Cake Love: All Things Payne(4)

"Speaking of men, have you found any on that site I told you about a few weeks ago?"

I smile and nod my head while putting the sticky note on my desk phone.

"Maybe! Alright, I can't keep it in; I found one guy that so far seems great. I was a little worried for a while because most of them came across as losers. One guy had his mom call me. Ugh! But when Hi-Ed-Junior emailed me, I liked what he had to say. He also didn't want a picture or phone number right away. I liked that. He just wanted to talk, well, message back and forth. Spend some time getting to know each other."

Evaleen leans across my desk and smirks at me. She is about to say something but is cut off with the opening of Mr. Payne's door. We both turn to see him standing in the doorway, his gaze jumping between us. I notice a little pink post it note in his hand and try hard not to sigh. He clears his throat before walking over, placing the note in his hand on the desk in front of me and glancing at my phone. Mr. Payne reaches over to pick up the pink note I edited, reads it, and grabs a pen to add more. When he is done he adheres it back to my phone before turning his eyes up to Evaleen’s irked gaze.

"Ms. Bechmann, don't you have some HR wizardry you need to be doing that doesn’t involve bothering my assistant?"

Most people cower in the presence of Mr. Payne. He is a tall, well-built man and has a strong presence. The kind of presence that screams, RUN! But, Evaleen is not most people. She isn't afraid of anyone. A man could hold a shotgun to her face and she would probably roll her eyes.

She surveys him without getting off my desk and answers his question, "No, Payne I don't. Don't you have some lackey you have to make cry?"

They both narrow their eyes at each other and I swear I hear rattlesnakes as tumbleweed rolls down the hall.

Mr. Payne looks back at me and waves his hand at the pink paper, then uses his two fingers to point at his eyes and then mine to let me know he's watching me. Once he walks back into his office and shuts the door I pick up the note on my phone: I wrote Ham, Green Peppers & Onions on the Pizza. Get it right!

Rolling my eyes I glance at the other post it he brought out: Drink your own coffee in the morning.

Damnit he’s on to me.

"His name is what exactly? It sounds weird."

"It's hi as in hello, then Ed, and then junior. It's probably Edward and he is named after his dad or something. I don't know. We have only been PMing on Gchat so I don't know his real name."

She is staring at me with a mouth wide open. After a few moments she regains her verbal function and twists her head to the side, crinkling her brow in confusion.

"He hasn't told you his real name yet?"

I shrug my shoulders. "No."

"At least tell me you have seen his picture."

I'm starting to wonder if I should have actually told her this to begin with. As I talk about it out loud it does sound kind of weird.

"Um...no. But he hasn't asked for my real name or picture either, so it's not like he's getting his load off on what I look like or anything." Wow, this is just sounding worse and worse.

Evaleen is standing now and pacing the floor.

"Let me get this straight, you don't know what he looks like and you only know his screen name. He also hasn't asked what you look like or for your real name either. He could be a seventy year old man in Orlando or a North Korean spy for all you know."

I chuckle at her paranoia. Shaking my head I put my feet up on the desk and play with my pen between my fingers.

"The dating site matches you based on age and where you live. So unless he lied about being in his early to mid-thirties and living in Chicago, then I am fine. Anybody can lie on those things, it's always a risk. I'm not telling him my bank account, just likes and dislikes. You know, normal stuff people do when they get to know each other. I doubt a North Korean spy has any interest in my belief that afternoon napping should be a law in this country. Businesses should adopt the Spanish act of siestas; we close for two hours every afternoon, preferably from one to three, so their employees can get in a much deserved nap.”

"I guess so, but just be careful okay. Every man wants to get laid eventually, and I just worry there is something wrong with him if he doesn't want to even talk to you on the phone."

Her eyes bug out as she stops pacing the room. Evaleen walks over to the corner of my desk and stares down at me.

"What if he's married?"

"He might be, Bechmann. Only time will tell. I'm not going to get myself worked up over something that might not even be true." I'm starting to get a little freaked out now. Why didn't I realize this stuff before? The way he said everything it just seemed normal, natural, and even a little romantic that he wanted to only use the written word to communicate. He could be in prison! Oh God, he's probably in prison, and he only gets internet privileges in the evening when we chat. He's going to get out of jail, track me down, and rape or kill me, or at least steal my money, not that I have much.

"Drake you're a better woman than I. I would be afraid he's a serial killer or something. Well, I better get back. It's almost eleven; shouldn't you be hanging out in the kitchen to avoid the nuclear fallout from the Brooks bomb?"

I nod my head and just sit there in shock as I watch her walk away. Maybe I should push him tonight when we chat to give me a picture, and ask if he's married and if he's ever been affiliated with the communist party.