Too Close to Touch (8 page)

Kylie made a face at the accusatory tone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just don’t like her. I don’t like the way she treats people at work. I don’t like that she’s closeted. I just don’t like her.”

“We’ve been through this before. You don’t know that she’s closeted.”

“She’s certainly not out and proud.”

“Like you.”

“Damn right.”

Kylie frowned. “She does have that picture, though…” she said, more to herself than aloud.

Mick heard her. “What picture?”

Rolling her eyes at giving more ammo to Mick, Kylie reluctantly elaborated. “She’s got a picture on her desk of her and some guy at a Mexican place or in Mexico or something. They look pretty comfortable with each other.”

Mick snorted. “See? She’s even got a beard for appearances at work.”

“You don’t know that. Jesus. It could be anybody. Why are you so quick to crucify her?”

“Why are you so quick to defend her? Have you told her
you’re
gay?”

“No. Why would I tell her that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not exactly a standard topic of conversation at work for me and my new boss that I’ve barely known a month.”

“You could work it in.”

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GEORGIA BEERS

“‘Work it in’? Yeah, okay. ‘Hi, Gretchen. Here are the sales reports from Syracuse you asked for. By the way, I’m a lesbian.’ God, what is your problem, Mick?” Kylie blew out a frustrated breath. After a few long seconds, she softened her words by adding, “Are you PMSing?

Because I am.”

A beat passed, then Mick chuckled and Kylie could almost hear her letting the anger dissipate. She sent up a silent thanks; she hated arguing with Mick, especially when she wasn’t sure what they were arguing about.

“Having a glass of wine?” Mick asked.

“You know it. Having a beer?”

“You bet your ass.”

They were quiet, only the sounds of their respective TVs audible over the line for many long minutes. Kylie wished there was something she could say to change Mick’s opinion of Gretchen, wished she could get her best friend to give her boss another chance, but then wondered why it mattered so much to her. She was too tired to analyze it all.

With a sigh, she said instead, “I miss Rip.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Mick’s voice was gentle. “Me, too.”

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

CHAPTER SIX

The Þ rst of June was approaching rapidly. Gretchen was not in panic mode yet, but if she couldn’t Þ gure out Jim’s system of sales numbers within the next day or two, she was afraid she soon might be. The mode was not one with which she was familiar and she certainly had no intention of starting now if she could possibly help it. She shook her head in bewilderment, clicking here and there on the computer, wondering how the hell his records were organized. The guy’s Þ les were all over the place.

Not one to ask for help, Gretchen weighed the pros and cons of Þ nding out if Kylie had any idea how to locate the bottom-line totals she was searching for. She had numbers for the individual sales reps but couldn’t seem to come up with any for ofÞ ce supplies, travel expenses, shipping, or any of the other items she would need if she wanted Margo Wheeler to approve next year’s budget. She certainly didn’t want Kylie to think she was having any trouble, but she was down to the wire, plus, chances were, Kylie knew a thing or two about Jim’s Þ ling logic…or lack thereof.

Ready to succumb to the inevitable, Gretchen swiveled her chair around to peek out the window in Kylie’s direction. Much to her dismay, her view was obstructed by a large woman in khaki pants, a burgundy polo shirt, and work boots. She was holding a box and talking to Kylie.

Mick Ramsey.

“TerriÞ c.” Gretchen glowered at the intimidating Þ gure. “Just what I need to top off a banner day.”

Inhaling deeply to steel herself against a possible ice storm, she

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GEORGIA BEERS

headed out to the hall and approached Kylie’s desk. Kylie’s bright blue eyes ping-ponged from her surly friend to Gretchen.

“Hi,” she said to Gretchen, and her smile seemed genuine.

Gretchen nodded once in Mick’s general direction. “Ms.

Ramsey.”

“Ms. Kaiser,” Mick responded in kind. No eye contact was forthcoming from her either.

Gretchen turned her attention to Kylie. “I need your help.” Even as she pushed the words out, she wondered if Kylie had any idea how hard they were for her to formulate.

“Sure.” Kylie stood.

Mick backed up a step or two to allow Kylie to exit her cubicle, and said quickly, “So, this weekend, right?” Gretchen noticed that her eyes never left Kylie’s face.

Kylie looked blank.

