I stared at his ass as he walked away, checking to see if he had a wet spot as a result of my spilt coffee. Thankfully, he did not. However, I continued staring at him-oh my God, I was leering at his fine ass.
Chapter Two
We had a company-wide meeting shortly after I delivered Rick to Mr Henley's office. I noticed Kathy was there. She wasn't sick after all. I smirked when she did a double-take of Rick. Yep, she was regretting her decision to fake sick. Her sour expression towards me almost made the airport misunderstanding worth it.
The purpose of the meeting was to introduce Rick and dispel all the rumours that had been circulating about his role. Mr Henley explained that Rick's goal was not to lose jobs, but rather retain them, and make headway in creating a decent profit margin. It sounded positive, but had an air of forced optimism, which was necessary to keep up the moral that had dipped to a dangerously low level.
Mr Henley smiled warmly at all of us and it was easy to see he cared about his workforce. Not only did he know all of us by name, but he also knew the names of his employee's children and grandchildren too. I'd always liked the man, who was just a kid at heart. He was in his fifties, but had the air of a much younger man, with his salt and pepper hair, bright hazel eyes and muscular build. Mr Henley was an avid mountain climber and adrenaline junkie too. He'd started the company when he'd been only twenty, selling active sportswear out of his parents' basement. We now employed sixty full-time staff, had a strong internet presence, and our clothes were in some major retail outlets-although prospects were grim for our future.
Mr Henley emphasised that Rick had a reputation for turning companies like ours around and to cement his words, he provided examples of Rick's past endeavours. I had to admit they were impressive. Rick had worked for small companies like ours to major conglomerates. He'd even worked for a few foreign governments' travel bureaus. Mr Henley expressed we should all do whatever was necessary in helping Rick achieve the goals outlined to make our company more efficient and profitable. Rick gave a small speech too. I noticed most of the women were holding onto his every word. He had this deep, but soft tempo in his voice that made him sound both compassionate and commanding at the same time.
I headed back to my desk, which was still outside my old boss' office. My current work location was a deserted island where I was the only inhabitant. Ronald Bellman, my old boss, had a huge office. It even had one of those fake inside windows with blinds that added more light. My desk was right outside in what would constitute a reception area. An outer door separated me from my co-workers.
I was glad Mr Bellman was gone, since he'd been kind of a jerk and expected my job should include running his personal errands and calling his wife to make excuses when he'd wanted to go out with his girlfriend. I'd fetched his coffee and run his errands, but I'd drawn the line at calling his wife. Still, it was strange having no one else in my little cocoon of an office. It wasn't that I talked to my co-workers that much, but the absence of people made me lonely.
At least I could listen to my radio. I scrolled through my iPod and settled on Monday Morning, by Fleetwood Mac. It seemed fitting.
My best friend Dillon McKay came through the outer office door, grinning wildly at me. He pulled a chair up to my desk. "You're dressed up today."
"Yeah, Stevie strikes again."
Dillon nodded approvingly. If Stevie was a fashion plate, Dillon was a fashion platter. He was skinny and tall, but he always dressed well. He was wearing a Dolce and Gabbana style paisley shirt and hip-hugging, black dress pants. We were a casual office, but Dillon always looked crisp, in my opinion. I mean, not a lot of guys could pull off purple paisleys, but Dillon did.
"Ready for lunch?"
"Yeah, I just have to email this report," I replied.
Dillon proceeded to re-arrange my office supplies while I checked my emails. Dillon was obsessive compulsive. The infliction didn't completely rule his life as it did with some people, but he'd been much worse before he'd conceded to medication. These days, he mainly re-organised things. His own stuff was so perfect he had to concentrate on other people's objects, which had resulted in his ostracism by many of our co-workers. Some people could be pretty picky about their stuff. I didn't mind. I loved Dillon. We understood and accepted each other's imperfections. We were more than just friends-Dillon was like a brother to me, and my family had practically adopted him. Last month, my mother had actually said to him, "I have three daughters and now with you I have everything I could ever want."
