Page 5 of Santa Baby Maybe
“Meet or something?” Could she be any more vague?
“You know, to talk about our ideas. Things we can do to turn around the company.”
We stopped once we reached the elevator doors. “I can assure you we’re going to have vastly different ideas on how to do that. I don’t see the point in discussing them with each other.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
I ignored her sudden stiffness. “There will have been an annual budget in place. I’m going to recalibrate it, determine what expenditures are left, and give you a new budget around which to base your ideas. You stick to the numbers and we ensure a profit. Got it?”
“I know how a business operates,” she said snidely.
“Just checking. Your type often cares more about the product than the profit from the product.”
“I’m sorry, did you saymy type? Uh, judgmental much?”
The doors opened and we both stepped inside. I was headed down to the third floor to talk with the accounting team. She was no doubt headed down to the main floor which housed the ornament factory and the shipping warehouse. I’d heard enough about the new ornament designer to know she liked to be among the workers who were actually doing the glass blowing.
I tilted my head. “Ms. Knews,” I said.
“Mr. Darling,” she replied, and then her lips twitched.
“I apologize. Perhaps I’m making assumptions based on your attire and toe rings.”
“You’ve got a problem with toe rings?”
I sniffed. “I don’t believe they are office appropriate, no, but if you’ll indulge me... Are you vegan or vegetarian?”
“Vegan.”
“Do you care more about art or money?”
“Art. Obviously. Money can’t bring anyone joy.”
“I would beg to differ. Do you own one cat or two?”
“One cat, my older one just passed away. And how did you…?”
“Because,” I said smugly. “You fit a type. An art over money, vegan, cat owning type.”
“You got that all from my toe rings?” she asked incredulously.
“Let’s just say, I’m very familiar with people of your sort.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the loose material tighter around her breasts, which were surprisingly full given her slight body type.
“Now I’m amy sort. You know, Mr. Darling—and I’m not going to lie, I want to giggle every time I call you that, not sure why—I’m trying really hard not to be offended by you.”
“You’ll need to try harder,” I informed her. “I don’t pull punches. Not when I have a job to do. Make me an ornament I can sell for a profit and bring it in under budget and we’ll get along fine.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I left her behind without another word but I had the fleeting suspicion she was giving me the bird.
* * *
Joy
Asshole.I flipped him the bird as he walked off, grateful there was no one around. The elevator doors closed and I hit the button for the main floor.
As always, the main floor of the building was a flurry of activity. There were twenty stations of people handcrafting the ornaments in various stages of glass blowing, molding, lacquering, and painting. With floor-to-ceiling windows that exposed us to the outside street and the walking traffic of LoDo, it wasn’t uncommon to see people stopping to stare at our work.
