Page 8 of The Weight of Love

“My ridiculous VP of Development. I swear he’s a barely functional human being. I’ll never admit it to his face, but he’s a genius with code. He has rampant OCD. He does the most ridiculous things sometimes when it comes to common sense. He keeps trying to trick me into paying him holiday pay.”

Clark’s low laugh thaws a bit of my temper. It’s not what I need at this particular moment, but it’s a welcome feeling either way.

“I’ll apologize now for what you’re about to witness. Give me 2 minutes to deal with him, and then we’ll get back to that ‘harder cardio’ issue we were discussing.”

I give him a quick wink as I badge in and hold open the door of Williams Stillwell Consulting to spite him. A muscle in his face twitches as he shakes his head at me.

We’re not two steps in the door, and I can already hear the noisy clacking of Leslie’s mechanical keyboard. My attention shifts from annoying Clark to Leslie with a singular focus.

“Leslie! What the heck are you doing back here?” I shout as I make my way towards the cubicles.

A bald head is bent over the keyboard, shaking and trying to ignore me.

“No, Stella, it’s not a holiday anymore. It’s the day after a holiday. See… 12:03 am, you can’t even get mad at me now.”

“Oh my god. Are you telling me that you went home today and then woke up to come into the office at midnight like some strung-out meth addict? What the actual heck, Les?”

“I have to rearrange all the copiers by 2 inches today, and you won’t let me do that on the clock. This is the logical solution. Rational, really.”

Clark’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he catches my eye over the cubicle wall. I mouth, ‘Not helping,’ in his direction before taking a slow, steading breath.

You can’t fire him. You can’t fire him. You can’t fire him.

My hand pulls my phone out and hits Emily’s number on the speed dial.

“Stella, what? It’s midnight? Are you insane?”

“Em, I swear if you do not talk some sense into this Gollum-style creature that is lurking in the office at midnight to work because he insists that the only way the copiers function correctly is to move them 2 inches left, then right each month, I’m going to lose it.”

A deep sigh comes through the phone, and I thrust the phone under Leslie’s face, jamming the speaker button.

“Leslie, Hun, you need to go home. You can’t be at the office at midnight. I’ll find an intern to help with the copiers. But you need to head home, okay? For me?”

Emily is the Leslie whisperer. Her ability to get him to see reason is one of the keys to our success. She is also the balance to my temper in everything and has the patience of a Saint.

I catch Clark’s eye again and give him a silent ‘1-minute’ signal as I roll my eyes. Something about his dark, sexy look across the cubicles makes me even more desperate to wrap up the situation with Leslie.

“I just don’t understand, Emily. Stella is here and with someone. Why do they get to work on the holiday?”

“Leslie, we’ve discussed this before. Stella’s name is on the door. She’s the CEO. She works when she needs to and is paid a salary. We own her. You wanted hourly, remember? We’ll figure out the copier shuffle in the morning after lots of coffee and an intense round of questioning for Stella about her guest.”

Leslie’s sharp, beady little eyes dance, and he sticks his tongue out at me.

Fucking toddler. Fifty-nine-year-old toddler.

“Hilarious, you two. Now, I mean it. Get your shit and go home, Leslie. If I come back down here in 5 minutes and you’re still here, even Emily won’t be able to save you. I will fire you on the spot. Go. Home.”

I hang up and give Clark a nod in the direction of the elevator that will take us up to the conference rooms and executive offices.

Silence thickens between us as we wait for the elevator to arrive. I step in, and Clark steps to the side, dissolving in silent laughter as I glare at Leslie’s exposed middle finger sticking up over the cubicle wall.

“5 minutes!”

The elevator door shuts, and we both start losing it. The kind of laughter that makes your stomach sore. It dies as I lean back against the elevator wall and brush against him in the process. He stands looking down at me, and the warm laughter slowly fades away with the recognition that we’re almost somewhere more private.

I reach up and pull him down into a rough and urgent kiss, my tongue exploring in a way I hadn’t let it in the car. He lifts me by my hips, and I lock my legs around his waist. He pins me to the wall; then his hands are everywhere.

I rock my hips forward just enough to grind against him and am pleased to find the very substantial erection waiting for me.

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