“Hey…Scott?”
“Hm? Excuse me…?” He looked up in surprise from his screen as a feminine, familiar voice drifted around the corner of his door. He smiled easily up into Madelyne’s green eyes and nodded for her to come in. “What’s up, Maddie? What can I do for you?”
“Not much. I just happened to be headed down the hall to the elevator, and I noticed your door was still open.”
“My door’s always open,” he quipped.
“I know. Burning the midnight oil again,” she accused as she leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing her lithe legs at the ankles. Scott admired how she looked just short of staring. She was stunning in a viridian green dress and strappy black heels. Madelyne wore her long red hair attractively cut in soft layers that reached just past her shoulders and framed her face. Her look aimed for “office elegance” instead of “sexpot.”
“Nothing new. I almost hate off-season renewals.”
“They don’t hate you. Money in your pocket,” she reminded him. “So what’s the deal? Why’re you here so late? It’s a ghost town out here,” she told him, motioning out his door into the hall. Scott sighed, sitting back and rubbing his eyes.
“I know. It’s no big deal. I don’t have anything I have to rush home for.”
“Nothing at all? Nobody at all?” she fished casually. She reached up and toyed with her fine gold necklace and set her briefcase down on the floor. If Scott was confused that she looked like she was abandoning her plans to leave, he said nothing. He leaned back in his seat and shrugged.
“Sit down. Take a load off, Maddie.”
“Works for me.” She took the rolling chair that was in front of his desk and moved it to the side instead, giving herself a better vantage point to peek at what he was working on. “Those don’t look like renewal quotes, Scott.”
“Sure they are,” he lied.
“Only if ESPN’s one of our new clients. And if they want the Celtics game score written into their policy,” she said demurely.
“Hey, I tried,” he said. “That’ll be enough out of you.”
“Bad Scott.”
“Nonsense. I’m a Boy Scout.”
“So was my kid brother. He was a little hellspawn.”
“Damn. My cover’s blown.”
“You couldn’t have been too bad as a kid.” Madelyne grinned at him openly this time. “Do you take more after your mom or your dad?” Scott’s smile faltered.
“My pop, I guess.” Scott went back to his typing in his second program window, making a corrections to a memo. Madelyne looked concerned.
“Bad subject? I’m sorry.”
“No…no, that’s okay. It’s hard, sometimes. He’s gone. It’s only been a few years. I’m officially an orphan.”
“Oh, Scott…God, I’m an idiot. I totally put my foot in my mouth. Next time I look like I’m going to ask a question, just hand me a bottle of ketchup.” Scott smiled again, shaking his head.
“Goober.” Madelyne threw a paper clip at him.
“I just didn’t mean to bring up something that would make you sad.”
“I don’t mind talking about him,” Scott told her easily. “That’s him.” He nodded to a framed photo next to his document easel. Madelyne automatically picked it up and looked between them for a resemblance.
“Same eyes. I love his smile, it’s definitely the same as yours. Is that your brother?” she asked, pointing to another collage frame of four candid shots.
“Yup. Alex. He’s still a pain in the butt. But I get to be the favorite uncle.”
“Nieces or nephews?”
“One niece,” he said, pointing her out in the frame.
“Gorgeous.”
“Yup. I’m not biased, or anything.”
“Of course not.” She handed him back his frame and sighed. “Go home. Work on that tomorrow.”
“Do you have to catch a train home?”
“Nah. I drove. I know the train’s cheaper than gas, but I just don’t trust them at night.”
“Can’t blame you,” he admitted. “No big deal to me, since I’m a guy…” Scott let what he was going to say falter, not knowing if he’d sound patronizing.
“No, trust me, I don’t take chances. If someone came at me for my purse, the most I’d come up with to do is hit them with my shoe. I’m hopeless.”
“Are you kidding? Not with those shoes. Those could put someone’s eye out.” Scott made the mistake of letting his eyes drift down to her stilettos and couldn’t stop staring at her legs, a perfect distraction in sheer hose, one of which was swinging back forth where she crossed them.
