This time I didn’twait for Ezra to answer me. I threw my laptop in my messenger bag and all butran from the building. I had gotten really good at slinking around the officeunseen, blending into walls and hiding behind corners. Also, I was gettingbetter at finding excuses not to meet Junior in his office whenever he had agood idea about the Black Soul account.
Henry was runningout of patience for my ducking and dodging, but it turned out that Ezra wasgood for something. Especially with so much of Mother Tucker’s support behindEzra’s account. I often used EFB Enterprise’s project as an excuse to get outof menial Black Soul tasks.
To be fair, therewere some setbacks with this plan. Like it was doing the opposite for my careerthat I wanted it too. I was supposed to be schmoozing Junior with my sweet socialmedia skills, convincing him I needed more lead designer projects and buildingthe reputation that would sustain the career I wanted.
Unfortunately, he wasmore interested in staring at my chest and accidentally bumping into me. Hecould care less about my portfolio or what I could offer the company he was setto inherit. I’d gone from highly optimistic that Black Soul was the projectthat would set me up for lifelong success to the dismal realization that I wasjust eye candy for Henry to ogle while he was forced to work.
I was lessdisappointed with that realization than I expected to be. Not that I lovedbeing mentally undressed all day long by one of theskeeziestpeople I had ever met, but maybe the expectations I’d put on myself to climbthis company ladder and make a name for myself had been somewhat contrived.Maybe. Possibly… Consider me still undecided.
The weather hadshifted now that we’d made it to the end of March. I could smell spring in theair, feel it in the fragrant breeze, although there was still a chill, and thetemperature always dropped when it started to get dark. But the days were graduallygetting longer. It felt so good to leave work at five o’clock and walk out intoearly twilight instead of black night. The sun was warming and brightening andthe trees had started blooming.
My phone buzzed inmy purse. I reached for it, struggling to pull it free while also carrying anempty coffee thermos and my office parking pass.
From: [email protected]
Date: March 31, 2017 17:11:38 EST
Subject: Re: Re: Tonight
We’ll ride together. We can talk website on the way. I’llpick you up at 6:45.
Ezra
P.S. Curmudgeon? I thought you had more moxie than that,Molly the Maverick.
Something flutteredlow in my belly, making me decidedly hot and also cold and also queasy. I slid ontothe driver’s seat of my two-year-old Volkswagen Jetta that I had named Joan—JoanJetta—and allowed myself one, brief, necessary smile. Depositing my things onthe passenger’s seat, I tapped the screen of my phone with nails that needed amanicure badly and decided my next move. I had moxie. I had moxie in spades.
From: [email protected]
Date: March 31, 2017 17:18:06 EST
Subject: Re: Re: Tonight
I’m a professional, Mr. Baptiste. It’s not my style to insultclients. Or accept rides from them to dinner parties.
MM.
There. That settledit. That would put an end to this email string and his ridiculous notion ofworking tonight.
I pulled out of theparking garage and headed home slowly, smashed between therestof downtown traffic anxious to get to their Friday night plans. My phone buzzedin my cup holder, but I waited three entire stoplights before I let myselfcheck it.
From: [email protected]
Date: March 31, 2017 17:29:27 EST
Subject: Re: Re: Tonight
Excellent.Since you, the consummate professional, don’t want to insultme, the curmudgeon client, I’m happy to hear you’ll accept my offer to driveyou this evening during our mobile meeting. I’ll pick you up at 6:45, MissMaverick. Bring your notes.
Ezra
P.S. This is fun. Does that count?
