A Daddy for Alexi by Joe Satoria

12. WARREN

We weren’t late, but we weren’t on time either. I had a meeting at 9:30 A.M. and we arrived just in time. Alexi with his pink Frappuccino and a sleeve of paperwork underarm.

I noticed Marcus look me over, carrying in a coffee. I wasn’t his assistant, but I could see the judgement for not having asked him if he wanted one.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked.

“They said they were waiting for you,” he grumbled from the head of the table. He glanced across at Alexi. He’d taken a seat at the back of the room.

“I don’t know why,” I grumbled, sucking coffee through the lip of the lid. “They should have the mock designs for the festival stall. All we need is your sign off, and we can get them sent off to the printer.” Something I should have been able to do, easily, but Marcus liked to be the official name, signing off anything with the company name. It was good. He was in control of what the company looked like, but it was tedious coming to him when I knew I had it under control.

Marcus shrugged, placing his feet on the edge of the table. He nodded at Alexi. “How’s working for him?” he asked.

Alexi’s glance shifted from him to me and back again. “I—I like it.”

“Overwork you?” he asked. “The ladies in customer services mentioned you got flustered.”

“Nobody—” I said, louder. “Nobody is speaking about him. Alexi has been a huge help. I feel much more organised, and that’s what makes a great assistant.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “My assistant is always so busy; she rarely has time to grab herself a frap—is that a Frappuccino?”

“Alexi is great,” I said, interrupting once more, hoping the marketing team would arrive soon enough. “Organising my time so well, he can get us nice drinks before work.” I wondered how long I could keep that up for, especially since we were both late.

“You’re a catch,” he said, nodding to him. “I might poach you off him if you’re not careful. Don’t give him too much of a good thing, he’ll constantly expect it.”

A gentle tap came to the boardroom glass door.

“Ah, there we are,” I said, welcoming the team. “So, Alexi will make notes, bullet points. We want to keep this brief,” I said, nodding to him. He opened up the file with the paper and the drawing sheet I’d added. His eyes lit up. “Let’s talk posters, flyers, and finalise the design we’re sending to the printer.”

Since Friday, Marcus had been sent several designs via email and test prints. His common notes were about hating the colour, colours which his cans were branded with, a yellow and blue logo with a bubble font saying ‘FIZZ’.

During the meeting, I looked back only a couple times, and each time we made eye contact and smiled. It was nice to see him smile more now than he had when we first met. I liked his smiling face; I liked the fact he wasn’t running to the bathroom upset, or worse, wandering into handsome strangers who begged to take him for coffee. That was only me.

Marcus snapped his fingers. “Did he write that down?” he asked, jolting all attention and focus to Alexi.

“Yes,” I snapped back, “no orange on the banner.”

Alexi looked at me and only me. He nodded. I watched as he jotted something. For all the colouring he did with the ballpoint pen, he was also surprisingly good at making random notes from what he heard. He said he used to do it when he was younger. And that’s all I seemed to know about him younger.

“So, you want leaflet colour and placement of number three,” I said, smacking a hand on the table before a piece of paper, “and you want those on the front banner. You guys have the measurements for that.”

They nodded back to me, furiously making notes.

“And a flag,” Marcus said, standing. He placed his leg on the edge of the table like he was staking a claim to a piece of land. “I saw the emails; I didn’t like any of them. Even the one—” he snapped his fingers at the team. “Nick sent before the meeting.”

“We don’t need a flag if you can’t decide on it,” I said. “Everything needs to be approved before this afternoon, we’re cutting this so fine. We need to agree on something to have it printed and sent here on Friday morning. I would even argue that since the event starts Friday morning, even this is late.”

Marcus scoffed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He removed his leg from the table.

“I’m still behind the idea of having the logo on a Union Jack,” I said, “we’re a British-based company and we’re made and manufactured here, plus, it sends a strong message to the community.”

He hummed, like he had the first and second time I suggested it. “It just feels like it’s been done.”

Looking to the others on my team, none of them wishing to speak up or pitch ideas. Their nervous energy not comforting to the peaceful way Alexi was sitting in his own bubble, viciously scribbling with the pen.

“How about no flag?”

“No, no, we need one,” he said. “Fine, we’ll go with your Union Jack idea.”

My team sighed a breath of relief. I couldn’t blame them. They looked exhausted. Trying to find ways to sell the company to the public was tough when Marcus had his own idea, and nobody could even come close to creating it.

We were free, finally.

In my office, I locked the door behind Alexi. The walls were frosted glass. No looking in or looking out. Alexi had walked ahead, placing the file on my desk.

As he turned, I grabbed him by his cream sweater with the cat embroidered on his chest. I pushed him against the wall and kissed him.

“You taste like strawberries,” I said, my tongue out, touching his lips. It was the Frappuccino, but it was delicious no matter what it was.

“You taste like coffee,” he said, sticking his tongue out to copy me. Our tongues touching.

Pulling myself away from him, I needed to. We had our tests back negative yesterday, and it was taking everything in me not to fill him up with my cream on the table. But I was sure to be breaking several rules if I did that, and I didn’t need to be caught having sex in my office.

“So, tonight,” he said, sitting in the chair opposite my desk. His hands together, excited, pressing into his lap. “What are we going to do?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” I said behind him, my hands on his shoulders. We would both love it, but I couldn’t tell him what it was until it happened. It wasn’t exactly a done deal. “Do you like what I picked out for you?”

“It’s nice, soft, I like white, but I wished there was some colour,” he said, peering back to look at me.

Reaching the embroidery of the cat, I patted it. “There’s a little blue there,” I said. “Tomorrow, there will be some more colour.”

“Thank you.” He stroked the top of my hand. “I coloured the picture in, it’s a cat with green and blue patchwork fur.”

“A Franken-cat?” I chuckled.

Opening the file on his lap, it was pretty much as expected for a green and blue cat. “Is that your favourite colour for a cat?”

“No, I already told you.”

And he had. Alexi hadn’t mentioned much from his childhood, except for making notes and once having a cat. It’s why I chose the embroidered top and the colouring page. “Right,” I said, “a silver-grey cat.”

He nodded. “You remembered.”

“I’m a good daddy, of course I remembered.” I leaned over, kissing him on the forehead. He tipped his head back.

A knock came at the glass.

Thankfully, it was locked.

“Right,” I told him, “I best see to it that those designs are uploaded and sent to the printer.”

He kept a hold of my hand in his hand. “Ok, but I still want to know where we’re going later.”

I was strong willed; he wasn’t going to break me easily. But we had eight hours until then, and I knew he was wearing lace beneath all that cuteness. I could be tempted. I could be broken.