“Scott?”
“Hm?”
“Uh, you’re mouth’s…open,” she pointed out.
“Huh?”
She cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly. “I’ll get going. I just wanted to stop by, I hardly ever get to see you lately.”
“Different accounts. Meetings. Flying a lot.”
“I hate business travel,” Madelyne admitted. “Wish I could fly my own plane instead.” Scott looked surprised.
“You fly?” Her smile was bashful this time.
“I love it. I’ve had my license for about a year now.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Just another hobby.” The question of whether or not he’d ever consider flying with her lingered on her tongue, but she swallowed it back down. A voice in the back of her head chided her, reminding her not to move too fast. Madelyne inwardly shuddered when she remembered her disastrous date with Logan, knowing she’d poured it on too thick. The memory of the pink fuzzy handcuffs made her cringe. Did he really assume she was that easy? Just because she’d been bold enough to ask him out?
Still, if she had to admit it to herself, she had been a little forward. Madelyne could blame it at least a little on the holiday. There was something about Valentine’s Day that made her feel a little needy, maybe even want a little extra attention. Red roses made her wistful. She felt her biological clock ticking, but her brain cells had to win out over her ovaries.
Madelyne knew herself pretty well. There was too broad a margin for error, and it was too easy to mess things up with Scott if she tried to move too fast.
So she squelched the urge to cajole him and sighed. “I can see your busy, Scott.” She rose from her seat and discreetly wiped her palms on her skirt when she realized that they’d begun to sweat.
“You don’t have to run off,” Scott protested. “Look…give me a minute or two. Relax.”
“You don’t have to rush, take your time.”
“I will, but sit! Don’t make me feel guilty!” he nagged, but he grinned, showing off his dimples. Delighted, she sat back down. “I don’t want you walking out to your car alone.”
“You took the train?”
“Yup.”
“Forget that. I’ll drive you home.”
“It could be out of your way, Maddie?”
The man was gorgeous, sweet, bright, and gave her the whim-whams.
“It’s not out of my way. But hurry up and log off, already!”
*
Halfway through the pint, Ororo realized it wasn’t helping. She recapped the melting tub of rocky road with the sticky lid and put it away just as the phone rang.
“H’lo?” Her voice was slightly muffled as she picked at a stray bit of nut caught in her teeth. Ali’s chuckle greeted her effort.
“What’re you snackin’ on?”
“Ice cream.”
“For dinner?”
“It’s medicinal. Leave me alone,” she grumbled.
“What’d he do?”
“Who?”
“Ice cream for dinner is a clear sign of Mr. Wonderful turning into a pumpkin at midnight. Spill. Got a guy acting like a fuckwit?”
“No,” she claimed. “Not really. He’s just working my last nerve, Al, and it’s stretching it to call him ‘my guy.’”
“Don’t listen ta her, Ali, she’s nuts over him,” Anna argued, and Ororo realized she’d been put on speaker. “Man’s fine, too.”
“How did YOU meet him?”
“Caught him at the gym. He’s got lotsa nice muscles, and a nice butt ta boot.”
“That’s not cool,” Ali tsked. “Two of you have been holding out on me. I’m supposed to be first in line for the good dirt.”
“I’m special,” Anna sniffed. Ororo rolled her eyes and snorted on her end of the line.
“Trifling heifers. Both of you,” Ali stated flatly. “Anyway, dust off your dancing shoes. Next Saturday, I’m gonna be at the club again with Neil, Lila and the rest of the band.”
“I could use a night out,” Ororo sighed, neglecting to add While I can still afford it. She wasn’t looking forward to the response from HR and dealing with Selene again. “I might drive down.”
“Yay!” Ali crowed.
“Bring somethin’ nice t’wear. We’re steppin’ out,” Anna told her. “How ‘bout that little red number?” Ororo shuddered.
“Nah. No red.”
“Why not?”
