Chasing Frost by Isabel Jolie
Three
Chase
“Good morning, sunshine! Are you raring to go on this bright, beautiful Monday morning?”
“Yes, I am. Did you have a good weekend?”
Rhonda, my assistant extraordinaire, follows me into my office with a steaming cup of hot coffee just for me. I’ve already had one coffee on my way to work, but I love having a warm mug on my desk.
“Rhonda, you are too good to me. Best assistant on the planet.” Her smile boosts my mood. She’s so easy to make happy. I like having happy people around me. Life is too damn short to be pissy.
My laptop blinks to life as there’s a tap on the doorframe, and Evan Mitchell and hot Frost crowd the doorway. Rhonda nods to them both as she backs out. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Rhonda. You put the sun in my day.” She beams in response.
Evan steps forward, looking like himself in his drab suit and tie, but Ms. Frost has some sort of wartime expression going on. Once again, she’s in black, only today she’s in slim-fitting, ass defining slacks and a black suit jacket over a demure black blouse that could be so much more if she unbuttoned one more button. I peer over the table, curiosity getting the better of me. Yep, black high heels.
“Chase, do you remember Sydney? I introduced you both Saturday night.”
“Of course.”
Ms. Frost stands behind my office guest chair, one hand resting on the back of it, as the other holds a notebook. It could be my imagination, but I’m fairly certain her fingers are pressing hard into the back of the chair. I do a quick mental rundown of what I’ve said that might have already pissed her off but come up emptyhanded.
“As I mentioned, she’s stepping into Tad’s old role. HR has cleaned up his office, but his files are a mess. It seems he wiped his laptop before leaving, too, so Sydney here is starting fresh. Do you mind helping her out? I know she’s not in your group, but you know this place like the back of your hand, and I can’t think of a better person to introduce her around.”
Evan’s not lying. If they held a firm-wide popularity contest, I’d win hands down. And there are over two thousand employees in our New York offices. I’m an extrovert in a cubicle minefield of uptight introverts. It works for me.
Case in point—everyone here wears suits. Men always wear ties. Me? T-shirt under a jacket, usually khakis, but sometimes I push it and go jeans. And you know what? My refusal to fall to an outdated wardrobe protocol hasn’t hurt me at all. If anything, I stand out. I’m everybody’s buddy. No one thinks I’m trying to climb the corporate ladder, because no one dressed like me is ambitious, right? Wrong. I’ve risen through the ranks faster than any of these other CPAs. My clients love me, probably because I’m a hell of a lot more fun on the golf course. But, at the end of the day, all the bosses care about is how happy the client is. And I’m in the business of making people happy.
“I’d love to help her get the lay of the land.” I flash her my flirty smile, the one I usually break out if I’m introducing myself to a stranger in a bar. Solid dark eyes, so dark they’re almost black, regard me with a studied coolness. A frost so chill it’s spooky. This woman’s perma-frown is a sign she needs a little of my brand of sunshine. I’ll happily warm her right up. Of course, I’ll do so in a completely professional and appropriate way.
“She’s starting at ground zero. We can’t find any of the work Tad did for the first two quarters of the year. Can you show her around our intranet, how to access our accounts, that kind of thing? I’ve told her if she runs into any issues or has any questions, she can come to you. I know you don’t handle all our accounts, but if she has a question you can’t answer, you’ll know how to get the answer.”
“Sure thing.”
Evan exhales and runs his fingers along the top of his head, and the small patch of hair he has up there shifts. Rhonda and I use that patch as a meter for his mood. If it’s lying down flat, everything’s groovy. If the front has shifted a tad up, then something’s brewing and you gotta keep it to business. If it’s perpendicular, then we stay the fuck away. That’s not an entirely fair assessment, as it could just mean he scored some office sex, or at least, that’s what I like to imagine. To be safe, when the patch’s upright, I follow Rhonda to the copy room.
Frost openly inspects me, and I get the distinct feeling she’s trying to decide if she’s going to reject Evan’s offer for me to help her.
But then she says, “IT has me set up on my laptop. I should have access to everything now. Do you think it might be best if you come with me to my office? If you can show me around the intranet, then I can navigate and come up with a game plan and come to you if I have any questions. Does that work?”
The corners of her pale pink lips lift into an awkward smile. It’s the most warmth she’s shown me since I met her. I’m not worried. She’ll grow to like me. All it takes is a little time around me, and eventually, I grow on people.
As we pass Rhonda’s desk, I rap my fist against it and say, “Patch Level Two. Level Two.” I shoot her with my finger, and she smothers a laugh. Sydney’s walking in front of me, leading the way, all business, like any new employee learning the ropes.
We round the corner into her sterile office. There are no personal items at all, which is what you’d expect from a new employee. Other than the laptop and a large monitor to the side, and a cup holder with pens and pencils, there’s nothing to indicate anyone occupies this office.
She points at my shirt. “Do you always dress like that?”
