9 inch addiction, p.2
9-Inch Addiction, page 2
“Nothing, Monty.”
He nodded, “Good. So it’s settled.”
He thrust his hands into his pockets after running them through his silvery gray hair. His eyes reddened from the liquor and the tobacco smoke. He let out another cough and then patted his own chest.
“Make sure he keeps his nose clean. No public affairs. No drugs. No fights.”
“Sounds like a job for a nanny.”
“I’m serious, Ida.”
“With all due respect Monty, if he’s so much trouble, why is he working here? We’ve both got a lot on our plate and with the Shanghai deal coming up —”
“That’s exactly why we need him,” Monty interrupted, “The Shanghai deal.”
“Is something wrong?”
Monty shook his head, “No. There isn’t. But Charles managed to do something amazing in London. Working with Vanderbilt & Scott he closed every single $50 million deal with a 100% success rate.”
“Whoa.”
“He’s damn good at mergers.”
Damn good? He sounded better than good. We’d been struggling to close our international markets for upwards of two years. We’d used every top negotiator in the world, including those trained by the FBI and military negotiators who’d served in Iraq.
“Why hasn’t he come here earlier then?”
Monty cleared his throat and scowled.
“Personal problems.”
From his scowl, I knew he meant that we wouldn’t be discussing these personal problems and they were likely to do with Charles Banks frequent unfavorable media appearances and his run-ins with the law.
“This is a lot to ask, Monty.”
“I know.”
He patted me on the back.
“If we pull through, we’ll all be rich.”
I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow. Monty was already rich. He’d been born rich, just like his granddaddy and daddy before him. Not every thought needs to be said out loud so I just smiled and stared out over New York with him.
“Thanks, Ida.”
I left his office, returning to mine with a sense of confusion. I’d walked into Monty’s office intending to get a raise. I’d received no raise, the possibility of an extra bonus and even more work than I already had. I was swamped.
As I sat at my desk, Pippa knocked on my door. It should be easy for you to guess why Philippa Wiltshire worked at Banks & Wiltshire. After failing to find a job and spending half a fortune of her four Masters of Fine Arts, I’d been gifted an assistant.
Pippa helped, and she was a sweet girl, although not the brightest tool in the shed for one who had attended Barnard, NYU and Columbia.
“Sorry to disturb Miss Bell.”
“You aren’t disturbing anything, I just got back from my meeting with Monty.”
Pippa turned a bright red to match her shock of red hair when I mentioned Monty’s name. Her tortoise shell glasses fogged up and she took them off to clean them on her button down, pulling it out of the corduroy skirt to use the ends.
“What did he say?” She asked, squinting at me as she cleaned her glasses.
“Work, work and more work. Now hurry on up with those glasses, ‘cause I’ve got work for you too.”
“Yes ma’am,” Pippa replied, hastily replacing her glasses, tangling some of her red hair in the process.
“Oh… Before you start,” she muttered, searching for her notebook in her pockets.
“It’s on the desk.”
She lunged forward and grabbed the notebook, flipping a few pages before she spoke.
“Ah yes. Uh… You have a date tonight with Chad Corbett and he called making sure you were still on.”
“Cancel it.”
“Cancel it?” Pippa asked.
Was my dating life that desolate that a cancelled date sent my assistant into a near panic?
“Yes Pippa, I meant what I said.”
She tucked her shirt back into the corduroy.
“Are you sure? He sounded nice on the phone.”
I glanced up from my computer at Pippa. Her naive twenty-eight year old mind couldn’t fathom why an unmarried woman over forty would cancel a date. A few more years on the New York dating scene and I was sure she’d start to understand…
“Working late tonight, Monty’s orders,” I replied, passing the blame onto work as I usually did.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Great. Now I need you to head down to HR and pull up everything you can on that new junior copywriter.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then I want you to call the New Jersey branch and ask them to send over last month’s financial statements.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I want some hazelnut coffee in here by 11 — almond milk, no sugar.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She stood staring blankly for a while. I toyed with remaining silent myself, just to see how long she’d stand there before getting started. I sighed and instead said patiently, “You can move along now Pippa, thank you.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Pippa the broken record stepped out of my office. I sighed. No more date with Chad, but at least I’d get my raise early. I opened the top drawer to my desk and reached for my emergency bar of chocolate. At my office, that was a necessity and far better for me than Monty’s emergency whiskey, or emergency cigar.
I unwrapped the chocolate when I heard a familiar voice calling outside my office.
“Is that chocolate?!”
Letty. You couldn’t crack open a soda, a chocolate bar, a sandwich, or anything without her ambling over and asking for a piece. The girl was hopeless. Sweet girl, but hopeless. She entered my office and we shared the chocolate together.
Letty was the only other black woman in my office and the only listening ear who could appreciate how much I struggled.
“How’d it go?”
“No can do,” I snorted.
“Are you serious?”
I nodded.
Letty shook her head.
“These white folks… Something’s gotta give.”
