Falling For Us

Chapter 2

 I made my way to work and pulled into a parking spot. Wanda, my work BFF was pulling in at the same time. After doing the mandatory make-up check in my visor mirror, I grabbed my bag and reached for the door handle, but Wanda beat me to it. "Hey, sweetie!" She said, opening the door for me.

Even at this early hour, the heat of the day quickly stole into my air-conditioned car. That was what you got for living in California. July in Santa Lena was hot. All the time. Close enough to Bakersfield to be sisters, but just a tad north.

"Lookin' gooood, Harper, what's shakin'?" I shoved my legs over to step out of the car and slammed the door. I towered over Wanda's tiny frame. She was definitely not skinny, but I wouldn't call her fat either. She was plain old voluptuous; even more gifted in the cleavage department than me. Her clothes were always daring and fun. Full of personality. Just like she was. Today's blue-striped fitted blouse had one too many buttons undone... as usual.

"Everything's shakin' today. How's it going with you? Have a good weekend?" I asked as I hauled my work bag over my shoulder.

"I had such a fun weekend. Friday night I went out with a bunch of friends to that new steak place and it was fabulous! We ate too much, we drank too much and ended up calling an Uber. OMG our driver was smokin' hot! A bit on the short side, but I had to stop myself from man-handling him. I was sitting right beside him and all I could think about was reaching over and touching his gorgeous locks. I didn't.... at least I don't think I did.... It might have been the tequila talking, but that boy was hot."

We got to the front doors of Brentford Organics and I opened the door for Wanda. Firstly, because I was nice and secondly because Wanda's stories were epic and gut busting, so you never interrupted her unless something was on fire or in imminent threat of starting on fire.

Wanda strutted her fabulous self in front of me and into the foyer of the building, her curly blonde hair swaying behind her. She kept talking as I turned on the lights. "Janet got this great idea that we should all get tattoos! I was not down with marking my body, let alone volunteering for pain, but it's always fun to watch other people writhe in self-inflicted agony!" She threw back her head and her curls flew every which way. Recovering from her hilarity she continued on. "So, Janet volunteered to be first and got some teeny tiny rose on her ankle," she squished her thumb and index finger nearly together. "What a scaredy cat. I mean you couldn't even tell what it was it was so darn small. It looked more like a fire engine, but whatever. Alexander went next and got a really hot 'Enjoy the Journey' tat on his wrist. I love that man," She sighed and clasped her hands.

I turned to my desk and sat down at the computer and pushed the 'on' button. Wanda walked into her office. She was the sales rep for Brentford Organics. Dean Brentford's office was beside hers. He was the owner. On the opposite side was the manager, Murray. Behind all this was the huge warehouse of organic fruits, veggies and fine foods that farmers supplied us with; so we in turn could supply restaurants and grocery stores. I loved my job as an admin assistant. My desk was front and center of the lobby. I met with clients when they first arrived, answered phones, emails and caught whatever Dean, Murray or Wanda threw at me.

The office was decorated in various shades of "dull". Dean's a guy's guy and his focus had always been on the business side of things. He couldn't be bothered by redecorating an office he spent little time in. For now, the beige walls and practical white tile floors ruled the roost. I'd managed to sneak in an office plant or two on occasion without him noticing, to give the place some color.

I saw Wanda's light go on in her office and heard a 'thump', which I assumed was the sound of her gorgeous white purse on her desk.

"Then Janet gets this fabulous idea that the Uber-man should get a tattoo, too," She shouted, near hysterics. "He tried to politely refuse, but as you can imagine, we were having none of that nonsense," she giggled. "So, we kept on poking and prodding, hoping he'd change his mind. So finally," She strolled back into the foyer, her heels clicking on the floor. "He said, 'I'll get one if my girl over there gets one.' Can you believe he said that? He pointed and looked right at me! What a complete nut. He was clearly crazy," she drew a circle with her finger right beside her head.

