Going Down: The Elevator Series (17 page)

“Yes. He was a terrible president. I feel very strongly about that, and I won’t apologize for it.” I would be hard-pressed to give you two facts about President Adams, but I wagered it was better to own up to the least embarrassing part of this situation. It gave me some wiggle room to deny everything else.

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve suffered a head injury, but I need you to pull it together today. I’ve got enough fires to put out without you running into trees and flashing your fanny all over the office.”

I intended to interrupt her with a reminder that I didn’t
run
into a tree; I was
shoved
into a tree by
her
, but she wasn’t done with her monologue.

“I’ve already had to cut off Barry’s Internet access for the day. I caught him watching a video of a dance troupe dressed up in penis costumes, dancing to a techno version of “Whip It.” There were actual whips involved, and I can’t even get into that because I’m still reeling from having to chase him out of the women’s bathroom right before that.”

“Ugh. Was he clipping his toenails in there again?”
Freaking unsanitary creeper.

Maggie groaned from deep in her belly. “You know it. He would’ve been gone a long time ago if he weren’t claiming his disability of ingrown toenails makes it hard for him to interpret gender identification signage.”

“I still don’t understand why he can’t be fired. Or castrated. Or fired and then castrated. We’ve got some options.”

“Because he pays a quarterly retainer to the attorney who already sued us and the powers that be are scared of him.” Maggie pacing around the room in a figure eight.

“I’m sorry you’re having a rough day, Mags.”

“It’s just the worst possible timing for everyone to let their insanity off the leash.”

“Why’s that?” I dusted leaves off my skirt.

“Are you kidding? Please tell me you’re kidding!” Her voice was so high the glass paperweight on my desk started vibrating.

This can’t be good.

“I sent all of management a million e-mails on this!” With her hands back on her hips and her pacing, she looked a little like a frazzled chicken. “Three hundred sixty-four days out of the year everyone can act like fools! I ask you all to be on your best behavior
one day,
and I might as well have asked for world peace!”

Cole was still huddled in the corner with one shoe on while dumping leaves out of the other loafer.

I didn’t have time for this. I had a lot of work to be done, plus I’d had this dream last night about Cole taking me up against the window. I had a lot on my to-do list. “Maggie, what exactly—”

“Grantham is here,” she interrupted.

Cole lost his balance and fell into the Ficus tree himself. I became suddenly aware of how crooked my panties still were from allowing my assistant to spelunk my love cavern against my office door. On the other side of said door roamed the owner of my company, who was acutely opposed to anything resembling fraternization. And here I stood with twisted undergarments and an assistant who still had my DNA on his fingers.

“And he brought that Randy character with him again. They are hovering over everyone this morning.”

I needed to compose myself, but instead I spit out breathy syllables that sounded like a woman in labor. “Him? Here? He? They? What?”

“Exactly.” Maggie dropped her hands to her side. “They’re making the rounds. You two need to clean yourselves up before they get to this office. You both look like you fell out of a tree house.”

No sooner had I vowed to clean up everything about my life, than two male figures appeared in the open doorway. Karma was very angry with me.

His knock was entirely unnecessary, as was his introduction. “Hello, I’m Douglas Grantham. Judging from the nameplate, I’m guessing you’re Cecile Carrington. I believe we’ve met before.” Like the typical CEO of a large company, he didn’t remember anyone.

I shook his hand and failed miserably to push down my nervous laugh. “I am. It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Grantham.”
Pleasure sounds too sexual, Cici, you idiot.
“I mean honor. It’s an honor to see you.”
Now you sound rude, like it’s not nice to meet him.
“It’s an… honorous pleasure, sir.”
Stop talking.

Grantham laughed. “I do remember meeting you, Ms. Carrington. You are the one who has the door that sticks.” He looked back, as if to inspect the door.

Someone barked out a horrible panicky laugh, and I was fairly certain it was me.

All eyes in the room flitted between Cole and me. I glanced at Cole, who was still completely off kilter by the turn of events. I wasn’t sure if they were looking for some sort of an introduction to Cole. They had met before, but I wanted to stay as far away from that memory as possible.