“I need to stand up for myself,” I replied, “And get out of here.”
“Amen to that.”
I wondered why I was the only executive in the office who seemed to be struggling to hold it all together. Despite outranking Letty in the corporate structure, she was the only one I could relate to about wanting more for my money.
New York ain’t cheap, and it ain’t getting any cheaper. I had to find a way out of this mess and a way to show Monty that I deserved more pay. I just had to.
My phone buzzed.
“Whose that?”
“Chad,” I grumbled, glancing at my phone and ignoring it.
“Sexy Chad?”
I glared, “Just Chad.”
“What’s up with him?”
“Cancelled our date,” I grumbled.
Letty raised her eyebrows and cast a shady side-eye in my direction.
“Okay girl, you do you.”
Her message was clear: She thought I was just as crazy as Pippa did.
Could a woman catch a break around here?
“AND I WAS LIKE BRO… BRO…”
A deep man’s voice pierced my eardrums as the elevator doors opened. Today couldn’t have gone off to a worse start.
After Letty and I had spoken, I’d gone home and worked ahead, then I spoke to my sister on the phone, promising her I’d help with her lawyer bills, something I shouldn’t have done.
Out of guilt, I called my other sister who chewed me out for giving her the money in the first place. She didn’t understand why I kept posting bail for her. I’d been expecting support, not a fight that lasted ’til midnight.
By the time I got around to falling asleep, it must have been after 2, because I woke up late. It was that sort of late where you fool yourself into thinking if you hurry, you’ll make it on time.
I slipped into my wool skirt, my black tights, my blue Oxford with the white collar and of course my navy peacoat over it all. I did my makeup and hair on the train while swearing to myself and acting like a crazy lady.
The line to Starbucks was too long on the office’s block so I skipped coffee, sentencing myself to the cruel fate of the weak Keurig coffee Monty insisted we drink. Then, when I got to the front door, I realized I’d forgotten my keycard. I sprinted back down the block to where I was certain I’d seen our junior intern in line for Starbucks to ask him for his keycard.
Of course, he was nowhere to be seen and turning back for the second time, I stepped in a subway grate and snapped the heel right off my new slingback Prada’s.
My stomach twisted into knots when I heard the heel break like the delicate bones of a baby bird.
“SHIT!”
I never swore, but right then, I couldn’t help it. The words flowed out of my mouth too naturally and the Wall Street types walking by let me know exactly how they felt about it with their dirty looks. I’d returned to the building only to find someone in HR at the door willing to let me in without my card.
I took my shoes off and carried them shamefully into the elevator. When I closed the doors on the way up, I caught my breath and prayed for just one moment of peace.
So when the door opened and when I heard that booming voice, I knew instantly that peace was the last thing I’d get.
“THAT JACKASS NEVER SHOWED UP TO THAT BAR IN DUBAI AGAIN, I SWEAR TO GOD.”
After the booming voice, came laughter, and I realized that I was worried about being late when absolutely no-one at the office was even working. I could hear them ‘round the corner, crowded around the coffee maker.
Once I came ‘round the corner, they all looked at me sheepishly and hushed up. The man they were standing around was both familiar and unfamiliar to me.
Charles Banks — my new ward.
I glowered and pushed past a few employees towards the coffee. I thrust my paper cup beneath the drip and pressed, waiting for what felt like an eternity for hot water to start pouring out.
The employees just stared at me, as if they saw the look on my face and knew it was better to just say nothing.
Charles kept staring at me. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t show signs of fear, reverence, or even concern that he was causing a ruckus in a corporate office. He just smiled, broad and annoying, as he watched me.
“Don’t you all have work to do?” I grumbled as the water finished filling my cup with delicious hot brew.
A few employees scattered but some still stood in rapt attention at Charles Banks who was clearly loving every minute of it.
Charles smiled broadly as he looked at me. I grabbed my cup and stormed off back to my desk. My words had some impact on the office as more people started working. I could already see what type of guy Chuck was going to be around here: a disruption.
As I crossed the threshold of my office, I caught my heel on something and tripped, spilling half the coffee onto the ground.
“Crap…” I grumbled.
I couldn’t catch a break. I dropped my purse on my desk and proceeded to wipe up the spill. I had about five minutes before Pippa would show up, asking me to do something or bringing me a litany of complaints from Monty upstairs.
I could hear Chuck, still at the coffee machine, still rousing everyone in the office to his attention. They thought I didn’t notice, but some of the employees snuck back to listen to him.
This story was about how him and his buddies stole a yacht in Martha’s Vineyard and took a joyride around the cape. Charming.
I rolled my eyes and shut my office door. His voice boomed louder, so I slipped on my headphones and played a few minutes of This American Life while I organized my meetings and planned my business calls.
Monty wanted me to wrangle that guy? In his dreams.
I settled down, drank what was left of my coffee and for a moment I started to believe that I’d have a peaceful day.
A knock came at my office door, shattering the illusion.
“Come in,” I grumbled, hoping it was peppy red-headed Pippa rather than anyone else.
