On a rainy Thursday afternoon in early September, Brandon was occupying his desk over the noon hour when Mabel strolled into the office, a first since Jake had started sharing lunch with her. Dave had joined them a few times, and occasionally so did Skip, but so far they’d dodged the Brandon bullet.
Today, however, instead of vanishing at the stroke of noon, Brandon shocked them both by asking, “Mind if I join your little lunch club?”
Fuck yes, Jake minded. This was his Mabel time. But that was clearly not an acceptable response, so he slanted a glance at the blonde in the doorway, who smiled weakly and said, “Um, sure?”
When Brandon turned his attention to his phone, Mabel shot Jake one of those comically exaggerated grimaces that he saw her and Dave exchanging often, and an ember sparked to life in his chest at the realization that he’d become the recipient of one of those conspiratorial looks.
Once they were all settled at the desks, Brandon surprised them both by providing nonstop entertaining stories about Lowell’s other stations while they ate.
“No way,” Mabel gasped, setting down her turkey wrap. “They did not have a live alligator mascot.”
“Hand to God,” Brandon said placidly, smoothly selecting a California roll with his chopsticks. “I made them relocate it to a gator preserve as a condition of the purchase. Alabama’s wild, man.”
“And here I thought our nonstarting van would be a deal breaker.” Mabel giggled.
“Child’s play,” Brandon said. “Have I ever told you about our Idaho station? Talk about crazy.”
“Idaho,” Jake said skeptically.
“More like Ida-whoa.” He grinned and popped more sushi into his mouth as Jake and Mabel groaned over the painful pun.
After Brandon polished off his bento box, he stood and gave them a jaunty salute. “All right, plebes, I’ve got a round of golf with the mayor.” He glanced at the window where rain spattered against the glass. “Or maybe just a round of drinks at the clubhouse. Anyway, thanks for letting me crash today.”
After his exit, Mabel cocked her head toward the door. “I had no idea he was funny.”
Jake balled up his sandwich wrapper. “He keeps it under wraps most of the time. As I recall, Lowell Senior doesn’t appreciate much levity from his son.”
“Poor guy.”
She held out her paper bag, and Jake tossed the remains of his lunch into it, then took the whole bag from her and chucked it into the garbage. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’d go that far. I doubt he’s crying himself to sleep on his monogrammed pillowcase every night.”
Mabel’s pink lips formed a delightedO. “He doesnot.”
“Cry? I can’t confirm or deny. But he definitely had his initials embroidered on his bedding when we were roommates freshman year.”
The revelation had Mabel doubling at the waist in laughter. “Noooooo!” she howled.
“Don’t you dare tell him I told you,” Jake said as she shook with mirth. “That strikes me as something he doesn’t want his minions to know.”
“Oh my God, amazing.” She straightened to wipe tears from her eyes, and as she moved, an angry red scrape on the inside of her wrist caught his eye.
He moved to look closer. “Did you lose a fight with Dave?”
“What?” She twisted her arm to examine it herself. “Oh this. No, I lost a fight with the greenroom couch. A nail worked loose in the frame again.”
She pulled her sleeve back down, but the long scratch still filled his vision, bothering him in a way that he wasn’t able to articulate. Then he was bothered that it bothered him in the first place.
Life was so much simpler when he stuck to work.
Mabel, though, seemed unburdened by any tangential thoughts. She grabbed her phone, shot him a broad smile, and chirped, “Well, I need to record some new ads, so I should bail.”
“Okay,” he said. Then a horrifying scrap of truth came spilling from his lips. “You make me wish I had a healthier work-life balance, woman.”
She froze in the doorway. “Oh yeah? Well, you make me wish…” Her voice trailed off, and though every part of Jake was on alert for how she’d finish that sentence, she disappointed him, lifting one shoulder with a small smile. “You make me wish I didn’t have commercials to produce this afternoon.” And with that she was gone.
In truth, his work-life balance right now was healthier than it had ever been. He could attribute it to the slower pace of life in Beaucoeur, but the two months he’d already spent at the station was only part of the equation. The other part—a big, big part—was Mabel herself. In Chicago, work kept him so busy that he rarely got to know anyone well enough to build the emotional connection he needed to pursue a sexual relationship. Here though, he had the luxury of time to spend with Mabel, the woman who made him laugh, who made him tongue-tied. The woman who made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years.Years.His excitement over that potential almost made him dizzy if he thought about it long enough.
Still, he had a job to do and a partnership to chase, so he pushed the upheaval of his thoughts aside and returned to his numbers. But no matter how diligently he applied himself over the next hour, the rows refused to cooperate. His mind kept wandering back to Mabel. Why couldn’t he let their last exchange go?