I stared at her, waiting for the rest of the story, but Wanda just stared right back with a neutral smile on her face. "So? Did you get one?" I questioned, a tad annoyed but still invested in her tale. She pulled the left side of her blouse over and exposed a gauze pad. Shrieking, I slapped my hands on my thighs. "No, you didn't! You actually did it?" With great care, she yanked one end of the tape off and then I saw the cascade of beautiful birds, flying up her chest. Not big by any means, almost dainty.

"Oh Wanda, it's stunning. Does it hurt?" I squinted as if I could feel her pain.

"Burns like a mother. Never felt that kind of pain before," she resealed the tape and fixed her blouse. "But it was worth it to have Uber-man holding my hand the entire time," she laughed again and we both turned toward the door as the alarm announced someone entering.

In walked Dean; Mr. Dean Brentford, the owner. Dean was a tall guy, lean build. Looked like he was a runner or quarterback in a former life. Dark brown hair cut short, but stylish. He generally dressed in nice jeans and a button-up shirt of some kind. You'd expect that the boss of a successful company would wear a suit and tie to work, but Dean liked to keep it real. He was out in the warehouse often throughout the day, and that would get his big hands... (yes, I looked. Damn Roza anyway) and his clothes messy.

"Morning Harper, morning Wanda. How are things today?" he adjusted his briefcase from one hand to the other.



I looked to Wanda and said, "Not much yet, but Wanda has a souvenir from the weekend," I snorted and Wanda's eyes got big as her hands found her waist. She was quick to recover and didn't miss a beat.

"I'm on the Anderson account today, Dean. Headed out their way soon," she straightened her back and stood taller, "Just have to go over few things with you before I leave if you have time?" Dean smiled and looked from me to Wanda and back again.

"Sure. Harper, hold any calls until we're done, please." They both walked towards his office, but Wanda waited for Dean to go first. Then she leaned over and swatted me on the shoulder. "You bad girl," she whispered making me giggle.

I turned my chair under my desk and got started answering emails. A few minutes later, our manager, Murray Lewis walked in, frazzled as usual. Murray was in his mid-forties, bald, medium height, medium build, African American man. He and his wife, Audrey had 5-year old twin boys who were by far the cutest kids you had ever seen. Actually, I would guess their birth coincided with Murray's hair loss. Anyway, I loved when Murray or Audrey brought them in to the office. They cracked me up, but they drove poor Murray to his last nerve.

This last sentiment was repeated in his first words to me of the morning. "Do not have children. You know what happens when children go to Kindergarten? They meet other children. Children with birthdays, thus birthday parties. I thought birthday parties were only for the kids, like a dump and run venture. But Audrey says," He imitated his wife in a nasally voice, " 'No Murray, we have to stay and chat with the other parents. Get to know them.', she says." Murray ran his hand over his bald head as he recounted the weekend's party horrors.

"I asked her why I needed to stay. Well, that just made it worse," he said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "So, I shut up and sat down." Wise move Murray. Happy wife, happy life. "Do you know how many birthday parties 'we', attended this weekend?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "Three, Harper. Three birthday parties," he said and held up three fingers on his angry hand. "In one weekend. The first one was at that trampoline place on Venice Drive. What a mad house! Bloody noses, screaming and my God, do you know what a 'code yellow' is?" I could take a wild stab at that one. Poor Murray, he looked like his head was ready to explode.

"Sounds like you had an eventful weekend, but I'm sure you guys had some fun?" I forced a smile and tried my best to sound convincing.

He wasn't biting. "Fun? Harper, bloody noses and code yellows are the opposite of fun. And the cake. God there was cake and icing everywhere!" He teared up slightly and said in a quiet voice, "Listen to me, girl. Do not have kids." He shook his head, still rubbing it.

On the back of his white shirt, I saw a blob of what looked suspiciously like blue play doh. I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shut it. I'd tell him later, after he had coffee.

Once in his office doorway, Murray twisted back around and said, "Do you know how many kids are in their class, Harper?" he asked as he undid the buttons on his brown suit jacket. "Thirty. And they all have birthdays," he said dryly. "27 more parties to go."

Again, I tried my hand at comforting him. "Well, more like 26 because the twins share a birthday."

This did nothing to help. Instead, he shook his head and groaned, sulking away to find solace in his office. Where bloody noses and code yellows didn't exist.