Cake Love: All Things Payne(72)

I freeze at Cameron's words. He's one of the mail sorters and has been showing me the ropes the past few days. Helping me out especially when I screw up, which is often. Like when I sent the sales reps all the complaint letters meant for the support team. A riot almost ensued, but Cameron saved me and told the Sales Manager it was just a practical joke. The Sales Manager, Jeffrey, loves jokes and was laughing by the time Cameron was done talking with him.

"Is something wrong, Morgana? I said cake, not, um ... you know."

Finally, I shake myself out of it. Today is a wondrous day! Why? Because cake is love. Let me explain.

I like cake. No that's not right, I LOVE cake. Cake and I have a relationship. We have done things together, multiple things. I'm not proud of some of them, but I never heard the cake complain. Some of those "incidents" may have been illegal, but we never got caught and I think I saw the cake smiling after it was over.

Seriously, who doesn't like cake? No one that's who! If you don't like cake then I don't know you. Who are you and why have you come here?

That is when Cameron says the four sweetest words in the English language, "It is birthday cake."

Birds are chirping and I think I feel the warm sun penetrating the three foot thick cement wall while pushing its rays down twenty feet below the Earth's surface to warm my face. Glorious! Glorious birthday cake! It doesn't try to be fancy or over the top. Birthday cake doesn't have to be, it knows I will eat it. No flirting required.

Birthday cake at the office, well that's just an awesome cherry on an already awesome cake! It's my third day on the job and who would have thought the greatest gift that can be bestowed upon a new employee, the office birthday party, would happen to me? It may only consist of a lousy sung version of "Happy Birthday," paper plates, woefully inadequate plastic ware and cake but it's the fact that cake is given freely that makes this shindig the hip place to be. It may be some random guy's birthday party that I have never met and will not see again for another year, but that doesn't matter. What is important is there is cake.

Dropping the stack of envelopes I have in my hand I race to the elevators. I hear Cameron jog up behind me. He is breathing hard. Based on his size and his middle age, I can only assume cardio is not a part of his workout routine.

The doors ding and part allowing us to enter. We are riding up, the numbers light up on the wall somewhere in the teens when his breathing finally settles.

"I guess you like cake." He chuckles while elbowing me in the side.

"Cake and I will be married one day. It doesn't know it yet, but I have been eyeing a ring."

Cameron stares at me with wide eyes and then erupts in laughter while giving me a firm smack on the back. He likes to hit people on their back. The first day when I came home I swear there was a red hand mark on my shoulder blade.

The door opens to the twenty-eighth floor and we emerge. Like a wolf following a scent to prey, I too use my nose to find out where the cake is hiding. Since I am human and do not have the heightened sense of smell similar to a wolf, I somehow wind up in front of the men's room.

I look around and notice Cameron is nowhere to be found. He abandoned me that bastard. I turn to go when I hear a man's deep voice.

"Ms. Drake?"

I turn to see Mr. Payne exiting the bathroom.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Payne."

His lips twitch and there it is ladies and gentleman! The very subtle mouth twitch, ha, ha! He isn't a robot or cyborg or whatever being lives and breathes without feeling. Mr. Henrik Payne feels. He feels ... uh ... what? Why did his mouth move when I said good afternoon? Does he like the phrasing or that I remembered his name? Because I will admit I am not good at remembering names. I may have met a person twenty times and still not remembered their name.

"You wear glasses?" His brow scrunches as he tilts his head.

"Yes, normally I wear contacts but the dust from the basement irritates my eyes, so this week I'm wearing my glasses." I gave a slight smile. His eyes flickered from my glasses to my body for a fraction of a second before he returned my gaze and cleared his throat.

"I'm glad I caught you, Ms. Drake. Please come into my office there are some matters I wish to discuss with you."

He starts to walk past me when I blurt out, "But the cake?"

Mr. Payne stops in his movement and swivels to face me.

"Yes, I asked them not to do this for me, but Edgar and Jacob insisted. Do not worry about feeling you have to make an appearance because you are my assistant, they will understand."

But I won't, Mr. Payne! I need my fix!

"Cake ..." I half whine and half mumble as I follow him into his office.

He moves to his chair and makes himself at home while I stumble like a zombie to the seat in front of his desk, my brain repeating the word "cake" over and over again in my head.

"Mr. Shapiro has told me you have made an excellent member of his team this week. He likes your drive and dedication. Normally I would have you work two weeks in each department but you seem to grasp things quickly. So, as of Monday you will move to the fifth floor, which is Accounting. Ms. Jackson is the manager there, she will direct you as to what you are to do."

Accounting? Ugg! If ever there's a job that is the opposite of what I am to do in life, it is accounting. I took an elective accounting class in college and after two days the professor told me to drop the class. Two days! Even he could tell I would never get it.