Page 12 of It Happened Duo
REX
“Sir,we’re passing by the deli,” Stephen remarked, as I arrived late to work in what had become our ritual for drop off. Just a simple cruise by the front of my building to keep an eye on Chelsea—er, the deli.
“Thank you.” I paused in my phone scrolling to peer at the corner with the window half down, only to find changes once again. The deli was decorated out front with fake garlands of fall leaves, and pumpkins galore, plus three tables and chairs with red umbrellas, each seating four, and, of course, they were full of people. “What the hell? Is that allowed? Can she put tables out front?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” he answered, even though I didn’t really expect him to know.
Then I spotted Pearl seated at one. “Stop. I’ll get out here.” I hustled out of the car and marched up to her. “Pearl, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, hi, Rex. Just enjoying the special of the day, a lovely Pastrami sandwich. You should try it, they put a unique spin on it?—”
I scowled and thumbed to the side. “May I have a word over here, please?”
“Oh. Sure thing.” She’d been talking to a few of the C-suite executives who all waved to me with their hands full of sandwiches.
I waved back and stepped aside with her, then I motioned in front of me with an arm sweep. “Tell me what you see here?”
“Is this a trick question?” she asked. I squinted at her.
“Do I look like I’m playing tricks today? And tread carefully because I’m in a mood.” Ever since the night at the opera, I’d been in one long mood. Sitting an inch away from Chelsea did that to me, suffering while enveloped in her perfume, our arms and knees brushing, the way her nipples pebbled as I whispered the story in her ear. I didn’t want to rush off halfway through, but I couldn’t control a certain body part of mine desiring to make her acquaintance.
“Yes, I noticed that about you lately. Are you getting enough sleep?” Pearl dared ask.
“Answer the question,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Hm. Well, I see Fall decor. Tables and chairs?—”
“Exactly. And I’m pretty sure the lease agreement stipulates adding any seating outside requires permission from the management. So tell the management team to send her a notice that she’s in violation.” I unbuttoned my suit jacketand planted my hands on my hips, glad I’d recently taken the time to review the old deli agreement. Ridiculous how much favor Dad had granted Doug Calhoun.
“Butyougave her permission.” She smirked.
“What? No, I didn’t. Tell me who’s in charge of leases in the building.”
“You are.” I glared at her. She continued, “A money-saving measure Richard put in place a few years ago was to run building management through the CEO’s office. When you took over and I gave you the list of things you were responsible for as CEO, you agreed to me acting on your behalf because you didn’t want to deal with it. So,youdid. She emailed asking for permission, and I answered for you.”
I cocked my head and crossed my arms. “Dammit Pearl, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” In my periphery, Chelsea appeared, taking my attention away from this excruciating conversation with my irritating assistant.
“Will that be all, because I’d really like to finish this fabulous pastrami? Rex?” Pearl tried to get through to me, as I was now focusing on a ray of sunshine on an otherwise overcast fall day.
I couldn’t miss seeing Chelsea in her yellow dress hugging every curve as she moved gracefully from table to table, chatting and smiling at the patrons. The white apron she wore was tied tight around her slender waist and Goddamn, I wanted to tug on that string at the low of her back.
A man stopped her with a comment, and they laughed together. My jaw clicked because I wanted to be that man, to be theonlyman seeing her, talking with her, making herlaughter ring out. She was…lovely, and if she were a server in a fancy restaurant, she’d be the type that I’d tip generously…and ask for her phone number for a date.
She noticed me, smiled and waved, and I waved back, and Pearl witnessed the entire exchange.
“Oh…I see you’ve met Chelsea. Interesting.” She waved too. “Hey Chelsea, can you come here?”
“No, wait, what are you doing—” Too late, the mistress of the deli was on her way over, sashaying toward us with a sunny grin and, as usual, a flower holding back her hair, sitting right above her left ear. I could make out the daisy as she got closer. What was it with this woman and flowers in her hair? Not complaining, because I secretly enjoyed her fresh style. She was unlike any woman I knew in New York City, and as the playboy of the Buchanan’s, I’d known several.
“Hi, Chelsea. Rex was just admiring your…new tables,” Pearl said, skating on very thin ice with me. “Weren’t you, Rex?”
“Ah, yes. They add a certain sidewalk appeal, I suppose. And more seating means more customers and more profits.” I attempted to veer the conversation toward the professional and readied an excuse for a quick exit.
“Absolutely. I can’t thank you enough for letting me put these out here. The customers love them and it really helps with my overcrowding problem. I even invited the fire inspector back in and treated him to a sandwich and a slice of pie to make sure he gave the approval,” she said.
My jaw set, hearing Aiden was so easily swayed by food.
“Besides, when Pearl told me the real reason you hate delis, I figured the table seating outside would help, and then maybe you’d come down for lunch once in a while,” she finished.
