Going Down: The Elevator Series (11 page)

“Damn, baby this is amazing,” he moaned. “Fuck, yes.”

My undoing was when he rolled my nipples. “Oh, yes! Oh, Ulysses S. Ass Slapping Grant!” He roughly pulled my hips forward, and found his release, cursing under his breath. I collapsed on his chest, wishing I could curl up there for a nap. It wasn’t until I heard voices on the other side of the door that I realized a nap would be inadvisable.

“Ms. Carrington is right in here, Mr. Grantham. She’ll be so pleased to meet you.”

Maggie.

Cole and I jumped up simultaneously, only succeeding in cracking our skulls together. The Keystone Cops had nothing on us as we haphazardly tossed clothes back and forth. The thud of a small body colliding against the door caused us to freeze like deer in high beams.

“That’s odd. I guess it’s locked,” Maggie said. She knocked ten times louder than she should’ve physically been capable of doing. “Cici, are you in there?”

I’m so fucking dead.

“I’m so fucking dead,” I whispered.

Fabulous. My verbal filter has gone MIA again. I can’t imagine better timing.

I smoothed out my dress and finger combed my hair. “Am I put back together?”

Cole looked me up and down. “Yes, I think you’re good,” he whispered. He was on his hands and knees. “You have tiny arms. Do you think you can reach my shoe behind the credenza?”

“How in the hell did you lose your shoe?”

“Is that really an important question at this exact moment?” he whispered in a panic. “I only have one shoe right now, and this credenza is lined with granite, or something. I can’t move it.”

“Cici, hello?” Maggie continued to thump at her barrier.

I lay prone on the floor, reaching under the short legs of the infernal piece of furniture holding Cole’s shoe hostage. I was able to free it on my third attempt.

“Thank God,” he breathed. He shoved it back on his foot and did a quick glance around the room. “I think everything’s back in order.”

“Back in order?” I whisper shouted. “I can see your ass print on the credenza, and it smells like sex and failed careers in here! I would hardly deem this ‘
back in order
’!”

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me gently. “Get yourself together, Cici. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Heeeeellooooo?” Maggie bellowed through the crack in the doorjamb.

I exhaled as I skittered to the door, wrenching it open.

“Hey there!” My voice was way too high-pitched and saccharine. Maggie stood between two gentlemen: one probably in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, and the other in his mid-twenties with light reddish hair that stuck up in patches. “My apologies. I didn’t hear you knocking at first. That lock has been sticking lately. I need to call maintenance.” Maggie’s eyebrows formed the Golden Arches, confirming I was doing my usual horrible job at lying. “Please come in.” I swept my hand in an overdramatic graceful fashion, as if I were inviting them into the White House or Buckingham Palace.

Cool it, Cici.

“Cici Carrington, this is Mr. Douglas Grantham,” she said, eyeing me. She smiled at the older of the two men.

I extended my hand with a speed that startled even me. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Grantham. So nice. Let me introduce my assistant, Cole Danvers.” I gestured toward Cole as he walked forward. “He assists me in things that… I need… assisting… in. Because he’s my assistant.”

Guess my brain filter is still a no-go.

The two men shook hands, exchanging pleasantries. Cole looked calm and collected, not at all like he had been pounded into the furniture only moments ago.

Maggie took the floor once again. “Cici, Cole, I’d also like to introduce Randy Grantham. He’ll be the new vice president of operations.” The younger gentlemen extended his hand.

The elder Mr. Grantham interrupted the introductions. “Randy is my nephew. He’ll be cutting his teeth, if you will, at this office. I want him to learn the ins and outs of the family business. I know you had a number of… issues prior to my acquisition, and I thought it would be best to have someone oversee the staff a little more closely.”

The forced smile slid from my face. As far as surprises go, this was not one of the better ones.

Randy chuckled jovially. “Please don’t think the irony of my name is lost on me. Randy is here to make sure no one else gets randy.” He dissolved into a fit of giggles while the rest of us watched stoically.

Douglas Grantham cleared his throat. “Yes, well, he’ll only be at this location on a part-time basis until we get everyone moved into our headquarters. I’m sure you’ll all be happy to leave a building where the doors stick.” He directed his eyes at me for the briefest moment, but it was enough to drain the remaining color from my face.

