“Is something funny, Mr. Strom?” Rebecca asked. I bit my bottom lip to keep the grin off my face. Perhaps this wasn’t a commercial shoot. No problem. She would be putty in my hands by the end of the meeting, that’s what I had thought.
“How long have you worked at the agency, Rebecca? Welcome,” I said.
I could tell by her head-tilted snarky look that was the wrong thing to say.
“I’ve been with the agency as director of HR for two years, Mr. Strom. We have been in meetings together. But that isn’t important. This is a formal warning. You are to have no unnecessary contact at work with Ms. Caroline Fisher. You are to cease inviting her on to your account pitches. She was given the option to take this a step further, but she is giving you a chance here, Mr. Strom.”
Rebecca closed the file on her desk, my file I supposed, and placed her glasses on top of it.
I sat across from her and blinked. I wasn’t so much shocked as angry.How dare Caroline, someone I’ve helped grow and prosper at the agency, turn on me?We had something special at first. Something rivaling the connection Mia and I had. I know she felt it, too. Caroline had been new to the agency, new to town. I’d noticed her the day old Mr. Thompson was showing her around. But her second day, she was on her own. She needed a mentor, someone to show her the ropes and I would gladly apply for the job. When I saw her walking across the parking lot, I headed for the elevator and wouldn’t you know it, we ended up sharing a ride up together. Just the two of us.
You know by now I have a type. Thin, young, long hair. Caroline is no different. She has long, dirty-blond hair that swings past her shoulders, green eyes and she wears tight jeans, high heels and blazers to work. She takes my breath away.
“You’re head of account services?” she asked once I’d introduced myself in the elevator. “That’s my dream job. I mean, someday.”
She blushed, uncertain if I’d take her gunning for my job the right way. I didn’t feel threatened, of course. Just turned on. Really turned on.
“Well, to prep for your eventual takeover of my position, how about if I assign you to the essential oil account? It’s our most fun consumer-facing account at the moment.” I offered the position as I imagined rubbing Caroline with lavender oil, her shoulders, her thighs.
“That would be amazing, thank you, Mr. Strom,” she said.
“Call me Paul.” I shook her hand as the elevator doors opened, holding it a bit longer than usual. The sexual energy was there. It had been a promising start.
And then, boom. Once she found out I was married, suddenly I was a stalker. We had been working long hours on the essential oil account, preparing for the big pitch when my secretary interrupted, explaining my wife was on the line and it was urgent. It wasn’t. Mikey had a fever, that was it. But it was enough. After I took the call, Caroline had changed.
I tried to joke around with her, put my hand on her shoulder like I had before the call. She shook it off.
“Paul, I didn’t know you were married.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Yes, so?” I said, focusing on the presentation scattered on the conference room table.
“Kids, too?” she asked. She blinked her big eyes at me and shook her head.
Of course she was surprised. I’d never met with her in my office, where the photos of my perfect family are displayed. And recently, I’d gotten into the habit of forgetting to wear my wedding ring. I’d been keeping her busy on the essential oil pitch, so busy she hadn’t had a chance to bond with anyone else at the agency, hadn’t had an opportunity to get the real scoop on me. But so what? So she didn’t know about my family, but they didn’t have anything to do with us, with Caroline and me.
We hadn’t even made out yet, I hadn’t kissed her full lips. I had been just about to make my first move. Such a missed opportunity. She didn’t seem to be as sad about this development as I was. She seemed mad, come to think of it. Ah, the folly of youth. I knew she’d come around, welcome me into her life once she got over the little shock of my wife, and kids. Of course she would. She could feel the electricity between us.
Back in the Little Shop of Horrors I said, “There are two sides to every story, Rebecca.” I sat up straight in my chair and leaned a little forward, full of power and anger at being wrongfully accused of something by this woman. She was a rank below me, Rebecca was, and should call me Mr. Strom. Caroline was several rungs below me—I thought of that and an image of Caroline’s young, beautiful body, naked and below me, sent shivers down my spine. I composed myself and added, “Caroline is a young, impressionable junior account executive, barely out of college, and fully delusional.”
Rebecca did that annoying, snarky head tilt again and said, “So you’re denying the harassment?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know what harassment is, Mr. Strom?” Rebecca asked.
“Of course I do. That’s why I can say with authority that I’ve done nothing of the kind. There is nobody who loves and cherishes women more than me, Rebecca. I’ve promoted women all of my career. I prefer working with women over men. That is the opposite of harassment,” I said. I was growing tired of this meeting. I wanted her to hand me the file, and then I wanted to go to Mr. Thompson and have her fired.
“You call her cell phone five times a day, both during work hours and in the evenings. You text her sometimes fifteen times per day. You are angry she will not go out with you, Mr. Strom. You are angry that someone has told you no, aren’t you?”
“Of course not. I’m calling her for work-related issues. She is assigned to many of my accounts,” I said.
“You are clever, Mr. Strom. No voice-mail messages except to call you, no threatening texts. Just to contact you. Why is it so urgent that she call or text you, all the time? What work-related topic, Mr. Strom, could possibly require that type of constant communication on weekends even?”
“We are a busy agency, Rebecca. Surely you know that clients don’t care if it’s after hours or on the weekend, not if they need things,” I said. Everyone has needs, I thought. I wondered what Rebecca needed. Unfortunately, she was not my type. We both knew that.
Rebecca had put her glasses back on and opened the file again. She appeared to be reading some sort of printout, a list of some kind. “This is Caroline Fisher’s personal cell phone record from last month. She has not turned over any other communications from you to me, and won’t if you cease.” I wonder what I was forgetting about, what else Caroline might have from me. I swallowed. Rebecca stared at me and waited for an answer.
“Sure, fine. I’ll immediately assign Andy Pool to my accounts and replace Caroline Fisher. He’s a great kid, much better at his job than Ms. Fisher, actually. Maybe she will enjoy working on the technical manuals? Those high-tech clients just churn through our young people. You should place her there,” I said. “My accounts will be fine. They’ll love working with Andy.”
