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Belle flicks her hand. “Just explain that it was a dare and you couldn’t say no.”
“I doubt most people take dares as seriously as we do.” I manage to get the rest of the cardboard off and hold the plastic ball in my hand. I have a vague memory of having one of these in middle school, but I have no idea whatever happened to it. “Well, shall we put this baby to the challenge?”
“What are you going to ask it?” Belle leans forward, her eyes gleaming like it’s Christmas or her birthday, and she’s about to open a huge present. She loves birthdays and refuses to celebrate just one day. Instead, she has a birthday week.
“Am I going to enjoy this challenge?” I flip the ball over and ‘Yes Definitely’ pops into the viewing screen. “I think you may have to take this back. It’s broken already.”
Hannah leans over to read the decision and shoves me. “It is not. I think you will enjoy this challenge, and I for one will enjoy watching you have to consult it for your decisions.”
“How very type three of you.” At least I’m pretty sure she’s a type three. I still don’t understand how she tells the difference, but she swears I’m a type seven and she’s a type three, whatever that means. The rest of us don’t put as much faith into it as she does, but she is constantly pointing out our strengths and fears based on the chart.
“You’re just being a typical seven,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out at me. “This will be good for you.”
“Ask it if you’ll have a date for Valentine’s Day this year,” Belle says, wiggling in her chair. She’s almost like a puppy trying to contain her excitement.
Though I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question, especially since I’m not sure I’m ready to date again, I ask the ball and turn it over, chuckling when ‘My sources say No’ floats to the top. “Maybe it’s accurate after all. There certainly aren’t any prospects on the horizon.”
“But there could be,” Belle says. “I bet it changes before the fourteenth.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I set the ball to the side. “Now, can we focus on something other than my love life or lack thereof?”
The girls agree, and the topic switches to the struggles they’ve been facing at work, but as the conversation continues, my eyes slide to the magic eight ball. Even though I know it’s a gimmicky toy and nothing more, I want to ask it if Adam’s happy. If he loves Amy? If he ever loved me? This is going to be a long few weeks.
CHAPTER2
Derek
Coffee.I smell coffee. The sweet, earthy aroma always invigorates my senses. Wait. Why do I smell coffee? I’m supposed to be showered and dressed by the time I smell coffee. My eyes snap open, and I shoot out of bed. I’ve overslept again. What is going on with me? My alarm is set for the same time every day. It goes off like clockwork. I’m like clockwork. Or at least I’m supposed to be. Something’s been shifting in the last few weeks, but this is not the day to be late. No, this is the day I need to be at work earlier than normal, to show Philip how determined I am, how dependable.
Dependable has been my moniker. Dependable Derek. It’s not a bad moniker. There are certainly worse things I could be than dependable. Dependable looks good on a resume, it gets you interviews, it generally even results in job offers, but it doesn’t grab your attention. It doesn’t scream ‘promote this man’ and I should know because I’ve been passed over for at least two other promotions. And today is another chance. Maybe the last chance. So today I need stellar, outstanding, perfect, but as I survey the contents of my closet, I wonder which suit screams that? The black pinstriped? The blue pinstriped? The gray pinstriped? Yes, I know they probably look the same to everyone else, but I can see the variations - the subtle differences - and it’s enough for me. I just wish I knew which one screamed success to everyone else. With a sigh, I grab the gray pinstriped, hoping it will be enough to push me over the edge.
This would be easier with a woman in my life. Yes, women come with their own challenges and finding one who could put up with my need for routine might be tough, but I know they generally excel in this area and would be handy to have around for times such as these. Normally, a woman is the furthest thing from my mind as I can take care of myself. I cook - my father taught me that at a young age though he was disappointed that I didn’t excel at cooking like he did. I clean - a wonderful trait passed down from my mother, who always ran her finger along my shelves when she checked my room. I learned very early to make sure and clean every surface, and once I learned that lesson, she rarely found a speck of dust. And I’m successful - mostly. I’ve been employed by the same company for several years, and while I’m rarely praised, I’m never reprimanded. So, my life is on the right track, I think, but this promotion would help solidify the feeling that this is the track I’m supposed to be on, and something tells me the right image could clench the promotion.
Image was never my strong suit. In high school, most kids wore jeans with holes in them - I never understood that trend - and ratty t-shirts with some obscure band pictured on them. That was not my style. I was a member of the chess club and the AV team. My clothes were slacks and button-down shirts. On tournament days, I might add a suit jacket for the ‘extra professional touch.’ I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I didn’t feel like I needed them either. The two guys I did connect with were enough for me, and they dressed like me.
