Lex(31)

Which brings us to this morning, where I woke up, did my routine, yoga, shower, and all that jazz. Go down stairs to have my best friend come crawling in my back door in grimy pj pants and Bob trailing right behind her, wearing holy jeans and no shirt, who ended up eating all the biscotti that I had saved for Friday’s morning tea with Roni. Leaving me having to run to Barbie’s today to pick up some biscotti, not tomorrow, like usual. Don’t get me wrong, I like Bob. I’m trying not to be a cranky bitch. But I slept terribly last night, and I got into work this morning looking less like myself. Daniel even noticed the bags under my eyes as he was servicing me. Which I thought might help. It didn’t. I’m still in an unpleasant mood.

And that brings us to now. I’m sitting in my office, my Dairy Dream lunch is half eaten on my desk and I’m staring frustratingly at my computer screen. That is flashing six emails from the Suit Master. I’ve been sitting here staring at them for the past ten minutes, debating to open them or not to open them. That is the question of the day, a pathetic one at that.

Knock, Knock.

“Boss?” Daniel beckons through the closed door.

“Yes?” Momentarily I stop my incessant monitor stare down.

“I have a delivery. Can I come in?”

Why is my secretary asking permission to come into my office? I can’t be that much of an evil bitch today… Can I?

“Yes, yes, Daniel, you don’t need permission.” I speak calmly and refined. I don’t want him to think I’m angry or pissed at him. I’m cranky, just not at him. Can’t I have one day of my damn life, where I’m allowed to be bitchy and peeved off at the world? I mean, nobody’s perfect for cryin’ out loud.

Opening my door, he slowly carries in the biggest God forsaken rose bouquet I’ve ever beheld. I can’t even see him behind the arrangement. No doubt made by my mother. She’d be the only one in the county to have roses in that vast array of colors.

“Three more steps and you’re to my desk.” I guide him and he follows my instructions. As his thighs butt up against my desk, he carefully lowers the massive vase. Setting it securely on my desktop and backing away.

Fake wiping sweat from his brow and playfully ‘whewing’ a few times, he says, “Your mother’s delivery boy just dropped those off. And no, they’re not from Donald, I checked the card already.”

Still trying to wrap my head around this massive bouquet, I can’t imagine who would fork out this amount of money for an arrangement this magnificent. Roses aren’t cheap, and these are top quality. There has to be at least six dozen roses; a mixture of lavenders, light pinks, medium pinks, whites, and peach roses. With a single red rose tucked beside the plastic note holder.

Tugging the card from the floral pick, I remove it from the envelope.





Read the email’s Lex. I’m not kidding when I say I will win you.

All my affection,

Your Secret Admirer





This has gone from bad to worse! He wasn’t kidding when he said he knew more about me. He even knows where I work! Now we are seriously overstepping normalcy into creeper, Hannibal Lector territory. I can’t lie and say it’s not the slightest bit flattering, not the Hannibal part. But, I’m no idiot. This has psycho written all over it, in big bold blood stained letters.

“It’s from the Suit Master, isn’t it?” Daniel inquires, sitting on the arm of my guest chair.

Shooting him a puzzled expression, I ask. “How did you know?”

“Roni, she informs me on the things you don’t and vice versa.”

Great, now both of them are double-teaming me. I really can’t wait for today to be over.

“Are you busy?” The worst voice in the world, questions, standing in my open doorframe.

Why didn’t I make sure Daniel closed the door?

“She’s not. I was just leaving.” Daniel singsongs and hurries out of room, pushing Gage into my office and shutting us in.

Real slick, Daniel! Think if I get distracted, I won’t forget about the fact you and my best friend Veronica Phoenix are conspiring against me.

“Can I help you, Mr. Masterson?” I make my tone harsh, so he won’t have to wonder if I want him here or not. Today, I don’t want him anywhere near me.

Dropping into one of my leather armchairs, relaxing, he kicks up his foot and rests it on his knee.

“Who those from?” he asks, arrogantly pointing to the flowers.

“A man.” I reflexively snap. It’s none of his damn business who they’re from.

“Didn’t think you had a ‘man’.” He, air quotes, flashing one of those stupid pretty smiles. How can he be such a jerk, yet, so delicious? It’s really distracting. And today he’s clad in a pinstriped suit and matte black, square-toed dress shoes. Even his cufflinks are sexy. They’re silver and black with an M monogramed on them.