The Family Business #1 Page 3

  I plopped my wide load down on one of the boxes and was about to open my brown bag when I had an unwelcome visitor in the form of Alex. I noticed him before he noticed me, as he appeared to be either looking for something or had a very short attention span. His head turned left and right, and he moved slow he didn't miss anything. I wished he would have missed me, but I couldn't squish myself back far enough to avoid his searching eyes.

  "Well, hello there," he smoothly greeted me.

  "What do you want?" was my polite reply.

  He was surprised by my blunt counterattack. "You don't seem glad to see me."

  "You didn't exactly tell me the full truth last night," I snapped back. I reached into my bag, pulled out a tuna sandwich and tore into it like a carnivore. He was so intimidated he sat down on the cold, hard floor beside my box.

  "I'm pretty sure that was true for both parties. You didn't tell me you worked for the Stacy store," he pointed out.

  I shrugged. "You didn't ask."

  "Yes, I did. You said you had stock in the company."

  "Well, I have a few shares, so I wasn't lying. Besides, I didn't know you were the guy who was trying to buy out the place. I thought you were a playboy with some strange pickup lines."

  He smirked. "I am a playboy of sorts, but my pickup lines are better than that. You should know that."

  I choked on my sandwich. "So your offer to get my clothes cleaned was a pickup line?"

  "I saved a damsel in distress," he rephrased.

  "I wasn't in distress, I was in discomfort."

  "Still, you called out and I came."

  "If you're claiming to be a white knight then I'll sue you for false advertising."

  "Did I treat you badly? Were my actions not pure?" he coyly asked me.

  "I think we had this discussion last night about you using that word wrong."

  "I have this feeling we've rekindled this relationship on the wrong foot."

  "That was a terrible mix of old sayings."

  Alex stood up and held out his hand for me to shake. "My name is Alex Brenton. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Georgina Trammel."

  "The pleasure is all yours," I quipped, but shook his hand. "And it's George. Georgina is too long."

  "George is a boy's name."

  "And Alex is a girl's name."

  "Not necessarily, and I'm living proof to the contrary."

  "I could change that if you don't let me eat my sandwich. . ." I grumbled.

  "Actually, I wanted to know if you wished to have lunch with me," he offered.

  I sighed and dropped my sandwich back in the bag. "You know you're really persistent," I noted.

  "That's what the restraining orders tell me," he joked. At least, I hoped he was joking.

  "Those lucky ladies. . ." I mumbled.

  "So what do you say? I know a great place a few blocks down."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want me to go with you so bad?"

  "Why wouldn't I?" he countered.

  "Because you know I'm a lowly forklift operator at the store you're trying to merge with and not some jet-setting, beautiful, smart, international spy," I pointed out.

  He laughed. "Well, I still think you're beautiful and smart, and I still want to take you out to lunch, but you might want to lose the coveralls." He glanced down at my filthy attire. To me every hole and oil spot was a badge of honor. "Besides, I want to hear all about the company, and you're the best person to talk to about it."

  I snorted. "What about Mullen?" I suggested.

  Alex cringed. "Mr. Mullen is-well, he's very eager to show me all the benefits and shield me from the realities."

  "You mean with how many people your merger could lay off?" I asked him.

  He folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. "It's nothing personal against them, it's just business."

  I jumped to my feet and gestured to the floor behind him. In the distance I could hear my coworkers calling out instructions or those at lunch laughing together over their food. "They're not just business, they're people." I stomped toward him and poked him in the chest with my grubby work glove. "If you had any human decency you'd take your merger proposition and shove it up next to that stiff stick in your ass."

  He held up his hands between us and stumbled back. "I didn't mean anything-"

  "Sure you did, you meant every word of it," I shot back. I steered him down the corridor toward the trash door. "And if you had any human decency you'd-watch out!"