“I get in trouble when I wear it. I’m not jinxing myself.” Ororo lounged indolently in her navy blue pajama bottoms printed with clouds and lightning bolts. Her hair was still pulled back in its ponytail from earlier, but she’d loosened it, letting sloppy tendrils fall around her face in disarray. It felt good to relax in her toe socks and be a total grub. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the rainbow-colored knit.
“It’s your color,” Ali told her. “Your signature color. Don’t come out looking like the love child of an undertaker and the Unabomber.” This time Ororo snorted in earnest.
“Thanks, pal.”
“Saturday at seven. Drive down early. Plan to stay all weekend.”
“Why?”
“I have a barbecue to go to. I want you to come with me.” Ororo smelled a rat.
“No fix-up.”
“Ororo,” she whined.”
“No fix-up. Do you hear me? None. En. Oh. NO.”
“Party pooper.” She tried a different tack. “Anna’s coming.”
“Goodie for you,” she said sourly as she carried the phone with her back into the kitchen and tucked the pint back into the freezer. “I’m not up for a cookout. Pencil me in for the bars.”
“Fine,” Anna sighed.
“You’re missing out.” Ororo wasn’t convinced. She was enjoying the warmer weather, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk politely with strangers over ribs and Kool-Aid.
“All right,” Ororo sighed. “Why so grumpy?”
“Work sucks,” she said. “In a nutshell.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Anna plied.
“That’s up in the air. I might have to move on to Plan B.”
“Which is?”
Ororo braced herself. “Go back to New York.”
Ali whooped. “Shit! REALLY? ‘Ro, it’d be so great if you came back!”
“We miss ya, shoog,” Anna chimed in. “Why? Boston losin’ its gloss?”
“I have nothing here. Their market is pretty much the same, but I need to work with a different account manager.” She didn’t add Because the one I have now has gone psycho.”
“Nothin’ worse than a bad boss,” Anna agreed.
“So you’ve had it, huh?” Ali confirmed.
Ororo sighed. “Yeah. I have.”
“You sound sad. Don’t fret. You’ll make the right decision. You know we’re in your corner.”
“So what about Logan?” Anna pressed.
“What about him?” she asked defensively, but she felt an ugly chill in her gut. Were they technically a couple?
They drove each other nuts. Sex wouldn’t change that… even really, really phenomenal, brain-scrambling sex. Guilt nagged at her. All right, he’d grown on her. He made her laugh. He hadn’t taken off running at the sound of her awful singing. He was cuddly. Scratch that. Logan was delicious. Still…
What was she thinking? In the grand scheme of things, weren’t they just reopening a one-night stand? It wouldn’t matter. Ororo could work anywhere with the profession she chose, but it was a question now of where she wanted to live. It wasn’t up to Selene anymore, and it shouldn’t have been in the first place.
Ororo jerked at the sound of Ali’s voice. “Ororo? What’s up? You still there?” She shook herself and snapped to attention. “So you’re coming, right?”
“Yup.”
“To the barbecue?”
“No!”
“I’ve gotta keep trying, right? At least you kinda have a man.” Ororo snorted again.
“You’ll meet someone.”
“Pfft…”
“Awww…c’mon. The one you should wake up and smell the coffee for is Cain.”
“Shut. Up. Hell. No.” Ali sounded like she choked on a sip of something.
“Damn. Spit-take with Pepsi. Nice one, ‘Ro, but don’t kill her.” Ororo could hear Anna slapping her back over the speaker.
“He’s nice. He’d do anything for you. He hangs on your every word. He does that puppy dog thing whenever you come around.” Ali blew out an exasperated breath.
“He’s just too…too…” Ororo pictured Ali gesticulating and making her I can’t put my finger on it face. “You know what I’m getting at here. Cain’s just too ‘Cain.’ Yeah. That’s the problem.”
“Excuses.”
“So what’s yours, then? Logan’s not Vic. Does he seem like the cheating type?”
