I’m sitting on the bench in front of the Mimir building, craning my neck to glance back to watch for the delivery guy. Nothing yet.
I bring out my phone and check the time as I turn back to face the street, 3:04. They’re late. A bus pulls up and everyone on the bench gets up but me. I glance back again and finally see a guy holding a white box, wearing jeans and a red shirt with a white cake printed on the back, walk into the Mimir building.
It’s torture to wait another minute before I can rise and casually stroll into the building, but I do it. It feels odd walking through these glass doors that I entered five days a week for ten years. The first couple of years, Mirmir's offices were at a business park outside of Chicago near O'Hare. I hated that commute. The only good thing about it was going the opposite way of traffic.
Glancing over at the security desk, I see Jim, a man in his mid-fifties with a potbelly from one too many donuts. His dark brown eyes widen in surprise upon spotting me as he’s about to bite into his old fashioned donut, his favorite. I smile and wave as I walk up to the elevator doors. Turning my head back to him, he appears confused but waves just as the doors open to the lift.
Stepping inside I hope I make it in time before he calls Edgar, or worse, Evaleen. Punching the twenty-eight button several times, optimistic I am the one person in all of elevator history to have the magic touch to make the lift move faster.
When I make it to the floor I step out and glance around, no one is here. My palms are clammy and I rub them on my navy dress pants as I walk toward my old office. The door is open and I notice no one is around, not even Morgana.
Nervously I step inside and glance at my old place. There is a new plant in the corner, with a nice pink blanket wrapped around the base, something more for a baby than a plant. Other than that, there is no décor. The walls are bare and the only thing on the desk is a few of Morgana's cake tchotchkes, a laptop, and the white boxes I had delivered.
"What are you doing here?" A deep male voice comes from behind.
I turn to see a tall blonde man in a beige suit walking into Morgana's office. At least I think it's her office. The way he’s glaring at me, makes me wonder if she works at another desk.
"I am looking for Ms. Drake. Is she in a meeting?" I clear my throat trying to sound casual.
His eyes scan me before widening in understanding as he nods. "Yes, she should be back soon. You must be Kirk, her new assistant; I'm Mr. Novak, Vice President of Consumer Business. She told me she hired someone new. Just to let you know Kirk, Morgana and I work very closely. So, if I am in here with her and the door is closed, don't disturb us, if you catch my drift." He winks his beady hazel eye at me.
What the fuck? Is she getting it on with him now? I wonder if she just has a thing for executives at this company. Maybe that's why she doesn't want to be with me; I’m no longer an executive, nor at this company.
I squint my eyes at him, and that’s when I realize he looks familiar, but from where? Then it hits me where I know him from, New York. This is the guy I saw Morgana have dinner with. The guy who put his weaselly arm around her.
"Henrik? What are you doing here?" I hear her voice and glance past Vice Asshole of Consumer Business to see her luxurious red hair swept up in a bun as her glasses fall down the bridge of her nose.
As she walks past Executive Dickhead, I notice she has on one of her slightly inappropriate miniskirts that causes her thigh highs to peak out and a tight dark gray matching blazer with a cream silk low cut blouse on underneath. God, she looks like a masterpiece. Sexy as sin and a work of art.
I have to force myself to pay attention as her plump red lips move.
"Are you responsible for all these cupcakes that have been coming here over the past couple of hours Henrik?"
"Henrik? Wait, are you Henrik Payne?" Mr. Novak sidles up beside Morgana, a little too close.
I want to scream at him to get out but it's not my office anymore. So, instead I sigh and shrug. Morgana has moved on and I didn't think that would happen. She spent weeks with Mr. Novak in New York, and now they work closely together. Honestly, what kind of chance do I have with her now?
"Yes, I am Henrik Payne. THE Henrik Payne." I lean toward Mr. Novak as I say it, causing him to back away slightly. "Yes, I sent the cupcakes."
Morgana's dazzling hazel eyes dart around the room, mainly focusing on the floor. After a moment, she looks up at Novak-the-douche. "Jamie, would you mind excusing Mr. Payne and I for a moment? I'll meet you in your office to discuss the overseas consumer business agendas in about ten minutes."
His eyes flicker between us and he smirks at me, before leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She nods and I try very hard not to punch him. Before he turns to go, he winks at me, and then closes the door behind him.
"What. An. Asshole!" I can't keep it in anymore.