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“Can I get a tall macchiato caramel?“ I asked the Starbucks barista.
“Is that all?”she asked.
I nodded and opened my purse that was hanging off my shoulder and rested on my left hip.I needed to call my best friend Roslyn.She was my sister from another mother (not by blood or marriage, but we are tight) that I just met five years ago at ‘the dunce.’Roslyn worked in another department and had been at the firm one year longer than I had.She was a Dominican-American woman with a brown complexion, long flowing hair and a smile that stopped most men in their tracks.She was married to her high school sweetheart, Hugo, and he has spoiled her rotten.They do not have kids yet because Roslyn wants to be made partner first, so she can cut her hours and delegate, as she often said.She is no delegator, so I have no idea when she’ll have kids.I also questioned whether they will make her partner because they are sexist pigs at ‘the dunce.’She and I have had this conversation over and over, but she is determined.My hat goes off to her because those people there were too much for me.
Roslyn always said I have no tact and there are better ways to address my concerns.She felt like I blew that thing out of proportion starting with my response to the junior executive.She and I went round and round about this.I kept explaining how it needed to be said, and she kept explaining that it didn’t need to be said like that.She said I needed to use more tact.I told her that was me using tact.She ended our disagreement by stating that this was why I didn’t have a man.I sat there looking at her with my mouth open that she would hit me below the belt like that.
Granted, it was partly true.Over the past ten years, I dated three guys.One smoked marijuana a little too much for a grown man.One was a Rastafarian wannabe, who tried to convert me every time he got a chance and the other one was married.He hadn’t bothered telling me this, but some things didn’t add up.So once I verified that he didn’t graduate from college and that he co-owned his business with his wife, I let him have it.These were all valid reasons for dumping those guys.However, Roslyn argued that I didn’t need to tell the weed head that his smoking impacted his stamina in bed.Or tell the Rasta wannabe that just because his great-great-grandfather was half-Jamaican didn’t mean he had to talk with a fake Jamaican accent.She also said that I shouldn’t have shown up to the married guys business to explain to his wife that she was with a cheating, lying no-good dog.Roslyn thought this was over the top and since word got around that I had done those things, guys stayed away from me.
Besides Roslyn, I didn’t really have any other friends, except my buddy Elliot.My parents moved to Florida to retire and I moved out of my old neighborhood so I was more accessible to the airport, trains and bus.Which meant I didn’t see most of the people I grew up with and most of them were associates anyway and not friends.Elliot was a colleague of mine that I met a few years ago.We were almost instant friends.I contacted him about starting my business because he was recommended by another colleague of mine.It was said he was the best when it came to new startups.Elliot and I worked very close those first few months.He never hit on me, could take my verbal blows and give them back just as quick and right on cue.He didn’t think like Roslyn who thought I needed more tact when communicating.He was of the same thinking as me, I already exercised my tact.That’s probably why he and I hit it off, our sense of humor and wit were very similar.The things Elliot and I got into it about were based not my approach, but our differences in business models, execution of projects, etc.So, I guess between Elliot and Roslyn – I’m balanced enough.
“Make that two,” a deep voice said from behind me.
I whipped around and almost hit him with my head because he was so close.He was leaning over me to pay the barista for the drinks.
What the hell?
Here’s the thing, I’m 5’9 and I had on 3” heeled boots, so I’m a pretty tall lady.This guy was leaning over me, so he had to be around 6’5 or taller.When he stood up to his full height, I saw it was the guy from the elevator.
What the hell?
“Sir, what are you doing?”I was annoyed.
His eyes slid down to mine.“Treating a beautiful lady,” he smoothly responded.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I shook my head at the barista and went to hand her my card.
She looked confused, but went to grab my card.He snatched the card out of my hands and commanded, “I got this.”
Well, I’ll be.
At that point, the barista took his twenty dollar bill and deposited it in the register, gave him his change and asked, “Your name?”
“Joshua,” he replied.
I could play this one of a few ways, I thought as I stared at him with my mouth open.
Option 1: I could be a total bitch and tell him where he can go, how I can pay for my own coffee and how dare he have the nerve to try and bend me to his will.
Option 2: I could thank him politely, get my coffee and go home.
Option 3: I could smile and say thank you.
I couldn’t tell if he was good looking or not because I was now thoroughly pissed.He no longer had the scowl on his face, but a smirk.I felt like he walked over me and disregarded my wishes, but that didn’t mean I needed to act on that feeling.I didn’t want to make a scene at the Starbucks because I frequently came here as many of my clients were in this area.However, I did want to make it clear to him who he was dealing with.As I was preparing myself to go with Option 1, but a more civilized and modified version, he reached his hand up to my mouth and closed my lips with his thumb and index finger.Then he slipped my card back in my purse with his other hand.
WHAT THE FUCK!
I jerked back from his hand and he quickly moved into my space, which caused me to step back out of the line.I gasped and could not believe his boldness.He started directing me towards the corner near the restrooms.His two fingers were now over my mouth, like he wanted me to be quiet.My back hit the wall and he was in my personal space, leaning over me with his fingers gently on my lips.Then I really looked at him.
He had gray eyes, medium sized eyebrows, tanned skin, short-cropped black hair and faded facial hair.He also rocked a dark navy tailored suit, a yellow striped shirt, and a blue spectrum patterned crisscross tie.He was muscular, not on the lean side, but more like a quarterback.Hmm, he could have been a quarterback with how fast he moved me to the corner.The smirk on his face was gone and now his face was wiped blank.I was still too stunned to respond to the entire scene.Fully aware of my current state, he decided to take advantage by first placing his fingers on my lips and then keeping them there.I stared at him in shock, but my mouth was closed.
“My name is Joshua,” he said with a low voice.
I continued to stare.
“Have coffee with me,” he stated.It wasn’t a question, but a demand.
I continued to stare.He removed his fingers slowly from my lips and brought his hand down to his side, as if this issue had been settled.
