Stone Cold Fox (48)
Hmm, no matter. I’d just pop onto Collin’s account to check out Dave’s profile. I’d been regularly hacking into Collin’s online accounts since our third date. I had wanted to know what I was getting into socially, plus it was useful to gather a few grenades to toss at opportune moments, getting him to believe we were “meant to be” based on mutual interests. Collin publicly adored the Yankees, Peaky Blinders and the ASPCA, so I did as well. His bank account balance obviously checked my boxes and his social accounts were full enough to pass judgment: Collin Case was a nice man, but not a particularly interesting one. Ideal for Bea.
Meanwhile, Dave’s Facebook profile was practically an artifact from the golden age of the platform. It was a hotbed of photo albums from years gone by, mostly highlighting innocent debauchery from his years at university, but in that charming way you’re allowed to be when you’re in your early twenties and white and male. The only somewhat recent update was a job change.
Self-Employed/Angel Investor.
Well, if that didn’t just scream independently wealthy?
The most current photos of Dave were tagged by other people, mostly women, women I assumed he had been romantically involved with at one time or another due to their close proximity in the images. Dave was supremely photogenic, always smiling with his pristine teeth, the perfect size for his perfect head, unlike some people, and he was always touching the waist, bum or just under the breast of every woman in the frame. Lady-killer indeed.
Dave Bradford’s allure was becoming much too great for me, so I logged out and joined Collin in the bedroom, hoping the tides had turned for some afternoon delight. Dave was exactly the type of man I could have a very good time with, but at what cost really? I wasn’t in my early twenties anymore, cavorting with every bad boy with BDE in a band on the LES in my off time. That had been only temporary until it was finally time to focus. And grown men don’t marry twenty-one-year-olds unless there’s something really wrong with them, and I certainly didn’t want to end up with any of that clientele on my then-roster. That was just the day job of my youth. I didn’t start the hunt in earnest until I was an age-appropriate twenty-five. And look at where I was now. I couldn’t derail my plans for a tryst with Dave Bradford, no matter how satisfying it would be.
I tried to arouse Collin, hoping I could coax him from his slumber, making it obvious I would be on top so he could still relax, yearning to scratch my own itch, but he still wasn’t having it. It was disconcerting to say the least, very unlike Collin to rebuff me. I didn’t appreciate it. Literally hot and bothered, I left him in bed and took a shower instead. I’d recently had multiple heads installed.
* * *
? ? ?
AS PREDICTED, I received three offers of employment from highly acclaimed advertising agencies within weeks. One was boutique, the second was enormous with thousands of employees globally and the third one was somewhere in the middle. It had a firm hold in the tried-and-true advertising tactics, but still looked to the future without being considered “too modern” for the old-fashioned clients, not unlike the Case Company. They also gave me the highest offer, so I closed the deal with them after a confident negotiation, nearly doubling my current salary.
Now it was time for the best part.
“Rhonda. Len.” I was holding court in my office with the two of them, ready to perform the song and dance wherein I would give the requisite two weeks’ notice, knowing that I would be dismissed immediately. It was the advertising way. “I have decided to move on from the agency,” I continued. “I thank you for the opportunities you’ve given me during my time here and I hope we can stay in professional touch. I have a letter for you, in writing, outlining my resignation with two weeks’ notice, and I wish you both the best. I’m happy to be as helpful as I can during this transition.”
The little color he had drained completely from Len’s face.
Rhonda from HR cleared her throat. “We appreciate the notice, but per our policy with the nature of our business, we will have to ask you to leave immediately after relinquishing your computer and building identification,” she commanded robotically, as an HR professional is prone to do.
“Now, hold on a minute there, Ronnie,” Len said, waving his hand in her face dismissively. Oh, what a thrill. He was going to grovel; I couldn’t wait to hear it. “Is there anything we can do to get you to stay, Bea? I assume you’re going to another agency? You don’t strike me as the type of woman to ditch her career once she lands a husband.”
“Obviously not, Len. This isn’t the 1960s.”
“Right. So would a counteroffer be of interest to you at this juncture? We will make it worth your while, I can promise you that.”
“I appreciate it, Len, but I find that after loyalty has been questioned, all bets are off in the future. How could you trust me again with one foot out the door? It would become a festering problem, I’m sure of it. I’m sorry, but I just don’t see it working out.”
“This is business, Bea. I think we can all handle a frank discussion about money. Can’t we?”
“Len,” I said, summoning my most patronizing of voices. “I think it’s best for both parties if we call it a day.”
“But there are three parties to consider now, aren’t there?”
Well, he wasn’t being subtle about the Case Company. I loved watching him scramble, grasping at straws, all to keep me at the agency.