Emma vs. The Tech Guy (2 page)

“That will give you two a chance to get to know each other, especially since you will be working so closely together.”

That one caught me off guard. “Oh, uh ….” I squinted over the paper, fighting the sudden urge to cram the rest of that muffin in my mouth. I had some interaction with Marty, who had been taking care of all the tech issues up to now, but no more than anyone else. I should have realized that increasing our online presence would require a lot from me, as well.

“Didn’t we talk about this before?” Bill’s eyes lifted up toward his bushy eyebrows like he was searching his brain for the memory.

I sat back in my chair, waiting for him to drop the inevitable bomb. It seemed as though Guy sensed my annoyance. His happy expression faded, like the boy last picked for a baseball team.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “the point is that you will be Guy’s go-to person. He’ll answer to you, and the two of you will work out a schedule and priorities. And you’ll have to get him up to speed on the redesign launch.” Bill must have noticed the blank look on my face because he added, “Don’t worry, Em. We’ll work it all out. One thing at a time, right?” That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t a type A, compulsive planner who lived and died by her to-do list.

As Bill and Guy left my office, I tried to convince myself that this could be a good thing. We really did need a new tech person. Marty was one of our freelance writers who also provided tech support. Great writer, but unreliable when it came to time-sensitive problems. We had to bring in someone from the outside to save our asses more times than I could count. So, it did make sense to have someone dedicated to that part of the business, because our equipment was ancient and our software had more bugs than a Louisiana swamp. I only hoped that this Guy could handle what was ahead.

But something else still felt off. Like waking from a bad dream that you forget the instant you wake up, yet somehow you’re still left in a negative fog. Once I dreamt I was back in high school. I’d walked through the door to find my mother making me a prom dress. It was hideous, of course, but seeing her there when she had long since passed pleased me more than attending the clichéd ceremonial virginity auction. I awoke the next morning, tears still moist on my cheeks, trying to remember why I was so upset. The sadness followed me to the office. I racked my brain trying to remember the dream. Then, flipping through one of our fashion-focused issues, I spotted a dress that brought the whole dream back.

But this was different. This was real. And when it came to my future at the magazine, I didn’t like to take any chances. I’d worked my butt off to get where I was. I wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—jeopardize my career. Plus, I couldn’t help but wonder why Bill didn’t consult me or even ask for my help in hiring someone. That wasn’t like him. After all, I was his right-hand woman.

Chapter 2

I wore many hats around the office, but tour guide was not one of them. Especially when I was on deadline. This was more of a job for Jayne. She would gladly dish up the back story on every employee while providing Guy with interesting chitchat in between offices.
Perfect!
I reached for my phone to call her when Guy stepped into my office.
Damn
.

“Ready?” He stood with his hands in the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. He could have gotten a little more dressed up for his first official day, but at least they weren’t hanging off his ass. And he did have on a nice midnight blue shirt that seemed to exactly match his sparkling eyes. Not that I noticed, of course.

“Sure.” I put down the phone and smiled, fully planning to dump him on Jayne as soon as we made our way to her space. “Let’s go.”

Guy followed me out, and we headed down the hall of our basically u-shaped office. Today was more on the quiet side, but there were days when it was like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. Those were the days I lived for. When the pressure’s on, that’s when I’m at my best.

As we strolled toward the reception area, I explained some of our daily operations and why many of our offices were empty.

“Some of our staff work part-time or at home, some are freelancers, and others may be here but are just out on assignment right now.”

Guy exhibited genuine interest, smiling and nodding as we walked and talked. He had a seemingly real “happy” aura floating around him like a force field.
His hair isn’t that curly
. Jayne did tend to exaggerate a bit. I thought it was more wavy than anything. I guessed it was pretty healthy-looking too, from a health sort of a standpoint. I mean, what did I care about his hair as long as the brain attached to it could find and open files that our antique server swallowed into oblivion? Unlike Marty, who would keep asking, “Are you sure you saved it?” A tribute to the confidence he had in the non-tech people in the company.