Dillon had responded, grinning wildly. "What's that? A son?"
"No … a gay son," my mom had replied, hugging him. Dillon fitted into my non-traditional family perfectly, but his own parents had a hard time with his OCD and what they called his ‘life choices'.
"So, he's pretty fucking hot, huh?" Leave it to Dillon to start right in. I knew he was referring to Rick … a subject he'd been angling to talk to me about since the morning meeting.
I shrugged. "He's okay. He's kind of arrogant."
"Come on, Marley, you were alone in a car with him. Give me some good dish."
I rolled my eyes. Dillon was practically panting as he wiped off some crumbs on the corner of my desk. "I know as much as you do. We just talked about the company. Mr Henley made him sound like Superman or something." I didn't think it would be right to reveal the few personal things I knew about Rick Randy … namely that his parents were deceased.
"I don't know about Superman, but I bet he's a boy wonder down under. You think he might be bi?"
"Okay, first I have no idea what kind of appendage he might be carrying. And second, I doubt he uses it on men."
"Did you flirt with him? I mean, God, he's gorgeous."
"No, but he kind of flirted with me, I think."
"Oh, now that's dish. How can you be so blasé? Don't you think he's hot? Come on, Marley, he looks like Chris Pine, and I know you crush on Chris Pine just like I do."
I thought about this for a second and had to agree with Dillon. Rick did have a similar resemblance to the hottie that played Captain Kirk. "I didn't notice. I just think of him as the dick that's going to fire my ass," I said giggling.
Dillon giggled with me. "Is that what we're calling him? Rick the dick? Or how about just … big dick?" I shot him a cynical glance, but Dillon's chocolate brown eyes just gleamed. "Come on, Marley, you can't even admit he's hot?"
"Okay, he's hot. He's that guy who's hot and knows it."
"Yeah, well he'd have to be mentally impaired or have an aversion to mirrors not to know it. He's not just hot, he's like hot sex on legs."
"Dillon!" I chided, but he just laughed.
"I mean, sure he's going to fire all our asses, but you have to admit it. Even his name exudes sexuality … Richard Randy." Dillon had this faraway look in his eyes he got when he talked about hot guys. I felt bad that as his best friend I could only reply by making a gagging noise.
"I guess." I bit down on my pencil, a telltale habit that I was thinking very hard. Dillon cocked a well-groomed eyebrow at me. "Dillon, do you know the meaning of randy?"
He smirked. "Of course, I do. That's why I said that about his name. What, you don't?"
I hesitantly relayed the airport debacle to Dillon. Then I stared, incensed, as Dillon proceeded to howl with laughter, putting even the TSA agent's chortles to shame. I had to tell him to be quiet several times, so people didn't think I was in a closed-off office, tickling him to death.
"Oh, that's precious, Marley," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. Was it really that funny?
My office phone rang, interrupting Dillon's rambunctious antics, and I was thankful for the break. The temporary relief was short-lived when Kathy Carver-in a brusque and miraculously cough-free voice-requested my presence in Mr Henley's office. Dillon sensed the shift in my expression and smiled sympathetically at me.
"I got the call. I guess they decided not to wait for payday." I tried to keep the smile pasted on my face for Dillon's sake.
"I'm sorry, kid."
I didn't know why Dillon called me ‘kid' when we were close to the same age, but I'd always liked it. "It's okay, at least I'm prepared." I kicked the cardboard box below my desk that contained all my personal effects. I'd packed it the day Mr Bellman had left.
"Don't worry, I'll probably be following you in a few days myself. We can work the breadlines together."
I stood up and clasped his hands, realising that this might be the last time I talked to him at work. "Dillon, please, please, remember to take your pills at lunch. You know you can't take them at night. Promise me." I always made sure he took them, because I had seen him when he didn't. The cleaning crew had threatened to quit because he'd followed behind them, pointing out spots of dust they'd missed. Although some people said it was cute, Dillon did have a disorder, and I knew he became antsy and nervous without his medication. One time, he'd re-arranged every drawer in his house for ten hours straight until he'd started crying.