Dating For Decades (2 page)

The crowd cheers and the groomsman who caught the garter is eyeing my cleavage. This will be a fun dance.

The DJ announces us and puts on a Luther Vandross song. Once this dance is over, I’m headed for the bar again. And I don’t think I’ll ever be a bridesmaid again.
 

Chapter

Two

One Month Later

I can’t handle another meeting right now. My lunch consisted of the crappy coffee in the break room and a fortune cookie left out on the table in between meetings. No wonder I’m able to keep my figure. My boss, Terrence, has pulled me every which way he can, from conference room to conference room, and I need to catch up on my own stuff. Sometimes being the manager really sucks.

It’s already three o’clock, and if I don’t find a real meal soon, I may pass out. Terrence scheduled this meeting yesterday, though, and if I ask to reschedule, he won’t be happy. An unhappy boss equals overloaded Cassie because he’ll drop everything on me.

I knock on his door and wait for him to invite me into his office. I have my own space as well, but since he’s the Director of IT, he gets a window view of Lake Michigan. I may be able to relax a little if I had this view to look at every single day. His desk is slanted into the corner, and the entire back wall is nothing but windows. The wall to the left is filled with diplomas and certificates he’s earned throughout his career. One day I’ll be in
this
office. One day.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Cassie. Thanks for coming.” He sticks his pen back into the holder and locks down his computer. We all learned to do that once the help desk decided it would be fun to play pranks on people who walked away from their computers without locking their screen. Juvenile, perhaps, but a little horseplay is good for the office. Terrence and I choose not to participate, and even if we did, it would take quite the balls for the staff to mess with us. We’ve got a sense of humor, but screwing with the bosses is a no-no. Still, better safe than sorry.

“Take a seat.” He motions to the maroon chair in front of his desk.

I sit, thankful for the lake view before me. I take a mental picture and file it. I can use it when I try to fall asleep tonight. “I hope your day is going well.” Terrence enjoys small talk. He’s softer then.

“Fairly well, thanks. I’ve probably been in and out of about as many meetings as you today, but I can’t complain.”

He always takes an hour lunch and usually goes to some swanky restaurant. I’m sure his belly is full and he can concentrate. Too bad I can’t say the same.

He straightens a photograph of his wife so it’s angled toward him. Maya is gorgeous and a sweetheart to boot. We’ve met a handful of times, and she often brings sweets to the office. Working at a bakery and fudge shop offers that advantage. I try not to partake too much. I’ve been down that path before and it doesn’t end pretty.

“Now, I know you’ve been working very hard on the Pilot Project. Let’s just say I’m glad I don’t pay you overtime because you might run the company out of business.” He folds his hands in front of him, a noticeable twitch in the corner of his eye.

I smile at him because we both know the truth of that statement. I love being salaried, but when it comes to all of the after hours I work, I certainly don’t see immediate benefit from that. My year-end bonus is always awesome, though. Last year I finally bought the Louis Vuitton pumps that entered my dreams for six months straight. I don’t splurge often, but when I do, I do it right.

“That project is about all I can focus my time on right now. I pushed everything else to the back burner.”

He rubs the scruff on his face. “Actually, that’s what I need to talk with you about. The Pilot Project is the biggest thing on your plate at the moment, but we can’t allow the smaller projects to suffer.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that I’m not getting other things done.” I live and breathe this job. If
he
ever came into
my
office, he’d see the to-do list I keep at my desk. My laptop comes home with me every single night, and if I’m out and about, I always keep my iPad Mini with me in case I need to access the network.

He waves his hand at me in opposition. “You’re a great worker and an even better manager. However, it’s important to recognize when to delegate.”

Delegation. This may be the most obscene word in the English language. It’s not that I don’t delegate
any
tasks, but if something needs to be done right, I do it myself. Let’s be serious here. While a wonderful team supports me, almost all are new college graduates. Not
brand-new
graduates (those kids work like horses because they want to impress me), but the ones with about three years under their belts. They do enough but are finding ways to slack off. I’m well aware of who they are (Kimmy, Julian, and Trevor). They don’t fool me one bit. Every review I receive, Terrence and I discuss delegation. And every year we agree I will try my hardest to divide up projects so I’m not taking on everything. I delegate one to two projects a year, but a majority of the time I work my tail off to do everything myself.

