Ari smiled. Robinson looked at both of us, his eyes darting back and forth. We probably looked like fools grinning nervously at each other. I snapped out of it and looked at Robinson as he moved toward the door.
“I see. Well, the next time the two of you decide to take two hours for lunch, it better be because you’re celebrating finishing this project and the client is paying. Until then, curb the long lunches, Harrison. We have work to do.” Robinson nodded and let himself out of my office.
I looked at Ari gripping the back of the chair. It looked as if she had been holding her breath the entire time.
“You can breathe now, Ari. He’s just trying to flex his muscle as a partner. He’s harmless. All talk and no bite.”
Ari nervously chuckled and sat in the armchair nearest my desk. She put her hands on her forehead, with her elbows resting on her knees.
“He hates me. He hates my work,” she said, sounding utterly defeated. “I mean, Riddle told me Robinson could be tough, but I didn’t expect a total shredding of my work on the first day. I’ve had some tough critics but not like this. Dated? Really?”
I sat down next to her. “Don’t take it personally, Ari. He’s like this with everyone. He just expects perfection.”
“I understand. I can produce perfection.”
I bet you can. I smiled, watching her mood perk up a bit. “You will, Ari,” I said, tempering my response.
Ari walked over to the desk, gathering all her drawings. She placed them gently in her portfolio.
“I’m going back to my office. There’s some research I want to do.”
“Of course, I totally understand. I’ve got some work to do as well. If I come up with any ideas, I can hit you on the office instant messenger.”
“People still use instant messenger?” Ari asked.
I laughed. “It’s not AOL, Ari. It’s integrated into the video teleconferencing. It works well in this office. No one ever wants to get up from their desks if they’re in a real groove.”
Ari playfully tilted her head. “So, you’re not going to ask my A/S/L?”
Woman, you have no idea what I really want to ask...
I scratched my head. “That’s a throwback for real! I don’t think I’ll need your age, sex, or location. So, I think we’re good there.”
With a chuckle, Ari made her way toward my door. “Well, if I need you, I can just walk across the hall. I’d rather do that. I hope you don’t mind.”
I leaned against the doorframe. “I definitely don’t mind.” Good lord, that sounded thirsty, borderline dehydrated.
“Great.”
With a smile, Ari nodded her goodbye.
Chapter Five
Ari
I walked out of Porter’s office, feeling as if my architecture degree was worth toilet paper after Robinson ripped us to shreds. Thank God for Porter. I didn’t need him to come to my defense, but it was nice to be supported. I appreciated having a real teammate in Porter. I looked back to say just that, but he’d already closed the door to his office and was working diligently on his computer.
As I was opening the door to my office, the rude guy from earlier that morning was approaching me, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. I froze with my hand on the doorknob.
“Hi. Can I help you?” I asked, defensively folding my arms across my chest. I got a bad vibe from him. Dude seemed slick, like a can of bacon grease. I recalled Porter’s conversation with me on the ride back to the office. Tall, arrogant, mouthy...with a face you want to punch.
“It’s Greer, right?”
Greer’s eyes roamed the length of my body. “Yeah. Darius Greer. Everyone calls me Greer. Just thought I’d come over and introduce myself. Hope you’re settled. Getting the lay of the land. Just so you know, we have snacks in the break room. You know, in case...”
Then the funky bastard looked directly at my boobs. Yep, punchable face, for sure.
He leaned against the wall, invading what little personal space I had. Frowning, I backed up a couple of inches. “I’m good, Greer.”
“I heard Robinson ripped you a new one. Too bad. It being your first day and all. Don’t take the criticism personally.”
I looked directly at Greer, who was just a little above eye level with me with my heels on. His smug face with his shellacked goatee didn’t scare me. He took a step back.
“I never take things personally, Greer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a stadium to design.”
I turned on my heels, slamming the door in Greer’s face. What a complete asshole! He reminded me of... I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t have time to think about that. Dudes like Greer didn’t matter. Partners like Robinson did. He was the paradigm of ruthless C-suite executive, which was certainly downplaying things. The ding of an instant message tone interrupted my thoughts.
P. Harrison: A/S/L?
I snorted. This dude was as corny as he was fine.
A. James: That may be an HR violation, sir.
P. Harrison: You’re right. My bad. Anyway, did you just slam the door?
A. James: Yes. In Greer’s face. That’s his name, right?
P. Harrison: Was it a dude with a Bigen-dyed goatee?
A. James: Guilty. Sorry. I know that wasn’t a good look.
P. Harrison: Don’t sweat it. You know how many times I’ve slammed the door in his face? Trust me, I know he probably deserved it.
A. James: : ) Indeed, he did. Also, he’s not fooling anyone with the Just for Men dyed beard.
P. Harrison: Don’t get too close. You’ll have to get another blouse.
I laughed loudly, the sound echoing off my bare walls. I liked this dude. No, Ari. Don’t... But liking him was good. At least I knew I could work with him. Anything beyond that... I wouldn’t dare consider.
I shook all thoughts of Porter, Robinson, and Greer out of my mind and got back to work researching more on our client. The Serrano brothers were a pair of suave Spanish olive oil and wine producing billionaires with money to burn. They were also the new owners of Atlanta’s latest powerhouse soccer team and wanted a state-of-the-art soccer stadium to rival any in the league. Although incredibly posh, the Serranos were also huge environmentalists, touting sustainability within all their business ventures. I tapped my pencil against my chin as I stared at the computer. They deserved a stadium for a team that was the same and set the tone for what they wanted to bring to the soccer league: style and sophistication all while being sustainable.
I wanted to ping Porter back, bounce some ideas off him, but I left him alone. I could figure things out on my own. But part of me just wanted to talk to him. I enjoyed talking to him. I tapped my fingers on my desk. I wasn’t here to make friends. I wasn’t here to get close to anyone, even if we could laugh together. I was here to rebuild my résumé. Work truly should come first.
After what seemed like forever, I looked up at the clock. It was five minutes until six. I had spent the last four hours drafting and researching and I’d lost track of time. I peeked out my door and looked across the hall. Porter was standing at his desk, putting things into a messenger bag. Fuck it. You can at least say good night. That’s just being polite.
A. James: Packing it up for the night?
P. Harrison: Yeah. Got to head out of here ASAP.