I already wrote about that in another email that you also may never read.
But I have to get ready to go to work with you now, so… I’ll see you soon, Dummy.
13
ELIJAH
“Your most important job today,” I inform Cleo, “is to make sure I don’t miss a FaceTime call from Paxton.”
“Roger that,” she says as she changes the batteries in the Christmas tree that should not be displayed on her temporary desk. The front-office elf is having a seat on the sofa. The one in my office was sitting next to the keyboard on my desk, and I have no idea when she moved it because she left before me yesterday and got here after me today.
“I’m charging my phone in my office. But if I happen to forget to take it with me when I go to the men’s room, or if I’m on a call on the landline and you hear my cell phone, or if we’re both in my office and I’m pacing around, so caught up in my genius brainstorming that I don’t hear the phone—you answer it for me. Got it?”
She grins. “Yeah. I got it.”
“They’ll land at Jackson Hole in a couple of hours, and when they get to the lodge, Paxton will find out I had tons of presents shipped there so he can open them on Christmas Day. I don’t want to miss that call because I know how busy they’re going to be starting this afternoon.”
“That is very sweet, and I will make sure you don’t miss it.”
“But it’s equally important for you to type up your notes.”
“Right.” She nods once. She’s sitting behind the desk, so I can’t see her boots anymore, which is probably a good thing, but it’s also making me really angry.
Or maybe the thing I’m really angry about is the fact that she actually likes that terrible script.
How dare she?
It is very unhelpful.
I can see what she’s saying now, about the satire, but it still pisses me off and it’s still not helpful.
What’s most unhelpful is the fact that she’s wearing her hair all loose and wild. Thick, dark blonde curly hair frames her face, and I have to put my hands in my pockets to prevent them from pushing each strand away. And then combing my fingers through all of it and tugging. Her lips are a pale glossy red today and she doesn’t appear to be wearing any other makeup, so her astonishing eyebrows are even more prominent than usual.
“Anything else?” she asks as she removes her red cardigan, revealing a white blouse that is practically see-through. I can see the blue bra she’s wearing underneath it. How am I supposed to focus on a script when she’s wearing a see-through blouse and a blue bra and a short skirt and knee-high boots and bare thighs?
There is a lot that I want to do with her today, but I need to getsomereal work done first.
I think?
I do.
I definitely do.
Do I, though?
I do.
I can’t look at her.
“I need the good sticky notes,” I hear myself grumble. “I haven’t been able to find the good sticky notes, and Elaine swears she ordered more last month.”
“Okay. So, you want me to find the good sticky notes?”
“Yes. That is what I want.”
“Would you like to give me a hint as to where I might find them?” She stands up and then bends forward as she looks into the drawers of Elaine’s desk. “Might they be in here?” Her blouse is unbuttoned more than it was a second ago—I am certain of this—and now it’s just hanging open and I can see cleavage. I see her blue bra and her cleavage.
“Supply closet,” I snap as I pace back and forth. I need to keep moving. I need to stay focused on everything that is not her. “They’re in the supply closet.”