“How should I know?” Ororo sighed. A brief scowl pulled at her face. The possibility soured her. Ororo remembered Logan at the OptforWellth lunch with Madelyne Pryor grinning up in his face. Oh, how she longed to spill something down her dress.
Ororo wondered if Madelyne had the chance to make time with him before they’d rediscovered each other face-to-face. Madelyne was an attractive woman. Ororo couldn’t blame him for giving her his attention, but her feminine ego was slightly hurt that…what? Well, that he didn’t… pine over her. It was a stupid expectation, and she felt silly, but that was it in a nutshell. Ororo didn’t want to want him if she couldn’t have him. Yet Ororo wanted Logan to want her. Badly. Insecurities and all.
What was she thinking? Where did that come from? Wasn’t she leaving?
Or was she? Could she? Ororo felt uneasy about her decision.What did it boil down to? Simple.
She wanted to stay, only if he wanted her to stay, or if something happened to sweeten the pot between them.
Giving him up would send them back to square one. They’d go back to being two people who had a one-night stand and then lost touch, and lost each other. Ororo hated standing on such tenuous ground. She almost hated that she could be falling for him even more.
They could fuck it up.
*
Logan spent the next few days fuming after their blow-up. Why was she so damned stubborn? And why did he end up being the bad guy?
She had the right to be upset about Selene’s drama and the threat she posed to her job, but Ororo didn’t have to turn around and take it out on him. He was minding his own business and trying to be sympathetic, and look what it got him. She was back to treating him like something she’d stepped in while she was wearing her best pair of pumps.
A voice nagged Logan that maybe it was his fault, in the long run. He’d pushed the envelope. He shat where he ate. Work relationships never worked, period. Logan wished he could wave his wand, sprinkle them both with pixie dust, and they would automatically go back to being two people who just had a one-night stand. Two strangers who lost track of each other and then moved on.
What did she want? Logan had dealt with women and their mood swings before, and he remembered Jeannie when she came home from a bad day, but Ororo confused the hell out of him. One the one hand, the look on her face screamed that he was roadkill; on the other hand, there was just that “thing” in her voice that women always tossed in there that said “Kiss it where it hurts, and make it better.”
Half the problem was the work they each did. It was like fighting on opposite sides of the border. He cared about the sale itself, and she cared about the dollars it took to make it happen on both ends. It was hard. Logan enjoyed his job well enough, and it certainly worked out for him; he had a sweet retirement portfolio and great benefits, had a nest egg saved for a down payment on a house in Cambridge, and he’d made a lot of great contacts in the event that he wanted to ever hang his own shingle. But it was hard. The business travel was killing him. Logan heard the airline safety guidelines and the instructions on how the seat cushion doubled as a flotation device in his sleep. He hated catching cabs to the airport at the crack of dawn and punching his info into kiosks, standing in line, and paying eight dollars for a Cinnabon and bad coffee.
Still, he was good at it. Logan was honest about the product he sold, but he was still enthusiastic about it. Clients loved his easygoing manner and his tendency to avoid double talk, or to couch the limitations of a stingy health plan in fancy terms. So when Ororo attacked him, he took offense. She might as well have called him a flim-flam man and then kicked him in the balls.
She’d made herself scarce, too. She took her meetings from her own phone and was getting her lunch ouf of the office instead of going to the break room. He dropped her an email with “Can we talk?” in the subject line. No reply. He even got the notification that she’d opened it on his Outlook. That pissed him off. So the ball was in her court. If she wanted to play nice, they’d play nice.
But in the meantime…yeah. Logan missed Ororo.
*
Ororo’s stomach felt like someone made macramé out of it. Selene had been strangely quiet since she sent out her appeal to the HR office. She’d treated her with icy silence when they passed each other in the hall or the rest rooms. No love lost. Ororo wasn’t going to tip-toe around her any more than she had to; it had been part of her job description for too long.
