man. I mean, Alex. He’s got a commanding presence about him. And he’s gorgeous.
“Of course, “I tell him warmly. “I look forward to it.”
“Alright, then,” he says. His eyes crinkle a little at the corner when he smiles. I’m guessing he’s either in his late thirties or early forties. And did I mention gorgeous? “I’ll see you soon.”
And he’s gone.
Taylor turns to me.
“Did I tell you?” she sounds so knowing. So knowing that it is annoying.
“Well, I hope he has good things intended for this department,” I say matter-of-factly. I drop into my chair and pick up my mouse, scrolling through my email. Taylor doesn’t take the hint. She lingers, musing about Alex.