“I don’t think I need to give the team any of the work I’m doing.” I don’t want to, either. I have a routine and like to keep busy.
 

“We really need to push play on the Pilot Project. The Board of Directors has given November first as a deadline.”

“I can do that.” At least I hope I can since I just committed to it. Quite a lot still needs to be done, including coming up with a plan.

“Cassie, I’m sure you would find a way to make it work, but I need this to be a top-notch production. I’m bringing in another person to help you out with the job.”

“Excuse me?” My voice squeaks like a teenager, and in my head, I’m already across the desk with my hands around his throat. This is
my
project.
I
suggested we do it, and
I
presented it to the board. I’ll be damned if Terrence is taking it away from me.

He releases his hands and sets them gently on his desk. “His name is Lucas, and I think you two will get along fine.”

I don’t really care if I mesh with this guy because I’m not looking for a friend. “You’ve already hired somebody?” Terrence went ahead and posted the position and interviewed people? Why did he keep me in the dark about this? He and I — we’re a team. We discuss these things and make decisions together.

“He graduated last month, and I think he’ll be a great asset. He can take the lead on the project, and you can help out when needed.”

“Wait.
Just
graduated? As in, he’s never even stepped foot into a real environment and you’re going to put him on the Pilot Project? What is he, like your nephew or something?”

“Actually, he is.”

What the hell? Right now I can’t decipher if I’m shaking from the lack of carbohydrates and sugar in my system or the bubbling anger building inside of me. His nephew? A family member? This is completely unfair.

“Cassie, I didn’t hire him because he’s my nephew. He’s good and really knows his stuff.”

“So do I. I can do this on my own.” I’m stern with him, holding onto any bit of confidence I have left. I’m not having some young kid come in and upstage me. Especially not someone who got the job because of blood. My blood runs through this company, too, and in my opinion, in a much more deserving way.

He taps his fingers on the desk before standing and walking to the window. He puts his hands in his pockets and stares out onto the lake. “One of the reasons I think you’re such a great worker is your desire to succeed. You don’t let anything stand in your way and, most times, complete the job on your own.”

“Thank you.” So far, completely true. I feel a but coming on.

“But.” There it is. “Sometimes certain deadlines get in the way, and you need to ask for assistance.” He turns and meets my eyes. “There isn’t any shame in asking for help.”

“I’m not ashamed, Terrence. I just don’t need any.” I stop before he can interrupt and insult me any further. “But, if you feel I need to step back, fine.” See? I can throw buts around, too.

“Thank you, Cassie, because you and Lucas will be co-managers.”

Did I hear him correctly? “Wait. He’s going to be
management
?” I’ve been at this company for seven years. It took me five to raise up to the management ranks. This hot shot kid is straight out of college and he’s a
manager
? On
my
level?

“Trust me, Cassie. He’s smart. Brilliant, actually.”
 

He grins like that of an uncle would do. I’m sure my Uncle Ray would say the same about me, if I kept in contact with any of my family other than weddings.

It’s no use. He’s already hired Lucas, and it’s not like he’s going to fire his nephew on account of me. My eyes glaze over and I realize I’m shaking my head. If Terrence notices, he doesn’t say anything. “So, when do I meet this guy?” Can I tell my Aunt Ella I’ve met a man? Does this count?
 

Terrence presses a button on his phone. “Monica, please send Lucas in.”

Great. He’s already here? He’s probably been here all day observing me. Why didn’t he discuss this with me right away in the morning? The day is almost over, and I’ve probably passed him in the hall a zillion times.

Okay, Cassie, game face on for this know-it-all. Even though he technically is going to be a boss as well, I need to make my position clear, but at the same time be friendly. If he respects me straight out of the gate, we shouldn’t have a problem.

