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I clasp my hands together and press—hard—hoping to redirect the blood that thinks it needs to be elsewhere in my body.
“Ms. Beach, we have people who care for all the plants in the building. And they look fine to me.”
She nods but doesn’t respond. Is she seriously going to wait for a question before speaking to me? I manage to keep my eyes from dropping below her mouth, held in a comfortable smile. Her lips part as if she’s going to say something, but she simply inhales a long, chest-expanding breath. God dammit.
I flinch first, picking up the sheet of paper that sits on top of the small pile in front of me—the one-sheet of Liu’s analysis of Virginia Beach’s business potential.
I hold it up to block my view of Virginia and read it twice to confirm that what I’ve read is accurate: John’s confidence in her success is high, based on her drive, her willingness to adapt and learn, her fearlessness, and the space in the market for a person with her expertise. She might have scammed her way in to the program, but according to John, she belongs.
I hear the fabric of her dress rustle and look up, watching her back as she fusses with the plants. She’s whispering to them. I can’t make out what she’s saying, and it’s distracting as hell.
“I can hear you whispering, you know. If you must talk to them, use your normal voice. It will be less distracting than trying to filter out the ‘pss, pss, pss’ sounds of you trying to be quiet.”
She faces me.
“Am I clear?”
“Actually, I’m not really talking to them. I’m just breathing on them. The air in here is too still. To thrive, plants need CO2 to know they’re alive and to photosynthesize. And since we can’t open a window, this is the best I can do. If you want them to live, the people you havetaking care of them”—she air quotes—“need to be told that. Even better than that, if you’re having conversations on your cell, you can really help them if you stand over here and talk while you face them.”
Virginia “Plant Crusader” Beach, steps toward me with her hands held in front of her like she’s presenting an offering. “And even better than that? When you come into your office in the morning and before you leave at the end of the day, blow a slow, warmed breath over them all.”
This woman must have plus-sized lungs. When she inhales, her upper body expands like a freaking puffer fish plush toy. She purses her lips and blows slowly toward me while making gentle wind sounds that end with a faint moan. I realize, after I’ve made the same sound myself, that I’m mimicking her. She might not be spiky like a puffer fish, but this woman is just as dangerous.
“I am not going to breathe on my plants, Ms. Beach. If you have suggestions for the team that is paid to care for them, please make a note and give it to my assistant, Savannah.”
She nods and looks around my office. I follow her eyes to the wet bar.
“The hibiscus is dry. May I give it water?”
“Knock yourself out.”
She fills a glass half full and brings it to my desk.
“I know you say you have people for this, but since this plant has been ignored for so long, it’s going to need more than once-a-week attention, or however often you have them coming. So, may I please show you how to bring this one back to good health, Mr. Power?”
I shake my head no, but say, “Fine.”
She picks up the pot and places it right in front of me.
“Poke the soil.”
I look from the plant to my fingers, sitting tented before me.
Virginia leans across the desk, giving me a highly inappropriate close-up of her cleavage. New headline:“Virginia Beach: Will Power’s Pick for Favorite Vacation Destination.”
She points at my hands and when I don’t move, she pushes her own finger into the soil. “See?” She pulls a dry, clean digit from the pot. “It’sbonedry. It needs to bemoist, but not dripping wet. It would be good for you, for the hibiscus, I mean, to be able tofeelhow much moisture this container needs to bring it to life.”
Is she seriously using words likeboneandmoistwhile asking me to poke my finger in her container?
“Ms. Beach,” I warn, “get that pot off my desk. If it needs so much goddamn attention, give it to Savi to deal with. Or take it home and fix it yourself.” I wave for her to back the fuck away from my desk and my boner. “Are you done with the whole first-responder schtick with whatever this plant is?”
“If that’s what you prefer, then yes.” She takes the glass of water and the almost-dead green thing back to the wet bar and messes about for a minute or two, humming the whole time. She washes her hands and dries them on a paper towel, which she puts in the compost bucket under the sink. She looks like she feels totally at ease in a space designed to make people like her feel the opposite.
People like her.I let the thought bounce around in my head, trying to decipher what it means.
Most people, even the ones who work here, are intimidated by my office and the power it communicates. Not Virginia Beach. If anything, I suspect she sees weakness since she’s so intently focused on what’s dying in here, not what I’ve built and am sustaining. I’m curious now.
“Ms. Beach.” I point again at the chair in front of my desk. She sits. “You committed fraud by taking advantage of that gold business card. That’s a $20,000 crime. I don’t know what the exact penalty for that level of theft is, but one of the several dozen lawyers Will Power & Bros. has on staff will be able to tell me before your feet hit the sidewalk outside this building.”