  A forklift came around the corner of one of the large shelving units and didn't see us until they were almost on top of us. It swerved at the last moment and slammed into the stack of toy boxes to my left. The precarious boxes swayed and toppled over, and I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me out of range of the deadly peril that was squeaky toys. The boxes hit the ground a foot away from my feet and the toys spilled out onto the hard floor. The worst part was not a single one made a sound. They were recalled because the company had forgotten to put the squeak in the squeaky toys. The forklift driver had been saved from the sharp, pointy cardboard boxes by the machine's cage, and he stumbled out of the carnage without a scratch.

  I have to admit that even without any deadly peril my heart still pounded and I clutched onto my savior. He chuckled, and I looked up into Alex's smiling face. "I could get used to this saving-a-damsel-every-day thing, provided you're the damsel," he teased.

  "Don't get used to it," I quipped.

  "But are you all right?" he asked me.

  "I think your priorities are a little off, but nothing a little chocolate won't fix," I replied.

  At that moment the inventory manager, a guy by the name of Dick Stouten, ran around the corner and surveyed the damage. He was the last person on earth I wanted to see, much less on the inventory floor. We didn't see eye to eye, mostly because he was a foot taller than me but also because he was an ass. We'd had arguments before that, if words could hurt, would have killed both of us. Nobody else liked him that much, either, and he'd acquired the nickname of The Dick.

  "What the hell happened here?" he screamed at us. His eyes zeroed in on me in the arms of my self-described savior. "You did this, didn't you?" he yelled.

  "Actually, it was my fault," Alex spoke up.

  The Dick looked the man over and, finding he didn't recognize him, thought he could push him around. "What the hell are you doing in here? Non-employees aren't supposed to be back here! I'll have you arrested for trespass and property damage!"

  Thankfully Mullen rounded the corner behind Stouten. Mullen didn't provide any more intelligence to the crowd, but he at least brought some sanity. He surveyed the damage and his face paled when he noticed Alex beside me. "Mr. Brenton, are you all right?" he yelped as he hurried over to us.

  "I'm fine, it was just a small accident," Alex consoled him.

  "What happened here? Who is this man?" Stouten interrupted. He waved so wildly at Alex that I thought his arm would shoot off.

  Mullen shot Stouten a look of warning. "This man is Mr. Alex Brenton, of the Brenton Corporation," Mullen replied, with an emphasis on the corporation part.

  Stouten paled. "O-oh, I see. I'm very sorry for shouting at you, Mr. Brenton." I half expected him to kowtow to Alex.

  "That's quite all right, but I think you owe this young woman an apology, too," Alex replied.

  Stouten's pale face gained some red color and he glared at me. "What were you doing back here during your lunch hour?" he harshly scolded me.

  I held up my crumpled brown bag. "Eating lunch," I blandly answered.

  "You shouldn't have been back here doing it," Stouten insisted.

  "It was an accident, sir, but if anyone's to blame it's me," Alex insisted. "I wasn't watching where I was going and walked in front of the forklift."

  Stouten glanced over to the forklift operator, the same Phil I'd mistaken Alex for the the previous evening. "Is this true?"

  Phil, never the brightest bulb in the
back room, shrugged. "I came around the corner, saw them and swerved."

  Mullen clapped his hands and nodded his head. "You see, just an accident," he spoke up. "I'm sure everyone just needs to get back to work, and we can finish our tour of the building and employees," he added, addressing Alex.

  "That'd be great," Alex replied without enthusiasm. There went his plans for our lunch date. He turned to me with a disappointed smile. "I guess I'll see you later."

  "I guess," I noncommittally replied. He'd have to catch me first.

  Alex walked off with Mullen, and that let Phil and me with Stouten, who stepped up to me so close I could smell the onions on his breath. "You got off lucky this time, Trammel, but another screwup like this and you're out of here, you understand?"

  "Yes, sir." I longed to tell him how I really felt, but I longed to avoid the unemployment line more, so I kept my mouth shut.

  Mullen glanced past me at Phil. "And get this mess cleaned up!" He stalked off to harass more of our coworkers, and Phil stepped up to me.

  "What a Dick. . ." he grumbled.

  "You're telling me," I agreed.