“The Black Widow,” Mick clariÞ ed. “You’re coming out to meet us, right?”

Kylie’s eyes ß ashed in what Gretchen could only describe as disbelief.

Mick backed down the hall, talking hurriedly. “I think that cute little redheaded chick that bought you all those drinks last time is going to be there, too.” Winking, she added, “You know she wants you.” Then she turned and practically ß ed, leaving Kylie to stand in the middle of the hallway, blinking, her face a bright red.

Gretchen could feel the embarrassment emanating like heat from Kylie and suspected that a minor power play had just taken place between the two women.
Wasn’t that interesting?
she thought to herself.

Attempting to ease Kylie’s apparent shame, she said, “Wow. Has she got a thing for you or what?”

Kylie gave a tiny gasp and stared at the ß oor, probably expecting it to open and swallow her.

“I can’t Þ gure out these damn reports of Jim’s,” Gretchen continued casually and headed into her ofÞ ce. “Can you show me where this stuff is hiding?”

She glanced back at Kylie, hoping she’d made light of the situation sufÞ ciently to relieve any awkwardness. But Kylie looked shell-shocked and seemed unable to make eye contact. Slowly, she trailed into the ofÞ ce.

Gretchen sat at her desk and pointed to some items on her computer

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

monitor. “What is this?” she asked. “And why can’t I Þ nd the expense reports? Shouldn’t they be here?”

Kylie stood behind the chair, one hand on the back of it, and reached over Gretchen’s shoulder to take the mouse. A gentle scent tickled Gretchen’s senses, and she was shocked to Þ nd herself trying to identify Kylie’s perfume. They’d never been this close before and she had to Þ ght to keep from squirming. She gazed down at Kylie’s hand on the mouse, Þ nger clicking. The skin on her forearm was covered with a soft-looking layer of blond, downy hairs, and several freckles marked a path to the bend of her elbow. Only when Kylie spoke did Gretchen begin paying attention to what was happening on the screen.

“Jim liked to hide his Þ les here.” Kylie moved the curser down a list of headings. “I have no idea why. He was sort of funny like that. I can help you Þ nd the rest of the stuff. I know where most of it is. He wasn’t terribly organized.”

“Maybe we can work out a system together that we can both follow easily?”

“Sure.” Kylie backed away slightly from Gretchen’s chair, her expression still just shy of mortiÞ ed.

Her consternation was distracting and Gretchen sighed. “Kylie, relax. I’m not really sure what that was all about out there, but I don’t care. I suspect Ms. Ramsey informed you that she and I met at the Black Widow the weekend before I started working here. So, you can see how your sexuality is no big deal to me.”

“Okay.” A small sliver of relief tried to push its way onto Kylie’s face. She blinked and looked directly at Gretchen. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s the guy in the picture?” Kylie pointed to the frame on the desk in front of her.

“Him?” Gretchen held up the picture in question. “This is Pete.

He’s my ex-husband and my best friend.” As she set the picture back down, she smiled. “Actually, he’s my best friend Þ rst and ex-husband second. That was a long, long time ago.”

“You were married?”

“A long, long time ago,” Gretchen repeated, still grinning.

Glancing up, she said, “You look surprised. Why? Didn’t you have a boyfriend in high school or college?”

Kylie nodded cautiously, and Gretchen could see she was

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GEORGIA BEERS

disconcerted by the somewhat intimate turn the conversation had taken.

Though she certainly hadn’t planned to lay out her life story, she felt safe conÞ ding in Kylie, and continued.

“I was not only a late bloomer, but it took me well into my twenties to accept who I was. Who I am.”

“And who are you?” Kylie seemed more at ease all of a sudden and Gretchen suspected this was her kind of conversation…personal and genuine. She was more surprised to realize that she was enjoying it herself. She normally made it a habit to avoid such discussions.

“A big ol’ dyke, that’s who.”

Kylie laughed openly, her eyes twinkling as if Gretchen had bestowed a great secret upon her and trusted her to keep it. The funny thing was, though her sexuality wasn’t exactly conÞ dential, Gretchen did trust Kylie to be careful with the information. There was no fear at all, no doubt in her mind that Kylie would respect her privacy. She didn’t think, for a second, that Kylie would be off at the Black Widow that weekend telling all her friends that her boss was a big fat lesbian.

