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Legal is surprisingly laid back, not the stuffy suits you’d expect, largely because of their leadership’s assured guidance and experience with all things business oriented. I think they can be a little Machiavellian sometimes, but they’re protecting Fox’s ass, which in turn covers mine, so I guess a bit of evil genius is warranted.
Acquisitions is another beast entirely, different from any other department in the building. There’s a sense of competitiveness in the air that reeks of testosterone and smelling salts. They compete with each other to bring the best potential options for takeovers and negotiate the deals in Fox’s favor, and they compete within the industry to get those smaller business owners to choose Fox over other capital options.
They lie, cheat, and steal to keep Fox growing. Not in a character flaw way but in a ‘business is dog-eat-dog’, cutthroat way. It’s something I don’t comprehend and don’t seek to understand. Just walking into their area feels like entering a lion’s den, the danger making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and my fight or flight instincts rankle into readiness. For flight? Probably not. As anyone who knows me would tell you, I’m more the fight first, ask questions later sort, and when push comes to shove, I’ll shove you right down the stairs and step over your prone body.
Or I’d like to think so, at least.
Acquisitions has a big dry erase marker board on one wall with numbers and stock symbols and several team members' names with bulleted lists underneath. I’m not sure if that’s their to-do assignments or brags on what they’ve accomplished. Both are equally likely, but the bragging option is more distasteful to me. Do you need to put your name on the board for head pats and accolades?
But all that runs out of my mind as I walk down the hall and come up on one dark office and hear a hissed voice whispering from inside, “Baaabe, you can’t call me at work like this.”
I recognize Mark’s voice instantly because he is one of the people who says hello every morning without fail. Never one to turn away from hot gossip, I freeze before sliding backward out of sight. If he’s calling whoever is on the other end of the line ‘babe’, he must be talking to his female friend, the same one who calls for Brandon. I have a moment of guilt at not telling them, but it’s truly not my place.
Still, I can’t help but listen even though I’m only able to hear one side of the conversation. I mean, I’ve been playing operator on both of their booty calls, it seems. I need to know.
Mark clears his throat. “I know. I miss you too.”
He sounds whiny, and I’m not sure why anyone would find that attractive. I mean, I guess it takes all types, considering the number of categories there are on porn websites. But it’s definitely not for me.
Mark goes quiet for a moment, presumably listening to the woman on the other end of the phone. I can’t hear what she says, of course, but the whiny tone is replaced with frustration as he says, “Of course I understand, but we’re gonna get busted if we talk while I’m here.”
Now this is interesting. Does he mean busted by Brandon?
If so, holy shit!
Maybe Mark does know that they’re both talking to the same woman, which takes him from idiot to slimeball. Has he never heard of the bro code? Don’t date your bro’s sister, mom, or girlfriend.
That’s like Rule Numero Uno.
What about your friend’s dad? a voice questions in my head.
That’s different, I tell myself haughtily.
Sure, it is.
Either way, whoever this girl is, she’s got Mark’s balls in her purse for sure. And not in the ‘teasing Ricky about Miranda’ way, but literally. “It’s just a little bit longer, only until this deal is done. And then we can be together openly, Layla. Can you wait just a teensy-weensy bit? It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
I lift a brow at Mark’s confidence that he’s going to win Layla’s heart over Brandon. Neither of them is my type, but I think if I had a gun held to my head for a round of Would You Rather?, I’d go with Brandon every time. He’s less . . . Mark.
“That’s my good girl.”
Blech. My usually nonexistent gag reflex—it’s a developed skill that I’m hoping to put to further practice soon—activates, and I have to swallow hard to keep from puking at the praise.
In the dark room, Mark makes a humming sound. “Okay, we’ll talk soon. You should have the contract this week, and then we’ll be set, babe. Mmm-hmm. You too.”
He makes smoochy noises into the phone that warn me the call is about to end, and I realize that I need to move my ass or I’m going to get busted eavesdropping. Turning left, I make a quick loop through the cubicle jungle before getting down the right aisle to Brandon’s cubicle.
