“I’m sorry, Ms. Hendricks. I’ll do it. I never expected you to wash.” Her face is taut with worry.
“Oh, it’s fine. I know how to work a washer.”
“Okay then. Let me know if you have any problems.”
I head back up to my office and continue to address the long list of emails while I wait for her call.
After an hour, I check the clock, and on cue, my phone rings.
“Hello, Miranda. Is everything okay?”
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Hendricks. But somehow these plants, I mean flowers, were caught in Mr. Johns’s clothes, and, and…”
“It’s okay, Miranda. I should have checked more thoroughly. I didn’t expect any foliage in his clothes. Can we just wash them again?”
“Ms. Hendricks… his clothes are stained pink and yellow,” she wallows.
“Miranda, it’s fine. These things happen, and I’ll take full responsibility for them. Dry the clothes, and I’ll deliver them myself. Oh, and if you have any remnants of the flowers, can you please keep them so I can show Mr. Johns what happened? It isn’t our fault.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for understanding.”
“Miranda, this had nothing to do with you. It was an oversight on my behalf not to check his clothes first. So please, don’t worry. I’ll deal with Mr. Johns myself.”
I thought I was being a smartass. I drop my face into my hands. My lungs constrict, making it hard for me to breathe. Why am I resorting to attention-seeking behavior? Now I have implicated Miranda, who I’ll defend to HR if it comes to that. Why couldn’t I have said,thanks for the flowers, but please don’t send any again, as there is nothing between us?
I imagined him angry.
I visualized the team taunting him, so he was humiliated in the early days of being here.
I wanted to punish him.
The revenge behavior will never alleviate my pain, so why am I doing it?
I inhale a sharp breath when the truth surfaces.
I still want him.
Even when I push him too far, the BJ I know willneverfight back.
18
BRANDON
After training,I shower and head to the locker room. In locker #22 is a pile of clean laundry.Weird!I usually drop by and collect it from the personal services office.
“Pink now your color, BJ?” Simpson sneers.
What?I have no words. It’s a freaking pile of rainbow clothes. Then I see the folded piece of paper.
Note to self: Flowers and laundry do not mix.
“You knowany color looks good on me, man.” I wink at Simpson, controlling my building frustration.
Byron walks into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s going on?”
Is he in on this?
Simpson nods toward me. “BJ has changed his style since we last saw him.”