No one at my current job wears holy jeans or ratty t-shirts, thank goodness, but I doubt they notice or appreciate the extra care I take in my appearance. As long as I show up on time, give one hundred and ten percent, and stay longer than everyone else they’re happy. Which I do. Every day. But today is not every day. No, today the boss is announcing who is getting the new promotion, and I’m in the running, but so are others from what I’ve been told.
My watch beeps, reminding me that my coffee has finished brewing, and it is time for breakfast. Giving myself a final glance in the mirror, I adjust my tie one last time - the knot has to be perfectly centered after all - wipe the sink with the towel to pick up the few water droplets that escaped my attention after brushing my teeth, and then flick off the light. If I get this promotion, perhaps I can finally get the timer for the lights. Maybe another visual cue will help on the rare days like today when I sleep through my alarm. That and remembering to go to bed at the right time. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed up late reading, but the book sucked me in.
The subtle aroma of coffee tantalizes both my nose and my stomach as it begins its morning aerobic routine of letting me know it is hungry. Grabbing my freshly washed mug from the dishrack, I fill it with coffee first then add a splash of milk. I can drink it black, but if I’m at home, I’ll add a little milk. I take a satisfying sip and then turn to the task of making my eggs and toast. Some people would find this routine boring, but I’ve learned the value of routines and I consider eggs to be the breakfast of champions. Not only do they contain many needed vitamins, but you can make them in so many different ways - fried, scrambled, over easy, sunny side up. You can literally have a different form of egg nearly every day of the week which decreases the likelihood of boredom occurring.
When the eggs are the perfect consistency and color - I’m scrambling them today and looking for that soft yellow color - and the butter on the toast has melted, leaving a golden sheen, I plate them both and sit down at the small table. I take another sip of coffee as I pull up the daily Wordle on my phone and begin working the first level. For me, Wordle is like a crossword only quicker. Don’t get me wrong, I love crosswords too, but sometimes they take too long, and I’m forced to leave them incomplete until work is over. I despise leaving things incomplete, so I was delighted when I found Wordles. I can still challenge my brain, but a level generally only takes a few minutes. My record is deducing the correct word in just two tries - though I do think some of that was due to luck - however, five tries is my norm, and today appears to be on par with the norm.
After breakfast, I wash the dishes, return them to the drying rack, and wipe down the counter. ‘A spotless kitchen is one worth returning to in the evening,’ my mother’s voice says in my head. Another beep of my watch indicates it is time to go, and I lift my jacket from the coat rack before slipping on my wingtip loafers and grabbing my keys and attaché case, both of which sit on the end table by the door. I spare one final glance at my apartment to make sure everything is in its place, and when I am assured it is, I step outside, locking the door behind me, and cross to my silver Prius. I love the quiet of the Prius.
I use the half hour drive to work to go over my assets for when Philip asks. Number one, I am meticulous - my desk is never messy unlike some of the other people who work there. Two, I am always on time. Even on rare days like today when I sleep through the first alarm, I have backups set to wake me up. Three, I stay later than almost anyone there. The parking lot is usually empty when I leave. Four, I’m a good communicator. I always have my presentation planned and practiced. Of course, my one flaw is questions. I always try to think of questions that might arise, but if someone asks something I haven’t thought of, it stumps me for a bit. However, I would wager that the rest of the people up for this promotion have bigger flaws than that.
As I pull into the parking lot, I can feel my heart rate increasing. I do have a small case of anxiety when it comes to anything I can’t plan, but I’ve worked hard to manage it. Five deep breaths and a few affirmations usually does the trick. This time it takes ten, but finally my heart rate is back to normal. I exit the car and head toward the entrance. Be friendly, engaging, smile at people, I tell myself. If I can accomplish those things, my impeccable record should be enough to push me over the others and to the promotion.
“Good morning, Shelly,” I say to the receptionist as I pass. I’ve noticed that most people pass her desk without a word, and while I know she has no say in who gets the promotion, I have no idea when Philip or the other bosses might be watching, so I’ve been working on greeting her each day since the promotion was announced.
She smiles up at me. “Good morning, Mr. Davis. Today’s the day, right?”
“Indeed it is, and I feel good about this one.” In reality, my stomach feels a little more like I just got off a roller coaster, but mind over matter.
“Good luck,” she says as I continue toward the elevator.
I punch the elevator button and check my watch. Ten minutes to spare. It’s not as much time as I would like, but I did have to spend a few more minutes on breathing exercises this morning, so it can’t be helped. Still, it is an acceptable time to arrive.