I barely looked Cole in the eye the rest of the day. I had a bad feeling about this VP and my gut instincts were usually spot-on. Like the one time I felt it was a bad idea to eat sushi out of a vending machine, but I did it anyway. To this day, I get a nervous tick when I eat circular-shaped food.

I was staring out the window, deep in thought when Maggie entered, using her characteristically loud knock.

“What’s shakin’, bacon?”

“Pardon?” I leaned farther back in my chair.

“I’m just trying out some new greetings.” She parked herself on the edge of my desk. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Nope.” I popped the P extra hard for some reason.

“I should totally sleep over tonight so we can get an early start in the morning.” She began rearranging my pens so they were no longer in size order. Normally that would irk me, but I had more pressing matters.

“That’s not a good idea.” I scrambled for a plausible reason. “My cat’s sick.”

That’s not bad for a pathetic liar. Maybe I’m honing my skills.

Maggie frowned and dropped the last pen. “What’s wrong with Leroy?”

“He just called. I mean, the neighbor just called for him. I don’t let him use the phone anymore. Anyway, it’s some stomach thing. He probably just ate the end of a doorstop again.”

I’m the worst liar in all of Liarville.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Poor kitty.” Maggie’s frowny face pulled on your heartstrings as much as those starving children commercials. I hated lying to her.

“I know. I’ll probably be up to my eyeballs in diarrhea tonight. His, not mine,” I clarified. “I’ll see you in the morning, though.”

Maggie grimaced and stood. “You need some sexcitement,” she said with determination.

“Stop making up words.” I busied myself with correcting the layout of the pens on my desk.

“I’m serious. That word is going to catch on, by the way. You might as well jump on the bandwagon.” She turned my sticky note holder at a forty-five degree angle. “Oh! You should come with me to the gym! There are a few new guys there that look like they could give you a good tumble.”

“Maggie!” I hissed. “Lower your voice!” Opera singers spend years training their voices to project at Maggie’s natural level. “Besides, I’m banned from your gym since the sauna incident, remember?”

She waived her hand dismissively. “Oh, that was three months ago. I don’t think they meant it to be a lifetime ban. I doubt anyone even remembers it.”

“It was pretty memorable to me.” I moved the sticky note holder back to a ninety-degree angle.

“Well, they shouldn’t sell milk products at the juice bar if they don’t expect to clean up a little vomit in the sauna.” Maggie shrugged.

“A little? Maggie, I threw up two hot dogs and a large protein shake four times.”

“Five times.” She shuddered. “And you’ve got to stop eating street food before working out.”

“
Five
times onto a mostly naked Asian man!”

“Oh, good grief. It’s not like you tossed your cookies on him
because
he was Asian. This wasn’t a hate crime, Cici. He dropped the charges. I think you’re overreacting. But you know what would do you some good?” She paused for dramatic effect. “Sexcitement.”

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “You know what would do me
more
good? Not taking these little walks down memory lane. They’re not good for my self-esteem.”

“Suit yourself.” She started toward the door. “I’m going to head out soon. I need to swing by the craft store to pick up some more sequins for our outfits. I can’t wait for you to see them!” She clapped her hands together. “Over and out, sugar!”

My eyes seemed to be stuck in a continuous barrel roll. “10-4, good buddy.” I dropped my head to my desk.

It was a safe assumption that the rhythmic banging of my head drew Cole’s attention. I heard him before I saw him. “I’m guessing Maggie’s visit is the cause for your self-flagellation.”

I peeked up at him. “I’m deeply concerned about sequined hot pants.”

He leaned against my doorway, looking every bit the part of the Suit God. “Not at the top of my list, when compared to terrorism, the national debt, and inflation, but I respect your views. Care to elaborate?”

“No.” I sat up and gathered my things. “I’ll just pretend I’m Scarlett O’Hara and think about it tomorrow. Oh, God. You don’t think she’ll put me in a camouflage petticoat, do you?”

He cocked his head. “I didn’t think it possible, but somehow I’m even more confused.”

“Never mind. I’m calling it a day.” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll see you later?”