  "Yeah, I am." Like I said, not the brightest bulb. He glanced back at the toys strewn on the floor. "Anyway, I'll get this cleaned up after my lunch."

  "And I'll start as soon as I get off mine," I replied.

  I initiated Plan B and went to the employee break room to finish my meal, but I didn't find get a break in there. Jamie found me a few minutes later, and she'd heard enough from Phil to want to know more from me. I sat at one of the round tables and she slid into the seat next to me. Her face had a smile so wide I wondered how it didn't crack her face, and she stared at me without blinking. It was creepy and the last of my appetite fled before her scary look. I set my sandwich back into the bag and sighed. "What?" I asked her.

  "Is it true?"

  "Is what true?"

  "That you were with that Brenton guy?"

  "Yes, it's all true, even the part about the pink elephant."

  Jamie wagged her eyebrows. "So what were you two talking about?" she wondered.

  "We were wondering whether or not the squeaky toys were out to get us. I guess we found out," I quipped.

  Jamie pressed her lips together in a pout. "I'm being serious."

  "So am I. Those toys could have caused a nasty bonk on the head."

  "You're not being serious, now 'fess up. Was he trying to romance you?"

  I glanced around. We were alone, or practically. Some of our coworkers were dull enough that being in a room with them meant you were alone. I leaned down toward Jamie and dropped my voice to a whisper. "He asked me to go to lunch with him."

  "Really?" she squealed. I slapped my hand over her mouth and scowled at her. She sheepishly grinned and I took my hand away. "Really?" she whispered.

  "Really, but could we talk about this later? Like sometime after Armageddon?" I pleaded.

  Jamie winked. "I got ya. We'll talk after work." She zoomed off before she saw me roll my eyes clear out of my sockets.

  Chapter 5

  I caught my eyes, plopped them back into my face and went back to work. The rest of the day was uneventful, and I snuck out before Jamie could corner me and reenact the Spanish Inquisition. I reached my apartment and collapsed on the couch. Mr. Smith took his usual position on my lap and proceeded to share his fur coat with me. "Mr. Smith, you won't believe what happened to me today," I murmured.

  The day got longer when I heard my doorbell ring. I groaned and dropped Mr. Smith off my lap so I could answer it. I was surprised to find a flower delivery boy with a large bouquet in his hands. He looked past me at the chaos that was my apartment, and I closed the door a little so he'd focus on me. "Are you Miss George Trammel?" he asked me.

  "Um, yeah," I replied.

  "These are for you." He held out the bouquet. In a daze I took them, and he tipped his hat and walked off before I could ask who they were from.

  I closed the door and looked over the wonderful selection of flowers perfectly arranged beside one another. "Look at this, Mr. Smith," I spoke in awe. I sat down on the couch and spotted a card on the ribbon wrapped around the stems. I plucked it off and read it aloud. "I may not be good at getting a girl's phone number, but I'm better at finding out where they live. Love, Alex." I frowned and glanced at Mr. Smith. "Nothing stalkerish about that, is there?"

  Even with the creepy note, I rummaged around and found a mostly-clean vase. I put the flowers inside with a little water and set it on the coffee table. It looked a little sad among such disgusting chaos, but I figured there was no sense cleaning the place up for a few flowers that would die soon, anyway. Besides, it wasn't like anybody was going to visit me anytime soon.

  That's when my doorbell rang again. I imagined a boy on the other side holding a huge box of chocolates and rushed for the entrance. When I flung open the door my dreams were dashed and I was thrown into a nightmare. Alex stood in the hall with a smile on his face. "Good evening. Mind if I come in?"

  I squeaked, then slammed the door and whirled around to look the place over. It was a disaster, like somebody had taken my apartment, put it in a snow globe, and given it to a five year old to play with. "Is something wrong?" Alex called through the door.

  "No, everything's fine, I just have to do some cleaning. Be right with you." I hoped he had a liberal definition of the phrase "be right with you" because this was going to take some time. I ran about like a mad woman armed with only my wits and a broken broom I found in the hall closet. Everything light enough to carry was shoved into said broom closet to the point where I feared for the soundness of the closet walls.

