Oh, La-la!

Chapter 1. Kayla

           My heels tap a rapid tattoo on the linoleum tiled floor as I berate myself for getting lost in this crazy rabbit warren style office. Again. I started last Tuesday, and so far, I’ve gotten lost trying to find my boss’s office, the bathroom, the breakroom, and now the conference room where I’m late for a meeting. I know eventually I’ll get the hang of it, but I really hate being late to anything, especially the weekly team meeting where everyone is gathered.

           Finally finding the right hallway, I let out a sigh and try to straighten my skirt. It’s a nervous gesture and my mom would tell me to quit fidgeting, but looking through the glass panel of the door to the packed conference room, I’m trying to will my heart rate to slow down. It’s not that I mind being the center of attention- my wildly dyed hair is testament to that- I just don’t like the attention to be because I did something wrong. Like get lost in the office and end up ten minutes late to my first meeting at my first “real” job, as my mom described it. She’s the reason my hair is currently a deep wine red instead of the neon pink it was last month. “It’s time to get serious, Kayla,” she’d said. “If you expect to get a real job, you need to look like you’re at least trying to be an adult.” She means well, but dang.

           I push the door open and try to scurry to the closest seat. Maybe if I can sit down quickly enough, I won’t disturb the meeting too much.

           “Kayla! Nice of you to join us!” Bill, my new boss, was loud, brash, and over the top, but seemed like a pretty decent guy. His immense form seems to dominate the small meeting room that’s all but filled with the large oval table, leaving just enough room around the sides for people to inch passed the chairs, usually bumping into one or two on the way.

           I smile sheepishly at him. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I mumble as I slip into the last seat available, silently praying everyone will turn their attention back to Bill soon. Everyone I’ve met has seemed friendly, more or less, and their grins on me now are sympathetic, but I’d really rather not be known as the late Kayla Brown. Hmm… that thought was a little darker than I need on a Monday morning.

           “That’s ok,” Bill’s deep, booming voice fills the room without him even trying. “If you’re still getting lost in a month, we’ll give you a map.” He winks at me and I smile back. He reminds me of my uncle.

           “Hell, I’ll take a map!” the consultant sitting next to me suddenly pipes up. I can’t remember his name. There’ve been so many new names and faces and things to keep straight in the past week, that I’m starting to wonder if my brain is at max capacity. I think it starts with a B- Brad or Brock or possibly Butthead. There’s something about this guy that rubs me the wrong way. I should probably be less judgmental, but my instincts tell me to watch him closely, and I learned a long time ago to trust my gut. He looks like he’s probably in his late 20’s, his bleached hair is spiked up with way too much product, but it fails to hide that it’s already thinning. His arms, chest and neck are enormous from too much time spent at the gym and, I suspect, steroids. He still has the beginnings of a beer gut, though, and although he's wearing loose pants, I wouldn’t be surprised if he skips leg day way too often. He just seems like the type. “I get lost every time I’m desperate for a piss!” he laughs loudly at his own joke while the rest of the room hums with slightly muted laughter as our co-workers try to decide if he’s being funny or inappropriate. I’m gonna go with the later, but at least the attention is no longer on me.

           “I’m not sure a map would help you, Brett. We’ve all seen your flow charts,” one of the older consultants offers in a dry tone. The laughter in the room comes a little bit easier, even I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. I have no problem remembering this man’s name- Ash Denning. He was one of the first people I met, and although he seemed a little dismissive of me, there’s a sort of magnetism about him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s very easy on the eyes. I’m sure there’s some rule about dating a co-worker, but a little office eye candy could help the days go by quicker.

           Brett scowls at Ash, but puts his hand on my thigh- way too high to be mistaken for a friendly gesture, making me flinch. Yeah, this is why I trust my instincts. He leans slightly towards me and whispers in a sleezy voice, “Don’t worry, babe, I can take care of you. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” His lips peel back from blindingly white teeth in a farce of a smile that reminds me of a predator about to devour its prey.

           I firmly remove his hand, trying not to recoil too obviously nor make a scene. “Thanks, but I’m sure I can manage,” I give him the smile reserved for customer service and make a mental note never to sit next to him again.

           “Ok, ok, let’s get back into it,” Bill brings the attention back to him and the tension that was threatening to build dissipates. “So, assignments, who did I forget?”

           Ash raises is hand in a careless gesture that makes me think he doesn’t really want a project manager assigned to him, but also recognizes it’s pointless fighting the necessity of it.

           “Of course,” Bill flips the binder open in front of him and scans the list. “Who has enough availability?” he muses to himself as he rubs his chin absentmindedly. “Hmm… well, shoot, it looks like Kayla’s the only one with time available.”

           “You can’t do that to her,” a woman speaks up. “She just started! We don’t want her quitting already!”

           “I’m not that bad!” Ash says with a small grin.

           “Yeah, you are,” several people around the table mutter behind grins that don’t hide the fact that they are serious- he is that bad.

