Vampire Bride

Chapter Six

Charlie

I tell myself encouraging and positive thoughts to help me get through my day. Nothing but relaxation and relief flow through me as I recline in my office chair with a coffee mug in hand. The silence of the empty office building adds to my comfort, although it doesn’t last forever.

“Good morning, Charlie,” Morgan sings as she pokes her head into my office.

“Must you every morning?” I say, annoyed.

“It is morning and your name is Charlie,” Morgan retorts.

“It’s how you say it, not why you say it, but anyways, good morning to you too, Morgan.”

“Well, we have a big party on Saturday, so there’s a lot to do. I’m going to get to work at the front desk.” She ducks out of the open doorway.

“Not so fast,” I yell, patiently waiting until she stands in the doorway again. “I need to talk to you about something. Sit down.” My index finger points to the chair that sits across from me.

The discontent on her face as she solemnly drags her feet to the chair and restlessly plops herself down on the soft cushion causes the tension in the room to thicken. This is going to be an uncomfortable conversation for the both of us.

“Yes, Charlie,” she mumbles, fiddling with her fingers, keeping her eyes locked on her lap.

“I came into the office Saturday afternoon, early evening and noticed that the office was...how can I word this...unkempt. I was wondering if you knew anything about that.”

“Maybe. Most likely. I told him it was a bad idea.” Her stalling lets me know she feels bad about what she did at least.

“Wait. What? You told who it was bad idea?”

“James. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now after meeting at church. Anyways, we both have roommates and it was his designated night, but he refused for us to stay at his apartment, so…” She stops right in the middle of her sentence, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

I wait for her to continue in silence.

Her eyes roam all over the room, but never once land on me. “He said we should come here.”

“What’s so bad about him offering to come here?” Her refusal to continue leaves me no choice but to question her to pry the information out. I’m not mad at her for the poor choice she made, just disappointed.

“He kind of invited a few friends to tag along. I promise they didn’t touch a thing. We all were in the conference room.” Her palms smooth the fabric of the skirt. “The behavior that took place behind that closed door were irresponsible childish acts that shouldn’t have happened,” she blurts out as she sits stick straight in the chair.

Part of me is curious about what those acts were, but the bigger part of me doesn’t want to go there. “Just make sure it never happens again and if it does, don’t leave a mess behind. If he even says your place of employment, tell him I will personally have a talk with him. Don’t make me take the spare key away. Now off to work. I need you to add calling the printer on your to-do list; we need more business cards and mailers.” I watch her walk out and pray that the message got across.

What kind of boy wants to make out at his girlfriend’s workplace and invite friends along? Not a typical church boy. Not to mention, that behavior from Morgan is completely unexpected. To take my mind off the group of partying adults, I start to work on my checklist.

First call is to the florists. After the third ring, a familiar voice answers the phone. “Bunches Floral, how can I help you?” a chipper male voice says.

“Hello, Justin.”

“Well, well, well, I was expecting a call from you this week. How’s our favorite Charlie doing?”

“Our favorite Charlie? Am I not the only one you know?” I love my conversations with Justin and his business partner, as well as life partner, Robert.

“The only female we know with the male name that’s not a drag queen. Anyways, we’re working on the order and we’ll be there at the venue at noon for delivery. I have something better to talk about with you, a question really.”

“Go on,” I instruct.

“We’re in need of a party planner and we want to enlist you.”

“When you say we, you mean Robert and yourself? What kind of party can I assist you with?” My curiosity spikes.

“Of course Robert and me, who else? We’re getting married.” The excitement in his voice resembles a screaming woman. I can’t help but to giggle.

“I guess I can fit my two favorite people in my calendar. Just email the information when you have it. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Charlie. We’ll see you Saturday.”

I hang up the phone and continue to move down my list of venders to call. Most of them I’m not looking forward to speaking with as much as I always am with Justin and Robert. A loud, long sigh exits my mouth at the thought of another party to plan. I wonder when I’ll ever be caught up, but then again business is business.

Before I know it, the days separating me from the three hundred thousand dollar sweet sixteen party are dwindling away. Each day Morgan barely talks to me since she’s still embarrassed at her outrageous behavior. When Friday afternoon finally arrives I’m wearing down and eager at the same time.