  The floor, counter tops, table and even walls were cleared of debris and dumped into the closet. Just as I was about to finish Alex opened the door and peeked his head in. "Can I come in?" he teased.

  I ran full speed at the door and slammed it shut, or tried to. His head got jammed between the door and the frame, but I fixed that when I slapped my hand on his forehead and pushed his head out. "Not ready yet!" I scolded him. I gathered up all the junk on the coffee table except the vase and stuffed it into the overflowing closet, then shut the doors. Fortunately it had a hook-and-eye latch which I initiated. Then I straightened my clothes, walked calmly to the door and opened it with a smile. "Good evening," I greeted him.

  He stood there rubbing his neck where he'd been pinched by the door and frame. "I'm kind of doubting that now. Is this a good time? You seem kind of busy," he mused.

  "No, um, just cleaning night. It happens once every month or two." He sniffed the air.

  "I can smell-er, I mean tell," he mused.

  I led him to the couch where he sat down on one end and I took the other. "So what brings you here to my humble abode?" Compared to his palace apartment, this place was a shack down by the city dump.

  He noticed the flowers in the vase on the table and smiled. "I wanted to formally apologize to you. The flowers were my way of softening my coming."

  "Yeah, about that, how did you get my address?" I asked him.

  "Your supervisor, Mr. Mullen. He was grateful to give it to me. Hell, if he'd been mayor he would have given me the key to the city," he laughed.

  "How kind of him," I grumbled.

  He caught my annoyed tone. "Don't blame him too much. I would have begged for it just to apologize for getting you into trouble. Your manager didn't bother you too much, did he?"

  "Not much more than usual. We're not exactly on friendly terms."

  "That bad?"

  "Well, if World War III broke out we'd choose opposite sides just to duke it out."

  "That sounds serious. Have you ever thought about changing jobs?"

  I gave him a disbelieving look. "You make it sound like jumping from one frying pan to another instead of into the fire, like most unemployment does nowadays."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so insensitive."

  I waved off his apology. "It's fine, I guess I'm just a little cranky." Mr. Smit
h took that moment to jump onto the couch and purr both of us. Traitor.

  "Who do we have here?" Alex laughed.

  "This is the pushy king of the household, Mr. Smith," I announced. At the sound of his name Mr. Smith yowled.

  "Is this a one-guy household, or am I safe to stay?" he joked.

  "It's a one-cat household, but I wouldn't try to mark your territory in his litter box," I laughed.

  "What about on you?" he countered.

  "Mr. Smith doesn't like dogs. He's been known to ride them."

  "I guess I'll stick to being a human."

  "And a civilized one. You came here to apologize, remember?"

  "Yes, and I thought I'd present myself as a willing sacrifice to any desires you might have."

  "How very noble and modest of you, but the flowers are enough." I stood and he hesitantly followed my example. "It was really nice and creepy of you to search me out like this, but you've repaid your stupidity." I held out my hand to him for a shake, but he gallantly grabbed it and kissed the top of my hand. I blushed when he raised his smoldering eyes to my face. "H-hasn't anyone told you chivalry is dead?" I stuttered.

  "I must have missed the memo, when did it happen?"

  "Oh, about fifty years ago."

  "I never have kept up with fashions. Maybe it'll come full circle again."

  "Unlike disco, I think this one's going to stay dead," I argued.

  "Then I will be the last survivor, doomed to walk the earth in search of others like me," he dramatically bemoaned. He clasped my hand in both of his, and wagged his eyebrows with a mischievous grin on his lips. "That is, unless you care to be the mother of my children so I can pass on my chivalry genes."

  I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand out of his. "Now I know you're lying. No self-respecting playboy would ever want children," I pointed out.

  "Would I lie?"

  "I haven't figured that out yet, but you're pretty good at omitting the truth."

  "How so?"

  "You didn't tell me your full name at the bar."