oh.
Theo Anderson turned to the other people in his group and quickly introduced them, though his eyes never left my face.
Marion excused herself a short time later, leaving me to my doom, err, job.
“So, Mr. Anderson, why don’t we start with having you tell me what ideas you have for the event. We can brainstorm and narrow down concepts,” I suggested, proud of myself for sounding like I knew what the hell I was talking about. I waved the group toward a small table by the open bar and concession area.
“Please, call me Theo. Mr. Anderson makes me feel so old,” he quipped and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask him exactly how old he was. And normally I would have. But the personality quirks of every day Vivian Baily wouldn’t fly in my new nine to five.
“Okay, Theo,” I acquiesced. I sat down with Theo and the rest of his team. A woman, he had introduced as Shelly, opened a file folder and began to hand me printouts and project schemes.
I was trying not to get overwhelmed. But the scope of this event was huge. It was way beyond anything I had ever coordinated before and I was silently cursing Marion and whole “time to throw you in the deep end” pep talk.
After thirty minutes of making illegible notes and shuffling piles of papers as they were shoved my way, my head felt like it was going to explode. Theo Anderson’s eyes spent most of the time fixed to my face in a way that both exhilarated me and left me uncomfortable.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I’m getting the feeling that you’ve taken in about all that you can,” Theo laughed and I didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.
His team gave their thanks and left, leaving me alone with Theo. I held up the pile of papers I had been given. “I’ll look these over and come up with a project plan and email it to you for approval. If there’s anything you need or if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call,” I said, wishing he’d hurry up and leave so I could have a few minutes to breathe.
Theo put a heavy hand on my shoulder, surprising me. “Marion had mentioned this was your first day. If I were you I would have run out of here by now,” he chuckled and I found myself relaxing.
“I definitely thought about it,” I teased. Theo’s hand remained on my shoulder, his palm hot through my blouse.
“You’re doing great. You have some amazing ideas. I know this gala is in the right hands,” he reassured me, squeezing his fingers slightly. I cleared my throat, the awkwardness of his hand on my skin becoming pronounced. Perhaps picking up on my tension, he finally dropped his hand back to his side. He flushed slightly and looked away almost bashfully.
“It was nice meeting you, Vivian. I look forward to talking to you soon,” he said, giving me a sweet smile before leaving.
I had officially survived my first two hours on the job. And not too shabbily either. I watched as Theo got into the passenger side of a blue Honda. He really was a good-looking man. And what had been that odd hand on the shoulder move before he left? I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to work it out. Suddenly he turned to face the building again and even though I was almost sure he couldn’t see me staring, I looked away quickly.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and was greeted with another picture from Cole. Though, thankfully this one wasn’t so risqué. I looked down at a snapshot of the marquee at the theater in Houston where the band would be playing tonight. Generation Rejects stood out in bright red letters.
Missing my favorite reject.
I didn’t bother to respond. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.
Instead I turned off my phone.
I tried to roll over but smashed my elbow into the wall. I let out a barely audible grunt and rubbed at the throbbing flesh. With my other good hand I felt around for the cell phone I vaguely remember tucking under my pillow before I went to sleep last night.
You know,
Theo Anderson turned to the other people in his group and quickly introduced them, though his eyes never left my face.
Marion excused herself a short time later, leaving me to my doom, err, job.
“So, Mr. Anderson, why don’t we start with having you tell me what ideas you have for the event. We can brainstorm and narrow down concepts,” I suggested, proud of myself for sounding like I knew what the hell I was talking about. I waved the group toward a small table by the open bar and concession area.
“Please, call me Theo. Mr. Anderson makes me feel so old,” he quipped and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask him exactly how old he was. And normally I would have. But the personality quirks of every day Vivian Baily wouldn’t fly in my new nine to five.
“Okay, Theo,” I acquiesced. I sat down with Theo and the rest of his team. A woman, he had introduced as Shelly, opened a file folder and began to hand me printouts and project schemes.
I was trying not to get overwhelmed. But the scope of this event was huge. It was way beyond anything I had ever coordinated before and I was silently cursing Marion and whole “time to throw you in the deep end” pep talk.
After thirty minutes of making illegible notes and shuffling piles of papers as they were shoved my way, my head felt like it was going to explode. Theo Anderson’s eyes spent most of the time fixed to my face in a way that both exhilarated me and left me uncomfortable.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I’m getting the feeling that you’ve taken in about all that you can,” Theo laughed and I didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.
His team gave their thanks and left, leaving me alone with Theo. I held up the pile of papers I had been given. “I’ll look these over and come up with a project plan and email it to you for approval. If there’s anything you need or if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call,” I said, wishing he’d hurry up and leave so I could have a few minutes to breathe.
Theo put a heavy hand on my shoulder, surprising me. “Marion had mentioned this was your first day. If I were you I would have run out of here by now,” he chuckled and I found myself relaxing.
“I definitely thought about it,” I teased. Theo’s hand remained on my shoulder, his palm hot through my blouse.
“You’re doing great. You have some amazing ideas. I know this gala is in the right hands,” he reassured me, squeezing his fingers slightly. I cleared my throat, the awkwardness of his hand on my skin becoming pronounced. Perhaps picking up on my tension, he finally dropped his hand back to his side. He flushed slightly and looked away almost bashfully.
“It was nice meeting you, Vivian. I look forward to talking to you soon,” he said, giving me a sweet smile before leaving.
I had officially survived my first two hours on the job. And not too shabbily either. I watched as Theo got into the passenger side of a blue Honda. He really was a good-looking man. And what had been that odd hand on the shoulder move before he left? I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to work it out. Suddenly he turned to face the building again and even though I was almost sure he couldn’t see me staring, I looked away quickly.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and was greeted with another picture from Cole. Though, thankfully this one wasn’t so risqué. I looked down at a snapshot of the marquee at the theater in Houston where the band would be playing tonight. Generation Rejects stood out in bright red letters.
Missing my favorite reject.
I didn’t bother to respond. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.
Instead I turned off my phone.
I tried to roll over but smashed my elbow into the wall. I let out a barely audible grunt and rubbed at the throbbing flesh. With my other good hand I felt around for the cell phone I vaguely remember tucking under my pillow before I went to sleep last night.
You know,
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