The Design(16)

I liked option two far more. After all, I wasn’t a quitter.

Still, I couldn’t get over what I’d just seen. It was so smug of him to rub his lunch date right in my face. I decided to give Brooklyn a call so I could vent, but I got her voicemail instead, so I left a heated message, jumping right to the point.

“Why does Grayson have to be so infuriating? He’s so smug, like he knows he’s torturing me—”

“Sweetie, you do realize you’re speaking out loud, right?”

My hand flew to my mouth when I heard someone speak behind me. I hadn’t seen anyone when I first walked in, but sure enough, when I turned around slowly, there was a tall blonde woman standing near the back counter. I tried to think if I’d said anything incriminating in the last thirty seconds. Yes. Everything you’d said was incriminating, you idiot.

When the woman’s light blue eyes met mine, she smiled and continued on with the task she’d been doing while I was leaving Brooklyn a message. She was taking the contents from a box of snacks and stuffing them into a basket inside one of the kitchen’s cabinets. There were more grocery bags littering the floor near her feet, and I assumed there was more food inside of those as well.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out who she was. She wasn’t dressed in business attire. Instead, she had on a pale pink tracksuit, the kind that J-Lo used to wear a few years back.

“You don’t have to stop venting on my account. I’m a pretty good listener and I’d probably agree with you,” she said, offering me a warm smile.

“Oh,” I said, peering down at my phone and wondering if I should take her up on her offer. Leaving Brooklyn a message hadn’t cured my annoyance, so I shrugged and decided to give it go.

“I just really hate my boss… and my boss’ boss,” I said. Maybe she was a narc, but she’d already heard me shit talking. What did it matter now?

I tore back into my Cheez-Its while she mulled over my outburst.

“I’ll tell you what, Grayson can be a real handful. He was a tough kid to raise and I know he’s hard on you employees,” she said as she kept right on emptying chips bags into the basket.

I squinted as I worked out her statement. A tough kid to raise?

“His dad was in the army. Does he tell you guys that?” she asked, spinning around to look at me. “I suppose not. He’s pretty private.”

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” I asked with a timid smile.

She threw her head back and laughed before stepping over toward me with her hand stretched out. “I’m Emma Cole, Grayson’s mom.”

Motherf*cktitsf*ckass. I am officially a royal idiot.

…



Grayson’s mom ended up being a chatterbox. Even though she should have hated me for what I’d said about her son, we sat in the break room for the rest of my lunch break as she told me bits and pieces of Grayson’s childhood.

Apparently, his father was a military man and he was very strict on Grayson and his brother while they were growing up. Grayson was constantly reminded that his actions reflected on his father, so he was expected to stay in line. It was the little things that let Grayson know his father was in charge. Every night at 7:00 pm, dinner was on the table. His father sat at the head of the table, Grayson sat to his right, his brother, Jackson, sat to his left, and his mother sat at the opposite end, across from his father. For eighteen years, save for holidays or a random trip to a restaurant, they ate dinner this way.

Curfew was at 10:00 pm throughout high school, and the one time Grayson pulled in at 10:05, his father had been standing inside the door, ready and waiting to pass down a punishment he saw fit. While no one could argue that he was a stern man, Grayson saw how well he ran his family and how well he operated as an engineer in the army. It was those principles that his father had instilled in him that allowed Grayson to start and run a company the way he had at such a young age.

“Like father, like son,” I quipped as I stood to toss my empty bags into the trashcan in the corner of the break room.

“Exactly,” his mom agreed.

“Do you come to the office often?” I asked.

She smiled. “Every now and then. Grayson hates that I come here, but if I don’t stock these cabinets, no one will.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” I said. “It looks like I’ll be eating my lunch in here from now on.”

She smiled and I turned toward the door knowing I was in danger of going over my allotted lunchtime, but before I could leave the kitchen, Mrs. Cole spoke up again.

“Cammie, could I ask you to do a favor for me?”

I paused and turned to look back at her.

“Could you keep an eye on Grayson? Make sure he’s taking care of himself, not working until all hours of the night, you know?”

“Mrs. Cole, I don’t think Grayson would like me keeping tabs on him. He seems like a pretty independent guy.”

She held my gaze as her mouth hitched into a knowing smile. “He does seem that way, but I assure you, Grayson is no different than any man. He needs someone to watch out for him and I’m afraid the women he keeps around don’t do a good enough job.”

I contemplated her request. I’d be keeping tabs on Grayson whether or not she asked me to. Was there any harm in reporting back to her if he was staying late? I didn’t think so.