I glance down at my tee. It’s a white t-shirt with a Batman mask and black font below it that reads I’m not saying I’m Batman, I’m just saying no one has ever seen me and Batman in a room together. I think the black works well with the black sports jacket I’m wearing today. But I get it. She’s a conformist. She wants everyone to look the same and follow all the same rules. To her credit, my jacket covers part of the text, and therefore she can’t fully appreciate the humor.
“Not a DC Comics fan?” I ask, holding out hope she’s a huge Marvel fan.
“What is DC Comics?” she asks in a way that makes it clear she’s not flirting with that answer. She genuinely has no idea.
I don’t even answer because there’s no real reason to. If she’s reached adulthood and doesn’t know the basics, then there’s little that can be done. She’s one hundred percent professional, not a joke to be found, as I sit down behind her computer and type away.
Hotness level be damned, she’s coming across like an accounting stiff. It’s not looking like we’ll be hanging out after work drinking brewskies. This woman is not a PLU. I’ll inform Rhonda. PLU is our inside code for people like us. You gotta be a PLU if we’re including you in the after-work invite. That lust I felt Saturday night is shrinking the same way my favorite limb shrinks when thrown in Lake Michigan.
I show her around on the network, leave some notes for her, and jot down my office extension should she have any more questions.
I’m barely back in my office when my phone rings. No name shows up, but I hazard a guess that’s because HR hasn’t fully set her up yet.
“Hello.”
“I clicked to access the accounting reports, and it’s saying I don’t have access.”
Yeah, it seemed improbable she’d have full access on day one. Our IT department is competent, but far below outstanding.
“Tell you what, let me call my main man, Tommy, and send him your way to get you fully set up.”
“How long do you think that will take? Do you have any paper files I can look through?”
I actually do have a gazillion files, which she probably surmised when in my office, as one wall of my office is file cabinets. The entire area behind Rhonda is also file cabinets. I’m the only guy in the place who keeps printed records of everything. Rhonda’s nickname for me is tree killer. But it’s not a good idea to hand the files over to Frosty. They could be outdated, and she’d be spinning her wheels. And she’d only have access to my accounts. BB&E is a shit load bigger than the twenty-five accounts I oversee.
“I’ll get Tommy to make you priority number one. He’ll be at your office in five minutes.”
A brief huff crosses the phone line, making it clear five minutes does not meet her expectations.
After I dispatch Tommy, I call my good friend Anna to make lunch plans. If I’m going to end up spending more time today with little miss serious-as-can-be, all-work Frost, I’m going to need a relaxed, happy lunch.
As I chat on the phone with Anna, my desk calendar catches my attention. I’m in the office every day this week. That’s problematic. I shoot a text to Rhonda to see if she can schedule some tee time for later in the week.
After Anna and I agree to a lunch spot, I head to the twelfth-floor conference room for Monday morning status with my team. Rhonda passes me a fresh cup of joe as she steps in place beside me on the way to the elevator. The elevators slide to close until a notebook thrusts between them, activating the safety catch to open the doors. Sydney steps inside as she mumbles an apology, or maybe it’s thanks.
“What floor are you going to?” I ask, polite as ever.
“Twelfth? For your status meeting?”
“My status meeting? Why would you—”
“Evan suggested I attend all of the team status meetings today, or at least as many as I can. Several all happen at the same time, but he gave me a list of the ones he thought I should prioritize. You know, to get the lay of the land?”
What do I care if she attends my status meeting? She’s coming in here as an internal auditor. To some, that means she’s looking for screw-ups. But I know better than that. If she finds a mistake, she’s really saving my ass. I’d much rather a colleague find a mistake than it be splashed across the nightly news as an accounting scandal that’s tanking a client’s stock.
As a CIA, she may be used to people treating her like the IRS. Maybe that’s why she’s all business. That would suck to fall into a career where everyone thinks of you as the enemy.
I exhale loudly, call on my inner camp guy, the one who reaches out to every loner, just as the elevator door opens.
“Ms. Frost, it will be our honor to have you attend our Monday morning status meeting.”
Rhonda heads on into the conference room, saying hellos on the way in, as Sydney stops right outside the door, blocking my entrance. She looks me directly in the eye, but there’s a soft blush to her cheeks that undermines her confident stance.
“I’m sorry if I was a bit brash this morning. Sometimes I can be a little abrasive.”
Frosty, abrasive, tomato, tomatah. I smile and hold out my arm, directing her into the conference room. My team awaits.
“No problem. You’ve been fine.” Really, she’s been beyond uptight, but I knew I’d wear her down eventually. Everybody’s got a soft side, some you just gotta work a little harder to soften ’em up. And, these days, I suppose I could stand to take a page from Ms. Frost and be a tad more professional.
Status passes issue-free. Sydney’s pen writes down almost every word spoken. Something tells me she was the student who filled up multiple notebooks for each subject.
It takes forever and a day for lunchtime to arrive. The end of the quarter is coming up, and my phone has been ringing off the hook. Several of my clients want extensions or are calling with questions.