When we stopped at the doorway of a small office, I said, “And this is Nannette, our receptionist.” With her back to us and a long, blonde ponytail hanging down her back, she spun in her chair and flashed a giant smile like a neon sign.

“Hello, Guy.” She stuck out her hand for an enthusiastic shake. “We haven’t met formally yet. Glad to have you here.” Nannette was sweet, spoke her mind, and could handle a million things at once. Kind of like me except for the sweet part.

“Thanks, Nannette,” Guy said as he clasped her hand in both of his.

Somewhat personal for the office. I was really struggling to tell whether this guy was generally a nice person or just a player. I found it hard to believe that someone could actually like people that much.

“It’s good to be here.” Guy gave another one of those squinty, closed-mouth smiles you give to a little kid or an old lady. You know, the kind George Clooney gives in every movie preview or magazine shot you’ve ever seen of him.

Why I was analyzing Guy’s every move I couldn’t tell you. All I knew was that there was something about him that I didn’t trust; something that seemed to threaten my security. Reading people was one of my many talents. I could smell a liar a mile away, and Guy certainly stank. But was it deception I smelled, or masculinity spritzed with cologne?

Pushing the bad thoughts to the back of my already crammed brain, I walked out with Guy trailing me like a lost puppy. We breezed by the conference room which was diagonally across from my beautiful corner office. The jealousy over my clearly superior view and airy, spacious workspace didn’t bother me, or last long, thank goodness. Besides, I’d earned that office. It was even bigger than Bill’s, but he had this thing about being in the very back, away from the front entry. Yes, I was confident. I used to worry that some thought me arrogant, but I truly had proved myself, and anyone will tell you I’m a team player. I’m not just out to make myself look good.

I began to pick up the pace without realizing it. Unfortunately, Jayne was MIA from her office, so my dumping plan was out the window. I had to get back to work, so the abbreviated tour would have to do. I caught Guy shooting me awkward and confused glances as he tried to keep up with me. Even in my heels I could speed walk with the best of them.

Next we blasted by the kitchen area, which was actually more of a break room. I waved a hand in its direction as we passed by.

“We usually have coffee here if you want it. Not many of us use the kitchen other than to grab a quick snack or for the occasional party.”

A twinge of guilt set in as I sped past some of our writers, who rubbernecked and waved at the new stranger.
They can meet him later;
have a nice long chat.
Guy attempted a helpless, half-hearted wave to Adam as we passed his office. Adam smiled, bobbing his head to his usual tunes that played from the speakers attached to his computer. Something from Stevie Wonder tailgated us and then faded as we burned our trail. Then the only sound heard as we padded down the hall was my heels snagging on the carpet.

I figured the place I should make the final stop was the place Guy had been waiting to see: the “geek cave,” our equipment room.

“This is where we keep our onsite back-up as well as extra computers and other equipment.” I couldn’t stop my voice from sounding like a tour guide at a museum. I’m sure he sensed my lack of enthusiasm.

When we stepped into the room, his expression said it all, but still he said, “Looks like your magazine isn’t the only thing that needs a redesign.”

A bit bold for a newbie, but I let it slide since he was right. Everything seemed to happen so fast around here that it was tough to keep up with the tech stuff. In our defense, we had been in the previous building only for about a year. When we moved, we took all our old, crappy equipment with us. When
New You
first started, it was a small company in a large, one-room office that was divided into a few cubicles. That’s where I got hired about three and a half years ago. I’d had a huge impact on the success and growth the company experienced since then. But, this was the one part of the business I hadn’t made a priority.

Unfortunately, my boredom at this point in the tour had me distracted. I didn’t notice an old rolling printer cart next to the doorway. Absentmindedly, we both tried to squeeze out of the doorway at the same time, like some Three Stooges movie, and my backside rubbed up against the cart.

“Oh, excuse me,” Guy said, sticking his arm out and offering the open path.

I took it, but when I passed in front of him I heard a little snicker. I paused, then turned to face him, not too thrilled to see his expression. “What?” I asked, one hand on my hip, toe ready to start tapping.

