ON AIR (3 page)

5

“Y
ou should just make it a weekly thing,” Madden told me on Monday morning.

We were both arriving at the firm at the same time, and after asking how my weekend had gone, he’d straight up asked if Natalie came home with me Saturday night.

“Bi-weekly,” he added as we entered the building. “Thrice. Fuck, just put her on speed dial.”

I rolled my eyes. Having a fuck buddy had never been my intention with Nat. I thought she was extremely cool and we got along great, but there was always that weird space of time in between screwing each other where we avoided contact for a while. I had no idea what she’d think if I suggested we bang more often.

“So that segment this morning was a hot one, eh?” Madden changed the subject as he entered my office behind me. He paused at the door while I continued on to my desk.

“What segment?”

Before he could answer, I realized what he meant. It was Monday.
Slice of the City
was every Monday. Damn, I must have had a lot on my mind in order to miss it because I’d been looking forward to it.

I set my bag on my desk and sat down. There were no client meetings scheduled, so I was just in jeans and a Queen t-shirt. For a few seconds, I reflected on how fucking cool it was to work at such an established architectural firm and feel so relaxed and laid back. It was my dream job in more ways than one.

Then Madden said something about strip clubs and it redirected my attention to him.

“She did a broadcast on strip clubs?” I asked with surprise. Most all of Sinclair’s recommendations had been dining places, bakeries, coffee shops, and a few other spots like parks, a dress shop, and an art gallery.

“Yeah,” Madden chuckled. “I guess she had someone email her—a chick—and asked for some guidance. The girl said she would go with her boyfriend to a strip club—some fucking couples bullshit—but she wanted one that was somewhat classy.”

“There are classy strip clubs?” I joked, pulling out some work from my briefcase.

“What do you mean? Hardworking ladies come with a lot of integrity. You gotta be committed and disciplined.”

I didn’t give a response as I flipped open my laptop.

“So why don’t you bring Nat to the game on Saturday?”

That came out of left field. I looked up at Madden and studied him for a second. I wasn’t quite sure what his deal was with Natalie lately. “Why you so set on me spending more time with her?”

He laughed intolerantly. “Oh come the fuck on, Dane. She. Likes. You. Are you really that stupid you can’t see it? She’s been into you ever since you met five years ago.”

I knew that, but wouldn’t admit it to him. However, I really wasn’t that sure of how “into” me she was. “I met her in a coffee shop, and she was a hookup after a friend’s party a few weeks later. We both agreed that’s all it was.”

“Things change, man. It was five years ago. I think you’re both more mature now, have sowed some of your wild oats, and are ready to single each other out. You know?”

I did agree with him on that. I wasn’t looking for fresh meat each week like I had been before. My life had hit a comfortable routine and it felt good. I wasn’t seeking out any kind of relationship, but I often felt it would be nice to have one. However, I just didn’t have the energy to take one on.

“Anyway, think about it,” Madden said as he turned away.

Once I was alone, I pushed my files to the side and pulled up the radio station website on my laptop. I clicked on Sinclair’s latest broadcast and began listening, but a minute into it decided to multitask and check my emails.

One happened to be a reply from someone named Sinclair and it caught me by surprise.

I paused and stared at it for a minute. It was from
the
Sinclair. Yeah, I’d emailed her. It was a couple days after Chloe’s big blow up in customer traffic. I’d felt so grateful for my sister’s boost in business I wanted to thank the woman responsible for giving her the chance.

I finally clicked on the email to open it.

Mr. Thomas,

Thank you so much for your kind words, but especially for the pride and love you have for your family. I absolutely loved your sister’s coffee shop and have returned two more times this past week. Your email was much appreciated amidst the dozens I get a day requesting favors of me. Thank you!

Sinclair

Hmm, I’d never considered that. When sending the message I thought maybe she’d be too busy to respond, but I never thought about businesses contacting her, most likely begging for a recommendation.

I sent a reply for some reason, but figured it was pushing my luck. I mean she was nice enough to respond once, why would she respond a second time? I kept in mind her mention of people contacting her for favors—there was certainly no need for me to ask anything of her—so I just stuck to a simple ‘thank you’ for taking the time to reply.

It was probably lame and undesired, but I was still so stuck on this woman it was my only chance to either make or break my obsession. I went a few days without a response from her, though. And believe me, I checked my emails often.

By Thursday, I was convinced I probably shouldn’t have messaged her that last time.

***

“Beers. Let’s go.” Madden motioned with his head for me to get my ass out of the office. It was after six on Friday and I had blueprints spread out all over my worktable alongside a three-hour-old container of Chinese food that I’d only half finished.

“Five more minutes.”

“Dane, you vagina, you said that twenty minutes ago.”

“Then I’ll meet you over there,” I chuckled, looking up at him. “Quit looking at my vagina and go away.”

He shook his head at me with an eye roll, waving behind him as he left.

About twice a week we’d grab a beer from Libby’s Bar & Grill down the street. Sometimes our bosses would come too, and sometimes other coworkers at the firm. I generally only mingled with the same four or five people from work, so it was no surprise I headed straight for the back booth where Madden and Clive were already sitting, tipping back beers together while watching the Red Sox and Mariners.

“Ohhh Mr. Workaholic ready to join us now,” Madden quipped. “Your boss know you’re cutting out of work early?”

Humored, I sat down and ordered a beer. “My boss will just have to suck it.”

Clive grunted with amusement and finished off his drink. “You make me look bad sometimes, Dane. But I’m a zero fucks kind of guy so I’ll allow it.”

