Page 11 of Mistlefoe
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I should’ve asked earlier. I might not have wasted the better part of the afternoon sitting at a cramped chair doing nothing.
“Thanks,” I mutter the word before heading back out. “Sierra, you still there?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“Okay, so…” I trail off, waiting to see if she wants to start.
The only sound coming from the other end is the shuffling of paper sheets. I check out my surroundings, looking for some inspiration from a quiet strip mall parking lot or even from the grey sky clouded over with tufts of white. The truth is that I came up with a lot of garbage ideas over the weekend and I was hoping that the pressure of one-upping Sierra in a verbal spar would inspire something better.
Sighing, I fess up, “I actually didn’t come up with anything solid.”
“Me neither,” she quips right away.
Well, we’re clearly off to a great start here. Someone’s gotta really try, though.
I stuff my free hand in my coat pocket. “So… We said like Christmas Olympics, right? What if we do like a Secret Santa type of thing, except it’s not for a gift exchange but to select teams people will be competing with for the event? We can give them two weeks to train and if we make it so each team has people from different departments, it’s like an extended team building thing.”
“And what would they be competing on?”
“A massive trophy full of eggnog? I don’t know, help me out here.”
Sierra sighs so loudly, I almost feel her breath against my ear. And for some reason I shiver.
“Actually, I think it’ll be way easier for us if we keep it all a surprise. But also that way, if something doesn’t work out then no one has to ever find out.” She gives out an awkward laugh and it occurs to me for the first time that ultra confident, owns every room, can kick your ass and will, Sierra Fernandez, is capable of being nervous.
“What’s your idea, then?” I ask, legitimately curious.
“Well…” There’s hesitation in her voice that I can’t understand. She has a prime opportunity to make me feel inferior, which has basically been her goal in life since I joined the marketing team. “The whole thing has to be Christmas centered more than sport centered. So what if we take some elements from certain sports, but make them Christmas?”
“I’m intrigued but I can’t envision it,” I admit.
“I don’t know, swimming in a ball pit to find your Christmas present and silly things like that.” Sierra huffs. “Do I have to do all the heavy lifting here, Conor?”
I surprise us both with a sudden laugh. “Okay, that actually sounds really fun.”
“Theactuallywas kind of unnecessary, I’m a genius.”
“What else, Miss Genius?”
“I don’t know. You come up with the next activity.”
“Er… bobbing for apples but instead of water it’s eggnog?”
“First of all, ew. Second, that’s not an official sport. What’s your deal with eggnog?”
“I really like eggnog, what can I say.” I shrug even though she’s not seeing me.
But then the door opens behind me and another female voice sounds. “Excuse me, Mr. Mahoney, but your grandfather is ready.”
“Oh, thanks.” I tell Sierra, “Hey, Gramps is waiting for me now. I’ll give it a thought on the drive back and give you some ideas at the office, okay?”
“Fine.” After a moment, she adds, “Drive safe.”
“You too.” I choke on my own saliva and shake my head hard. “I mean, sorry. Thanks?”
“Um, okay. Bye.” She sounds confused before hanging up.
I press the corner of my phone against my forehead. What the shit was that? A small shred of civility tied my tongue in knots and that shouldn’t have happened. Like at all.