“Um … there must have been some dirt or ink or something on that printer, cuz you’ve got some ….” His face scrunched up. Then with his hand he made a circular rubbing motion on his backside.

“Oh no!”
You have got to be kidding me
. I had just gotten that suit—a cream-colored, custom-made, Tom James pantsuit that went perfectly with my Cole Haan bag. I didn’t normally care so much about designer names, but Howard said I deserved it and talked me into to buying it. For off-white, you can’t believe how good it made my butt look. I tried to crane my neck to see the spot, but it was too far back there. Guy must have taken my helpless expression as an invitation to dive right in, because in an instant he was lunging toward my ass with his hand stretched out.

“No, don’t!” I shouted, trying to halt him in time. My whole body stiffened and flinched like I was getting a booster shot as his hand ran along my backside.
What idiot doesn’t know you don’t rub an ink stain?
Either he suddenly realized he was copping a feel or he noticed the ink smearing across my ass because he jerked his hand back as if he had touched a hot stove.

“Ooh, sorry,” he said, glancing around looking for some sort of back-up. “I was just … trying to help. I guess it was some of that printer dust. I thought I could brush it off, but it kind of smeared.” He shrugged and begged forgiveness with his eyes. If I wasn’t so pissed I might have fallen for those big puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s fine,” I answered a tad too coolly. I know I shouldn’t have blamed him, but for some reason he seemed to rub me the wrong way—no pun intended. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a say in his being there, or maybe it was because someone new in the office always put me on guard. I needed to protect the magazine and my strategically built career. Especially when that someone had access to my electronic files. I still had a way to go on my climb to the top, so I couldn’t let anyone get me sidetracked or trip me up. If he was the snooping around type, he’d discover something that could completely crush me—something I’ve been able to keep hidden for years. “I’ll just go change. You can wait at the front if you like, or we’re pretty much done here.” Leaving that hanging in the air, I thought he might get the hint that he could leave.

No such luck.

“You have extra clothes here?” he asked me.

“Of course. You never know when you’re going to need them, obviously,” I added. “Well, if you have any other questions or need anything, let me know.” Then I walked back toward my office.

I grabbed my spare clothes and headed to the lounge to change. My back-up outfit was a black-and-tan blouse with black slacks. I quickly changed and checked myself in the mirror. Then I touched up my lipstick, brushed a tissue under my hazel eyes. I hadn’t noticed until then how much darker the off-white suit made my skin look. The golden tan I obtained in high school and college had since faded, so I needed all the help I could get. That’s what being a workaholic will do to you.

I left the lounge, hoping Guy would be gone when I got back. But whom was I kidding? Guy was going to be around. I would have to find a way to accept that. Really, I hadn’t even given him a chance at that point. I was starting to think that I might have been a touch unfair. It wasn’t unheard of for me to be a bitch, but I had been getting better about keeping it in check. Or at least discovering it before Jayne pointed it out to me. That was the control freak in me coming out.

I decided to start looking at the Guy situation in another way. He could become a real asset to me—and to
New You
. I was sure I could find a way to use his skills to my advantage, I meant to the magazine’s advantage. I just needed a great plan; my specialty in life.
Okay, now I’m feeling better
. Talking myself down from a crisis was hit or miss. The only other person who could do it successfully was Howard. He always had a way of making me see that things were never as bad as I thought. He took over for Pop—my grandpa—in that sense. Howard was my rock.

The second I got back to my office, my phone started ringing. It was Nannette buzzing to tell me Howard was on the line. You know, Bill was pretty good when it came to bosses, but he had some strange rules—one of them being no cell phones. He didn’t care if we were on personal calls as long as we used the office phones. He always wanted the appearance of hard work, even if that wasn’t always the case. I grabbed the line, swung around my desk, and collapsed in my chair. I sputtered a quick, “What’s up?” to Howard as Guy appeared in my doorway.
This is one stray that won’t stay lost
. He stood in the doorway smiling as if our recent conversation hadn’t taken place.