One account, an account I haven’t yet really figured out, wants to go out Thursday night. It should be a pretty straightforward business, but the guy doesn’t seem to have any office employees. I only deal with Joe, the owner. The guy disposes of biohazard waste, so I guess he hasn’t felt the need to hire anyone to help with the accounting. I have this vision of his employees wearing rubber gloves and face masks as they dump chemicals somewhere in the dark of night, possibly in a river. I try not to think about it. He’s this gold-chain-wearing guy straight out of Scarface, lives in Chicago, and whenever he comes into town, he handles the plans. My week is looking up.
When I step up to Osteria Delbianca, the small Italian restaurant we favor, Anna greets me with her signature, “Hey you!” and I pick her up and whirl her around. Anna’s one of my oldest friends from Chapel Hill, and now she’s chained down my good friend and grad school roommate, Jackson. Not to brag, but I was their yente. Yep. When he moved to New York, I set him up with a place in her building and orchestrated a few meet and greets to rekindle the old college flame. I’ve mentioned to Jackson more than once that I should be his firstborn’s namesake. Seems fair. Or…maybe godfather.
We’re seated in our normal table by the back window, but I see a better table out on the coveted terrace—or, well, roped-off sidewalk. It’s the end of summer, and I’m not sure how much more time we have for outdoor seating, so I ask. The hostess loves me, so of course, she smiles as she leads the way to the only available al fresco table.
As Anna holds the menu, I do my habitual scan of her fingers. No engagement ring yet. I know Jackson’s bought the damn thing. I was with him when he did it. And I wish I hadn’t been because the guy’s been waiting forever, and it might shock some people to learn this about me, but I don’t really like having to keep secrets. Especially big-ass secrets.
“So, are you ready for this Saturday?”
I’m torn between going healthy-ish with a Venetian salad or going all out and getting a chicken parm sub. “What are you getting?” I ask, because if she’s ordering a salad, that means she’s planning on eating half my order. We’ve been doing the lunch thing for years.
“I think I might be bad and order the lasagna.”
The waitress comes up, and I order the chicken parm. My hour run this morning, plus some evening weight time, and I’ll earn it.
When Leigh Ann, our waitress, leaves, Anna kicks my ankle.
“So, this weekend? You’re in, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” We have this cheesy bachelor-slash-bachelorette party that our friends are throwing. I don’t know the couple well. Not a surprise, since any close friend of mine would not agree to have his bachelor party combined with the ladies. If that isn’t a recipe for lame, I don’t know what is. I hope Jackson doesn’t get any crazy ideas from this shindig, because when it’s his turn, I’ll be the one planning his party, and it’s going to rock the motherfucking casbah.
“Sam said you didn’t RSVP. I told him I’d check in and make sure you’re coming.”
“What was I supposed to RSVP to?”
“The email that went out?” Anna sounds exasperated, which is hardly needed. It’s our friends. Of course I’m going to show.
I snag a piece of bread from the basket, dip it in olive oil, sprinkle some salt and pepper, look up, and she’s staring at me.
“What? Yes, I’m going. Jeez. I didn’t realize Sam was being all girlie about it. I’ll text the guy.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll let him know. It’s just Olivia is throwing this together last minute. She found out they were coming into town like a week ago, so she’s stressed.”
“Okay. Fine. I got it. Aren’t we just meeting at Sam and Olivia’s apartment?” I really do not see how anyone is stressed about this.
“We’re meeting there, and then they have a whole night planned. It’ll be fun.”
Yeah, whatevs.
“Are you bringing a date?”
“Do I ever?” I snag another piece of bread as a loud bus rides by and a plume of exhaust floats out across the sidewalk. Oh, yeah, that’s the reason I don’t always sit outside.
“What about the wedding? You did RSVP for the wedding, right?”
“I wasn’t raised in a barn. Of course I mailed back the RSVP card.” I think. Pretty sure I did. Maybe. “I booked the hotel you said you and Jackson are staying at. In Iowa. I’ve never been there. You?”
Anna breaks down and reaches for a piece of bread. It was only a matter of time.
“No. But it looks lovely. Maggie is such a sweetheart. I’m really happy for her.” She pauses. “You know, you should consider bringing a date to the wedding.”
“Are you out of your mind? Out of town? No fucking way. Nothing says I’m serious like come with me to an out of town wedding.”
“Well, bring a friend. I know you have tons of them.”
“You tired of me being third wheel?”
“No. Not at all. But it’s gonna be a long weekend of couples. I want to make sure you have fun.”
“Are Delilah and Mason bringing pipsqueak?” All our friends have coupled off recently at the speed of light. Mason has a daughter from a previous relationship, and a lot of times when we all get together, she and I end up hanging. I’m the fun uncle. Every kid’s gotta have one.
“No. She’s staying with Mason’s mom. Delilah’s pretty psyched about an adult weekend away.”
Yeah, I know what that’s code for. So, it’s gonna be me with three lovey-dovey couples. Seventh wheel in the middle of Bum Fuck. Fabulous.