This time it was Letty.
“Girl, that guy is so annoying,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.
“Tell me about it…”
“I need the reports from Outreach and Molly just keeps staring at him with the widest eyes like he’s hot shit.”
“Yeah. Listen Letty, sorry to cut you off but I came in late. I got work to do.”
“No problem boss. Let me know if you need anything.”
She smiled at me, and I relaxed, comforted that someone had my back around here.
Leticia left and two minutes later… BOOM!
My door swung open, slamming against the wall.
“GOOD MORNING!”
Chuck boomed across from me. I removed my headphones and glared miserably at him.
“Knock knock,” I muttered.
“Sorry about that.”
He walked across my office and grabbed my Columbia rocking chair, dragging it across from my desk and sitting in it.
“This is nice,” he said, leaning back into the wood and then putting his feet up. On my desk.
My mouth dropped open, too shocked to protest, really.
“Aren’t you supposed to be looking after me?”
I raised an eyebrow. At that moment, I didn’t care what Monty had asked of me.
“Being a babysitter isn’t in my job description Mr. Banks. I’m the Chief Marketing Officer and looking after you isn’t in the scope of my duties.”
He chuckled and then laughed.
“You can call me Chuck.”
I glared at him. I didn’t want to call him anything. I wanted his feet off my desk.
He leaned back, rocking in my chair, his Gucci loafers still perched on my desk.
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to show me the ropes,” he said.
I started putting my headphones in.
“…And,” he continued, “I outrank you in the company. So technically, I’m your boss.”
His smug smile sent pangs of rage surging through me. Chuck’s emerald eyes glinted with glee the more visible flustered I became. For some reason, he enjoyed torturing me.
I sighed.
“What is it you need help with?”
“Miss Bell, you aren’t married are you? Not with that attitude probably…”
I slammed my pen down on the table and he chuckled again.
“Sorry about that. So do you prefer Miss Bell or Ida?”
“Ida’s just fine.”
“Great. Great. Dad has told me great things about you.”
“I’m flattered,” I replied flatly.
He grinned again, “You don’t look flattered. You look annoyed.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Look, I don’t mean to bother you Ida. It’s my first day. Can’t a guy catch a break?”
A guy can catch these hands. I thought to myself.
Of course, I didn’t say that out loud. I just sighed, trying to be patient, and remembering the possibility of a raise that lay at the other end of this torture.
“I’ll give you a break,” I replied, “If you take your feet off my desk.”
He swung his feet onto the ground, still smirking at me.
“All you have to do is ask, Ida. Your wish is my command.”
I raised my eyebrows again, doubting that I could get this man to do anything I wanted.
“So,” I guided him back to the matter at hand, “What is it you need help with?”
“Well, I’m the VP. I need to know what’s going on around here. Who works hard, who doesn’t. Who should get the axe, who shouldn’t.”
“That’s not really my purview.”
“Fine then. Tell me about your department.”
He watched me closely, his green eyes piercing into mine. When it came to business, I could tell his arrogance belied his intelligence. He was smart and I knew it once I started talking to him about my department.
He asked pointed questions and for a few minutes, I started to wonder if he wasn’t as annoying as I thought.
He interrupted me describing my latest holiday marketing campaign with a loud groan.
“UGH.”
“Is there a problem Chuck?”
“Boring, boring, boring.”
“Excuse me?”
“Talking about all this, it’s boring. C’mon. Do you feel challenged Ida? Be honest. Do you feel challenged here?”
I smiled at him then. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how corporate men thought and an “honest” answer was far from what he wanted.
“I’m beyond satisfied with Banks & Wiltshire. I can’t think of a good reason to leave such an accommodating workplace.”
He searched my face for signs of dishonesty, but he wasn’t going to get any. Not from me. He stood up, leaned over my desk and sat his face right up next to mine. As he got closer to me, I could smell his cologne.
Expensive, fragrant and intensely masculine. His eyes widened again and I observed flecks of yellow glinting as he struggled to understand me.
“Hm,” he replied, “I think you’re lying.”
“Chuck,” I huffed, “Can we get back to work?”
“Why?”
I rolled my eyes.
“You and I both know why you’re here. We have an account to close soon and if we aren’t talking about work, I’d love to get back into what I was doing… which is important.”
He peered over at my notepad.
“It doesn’t look important.”
“Well, it is.”
How could this guy be thirty-five?
“Hm.”
He peered over and replied, “You’ve got this wrong. If you approach it from angle C, that will double your conversions.”
“Huh?”
“It’s simple. That market responds better to a less individualistic approach. If you read through the last research report, it’s clearly stated on page 393, section VI.”
My mouth hung open. I glanced over my notes and wondered how he’d managed to piece that together so quickly. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it.
I closed my notebook.
“Thank you, Chuck.”
He glanced at his watch, “Would you look at the time? We’ll be late.”
“Late?”
“For the board meeting. Chop chop. Monty can’t have you all moving this slow, can he?”
