Four

I arrive about half an hour early for my meeting at AnJ advertising. After speaking with my father last night about the two advertising options, he has decided to go forth with both of Ms. Johnsons ideas. Honestly, I could care less, because I know my father, and I know that trying to put a positive spin on his fakeness is gonna send me to a place I'd rather not go.

Everybody loves him. He is a kick ass lawyer, but like I said, I know the man.

We don't get along. Never have. I really don't know why either. Well, I do know why, but i rather not dwell on it.

I take a seat in the lobby and bide my time by scrolling on my phone. The office is busy this morning, and theres several workers scurrying about.

"Mr. Hutchinson! Ms. Johnson is finishing up with a zoom meeting and she should be done soon".

I recognize the woman, Gretchen, and give her a warm smile.

"That's quite alright, Gretchen. I'm a little early. Is it always this busy here"?

"Welcome to the madness", she laughs. "Well today is a bit of a wreck. Everyone is on pins and needles about a huge account we just scored. And we are about to have our annual holiday party. And one of our major accounts... deadline is tomorrow".

Oh, I see

"Follow me. You can wait for her in her office". She motions towards the hall and I follow.

"Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea"?

"No thank you. I'm fine".

The door clicks behind her and I make myself comfortable on the black couch in front of the wall of windows.

There is a framed picture on the coffee table of Alicia with her arms around a woman who looks to be a few years older than her, both of them smiling into the camera, both of them barefoot on a beach.

There's a painting on the far wall behind her desk of a rainy New York street with a woman standing and looking up at the sky scrapers. The picture is stunning.

The door clicks open and Gretchen appears with a bouquet of red roses. She sets the vase on the desk and is on her way out when another woman hands her a smaller bouquet of white roses.

Alicia enters the room and stares at the flowers. She looks pissed.

"Again"? She sighs. "Gretchen.... can you please put these someplace else? I don't want them".

"Perhaps, you should just tell him to stop sending you flowers", sighs Gretchen.

"I did... twice, and he doesn't get the hint".

"Okkkkkk. I will find a place for them".

"Thanks Gretchen".

I wonder why the flowers are a bad thing. And I wonder who sent them? Is it from a client ? Or does she have a significant other?

I don't know why it matters to me because it isn't any of my business. She looks annoyed, and a little sad. She looks... as if she has been crying.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long", she says as she crosses the room and shakes my hand. "Had a zoom conference that started a bit late. Please have a seat. Did Gretchen offer you anything? Coffee"...

"She did, and no thank you".

She takes a seat across from me and pours herself a glass of water. There's a slight shake in her hands, but she appears composed otherwise.

"I was quite taken aback at how quickly your father got back with me with his decision on which campaign he wanted to proceed with".

"He was very impressed with your ideas", I say confidently. "And I have to say, I agree with him for once".

"For once"? "I take it that you and your father don't really see eye to eye"? she stares at me intently with her dark brown eyes.

"Well... I'm that obvious"?

"Not really", she says as she's still staring at me.

Her beautiful brown eyes flash with a pang of understanding, or maybe I am just imagining things.

She clears her throat, and takes a seat next to me on the couch. She lays several contracts on the coffee table. "Here are the contracts", she sighs. "I need your father to look everything over. This is the contract from AnJ, and this"... she slides over a two page document, and her hand accidentally brushes against mine on the table... she takes a pause and then continues explaining the various contracts in great detail. She is leaning over the table studying documents, and her long chesnut hair hangs like a curtain around us. Her hair smells like sea salt, and a hint of something floral, and for a brief second, I find myself wanting to run my fingers through her beautiful hair.

I don't think she realizes the effect she has on me. She tucks a strand of her hair behind an ear, and we are both huddled over the table. Our knees accidentally touch, and she crosses her legs at the ankles. I wonder if she feels as tense as I do? If she does she's not letting on.

"I will make sure my father goes over everything, and will have a courrier deliver them by the end of today".

"That would be fantastic", she smiles. "Do you have any questions for me"?

"Just one", I muse....

She looks at me.

"You hate roses"? Well shit. That was NOT cool, fuck. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut.

"Sorry. I couldn't help but notice... the roses... then you sent them away".

She gathers the documents into a neat pile and grabs a folder with an AnJ logo emblazened on the front.

She busies herself with putting the documents in the folder.

"You noticed that huh",? she says. "I'm more of a wildflower person". And I think flowers are meant for other things.... like adoration... or congratulations, or sympathy... In this case... its to make someone not feel guilty over his selfish actions".

Ouch...

I want to ask if they were from a boyfriend or friend, but I refrain. I guess it's from a boyfriend. Why else would she be so riled up over receiving flowers? I wonder what he did to make her upset? Again, why does it bother me so much?

She gets up from the couch and heads towards her desk. Today she is dressed in a pair of black pants and a black sleeveless v neck shirt. A gray geometric pendant hangs from her neck on a silver chain. I can't help but be a little taken aback. She portrays cool confidence; but yet, there is an air of something else beneath the surface.

To the business world she's quite well known to be a bit ruthless, a perfectionist, her father has the reputation of a... well... I've not yet heard anything good about the man. I will leave it at that.

"Why do men think that flowers fixes everything"? She looks lost in thought and her eyes... they flash with a tinge of sorrow.

I'm not sure she's asking me... i think it's more of her just venting an frustration.

I don't know what posesses me... but I ask her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. She looks wound up and.... I'm not sure why I want to ask her...

"I for one could use a cup or coffee from that little cafe across the street. I have some time before I meet my father... would you care to join me? I'm harmless... I don't have roses", I laugh as I throw my hands up into the air.

"No, thank you Mr. Hutchinson. I don't think that is a good idea". She sits at her desk. "And I have another meeting in 15 minutes".

Feeling detected, I grab the folder off of the table and grab my satchel. "Perhaps another time then", I say.

"Have a good afternoon Ms. Johnson".

"You too Mr. Hutchinson". She rises from her seat and offers me a handshake and a curt nod and once again, as soon as I touch her, I feel a warmth shooting through my body.

And I find myself smitten with the dark eyed beauty.

Shit