“Absolutely. Roger that, good buddy.” He flashed his patent smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

***

My apartment stayed company-ready for the most part since I was rarely there. I was a little nervous for Cole’s visit, probably because it had been a while since I’d had a gentlemen caller in my home. The coffee-slash-dining-slash-everything table had been dusted three times in a row, and Leroy and I were on our way to touch up the bathroom mirror a second time when I noticed my calendar on the nightstand. I was two days late changing my contact lenses. That was a first.

My brain has been otherwise occupied the past couple of days. Still, I don’t think an eye infection is going to be a good look for me.

Cole was due any minute, but I was pro at putting in new lenses. Tossing the old ones in the trash can, I popped a new one in my right eye. Leroy, upon realizing his food bowl was less than half full, hopped up onto the counter to alert me to his impending starvation. Unfortunately, he landed directly on top of my lens package and sent it flying across the small room. He made no apologies.

I opened the box of lenses again, knowing what I would find.
A big, fat nothing. Nada. Empty.
They were my last pair because Cameron wouldn’t let me take off work a month ago for my eye appointment since
we
had so much work to do. I looked to see if I could salvage the old pair from the trashcan, but they had been swallowed by the perpetual hair clump that lives in there. I was running out of options.

On my hands and knees, I searched the room in a grid pattern, like I’d learned from
C.S.I.
Nothing. There was nothing on that floor, save for a few stray cat hairs I missed after sweeping the floor a second time.

Is there a wormhole in my bathroom? Does my medicine cabinet lead to Narnia? How can this stupid piece of plastic be lost to time and space? Come on, Good Luck Cat, help me out here!

I caught sudden erratic movement out of the corner of my eye and realized I was beseeching the wrong feline. Leroy was skittering about, batting an object down the area I called a hallway. A tiny, circular, transparent object. I approached him like a jumper standing on the edge of a high-rise.

“Leroy, do you want a treat? Can Mommy have the contact back?” I sounded like Snow White. My furry roommate was unimpressed. Instead of birds flying through the window to do my bidding, Leroy jabbed the key to my vision with the freakishly long claw on his right paw, and looked me directly in the eye as he popped it into his mouth.

I lunged toward him, but he easily evaded my grasp. “That’s it! You’re going to the pound, buddy! I mean it this time!” Leroy’s only response was to start cleaning his nether region, knowing I was full of crap.

I sat on the floor with my head on my knees. The temperamental feline had left me with two choices at this juncture: wear my Coke bottle glasses from high school or embrace my partial blindness until I could order another box of contacts. A normal person would have glasses with a current prescription, but a normal person also wouldn’t be in this predicament.

My decision was made when I heard a knock on the door. “Guess I’m going as a Cyclops,” I grumbled to myself. “Thanks, Leroy.” I narrowed my right eye at him—a look that he returned with his only seeing eye. No one could throw shade like that cat.

I brushed some of the fur off my skirt before opening the door. Even out of focus, Cole made my knees go weak.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He handed me a bouquet of blurry flowers that looked purpleish in nature.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I stepped aside to give him room. “Come in.” My lips noted that it had been hours since they’d been in contact with his, and forced me to rectify that before Cole finished crossing the threshold.

“It’s so nice to see you outside of work.” He brushed the hair off my forehead and placed a gentle kiss there, too.

“I couldn’t agree more. Can I get you something to drink?” I stepped into the kitchen and pulled a vase from a top cabinet.

“Some water would be great.” He took a seat on the couch.

I was filling the vase with water when I heard him call, “What’s your cat’s name?”

I raised my voice over the sound of the faucet. “Leroy. He’s suddenly developed a taste for eyewear, so be careful.”

“What?” Cole called, leaning over to pet him.

“Nothing,” I yelled back.

“Is he this friendly with everyone?”

I looked again to see Leroy perched on Cole’s lap. “Actually, no. That means he either likes you, or he senses you’re a weak adversary. Watch out for his coke nail.”

“His what?” Cole looked at me perplexedly.

I shut off the faucet and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. “His coke nail. He has one nail that’s longer than the others on his right paw. He won’t let me cut it. Believe me; I’ve tried.”