A knock on the door redirects my focus. Confidence. I need to exude confidence. This isn’t some Joe Blow off the street. This is Terrence’s nephew. Someone who knows my boss better than I do, and if I act or say something wrong, my mistakes will most certainly make it back to him.
 

The door opens and a tall, slender, toned man waltzes in. His black hair is buzzed, leaving little knots at the top. His green eyes pop against his dark skin.
This
is Terrence’s nephew? I expected someone a little less slick and a lot more nerdy. Terrence doesn’t exactly resemble the classy guy he pretends to be. Sure, he’s polite and professional, but he fits the typical stereotype of an IT geek, even at his age. Lucas is in his early twenties and has pulled together a sleek look with his dress slacks and button up shirt. A tie would complete the look, but he’d come across as much too elegant and sexy for the position. Wait — sexy? No. I check my hormones and redirect my pulsating body from admiration to anger. I hate this guy.
 

“Lucas, I’d like you to meet Cassie, my secondhand person at the firm.”

Good thing I’m a woman because if I were a man I don’t think I’d be able to stand for a few moments, or be in search of a book to put in front of my lap. “A pleasure meeting you,” I politely say as I firmly shake his hand, his soft,
soft
hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

I’m so taken with his eyes. They’re pulling me in, and I’m drowning. He probably sweet-talked his way into this job. Those eyes can hypnotize anyone.
 

I sit back down, and he takes the chair next to me. Now it’s time to make nice.
 

“Your uncle tells me you’re a recent college grad.”

“Yes. I received a Bachelor of Science in Computer Networking and I graduated with top honors.”

“That’s wonderful.” Top honors. Impressive. Almost as impressive as his beautiful face.

“And while we’re on the subject, I would prefer not to call Terrence my uncle during working hours. I want to prove myself here without everyone thinking it had something to do with our family.”

Do I want to commend Lucas for his professionalism, or stick my finger down my throat for his blatant attempt to suck up and look like a better person? He may be drop-dead gorgeous (there’s a cliché if I’ve ever heard one), but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still pissed off about the whole situation.

“Fair enough. Did Terrence bring you up to speed on the Pilot Project?”

“Yes, he has. I’m very familiar with it and want to share some ideas with you.”

I’m not sure why he thinks any of his ideas would sway any of mine, but whatever. I’ll push through this, let him present his thoughts, and make him think he’s the one coming up with the final plan.

“Sounds great.” My stomach grumbles. If I don’t feed this belly of mine, I’ll be passed out in Lucas’ lap. “I have a meeting,” I lie, “but let’s chat soon.”

I thank Terrence and let myself out. Once back in my office, I slump over my desk. This can’t be happening. A hot, young professional has come in to prove he can do a better job than me. I’m damn good at what I do, but I can’t compete with a fresh graduate who has learned the latest and greatest technology. I yank open my center drawer. Chocolate. Where is it? There has to be a piece in here somewhere. A little refueling will help me through this. I find what I’m looking for and rip apart the wrapper, snapping off a bite.
 

Co-managers. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Chapter

Three

I’m not sure how Shannon gets anything done around her house. With a ten and a twelve-year-old boy, her house reaches obnoxiously loud decibels. She’s sitting on her couch, coffee in hand, her legs pulled up on the cushion, and I’m on the sofa, my legs crossed, furiously working on my iPad. Meanwhile, Jake and Jordan are wrestling on the floor in front of us. Her house is like a second home to me, and I don’t hesitate to make myself comfortable.

“How do you do this?” I ask, glancing at the battling boys as I swipe through my emails.

“I let them work out their differences on their own.”

Soon one of them will kill the other, I’m certain. Kids never were on my radar and they still aren’t. I never felt a motherly urge my entire life. Maybe the fact that my mother wasn’t much of one contributed to that. I work. I don’t mother. Jake screams, which Shannon ignores. “How can you even think?” I much prefer silence to work. Well, at least library quiet, not yelling kids.

She laughs and sips her coffee, letting out a loud “Aah.” I’m wording an email and trying to type as she responds. “After a few years, you drown it all out. The shouting and stuff puts me at ease. If they’re not making noise, that’s when I need to worry.”