AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) (138 page)

Chapter 12: Officer Anderson

              It turned out that we could get married, Zack and I. I hadn’t been sure whether we could or not. But we really could. As soon as I found out—thirty minutes into my first LGBT meeting in Minneapolis—I knelt on the carpet and proposed to him, right there on the spot. Zack cried. This time, I wasn’t turned on by him. I was in awe of him. He accepted who he was so easily, when I had struggled so much with it. I could have married a woman if I’d wanted. I could have married more than one person if I’d wanted—and if I didn’t mind living in Utah.

              I chose him. He was the only one for me. Both my body and my brain told me so. He excited me like no one else could. Just having him in the room was enough for me. He made everything seem better. Just having him there was enough. It was more than enough. He was my everything. I did not hesitate in asking him to marry me. I trusted my instincts, just like I always did whenever I had to evaluate a recruit trying to make it as a SEAL. That same something that made me think he had a lot of potential also made me think he had a bright, positive future, no matter what he chose to do. He was someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life around.

              So, I’ll tell you straight out. I never had sex with a man before I had it with Zack. There were plenty of women up and down the activism trail who wanted to go to bed with me. I never refused any of them. I enjoyed being with them. It just wasn’t anything like being with Zack. He put the rest of them to shame. The way his hands lightly touched my hips, the way his thighs rubbed against my own, his soft, wet mouth—all of that, and so much more, combined to make him irresistible.

              It didn’t take us long before we joined in a Minneapolis pride parade. I decided to bring out my old dress uniform from the Navy. I put all my medals on it. I shined up my shoes, and ironed out all the creases from my clothes. I practiced my salute in front of a mirror to make sure that I still remembered how to do it correctly. Zack watched me from behind. He leaned in to kiss my neck. Then he murmured something into my ear. Something about having to wash the towels that we put down on the bed whenever we became especially interested in one another.

              I grinned. Feeling that happy was odd. I had never felt that way in the Navy. I had just gone through the motions day after day. I hadn’t even realized how drab my life had been until someone colorful came into it. We were both invited to sit on top of a float. Someone decided to crown us both kings. Zack went to the event wearing a skirt. He had not bothered to shave his face or his legs. I found that I didn’t care. I loved him just as he was.

              I found out that we made the news on account of my uniform. There was this whole big discussion about how gay people should be treated in the military. It was all over the papers, and all over every television station. It’s not something I cared to pay much attention to. If a man—or woman—acts decently, he’ll be treated decently. If he acts decent and is treated indecently, he ought to go somewhere else. That’s all there is to it.

              I don’t know that I even had fifteen minutes of fame. It seemed shorter than that to me. The picture of me and Zack kissing on top of that float soon disappeared from media circulation. Since he had an apartment and I didn’t, I moved in with him. I kept designing web pages and kept waiting for clients to pay me on time. It hasn’t happened yet. Zack started studying for the bar exam. He intends to be an advocate for disadvantaged LGBT people who get caught up in the system.

              We just can’t decide whether we’re going to have a kid or not. I tell him that we can’t afford one. He says that he wants to a raise a child. There are plenty of children who need adopting. That’s certainly true, but if he was to look at how many times I came close to losing everything I owned on account of payments being delayed, he might think twice about it. He just wants a kid so badly that he’s willing to do anything for it. I suppose I can’t blame him for that.

              Here’s one more unbelievable thing to tell in this story of unbelievable things. I got the letter just the other day from the Navy’s Judge Advocate General Office from the Washington Naval Yard. It turns out that someone had petitioned the Navy on my behalf to have my case reviewed. The letter informed me that my discharge might be reversed.

I laughed and laughed when I read that. If they’d told me during my court-martial that I could stay in the Navy, I would have said yes. But now that I have a husband I love and a job I’m good at, which pays well? I’m going to turn it down. I’m going to tell them not to bother on my behalf.

I’m happy just as I am. That’s the truth of it.

Chapter 1

Miles

              “You clean up pretty good,” I said to my reflection.

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt confident. My grey slacks, button down, and tie looked midlevel-corporate appropriate and made my lean frame look a bit broader. My belt and shoes were new. My hair was that nice, gel-managed bedhead that always attracted women’s fingers. I grabbed my keys and a health bar on my way out the door.

“You’ve been good to me, Charlotte, but as soon as I get a raise I think it will be time for us to part ways,” I said. 

              I groaned at the fifteen-year-old Buick I was driving. With this job I would hopefully be able to get a new car and move to a better apartment. I had finally left behind the life of waiting tables and could do something with my journalism degree. Well, eventually.              