She received an email back, saying that they’d opened up a review ticket and were investigating her complaints. That didn’t make her feel any better. Ororo wanted to throw up her hands and cry out, “Can’t we all just GET ALONG???” A statement of how appeals were handled was attached as a memo, as well as a contact list of personnel who reviewed them. Ororo felt her stomach roil more, now that her actions had a concrete effect, and that someone on the other end of her email knew how pissed she was.
So that was it. Ororo had thrown down the gauntlet, but that didn’t make her feel any happier. The rest of her workday was just a tense, hot mess. She practically sprinted to the elevator in her heels after she clocked out. She didn’t want to come back in on Monday. It felt like walking the green mile.
But in the meantime, there was partying that needed to be done, and Ororo was just the woman for that job. She packed her duffle with three changes of clothes, including a “little black dress” that had less fabric than a tea towel. She packed impractical shoes and chunky jewelry and obscene amounts of makeup, her remaining half a bottle of Lulu, pajamas, a doo rag to wrap her hair, and a few Ryan Reynolds DVDs to watch while they were hungover the next day.
She was just zipping it shut when her phone rang. Ororo muttered to herself and padded into the kitchen to answer it, not caring how bitchy her voice sounded.
“Yes?” She almost said “WHAT?!”
“So that’s how underwriters answer the phone these days, huh? Just wanted t’holler atcha,” her father told her. He sounded amused, and Ororo felt silly.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Thought someone held you hostage. I haven’t heard from you in ages, baby girl. How’re things?”
“Fine.” Man, was that a lie.
“Fine?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. I bet. Listen, I was wondering when you’d be home. I’m gonna FedEx some things to you in the next day or two.”
“Like what?” Ororo leaned her shoulder against the fridge and crossed one ankle over the other, frowning.
“Don’t sound so excited about it,” her father teased. “Just a few things of your mother’s.”
“Oh.” She paused. “That’s nice.”
“Why? Don’t have any room?”
“No. I can make room.”
“There are just a few things I think you’d like to have. She kept a little scrapbook.” Ororo brightened.
“You’re sure you don’t want it?”
“I think you should have it. For safekeeping.” That really made her frown.
“Keep it safe from what?”
“Don’t worry about it. I want you to have it. There are also a few more of her things, a bracelet I found, a couple of blankets she knitted a long time ago.” Ororo was touched.
“I loved her knitting.”
“I know.” She heard her father smile and pictured it in her head.
“I was also wondering when you were gonna be in town again.”
“I’ll be in the same state again this weekend. But I’m going to Anna’s to hear Ali sing.”
“That’s nice. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I won’t get arrested.”
“Close enough.”
“What are you up to today, Pop?”
“Nothin’ new. Watched that Death At a Funeral movie. I rented that and some other mess with that Rock guy, whatshisname.”
“Dwayne Johnson.”
“Yeah. Him. It was okay. The one where he’s a football player.” Ororo chuckled.
“That one was cute.”
“It was too sugary for me.”
“You’re a man,” she pointed out.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Yup.”
Ororo sighed.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Eh.”
“You sound down.”
“Stuff at work.”
“They messin’ with you?”
“Not so much ‘they’ as one person is. My boss drives me nuts.”
“She triflin’?”
“DEFINITELY.”
“You’ve got a decent job, though, don’t you, more or less?” Ororo shrugged.
“I dunno,” she mumbled.
“Tory…” he nagged. “C’mon, now. It’s a job.”
“I know, I know…” she rolled her eyes and kicked the fridge.
“What’s she doing to lean on your nerve?”
“Telling me I’m distracted and I have a bad attitude.”
“If you go into her office with your lip poking out, looking like you’re not in the mood to take any of her mess, then that’s attitude. You’ve got to watch that. You let too much show on your face when someone’s messing with you, Tory.” Ororo felt herself pout, then checked it.
“But she IS messing with me.”
“She’s still the woman in charge.”
“She’s a mess.”
“Sounds like it.”