The sound of the office phone ringing forces my heavy eyelids to perk up. Before the second chime, Morgan answers it. Within seconds, though, her voice sounds through the tiny speaker on the phone’s base. I roll my eyes and answer the phone with a perky energetic voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Monroe, what can I do for you this lovely afternoon? I assure you I’m working on your son’s birthday party and will have everything you asked for by next weekend.” Mrs. Monroe is a reoccurring client of mine. She would call me almost every day, making sure I had everything ordered and every last detail that she demanded met.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Charlie, but I hope what I say next doesn’t ruin anything.” Oh my, now what, I think to myself. “I really think Riley would love oompa loompas at his birthday party. Is that possible?” she asks, even though I know she’s not asking, she’s demanding.

You’ve got to be kidding me. She thinks that her two-year-old son would like oompa loompas at his birthday party. I can’t imagine him even remembering his second birthday, but I have to do what the client wants. “Not a problem at all, Mrs. Monroe. How many exactly?”

“Four will do. I’ll give you an additional six hundred dollars to hire them. I can’t say that I’ll talk to you next Saturday, because I’ll probably call before then.”

“Not a problem. Goodbye, Mrs. Monroe.” I hang up and mumble to myself how it’s beyond a problem and is a nuisance. Where the hell am I going to find four little people to hire in less than five days?

As if a light bulb went off above my head, I know exactly where I’m going to get some eager little people. Mid-dial Morgan appears in my doorway.

“What did Mrs. Monroe want?” she asks.

“Oompa loompas,” I say, short and to the point.

“Oompa loompas?”

“Do not make me say it again. Yes, oompa loompas. If you don’t remember, her son’s second birthday party is next Saturday and it’s Willy Wonka themed.”

“Where are you going to find people to help you with that?” Her skepticism is daunting to my ego.

I raise the phone so she can see that I’m in the process of finding people.

“You mean to tell me you know little people?”

“No, I know somebody who’s surrounded by little people all day. Juliet. I’m staying late so you can go home and get some rest, just make sure to lock the door behind you when you leave. See you tomorrow at The Liberty Hotel at eleven a.m. sharp.” I pronounce those last few words implying that she shouldn’t be staying up late doing who knows what with this James.

I finish dialing Juliet’s number and wait until she answers. “What do you want?” Her voice is charming yet full of inquisitiveness.

“I need you to do me a favor. One of my clients just sprung some last minute details for her son’s birthday party on me and you’re the only person who can help.”

“I like the sound of that. What do you need?”

“I need you to charm the drama teacher.”

“Seriously? You know I can’t talk to Wilson.” The anger and embarrassment that fog her voice is the least of my concern.

“I need four students that have potential to be oompa loompas. There have to be mothers out there who think their child is the best and I’ll pay them.” My bribing voice overtakes any annoyance that grows deep within my chest. I know she refuses to talk with Wilson Geoffrey, the drama teacher, ever since she asked him out for drinks one day and he turned her down only to start dating the art teacher a few days later, but this is more important than a crushed ego.

“Really? Isn’t there anything else I could do, like ask my students?” she offers.

“Listen, he turned you down over a year ago. I need striving wannabe actors not just any kid. All you have to do is relay the message and give him my email address. I’ll talk with him further. I really need you to help me out on this, Juliet. There’s no way I can hold auditions for little people on such a short notice. You’re a junior high teacher; you’re surrounded by short people who are starving for a little slice of stardom. If not for a handful of cash.”

“Being painted orange isn’t stardom,” she states, unamused at how I’m referring to this as a professional gig. However, before I can counter her grouchy mood, she starts speaking again. “But, I’ll do it for you…not for free, though. You owe me and as payment we can go out to dinner before the club tonight.”

“About that…”

“Charlie, come on,” she whines.

“I have an outrageous sweet sixteen birthday party tomorrow that costs almost twice as much as my house; I can’t afford to screw this up and go out tonight. You knew I wouldn’t be coming every week because my schedule has picked up. Two weeks, I’ll buy you the most extravagant meal you can think of in two weeks.” Boy, she drives a hard bargain.

“Fine.” She hangs up before I can say anything further like maybe simmer the tension that’s obviously streaming off of her. She might be a sixth grade teacher, but she acts like a sixth grader herself sometimes.

I leave the office before nightfall to compel myself to relax and get as much rest as possible. More than aware that tonight is my dancing night, the night I usually see Maxwell, making sleep difficult. However, unlike every other night this week his voice soothes me into slumber.