“I have a list of clients to meet with, mostly routine check-ins to see if they have any concerns, and a meeting with the distributor to follow up on some delivery delays.”
“Ok, I think we can make that work. They’re on their way back from a visit now. I’ll send them to your office when they get here.”
“Thanks, Audrey.”
“You’re welcome. And good luck next week.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it.”
When he left, I pulled out my phone, messaging Jackson that I would be working late tonight. Maybe he could come over tomorrow instead? With Winnie and Jet occupied by Anthony’s work, I’d need to take back some of the jobs I’d given them, and I still needed to decide on a caterer and lock in this contract with the venue. I had had an idea this morning about the cocktail list that I was really excited about, and I hoped I could sort it out before the end of the day.
His response came back after a few moments.
Jackson: Ditching me already? Found another sex god to take my place?
Me: Just for tonight, he’s busy tomorrow
Jackson: Lucky me. And will I get to see the red set again?
Me: I might have something better in mind
Jackson: Tease
Me: Takes one to know one
Jackson: Touche
Jackson: Let me know how late you work. I’m on set for a possible reshoot tonight that might run over. If we’re both up at the same time, you can make it up to me
I was still smiling to myself as I called Tiff.
She answered after a single ring. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. Why?”
“You never call me during work hours.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s probably because I’m never calling you about something work-related. Are you busy right now?”
“Only pulling my hair out trying to draw up the shift schedule for the next month. Please save me.”
“Are you at home? I can meet you.”
“The bar. I’m pulling a double, so I had to come in early.”
“Oh, if you’re working, we can—”
“Not for another hour. Come over. We can expense some bar snacks to your work tab because I’m assuming you haven’t eaten lunch yet.” She was right, unfortunately.
“Great. Be there in ten.”
She poured me a drink when I walked in. “Tiff, you know I don’t drink while I’m working.”
“It’s two in the afternoon. It’s practically the weekend; live a little.” It was a line she’d tried on me multiple times, and it never worked, but that didn’t stopp her from trying. She pushed it towards me as I took a seat at the bar. “Just take a sip. It’s a spin on a sazerac I’m testing out, and I need an objective taste tester.”
“Ha, like I’m going to be objective.”
“You’ll be honest, and it’s the next best thing.” She nudged it closer to me, and I felt my resistance crumbling. “Please,” she whined, drawing the word out with a twang of her mother’s southern drawl.