           “The point is moot, people,” Bill interrupts. “She still has training to get through, and yeah, assigning her to Ash would just be cruel.”

           Ok, I’m sitting right here, can we please not talk about Kayla like I’m an inanimate object? I take a fortifying breath and raise my voice, “I’m about 80% finished with the training. I should be able to complete it by tomorrow.”

           The room stills and once again every eye turns to me. I want to sink back into my chair and pretend like maybe I’m an inanimate object after all, but I force myself to sit up straight and meet Bill’s curious gaze. I’m having flashbacks to high school in Mrs. Johnson’s English class when I knew all the right answers and my classmates all seemed to hate me for it.

           “You completed 80% of the training in four days?” Bill asks, his voice incredulous.

           I can’t entirely hide the squirm of nervousness under the team’s scrutiny, so I turn it into a half- hearted shrug. “Well, yeah. I mean, there’s not that much that I haven’t already learned, so it was more of a review. Besides, most of what I have left is standard office procedure stuff. It shouldn’t take a lot of effort to blast through it.” Geez, stop talking! Maybe I haven’t worked in an office before, but I’ve had to sit through the same sort of “don’t harass your co-workers” videos countless times in retail.

           “Yeah, you still can’t give her to Ash, Bill,” the woman pipes up again. “Maybe we can shuffle a few assignments around.”

           “I’m really not that bad!” Ash’s one line of defense seems futile. It’s clear he and the woman get along, but she really seems worried that he would be too much for me.

           “I really don’t mind,” I say with a sly grin. “He doesn’t look so scary, I’m pretty sure I can handle him.” One of Ash’s dark eyebrows arches at me, and I’m acutely conscious of the warm blush darkening my cheeks. In actual fact, Ash does look a little intimidating. Even in my heels, he’s still several inches taller than I am. His dark hair, pulled into a long ponytail that ends passed his shoulders, is touched with just enough grey at his temples to appear debonair. That, combined with his darkly tanned complexion made his intense green eyes seem almost feral. I’m not sure if the stubble on his jaw is intentional, or if he just can’t be bothered to shave some days, but it makes him look slightly rugged. I hate to admit how often my eyes have wandered over him in the last week, but he seems to prefer loose-fitting shirts that still don’t manage to disguise his broad chest and shoulders and his muscular physique. He moves with the grace of a hunter, and people tend to get out of his way when he stalks around the office.

           Bill scoffs. “Well, as long as you promise not to quit when he becomes difficult. I’ll assign you.” He gives Ash a serious look and points his pen at him, “You be on your best behavior.”

           “I still maintain I was not the reason Julie quit. Not everyone is cut out for this and the stress was just too much for her.” He fixes me with those amazing eyes of his. “I’m really not that bad,” he says with a tinge of an apology.

           I tap my thumb to my fingers in a rhythmic, nervous gesture I hope isn’t too obvious. “I guess we’ll find out if I’m up to the challenge, then,” I give him my sweetest smile, and have to choke back a giggle when his brows draw together in a look of concern. Not the way to make friends and influence people, I tell myself. Maybe I’m the one Bill should be warning to be on good behavior.

           A couple of hours later, I’m sitting at my desk, trying to ignore my grumbling stomach while I push through training modules that make me feel like pins are repeatedly being jammed in my brain. The monotonous videos make me question why they couldn’t make an effort to make them slightly more entertaining. The ones where they tried to do exactly that answer the question in all their cringe worthy glory. Where did they find actors this bad and this enthusiastic?

           The soft knock on my cubicle wall gives me a much-appreciated distraction. “Oh man, that guy with the bright tie is the worst! Have you gotten to the part where he has his heart attack?”

           “Yeah, I’m shocked he didn’t even get a nomination for that Oscar worthy performance,” I answer sarcastically. I press pause and turn my chair to face Ash who is currently leaning against the cubicle’s padded wall, feet crossed at his ankles, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets, looking for all purposes to be a cowboy that put on the wrong outfit and got cast in this role of software consultant. “What can I do for you?”

           “I’ve got meetings all afternoon, and I’m starving.”

           I blink at him trying to decipher is meaning, but I have no idea what any of that has to do with me. “Umm… ok?”

           “We need to get started on this Slider project,” he explains. “I was thinking, if you’re free, we could go grab some lunch and talk about it over burgers, or whatever you feel like.”

           Burgers are definitely not on my Keto, low carb diet, but saliva is already pooling in my mouth at the thought of a good burger and fries. My stomach suddenly lets out a loud grumble in an embarrassing vote for food.

           “I’ll take that as a yes,” Ash says with a smirk. “Come on, I know a good place close by.”

           I figure this is probably one of the things about him that makes people think he’s difficult. Everything about him says it’s not a question, rather he takes charge and fully expects everyone around him to fall in line. I smirk as I grab my purse and follow him to the elevator. It would be easy enough to let him get his way and think I’m a push over until the day comes when he realizes I can be just as stubborn and demanding as the situation calls for.