Two other men from our firm left the bar counter and sat down with us. Steve was from accounting and had been with Becker & Lewis longer than I had; Dalton was going into his third month with us straight out of college. I liked both of them but just didn’t have much to say when we were all together. I always had my drinks, watched whatever game was on the screens, and kept my personal shit to myself.

“Hear what happened to Stackman?” Clive asked a few minutes later. My interest was piqued, so I gave him my attention. “Being charged with extortion. So far.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. I guess I’m not surprised, but that’s big time.”

“Was that broad there when you worked for him?” he asked.

“What broad?”

“His secretary. Kathy Mason?”

I slowly nodded. “Yeah, I remember her. I always thought she was blowing Stackman at lunchtime,” I added with a laugh.

“Ha, you’re right on point,” Clive nodded. “And they were in on some kind of blackmail against the accountant who was allegedly cooking the books for him. Big fucking mess, I hear. Everyone there is being dragged through the mud. I’m glad you left when you did.”

Nodding again, I reflected on my options back then. I didn’t have any. I got hired by Ron Stackman straight out of college. He’d been a guest lecturer at the university a few times and he liked me quite a bit. He ended up offering me a job and I took it, no questions asked. I was just excited to be employed right away.

“So what was the deal with all that?” Steve asked, taking a swig of his beer. “Why’d you leave? You didn’t get fired, right? You left on your own? Was any of that shit happening then?”

I took my own drink before answering, but eyed him cautiously. “You mean did I have knowledge of anything illegal? Fuck no. And yeah, he was just a lousy boss, always yelling at shit to be done but never doing anything of his own. He was like a dictator. And I never got to work up to my own clients, he pretty much just gave me cookie cutter designs to change a closet here or a window there.”

“Hmm, sounds like what my brother is doing,” Dalton said. “He’s worked for a firm over in Tennessee for almost four years now and still hasn’t done custom designs yet.”

“I would die of boredom,” I admitted. “That’s why I left Stackman. It wasn’t worth putting up with him if I didn’t even like working there. My nose was in search of something more challenging.”

“Thank God you were desperate enough to come to me,” Clive joked.

“Yeah, thank God,” I agreed.

Our waitress brought by a round of shots at that moment and said, “From someone who would like to remain anonymous.” She smiled and set all five of them on the table.

“Wait, no, come on, Jilly,” Madden objected. He held up a five-dollar bill and waved it seductively. “I’m sure you’d be willing to share who it was. I don’t like secrets.”

Jill giggled playfully. “Well I’m good at keeping them and she tipped me way better than that.”

“
She
?” three of us chorused at once.

As soon as Jill left, each one of us was scoping every patron in the room. It wasn’t a very big establishment, so it allowed an easy perusal of the customers, but after a minute or so, none of us could agree on any one person.

“Whether it was her or not,” Madden pointed to a blonde across the bar, “I’d thank her anyway.”

I smiled as I followed his gaze. She did look like a worthy effort to make, but I didn’t believe it’d been her who bought the round of shots. “Then go thank her. When she corrects you just be like, oh well then can I buy
you
a drink?”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to be approached,” he frowned.

This was true. She was sitting by herself in the opposite corner from us, her long blonde hair over one shoulder, sipping a martini. Her phone seemed to be the extent of her interest, and she only looked up every minute or so. She was pretty, though. I could tell from across the room.

“Dude, maybe it’s Sinclair,” Madden whispered to me. “She’s checking this place out, wearing a wig so no one can think it’s her. Her chest totally gives her away, though.”

I rolled my eyes at his insistence that Sinclair was a busty redhead.

“On your way to the bathroom, just say something to her,” I told him.

“Nah man, not feeling it tonight.”

I kept my comments to myself. Madden was an extremely rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, but he could be really polite when he wanted to be. I think he was just scared of rejection, more than he’d ever admit.

“She’s more your type,” Madden winked, tipping his beer at me. “Go make a move, D-man.”

I wasn’t so sure I had a “type.” But to be honest, this woman kind of intrigued me. It didn’t seem like a place she belonged, which made me curious, but she also didn’t look very happy. I was sort of a people pleaser by nature and wanted to change her mood. Maybe she got stood up?

Hey, I could save the day.

As I left the table, I heard the guys chuckling and making jabs behind my back or cheering me on. I couldn’t care less, but it wasn’t really in me to do anything for attention. This wasn’t that sort of thing and I actually wished they would disappear. However, I continued my trek to the other side of the room. The blonde still had her head down, seemingly texting away on her phone. When my presence caught her attention, her head popped up in surprise.

“Hello,” I said.

She basically just blinked at me. I paused to make a better assessment of her. She was even better looking up close, which was not usually the case so I was kind of caught off guard. Her eyes were dark blue and she had lips that could probably work a cock pretty well, so I decided right then she was probably a solid “8” on my scale.

“I noticed you by yourself and wondered if you’d like to join me and my coworkers.” I motioned to somewhere behind me.

She glanced past me. I wasn’t sure if she knew to which table I was referring to until I turned around and saw every set of eyes from my table staring at us and it became so fucking obvious.

“Hmm, looks fun,” she smiled politely. I was waiting for the next part: the turndown. But she looked back to me and said, “Okay, but are you really sure you want that to happen?”

I felt about ten degrees warmer at that moment. I had hoped she’d be intimidated by the idea and decline, or invite me to sit down with her instead. Apparently my psychology didn’t work with this one and she’d inflicted me with some of her own.

“Not really,” I answered honestly. “Would it have been less forward to have invited myself to sit with you?”