              As I drove to work, I thought about the HR representative who performed my interview. If I got lucky, I would see her again to fill out my new hire paperwork before my day really started. She had legs that would make Barbie jealous and she kept crossing and uncrossing them in my direction. At least I thought she was. It could also have been that her chair was uncomfortable. It was probably the chair, but I had missed signals before.

              When I got there, I was disappointed to find my paperwork would be handled by Rick, a slightly overweight, slightly balding, very middle-aged man in a very bad mood. He wasn’t much for small talk. We filled out the necessary forms and he was all too eager to turn me over to my department supervisor.

              “I’m Chase. I’ll be your direct supervisor. I am the head of Media and Communication. You are officially my assistant. Our boss is Tyler Callahan. You will see him at the meeting this afternoon. Do not speak to him unless he speaks to you first. He only speaks to underlings when he absolutely has to, otherwise we all get the trickle down from his secretary, Tina,” Chase said.

              Chase appeared to be in his early forties and looked like he took good care of himself. He was clean shaven and wore a loud cologne or aftershave. He spoke quickly; he walked quickly. Judging from his brightly colored socks and vest I assumed he was gay. He confirmed my assumption as he gave me the tour.

He had the dirt on everyone and shared it. He was gay, along with two guys in the mail room on the ground floor, and one in accounting on the tenth floor. There was also a lesbian who worked on the second floor. Two women and one man were going through divorces or had just finished a divorce; all three were on the prowl. He pointed out which employees were easy, prudes, or sleeping with each other. Each floor also had two or three who were really good at their jobs and two or three who were really bad at their jobs. The thing to remember was who of the good was helpful and who of the bad was gullible.

              “Last, but certainly not least, we have the eleventh floor. You will only come to the offices on the eleventh floor when requested by someone who occupies an office on the eleventh floor. So, we are just going to ride the elevator back down to the sixth floor where we belong,” Chase said.

              When we reached my cubicle he started explaining the details of my job. We were a conglomerate, Sir Name, a not so witty play on words, that ran a variety of businesses in a variety of industries – all geared toward men. Each floor of the building focused on one facet within the conglomerate. The sixth floor was all things communication, writing, or media related. As his assistant, I basically did whatever task Chase or one of the officers decided to let trickle down.

              “On our floor we maintain the print and web presence of all the other floors. Each team, or open office area, is basically the headquarters of the print and web presence of one company within the conglomerate. So, we have nine group office spaces you will need to learn. Make a color-coded map if you need to, but I don’t need you to go running to sports and leisure when I give you mockups for automotive and recreational. There is a big difference between athletic gloves and driving gloves,” Chase said, getting caught up in his own rant. “Sorry, my last assistant.”

              “Well, I think I can at least learn my way around,” I said, offering a joke.

              He chuckled a little and gave my shoulder a small pat.

              “Well, that was fun, but now we’re done,” Chase said, in a singsong voice. “I think I’m going to like you.

              “I think I’m going to like you, too. It was an informative tour and you seem friendly,” I replied.

              “Well, look, but don’t touch. I’m taken; not that you aren’t adorable,” he said, giving me a long look up and down.

              “Oh, I’m not gay,” I said.

              “Really? Hmm, I couldn’t quite place you on one side of the line or the other. If you say so, though. I would have placed you as a bent otter with those hairy arms,” he said.

              He shrugged and left me to familiarize myself with my desk and the programs on the computer until the meeting. I shook my head with a small chuckle to myself. I may have looked too good today.

Chapter 2

Tyler

              “This information is not even meeting worthy. There are ten million better ways that I could be spending my time,” I said.

              “Yes, sir, of course. Your presence is required, though. All department heads and corporate officers are required to attend any meeting where the decisions will affect more than one company within the conglomeration,” Tina replied.

              “I’m well aware. The meeting topics on the docket for this afternoon are really things that we all know how the discussion and vote will go. They are the same issues that are brought up at least once per quarter, and they get the same response once per quarter,” I said, letting out a deep sigh.

              Tina nodded and returned to her desk outside my office. I stood and zipped my pants. Then I went to look out the window and think for a moment. Tim, the deli delivery boy, quietly came out from under the desk and excused himself to return to his own job now that I had decided lunch was over.

              The meeting this afternoon was to discuss branching a few areas of the company out into the gay market. We had no problem with this, within certain limits. A few companies wanted to target more of the effeminate men’s market. Fashion wanted to design a few lines of drag wear, men’s lingerie, and a few accessories. Health and beauty wanted to expand their product lines beyond basic grooming. One or two more had changes they wanted as well. Some of the ideas were good, and there was a market. However, Sir Name was founded on more traditional conventions.