“She pressures me into moving out here in the first place, and now, she’s acting like she did me a favor, and like I’M not worth the effort she took to drag me to Boston. She said I’m distracted and unprofessional.”
“Are you focused on what you’re doing, Tory?”
“Of course! Pop, I live, eat, breathe, and sleep that job! And I don’t sleep much!”
“So sleep.” Ororo let out an exasperated breath. “That’ll make a job harder to deal with, if you don’t get your rest.”
“I know,” she sighed.
“You know. You always tell me you know when you disagree with me. In one ear, out the other; that’s what I get when I try to tell my child anything. Can’t tell ya nothin’.” She chuckled, picturing her dad rolling his eyes at her. “Hardheaded lil’ kid…”
“Where did I get that from?”
“Hmmph…”
“So anyway, I was looking into visiting soon, anyway.”
“You are? Sounds good. When are you thinking?”
“Sometime in the next couple of weeks. I need to scout around a little, and I’ll stay with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Scout around? For what?”
“Apartments.” She steeled herself for his reaction.
“Why?”
“I’m thinking about moving back to New York.”
“No!” he snapped. Ororo jerked back, confused.
“What? Why?”
“Don’t run away. Boston’s just as big and interesting a city as New York, with just as much action, just as many movers and shakers, and you didn’t give it a chance.”
“But, Pop…”
“C’mon now. Don’t let this woman chase you out of the office. Stand your ground. Take what she said to you with a grain of salt. She’s your boss, but she’s ‘not the boss of you.’ Understand?”
“Uh…no?”
“Don’t let her win. Go in there with your boots on and let her know that you’re doing your work. Make sure you’re documenting EVERYTHING that she’s said to you, any time that you feel she treated you unfairly. You’re not a wallflower or a door mat. Shoot, you’ve been sticking up for yourself since you were five.”
“I’m just tired of it all, Pop.”
“You don’t have to be. Instead of complaining about it, fix it.”
“I know.”
“Right. Time to zip my lip. The ‘I know’ and that tone of voice always means I should forget about it.”
“No. It just means ‘I know.’ You’re right. It’s all just a mess.” She changed tacks. “I’ll quit bellyaching. I’ll call you when I get in.”
“Sounds good.” His voice brightened. “Let me know what you wanna eat when you get here, and I’ll go get something.”
“We’ll just go out to dinner when I get there,” she suggested.
“Fair enough.”
“Good talking to you, Pop.”
“Hold up, hold up…are you planning on seeing somebody while you’re up here?”
Ororo made a face. “No. Why?”
“Don’t wanna impose if you already have plans with any male friends.”
“Nope. Just gonna make a date with my pop.”
“Don’t butter me up. You seein’ anyone?”
Ororo hedged. Fuck. What could she even tell him without sounding like she had her hand in the cookie jar? Oh, Logan? He’s just my man toy. She ran through her options in her mind and all of them sucked.
“Well…welllllllll…”
“That sounds like a ‘Maybe I am.’”
“Wellllllll…” Ororo tried not to grin.
“What’s he like?”
“Decent. Nothing serious.”
“I don’t want Mr. Nothing Serious to be the father of my grandchildren unless he’s got his butt together. Don’t fall for the okey-doke. You’re too old to be puttin’ up with any man’s mess. Your mama had me trained,” he boasted.
“You never gave Mama any mess.”
“TRAINED!” he boomed. Ororo cracked up.
“He’s nice enough. I like him. He makes me laugh and he has a job.”
“Okay. We can work with that. Still doesn’t mean I won’t be at that front door with my shotgun when he rolls up. I’ll give him a running start if I think he’s treating you right, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Make it a five-minute head start, at least.”
“Three if I’m in a good mood.” Then he thought of something else. “What’s this man of yours think about you moving?”
“I haven’t talked with him about it yet.”
“So he may never even end up on my doorstep.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You aren’t disagreeing with me.”
There was never any point in arguing with Pop.
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Summary: Ororo considers her options and the ramifications of each.
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