Some survival instinct overrode my brain and spit out a coherent sentence. “This is Cole Danvers, my assistant. He joined the team recently.”

Grantham extended his hand. “Mr. Danvers, it’s very nice to have you on board.” It all happened in slow motion. I could see the indecision in Cole’s face as he looked from Grantham’s face to his hand and back again. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The resignation set in on his face as he reached out his unholy, debauched hand—still tainted by our imprudence—to meet Grantham’s. The smile on Grantham’s face slowly slipped.

“Your hand is wet.” Grantham seemed confused.

Kill me now. A bolt of lightning. A localized earthquake. And indoor tornado. I don’t care. Just take me now.

Before Cole could reply with anything remotely plausible, Grantham chimed in again. “I wash my hands a lot, too. I like a man with good hygiene.”

Oh this isn’t happening. Not. Happening.

Cole recovered much quicker than I would have. As a matter of fact, I should probably set up a battery of counseling sessions now.

“I’m very happy to be part of Grantham Media. I really appreciate the opportunity.” Cole had a much better poker face than I did.

“Fantastic!” Grantham clapped Cole on the shoulder. “I trust everyone has made you feel welcome.”

“Very much so, sir.” The corner of his mouth twitched just enough to let me know he was about to say something he wouldn’t regret. “Ms. Carrington is very experienced, and she wasn’t afraid to let me on the inside and get to work right off the bat. It’s been a great learning experience.”

He’s dead.

He’s deader than dead.

“I’m very glad to hear that. I like to consider us a big family here at GM. I’m sure you ladies also remember Randy.” His nephew nodded at us, but didn’t seem inclined to shake anyone’s hands.

He gestured to Maggie and me. “Now, Ms. Carrington and Ms. Vincent, why don’t you take me around and show me what still needs to be addressed for your big move?” He stepped out of the way so Maggie and I could exit first.

Since no fireballs from heaven had been sent down, I accepted my fate and walked behind Maggie. At least I would be away from Cole and his stupid, handsome mouth. That would dial down the awkwardness quite a bit.

Mr. Grantham put his hand on my shoulder as I was about to pass him. “Ms. Carrington, are you aware you have a number of leaves in the back of your hair?”

That day the Granthams spent in the office had to be the longest rotation the earth has ever made on its axis. It was roughly a million times longer than the normal workday, give or take a few hours. Being a bit of a micromanager, the elder Grantham wanted to make sure all of the details of the move were finalized. While I was happy to upgrade to a nicer building, I wasn’t looking forward to the longer commute. I liked being able to walk to work on nice days. Now I would have no choice but to become a “mole person,” as Maggie called them. I would be a daily subway rider and the 4-5-6 would be my new set of wheels. I wouldn’t see Gene nearly as often. How would he get his coffee every day? Would he have to buy it from a stranger in a coffee shop? The thought haunted me.

While Monday was nine million hours long, the remainder of the week flew by in seconds. Cole and I vowed to get our collective acts together after the last scare. That resolve lasted until Tuesday morning when his stapling became too sexy for me to handle, and I let him mount me on my floor. Wednesday brought a round of erotic pen clicking on my part, and we found ourselves in the third floor bathroom that was under construction. Thus the week continued.

I spent the weekend at Cole’s apartment, much to Leroy’s chagrin. I bought more than thirty dollars in cat treats to make amends, and he was still barely acknowledging my presence. You would think his glares would be half as menacing with only one good eye, but it was somehow the opposite. Cole, on the other hand, was overly attentive. He wouldn’t let me lift a finger. He tried to play it off as chivalry, but I knew it had more to do with his fear of becoming a fire department statistic.

***

We arrived at the new office on Monday morning. All of our belongings had been boxed up and moved for us. I was grateful to have relocated to the fourth floor, as I was still boycotting elevators. No need to tempt fate.

For a mostly paperless company, there were a lot of boxes. So many boxes. I was rifling through the sixth one when Cole strolled in.

“Why is it so hard to find a pen?” I moved on to the seventh box.

“Good morning to you, too.” He placed a cup of coffee in front of me.

