Anita snorted lightly before covering it up with a cough.
Shoot me now.
“Anybody drive here on a motorcycle?” Mike said. “We might be able to make that happen today.”
Thankfully, nobody raised their hand. I desperately wanted to explain that if I had had more than three minutes to think about my bucket list, I might have come up with something better that didn’t cost any money. But instead, I said nothing. I was in this now. I didn’t even think I liked motorcycles. Did I?
Duke’s cheery eyes settled on me. “I like it. For you interns, we follow up on bucket list items every month at our staff meeting.”
“What’s yours, Duke?” Anita asked, her greedy eyes roaming all over his face.
He specifically didn’t look my way, but I could feel my face heating as he spoke.
“I’ve always wanted to re-enact a scene from a certain movie.”
My stomach clenched. I lowered my gaze when his began to wander toward me. I would not engage, though my lips fought against my will not to smile.
“With your girlfriend?” Anita purred, leaning closer like she was in on some great secret.
He shook his head and grinned. “That’s classified. I’ll report back if I get it done.”
The meeting finally began. For the first two months, we’d be working closest with our designers, learning the ropes while alleviating some of their workload. The last month of our internship would be the design competition.
“After two months, Mike, Ryan, and I will give each of you three different business options for the marketing package we feel would best represent our work as a company. You’ll pick the company you’d be most interested in. From there, you’ll have four weeks to curate your marketing package for whichever business you choose.”
“Nora, you’ll be working with Tenisha and me,” Duke stated. “Anita, you’ll be with Susan and Mike. And Shawn, you’ll be with Ryan and April.”
The meeting continued with everyone giving reports on projects and companies they were working with, while I sat watching Duke lead the discussion, impressed by his ability to command the room with such friendliness and ease. And I realized something. What we knew of each other before I came into this space wouldn’t matter. We shared a moment a long time ago. He was my boss and he had a girlfriend. In a lot of ways, that simplified my entire objective and nullified my concerns. I could now spend my time focusing on doing my best to win my position here at the end of the summer. We had become something like friends a long time ago, but that was officially over. Back to the real world.
My eyes drifted to his forearms, of all things, as he spoke. Honestly, I was getting tired of looking at his face. He had laugh lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and his dark hair was casually mussed in the most attractive way. It was too perfect. Though, the forearms weren’t much better. Only when he sat down and Ryan stood up to speak did Duke look at me. I felt it before I saw it, my gaze meeting his in a flash of heat that had me shifting in my chair. My arms, which were folded very normally against my stomach, suddenly felt ten feet long and absurdly awkward. When a smile began curving his lips, I shot my gaze down to the floor. Unfortunately, there were no dark eyes piercing through mine. Though, I will say, it was spotless.
13
Duke’s girlfriendwas even more beautiful in person than she appeared on social media. And that was saying something. I knew I shouldn’t compare, but it was difficult not to. Her chestnut hair was shiny and rich compared to mine—so dull and lifeless. I hadn’t the time nor the money for expensive conditioners or salon visits. Everything about her, from her toned body all the way to her professionally manicured nails, outshined me in every way.
It was a small office. She came in at least two to three times a week. My desk was near the center—close to Duke—so my observations of her weren’t really abnormal given my proximity to Duke’s desk. It was my location. She was quieter than I imagined her to be, which surprised me for some reason. She’d arrive at RDM and immediately sequester herself in Duke’s office. At face value, she could pass for whatever she decided to be. She could be nice and sweet. She could be pouty at something Duke said to her. She could be a guy’s girl, high-fiving Mike and Ryan and laughing loudly at something they said, or chatting casually with Anita. She could be smiling while delivering a clichéd, meaningless compliment. She could also be clingy and annoyingly touchy. Some days, she’d attach herself to Duke, and he would have to literally remove his arm from her grip to get away. It was happening more and more in the couple of weeks I’d observed the awkward dance between them.
Or so it seemed to me. I’m sure that my judgment wasn’t the least bit cloudy.
And then there was yesterday. Duke stood in a group by the copy machine in front of my desk with Rachel, talking with the other owners about something. Again, the proximity, I couldn’t help my eyes flitting over to the group while they chatted. Rachel had been grabbing his hand or linking her arm through his throughout the entire five minutes they were in front of me. Duke found a gracious way to step out every time. His eyes met mine suddenly, and I startled at my desk, my computer immediately demanding my attention. But when I glanced back up again, his gaze was still on me.
* * *
Voicemail:Nora, honey. I promise Kip will send you money, but now we have to wait until his next paycheck. I didn’t realize he had some…outstanding bills that were more pressing. Anyway, we’re good for it. I could just use a little help. I would use my credit card, but it’s maxed at the moment, and Kip doesn’t want me to get another one. Anyway, the storage unit called me again and…I just…I don’t know what to do. Those blankets grandma made for you all are in there. Your baby things. I…could you pay it for me? Please? We’ll send you a check as soon as we can. Please let me know.
According to my mother,the lien on the storage unit would take hold on Monday, if not paid beforehand. I wasn’t going to do it. I had to put my foot down with some boundaries. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. There was always something else. She was the one who quit her job to go gallivanting around with Kip in an RV. She was just as capable as I was to pay her bills. Although, capable wasn’t quite the word I would use to describe me or my bank account. Reliable was probably more accurate. But not this time.
Her voicemail came on Thursday evening. The plea in her voice played in my head on repeat all through Friday and Saturday. My maternal grandma’s handmade blankets she’d sewn for me and each of my sisters before she passed away kept me company while I worked on a new logo for a client of Tenisha’s. I scrubbed toilets to the thought that Kip’s outstanding bills probably had more to do with the new Jeep I spotted in their social media pictures than anything meaningful. On a Sunday afternoon, I drove to my mom’s storage unit. The office was closed, but I didn’t need to speak with anyone at the office. As an attempt to assuage my guilt, I had planned to grab a few things that really meant something to my sisters and me. If I had room in my car, maybe a handful of things for my mom.
Except, the storage unit now had an extra lock on it from the storage company, blocking my entrance and halting my entire plan.
On the quiet drive back to my apartment, guilt kept me occupied in the form of old picture albums, the pretty plates my mom had inherited, our couch, and my mom’s old record player and albums that we girls would spend hours making up dances to in the living room. Did we need the tangible proof? Or would our memories of those times be enough to sustain us? I was still pondering that question as I walked up the flight of stairs to my apartment, let myself in, grabbed the storage bill from the counter, an apple from the fridge, and flung myself onto my bed.
The answer to the question still hadn’t found me as I reached for the laptop, set up an online account for my mom’s storage unit, and paid her bill in full.
* * *
The next day,I checked the clock on the oven and shoved in my last bite of cereal, milk dripping down the side of my mouth before I wiped it away. I had only been working at RDM for a couple of weeks, and the thought of being late gave me pangs of anxiety.
