Inappropriate by Vi Keeland
Chapter 5
Ireland
“You look insane, you know.” Mia looked up at the hat on my head. It was totally lopsided and had two weird points that stuck up. It gave off sort of a homeless-jester vibe. Not to mention it was going to be seventy-five degrees today. But I wore it on my drive to work every day anyway.
“You’re just jealous because Aunt Opal doesn’t crochet for you.”
“I love Opal. But, yeah…not jealous your aunt who is almost blind left me off her Christmas crochet gift list.”
I opened the passenger door and grabbed my bag. “Thank you for getting up and driving me at this ungodly hour. I didn’t want to call an Uber and risk getting to work late on my first day back. I owe you one.”
“You owe me a thousand. I’ll just add it to your tab.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“What time should I pick you up?”
“You don’t have to. I’ll get a ride or grab an Uber to the tire shop to pick up my car. I’ll just see you at home later.” The tire shop had called to tell me I also desperately needed brakes and an alignment. So my flat tire had turned into two days without a car.
“Are you sure? I have coverage at the spa today. In fact, I have no idea what to do with myself since Christian talked me into not doing treatments and only managing the place now. I can pick you up. We can even grab some lunch. Better yet, I’ll bring you back to the salon, and we’ll get a couple’s massage. My treat!”
Mia owned a successful medi-spa—the kind that did facials, Botox injections, massages, and laser treatments. Her fiancé was trying to teach her to be a manager instead of a worker bee, so she could prepare to open a second location.
“I’d love to. But I’m going to have to work late to catch up. Maybe we can grab some dinner when I get home?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t. I promised Christian I’d make him his favorite dinner—tortellini ala Mia.”
“What’s that?”
“Tortellini in a cream sauce. He loves the sauce, so I let him paint it on me when he’s done.”
“TMI, friend.” I laughed. “TMI. But I thought he wasn’t coming home until tomorrow?”
“He changed his flight.” She smiled like a bride three weeks away from her wedding day. “He said he missed me too much to stay another night after his last meeting. So he’s taking the last flight home. I’ll probably just crash over there tonight.”
I opened my mouth and pointed inside it with my finger, making a gagging noise. But the truth was, I envied her relationship with her fiancé. I wouldn’t believe most men were coming home early just to see their girlfriend of three years, but Christian was as head over heels for Mia now as when they first got together.
I got out of the car and held the door.
Mia wagged her finger at me. “Now be a good girl while you’re all alone tonight, and don’t email any CEOs to tell them what you think of them.”
I was never going to live that down. “I have a job again, don’t I?”
She shook her head. “No idea how that managed to work out.”
Yeah. Me either.
***
“Great show today, Ireland.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
My first day back on the air in two weeks felt good, and my adrenaline was already pumping to get started on tomorrow’s show. I had a renewed sense of pride in my work.
Siren poked her head into my office. She looked nervous. “Hey. So I wanted to clear the air. I hope you know I had nothing to do with Bickman giving me your job. I was shocked when he came to tell me he was promoting me.”
I could have pretended I believed her bullshit and gone back to the two of us playing ignorant, but she was young and needed someone to set her straight.
“Come in, Siren. Close the door behind you.”
She did, but stood right in front of the door.
I motioned to the chairs on the other side of my desk. “Please, take a seat.”
The poor thing looked pale. She’d played up to Bickman, and I’m sure she’d been thrilled when he handed her my job on a silver platter. But the bottom line was he’d abused his position, and really, she hadn’t done anything wrong…except maybe break girl code.
I sighed. “Most people think a beautiful woman doesn’t have to work as hard to get what she wants. And that might be true when she’s at a bar trying to get a drink, or when she’s in Home Depot trying to find someone to help her down the plumbing aisle. But it’s not true in the workplace. A beautiful woman often has to work twice as hard to be seen for who she is here. Because, unfortunately, there are still men out there who can’t see past beauty. I think you’re going to be a great reporter someday. But you’re not there yet. I wasn’t at your age either. And when you play into men like Bickman, and take a position you haven’t earned, you devalue yourself and all women. We need to stick together, not use beauty as a weapon against each other.”
Siren looked down at her lap for a long time. When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes and nodded. “You’re right. It didn’t feel right when he gave me the job. It felt like I hadn’t earned it…because I didn’t.”
“I’m not going to pretend I’m totally innocent. You know the mailroom won’t ship anything they receive after three o’clock until the following day. I’ve thrown my share of smiles and batted my damn eyelashes at George to get things out at four thirty. But be careful around men in positions of power who give you something you didn’t earn—they’re going to expect you to earn it after the fact, in a way you won’t like.”
“Thanks, Ireland.”
“Anytime.”
An hour later, my desk phone rang, and the name on the caller ID surprised me. Speaking of men in power…Grant Lexington flashed on the display. I shut my laptop and leaned back in my chair as I picked up the phone. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I was just calling to see how things were going—that you settled back in okay.” His deep voice was even raspier on the phone than in person. Despite the lecture I’d given Siren earlier, here I was thinking Hmmm…I’d like to hear that voice late at night when my hands are under the covers.
I tamped down that thought and instead went with being difficult. “Did you call any other employees that don’t work directly for you today?”
“Only the ones that sent me drunk emails, and I stupidly gave them back their jobs anyway.”
I smiled. “Touché.”
“How are things going?”
“Fine. No one seems too disappointed that Bickman is gone, and the show went off without a hitch this morning.”
“It was a good show.”
“You watched?”
“I did.”
“Do you always watch the six o’clock news?”
“Not normally, no.”
“So you watched it today because…”
The line went silent; he wasn’t going to fill in the blank for me. Hmm… Interesting. He could have easily said he watched it to make sure things went smoothly. Or he watched it because he’s the damn boss, and he felt like it. But his lack of a reason made me think he’d watched it just to watch me—and not for professional reasons.
Or maybe I was reading too much into things and that’s what I wanted to think.
“Anyway…” he said. “I was also calling to invite you to be part of a new committee I’m chairing.”
“Oh? What kind of committee?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s…uh…for improving the workplace for women.”
“You’re chairing a women’s workplace initiative?”
“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”
“Ummm… Because you’re not a woman.”
“That’s a pretty sexist statement. Are you saying a man can’t be involved with something to foster a better work environment for women?”
“No, but—”
“If you’re too busy…”
“No, no, no. Not at all. I’d love to be part of it. What can I do? When does the committee meet?”
“My assistant will get back to you with the details.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds great. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Yes. Alright. Well, then...goodbye, Ireland.”
He hung up sort of abruptly. But it was just as well, because I liked talking to him way too much.