I moaned and snatched the cup. “Oh, you’re the best.” Coffee saves lives.

He leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Speaking of the best, I have a hard instrument I think you’d like.”

I nearly crushed the paper cup in my hand. “Do you now?” My face, and other regions of my body, warmed up quickly. “And what would you like to do with your… instrument?” My inkwell was a few seconds away from busting through the short stack of boxes that separated us to get to his quill.

“Well, for starters, I’d like to—”

Cole jumped a giant step back when a booming knock resonated from my open doorway. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” Maggie barged in, holding two cups of coffee. She set one in front of me, oblivious to the cup already in my hand. Not that it mattered. I would drink them both and I knew it.

“Aren’t you just in love with this building? Everything is first class, and we have a killer view of Central Park. Good morning, Cole.”

“Good morning, Maggie. How are you?” Cole held his ground behind the boxes, no doubt to conceal the hard instrument in his pants.
The man had good penmanship.

“I’m fantastic. Everything is fantastic. Cici, how great is it that I’m only two doors down now? I can pop in anytime. We’re going to have so much fun!”

I looked at Cole, who mirrored my concerns. The last thing we needed was Maggie
popping in
while Cole was popping in me.

“Maggie, Cole and I are going to be really busy with the pitches we have coming up and all our current projects. I don’t know how much time we’ll have to socialize.” That sounded reasonable.

“Oh don’t be silly! I won’t interrupt you.” Maggie was transfixed with the view out my window.

“You’re interrupting me now.”

“Oh hello, Mr. Plaid Shirt at four o’clock.” She clearly hadn’t heard me. “Cici, come see this.”

“Maggie, I really do need to get these boxes unpacked so I can get some work done today.”

She was able to tear her eyes away from the window. “Right. Work.” She clapped her hands. “We’re going to be like The Three Musketeers. We’re going to do everything together! It’s going to be fantastic!”

I faked a smile. “It’s going to be something.”

She turned back just before reaching the door. “Roger that. Over and out.”

Cole responded before I could argue with her. “10-4, good buddy.”

“See? Three Musketeers.” She danced two doors down the hallway.

I grabbed both of my drinks and sat on my small couch. “This is going to be a problem.”

Cole sat down next to me, leaving enough space for a small country between us. I was briefly reminded of some awkward middle school dances. “No it’s not. We just have to control ourselves during business hours.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Then we can get freaky after work.”

I laughed despite my worries. “We don’t have the best track record with control, you know?”

Cole thought for a minute. “Maybe it would help if we treated this more like a real relationship instead of a series of clandestine encounters.”

We couldn’t have a real relationship unless one of us changed jobs. “I don’t follow.”

“Let’s go on an actual date tonight. Out in the public, not holed up in one of our apartments.” People on the space station could see the skepticism on my face. “I’ll find an out-of-the-way restaurant where we can have dinner. We’ll eat a nice meal like nice normal people, and if you plan your cards right, you might get lucky afterward.”

Damn his smile.

I drank from each of my cups while I thought. We were already going down this road, so it didn’t make sense to tap the brakes now. We just needed to be careful, that’s all. “All right. I happily accept your proposal.”

“Whoa, Cici. I just asked you on a date, not proposed marriage. Slow your roll a bit.” He smiled that smile again.

Damn his smile. It’s my Achilles’ heel.

“It’s a date then. Can I pick you up at seven?”

“I’ll be there will bells on.” I probably hadn’t been this excited for a date since ninth grade.

“Don’t you think bells will draw a lot of attention to us?”

Damn his stupid smile.

Leroy still gave me the cold shoulder when I returned home. I put out a can of smelly wet food like an offering to the gods. He ate it loudly and then wiped his messy face on my leg. It was progress.

I jumped in the shower to reboot. I never came home smelling like a peach after walking, but the subway was a different level of ick. Once I had removed the layer of grime from the city, it was time to get down to business. I hadn’t had time for my usual waxing appointment since I started dividing my time between work, Cole, and Leroy. I bought a jar of wax on the way home for a quick DIY fix. I had seen my lady at the salon do this a million times, so this should be easy.