Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,10

isn’t going to take every single one of those tweaked designs and use them all. I know we’re expensive and he has commented such a number of times, but the package he chose isn’t for a limitless number of ads and that’s what I think he wants.

Of course, Diane has promised this client the moon, she had him first before our boss moved him to me, but at half the cost of the creative hours billed so far, which are now supposedly useless.

“Hey! Got you a coffee!” Tracey’s voice echoes in the small cubicle. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, I swirl around and thank her. It’s impossible to be mad or sad or anything other than grateful around Tracey, the office personal assistant. Just the sound of her pushing around that cart is enough to lift my spirits.

“Anything good?” I ask, eyeing her coffee-with-cream skin and sleek, high ponytail. I'm weirdly jealous of Tracey’s consistent good cheer, her youth, and her easy breezy attire. I’m even jealous of the way she wears that pale pink dress probably because she’s obviously naturally skinny. She could be a model and I’ve told her that a million times.

“Psshh,” she says, grinning as she hands me a cup. “Same thing as usual. A shot in the dark. Coffee, espresso, two creamers, and one Splenda.”

“Thank you so much,” I say, looking at the tiny puff of steam that escapes my cup. “I seriously need this right now.”

“I got you,” she says, winking. “You need anything else?”

A new client? One not from hell? Maybe some new ovaries? I think. But I stay quiet and shake my head. I’ll give this guy another week and if he’s still yanking me around, I have to go to the higher ups. I hate doing that, but I know my limits. There are givers and takers in this world, the givers have to have boundaries, because the takers have none. My mind flashes with an image of Diane and I shut that down with a gulp of hot coffee.

“Alright. Well I have tons of three-o’clock-slump-coffees to deliver,” she says, backing her cart out of my cubicle. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night,” I reply, turning back to my desk after saluting her with my cup.

The smell of the coffee and espresso makes my lips turn upward. Holding onto it with two hands, I take a sip and sigh with fulfillment.

Sure my job can suck when one client decides to shit on my entire day, but there’s an endless coffee supply. That’s gotta be worth something, right?

With only an hour left of the work day, I mouse over to Adobe Photoshop, clicking through the six ads I’m working on for other clients, ones that have given me direction I can actually use and ones I don’t think are using me.

Another message from Jason makes my phone vibrate and I actually feel a hint of excitement. The corners of my lips kick up as I read:

Have you ever been to The Brick Store Pub in Decatur? They have great drinks, and the food’s good, too.

I bite my lip with a nervous excitement although it’s quick to dissipate when I think of exchanging a night at Mac’s with Charlie for this new guy. But the new guy is looking for commitment. He’s not the safe ‘never-going-to-want-me-like-that Charlie’ and Decatur isn’t that far away from where I work. I could get there in under an hour, even, assuming that I stop at home first to change. Maybe Diane is right, after all.

I type back: I haven’t been but that sounds like a plan to me. It’ll have to be around seven, though. Is that alright?

Before I can even put my phone down, he texts back.

Great! Let’s say… seven thirty?

My lips curl upward. Awesome. See you there.

There’s a nervousness that’s half excitement, half unease that stays with me for the rest of the workday. And why do I keep thinking about Charlie?

Jason is single. He’s hot. And he wants commitment.

I don’t look up again until Diane sticks her head over my cubicle, just before five twenty.

“Time to go! I was thinking that you should leave your car here, and I’ll drive. I think I have something for you to wear, if it’ll fit…” I cringe at Diane, realizing I never told her. Shit. I feel like an ass.

“Actually, I had a change of plans.” I draw out the sentence to soften the blow then smile hopefully, “I’m going on a