Much to my irritation, this quickly became something I looked forward to each day, sometimes ending with three or four notes passed between us in a single day. The amount of soda must have been too much for Duke as well because our drinks began lasting us a couple days or more, just moving to different spots across our desks—our only clue there had been another drop.
Sometimes our notes would be random. Friendly. Things like:
Duke:Do you think Kiss Cam Jason ever cut his mullet?
Me:No. I think he was in a relationship with his mullet.
Or
Me:Do you think Sandy remembers all the times she touched you inappropriately?
Duke:Honestly, I hope at least one of us got some enjoyment out of that.
Or
Duke:When should we do the lift?
Me:Last time we attempted the lift, I ended up in the hospital.
Duke:Eh. It was only a sprain.
Me:Thank you for paying that bill, by the way. You didn’t have to. I owe you.
Duke:YES. Exactly. You owe me the lift. Nothing else. I MADE you go to the ER.
And then therewere notes that definitely didn’t feel like they took place anywhere near the friend zone.
Duke:Okay. No more curling your hair. My productivity level is at a big fat zero today.
Me:Fine. No more wearing your blue suit.
Duke:That’s my favorite.
Me:Kiss it goodbye.
Two days later.
Me:HEY. No more wearing that suit.
Duke:This old thing?
We should have stopped.But strangely, my heart wasn’t up for stopping. We were friends, and I loved the feeling of having a friend again. Mira had been there my whole life, but since her engagement, our relationship had shifted, a man now occupying space where I used to be. My sisters were both busy with their lives, and I was finding truth in the idea that the workaholic woman in all the romantic comedies was indeed…lonely. At least I was.
For the most part, these little soda messages were our only way of communicating during the day beyond polite nods and private smirks, which worked out well with Anita seeming to watch my every move. It was all fun and games. Privately.
Which was great.
It was exactly what I wanted, so…good for me.
Thank you, Duke.
Of course…that was during the day. I was learning that Duke seemed to feel differently about the night shift.
* * *
One night,almost two months into my training, all three owners stayed late on Friday night, holed up in Ryan’s office until after eight. The tension between the three had seemed to fade more each day after the visit from his parents. Now there was a big potential client they were hoping to win, and they’d been working together to draft a proposal. I had steered clear of his office, hearing the voices, and was trying my hardest to be done and gone by the time they all came out. I’d gotten used to Duke being around on occasion in the evenings, but I really didn’t want Ryan and Mike to see my evening transformation to janitor.
It was my day for vacuuming. There had apparently been a disaster in the reception area involving a three-hole punch, and the whole space looked like the crime scene of a murdered piñata. I couldn’t recall vacuuming up confetti paper in recent history, and I must say, it was the absolute worst. When I finally switched off the vacuum and rolled up the cord, I turned to see my cleaning cart missing a few things—or a lot of things.
