Page 2 of Steel

Maybe my imagination was the one working overtime.

I held my head high as I walked into his office. He was already standing by his window, peering out at downtown Los Angeles with his hands in his pockets. “Close the door, Ms. Livingston.”

I did and remained standing. I’d learned a long time ago not to play the victim or the helpless girl begging from crumbs. Another game he liked to play, sitting behind his fancy desk and peering down at me. Not this woman. I’d been through way too much in my life. I also didn’t bother saying anything. He didn’t enjoy his ‘peaceful mental interlude’ being interrupted.

The dark alley was looking better and better as an option.

“Did you know that when I took over as CEO of this company, the owners were facing bankruptcy?”

“I’d heard rumors,” I told him.

“In less than a year, not only have I managed to turn that around from the red to the black, but as of the end of the first quarter of the year, we were making a healthy profit.”

“That’s excellent news.”

His sigh was exaggerated, the only true expression I’d managed to get from him. He turned around and as usual and without words scolded me for what I was wearing. Given he and his wife had a housekeeper, a nanny, and a financial advisor, he didn’t understand there were some mornings I was lucky not to walk out the front door in my pajamas.

I remained strong, refusing to budge under his cold, hard stare.

“I must say that up to this point I have been pleased with you and your team. I was quite concerned in the beginning given the… eclectic nature of the group, but you’ve proven yourself as creative and expeditious, which is why I’ve allowed you tocontinue your work autonomously. That is until you brought me the latest campaign.” Eric moved toward the file, grabbing it carefully.

What was he worried about, that it would catch fire?

Did he want me to agree? He had to be kidding me with leaving us alone. He always had something to say and never anything positive.

It seemed he wanted an ‘atta boy’ for leaving us mostly alone. He wasn’t getting one.

After flipping through the pages, he made a ceremonial moment of tossing it into the trash. Over three weeks of sleepless nights tossed as if rubbish. I bit my tongue and looked away because without doing so, I could easily launch into him with all the fire of a scorned woman.

Perhaps I’d unnerved him by not immediately defending myself. I could almost hear a clock ticking in his head.

“You have nothing to say?” he asked.

Maybe the number of sleepless nights had provided me with a loose lips moment, but I was finished with him trampling on my team every time he had a fight with his wife. “Nothing that you want to hear, Mr. Dannon.”

He moved around the end of the desk, easing down on the edge and folding his arms. “Actually, I’d enjoy hearing exactly what you have to say.”

The man was out of his mind. My tongue was forked. At least that’s what my ex had told me. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I can tell you have something on your mind. Share your thoughts on the campaign and anything else you’d like.”

“Fine. First of all, there is nothing real about the calendars.”

“In what way?”

“We use professional models, not that every one of them aren’t of the highest standards, mind you. But they’re models, nonetheless. They’ve been taught how to stand. How to act. How to smile on cue. They don’t care what clothing we shove them into or that it’s six sizes too small. And in the case of the men in the mechanics of East LA calendar, there isn’t a woman alive who would believe the bullshit.” When you wound me up, it wasn’t wise to be within ten feet. I was that hot under the collar.

“What bullshit are we discussing?” Eric was clearly amused.

I didn’t hesitate, taking long strides toward the garbage can and grabbing the file, flipping through until I found the main page highlighting all thirteen models. “Do these men really look like mechanics or some fairytale?”

For the first time since I’d met the son of a bitch, he chuckled. “They’re models.”

“That’s my entire point. And not even good models. Women need to feast their eyes on hunks of manhood. Chiseled features and twelve-pack abs, toned muscles kissed by the sun and tight little butts that you just want to squeeze.” I even allowed hand motions, imitating squeezing melons.

He lifted a single eyebrow. “There are twelve-pack abs?”

“Even with being a man, you know what I mean. Women can see through bullshit across the room. Plus, I hate to say this and I’m not dissing every mechanic, but when you look at the romancesection on Amazon or in any brick-and-mortar store, you’ll be hard pressed to find a sexy series on mechanics.”