Quicksilver Dreams(2)

                “Taylor, I need to roll calls from the car on my way to lunch. Take notes. Adam’s trying to fuck with me on this deal we made for him. He’s got a fucking diva complex, and he’s going to blow the whole fucking thing if he doesn’t quit his pansy-ass whining.”

                Reggie was absolutely inconsistent and made no apologies for it. On the one hand, he was hugely muscular and fierce looking, maybe Samoan in origin, with short dark hair and a goatee. But then, he had a love of these delicate figurines that he kept wholly pristine in display cases. His entire office was downright precious, the furnishings delicate in shades of violet. He was rude, disrespectful and belittling to most everyone he encountered who wasn’t a client, but he had this sweet, lovey-dovey, shmoopy-as-hell voice he used when his boyfriend called.

                I was used to him.

                I read through his freshly updated call log. “By the way, Frank called. He said he was going to have to cancel dinner tonight. He’s got some kind of emergency and needs to pack for a flight out tomorrow.” Frank was the lovey-dovey partner who rocked Reggie’s world, but his smooth British tones always gave me a strange itchy tingle in the middle of my back. No reason why, since I hadn’t actually met the guy. He’d always been what other people would think of as perfectly lovely and charming over the phone, but one person’s friendliness is another person’s nosiness. I just don’t like personal questions, and he always seemed to have some for me.

                “Frank called?” Reggie’s face flushed a violent red. “Frank called and you didn’t tell me? How many times do I have to fucking tell you to put him through no matter what? Jesus fuck! When he calls, put him through. Put. Him. Through!”

                I took a deep breath and did my best not to breathe fire. “Frank told me he didn’t have time to talk and said to just pass the message along. He said he’d order in and meet you at home.”

                Reggie continued to scowl for a moment. “Oh,” he muttered, and he started out the door of our small suite. Long ago, I stopped looking for any form of apology or remorse from him when he blew up at me inappropriately.

                “Do you want me to get Adam on the line for you?”

                “No. Forget calls. I need to call Frank. Go to lunch.” He waved a hand dismissively as he left.

                And so I was able to put my calls to voice mail, grab my purse and run downstairs to share my juicy tidbit with Cynthia.

                “Sure, women can have wet dreams. I’ve had orgasms in my sleep. They aren’t strong, but the feeling is there if it’s a good enough sex dream.” Cynthia, her platinum hair twisted into an elegant knot on top of her head, was chowing down on a tuna-fish sandwich that smelled god-awful. I kept my opinion to myself and focused on the subject at hand.

                “Really? This is a first for me.” I took a healthy bite of my apple.

                “Tied down, huh?” Her toffee eyes smiled into mine. She sat back, looking dreamily up at the ceiling, her patrician features as perfectly made up as usual. You can see why I thought she was a total bitch at first. Effortless. And she always says the right things too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been tied down. My ex was not an adventurous kind of guy. You know. He was a geologist. Bloodless. So how was it?”

                “I can’t even tell you how amazing it was. It was like I was so awake and aware through the whole thing! But I wasn’t...”

                “You’ve been working too much and not relaxing enough. You really need to cut back on your hours at the club.”

                “I wish I could. I need the money. Maybe after I get my next raise I’ll quit. Besides, it’s just on Fridays and Saturdays.”