Why do I trust you?
she wanted to ask. Instead, she said, “Feel better?”

“Knowing our sales region at Emerson is being run by two lesbians? Absolutely.”

Kylie’s glowing smile made Gretchen inexplicably happy. “Good,”

she said. “Now show me how to generate these reports before Wheeler comes down here looking for my head on a silver platter.”

v

The phone was ringing as Gretchen slid her key into the deadbolt on her door. She hurried in, dropped everything on the ß oor in the foyer, and made a dive for the handset.

“Hey, big sis. How’s life in the little city?”

Gretchen’s entire body relaxed, as it always did when she heard the warm tones of her younger brother’s voice. “It’s good. It’s really good. What’s going on? To what do I owe this phone call?”

“I can’t just call to talk to my sister once in a while?” She could hear the smile in J.J.’s voice, could picture his rugged face in her mind.

He was probably unshaven and his dark, curly hair was probably too

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

long. Both facts would make him seem much younger than his forty years, and still a chick magnet.

“Sure you can. You never do, though.”

“Oh, now that hurts me.”

Gretchen laughed, deciding to ease up. “How’s Jenna? And the kids?”

They chatted about J.J.’s son and daughters, and about other members of the small Kaiser family. Gretchen poured herself a glass of wine and plopped onto her buttery-soft leather couch, propping her stockinged feet up on the oak coffee table as she listened to her brother describe the latest school projects, dance recitals, and soccer games.

She hadn’t felt so peaceful since she’d arrived in Rochester, and part of her wished he’d just talk all night.

“So, how’s work?” J.J. asked her after exhausting his supply of new information. “How are they treating you at Emerson?”

Her brother didn’t have the same business mind or experiences in the corporate world as Gretchen did—he was a school guidance counselor at their old alma mater—but he was a good listener and often came up with valuable suggestions or solutions to issues that she just hadn’t seen. So she Þ lled him in on her job—how she was not exactly a favorite among the sales reps, and Jim’s record-keeping was disastrous.

She also talked about Kylie’s competence and value as an employee.

“They have no idea what they got when they hired you,” J.J. said.

“You’re going to whip that sales force into shape in no time.”

Gretchen smiled at the show of faith. “I hope so.”

“How about personal stuff? Have you gone out yet? Met any new people? Any hot babes live in your building?”

“Jesus, J.” Gretchen couldn’t help but laugh, not only at her brother’s talent for changing the subject in a split second, but also at his ability to get right to the heart of the matter he really wanted to address.

“I haven’t noticed any hot…er… babes in my building, no. I have met a couple of lesbians, though. Two of them right in my new place of work, as a matter of fact.”

“Really?”

“If you can believe it, my assistant’s gay.”

“This Kylie you mentioned?”

“That’s the one.”

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GEORGIA BEERS

“Is she good-looking?”

“Extremely.” Gretchen grinned at how true the statement was.

“I say go for it.”

“Yeah, right. I’m her boss, J.”

“I notice you didn’t say she’s not your type, or ‘No way, she doesn’t interest me.’”

Gretchen let her silence speak for itself.

“Oh, come on, Gretch.” Her brother lowered his voice, conspiring playfully. “A little clandestine interofÞ ce affair? Might be just what you need. Rock your buttoned-up little world a bit.”

“Excuse me, but I am
not
buttoned-up. And my world doesn’t need any rocking, thank you very much. I certainly don’t need to get involved with anybody at work.”

“Okay, okay. Just a suggestion.”

Gretchen changed the subject. “How’s Dad?”

“He’s good. Busy. You know him—golf, board meetings, and poker. You should give him a call.”

“He
could
call me.” The retort was out before Gretchen could catch it, her bitterness coating the words like a powder. “I’ve been here for almost a month.”

“I know.”

Gretchen’s relationship with her father was an old sore spot, and J.J. had been the buffer for years. He was used to it and knew where conversations like this one were going.

“I don’t know why I give a damn,” Gretchen said.

“Because you love him and you’re a good person,” J.J. said. “You know, he’s really proud of you. Just last week, he was telling his poker buddies about your big, fancy new job and how Emerson chased after you and offered you gobs of money to come and work for them…what a big decision it was for you. He always tells people that stuff.”