              I returned to my desk and used the intercom to request Tina return to my office.

              “Yes, sir,” she said.

              She had a pen and a pad ready.

              “Close my tab with the deli. I think this week I would like to have Thai or Mexican at lunch. Leave a good tip; put a little extra. Schedule a private meeting for myself and Mrs. Schmidt first thing in the morning. I have a few things I would like to discuss with our CFO as long as these expansion meetings are going to be a recurring thing. Send a memo down to the mail room. Before they send up mail for the eleventh floor, they will need to pick up a few things from the supply room,” I said.

              “Did you not enjoy lunch today, sir? It is only Monday, and you enjoyed the deli all last week,” she asked.

              “I did enjoy lunch, but I think after a week I just have a taste for something else,” I responded simply.

              The truth was, I wanted something different all together. I was starting to like the idea of having home-cooked meals. Takeout just wasn’t as satisfying anymore.

              Once she excused herself, it was time to make my way to the conference room for the meeting. When I arrived, most of the staff and other officers were already seated. Aside from myself, only the chief financial officer/secretary and chief executive officer/president were unaccounted for. No doubt, they were having their own lunch in his office since they were husband and wife.

              As I looked around the room I saw there were a couple of new faces. Then I remembered two of the department heads had new assistants. Fashion had promoted from within, a girl whose name I could not remember. Media and Communications had hired from outside the company. The young man with Auntie Chase looked like promising material for a casting couch with me, for a position I hadn’t yet created.

Chapter 3

Miles

              It was pretty easy to distinguish who was who and how they ranked by placement in the conference room. There were seats along the wall, where I stood with other assistants. We took the notes so our bosses could be as attentive as possible to the meeting. The company heads of each floor sat at one side of the table, leaving the end seat open. On the other side of the table, people in top-dollar suits began filling the seats. Their assistants were along the wall behind them, but had seats.

              There was another chair slightly behind the seat at the head of the table. It was like the armed chairs that were placed at the table. Its placement appeared to be to the left of the head of the table, but shifted slightly.

              A few of the other lower-level assistants like me introduced themselves. It seemed another assistant, Marjorie, was new to these meetings. She had been with the company for two years and was now the assistant to the head of the fashion floor. She was a cute red head, tiny with large boobs. She dressed herself well though. Her pants and blouse gave the tease of a nice silhouette, but the professionalism of opaque fabrics.

              “Sorry to be the last ones here, but we do pay you well for your time,” said a white-haired man entering the room.

              He had on a suit that looked custom made. With the exception of his hair, there was no trace of age to him except a few lines when he smiled. The woman who entered with him sat in the seat to his left. They both looked like well-kept people around their fifties. Everything about them seemed to be an expression of sex, power, and dominance. Her figure and walk as she took her seat easily made her a contender for most attractive woman in the room. Her face showed a little age, but in the kind of years a man would want to be a part of.

              “Must be the big boss,” I murmured.

              Marjorie answered, “That is Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt. They are the owners of the company, and husband and wife. They have been a power couple in the business world since they got married. She is the daughter of a department store king; he was the heir to a personal fitness franchise that had three generations of history with the Hollywood elite. Their union made a lot of companies sell and merge out of fear when you and I were just babies.”

              “Bigger than I thought,” I said, whistling.

              I felt bad. I happened to be looking toward the head of the table and the fellow sitting to Mr. Schmidt’s right gave me a look. I couldn’t tell if his face was humored or scolding.

              Once the meeting began, I took notes along with the other assistants. The meeting was about expanding portions of some companies to appeal to more feminine gay men and other parts of the LGBTQ community. Out of nine companies it seemed that four were interested in the idea; the last time this matter came up, there were only two and an additional that would follow the majority. The officers seemed to be considering the financial gains and losses per industry of each company and how the change would affect the perception of the conglomerate as a whole.

              Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt seemed to have opposing ideas anyway.

              “Gay men are still men, so we should appeal to them as they are,” Mr. Schmidt said, defending those who opposed the change.

              “All men are still people, and people are just individuals. Every individual needs someone to appeal to their tastes and interests. I don’t see why we can’t just view this as another segment of man to market to. Our motto is, ‘Sir Name. It’s more than a name when it’s you,’” Mrs. Schmidt replied.

              The meeting had a lot of back and forth to ultimately come to the conclusion that this was not the right move for the company at this time. It was very clear that this was a debate that divided the founders of the company and members of the upper staff.

              As we were adjourning from the meeting, Chase came to my side to quickly point out different officers before they left the room. He made it a point to introduce me to our supervisor, Tyler Callahan.