tech start up culture.
Just outside what I assumed was Blake’s personal office, a punky petite woman sat at an L desk, zeroed in on her computer screen. She looked up when we approached.
“Erica, this is Cady.”
She jumped up and shook my hand. Cady was dressed as casually as everyone else in jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Her left arm was sleeved in colorful tattoos that blended together as one expansive work of body art, but what stood out most was her short bleached-out mohawk frosted with hot pink tips. Her ears were decorated with shiny metal gauges that matched her spiked belt.
“Hi, Erica. It’s good to meet you.” She took my hand, revealing a beautiful smile that lit up her gray eyes. Despite all her decorations, she was actually very attractive.
“Likewise.”
“Erica, Cady is my personal assistant. She’s also your neighbor.”
My eyes shot to him. I didn’t realize he had a roommate.
“I live downstairs from you. I think we just keep missing each other,” she said.
I breathed out with relief, surprised by my own reaction. “Oh, wow. Okay.” What the hell? I shouldn’t care if he had a roommate. After all, I was about to have one.
“Let me know if you ever have any questions about the place or the neighborhood. I’m kind of Blake’s unofficial property manager too.”
“Right, thanks.”
She gave a little wave as Blake pulled us into his office, shutting the door behind us.
His office was more typical of what I expected from his apartment, though it still impressed me. Three oversized monitors lined one of his two desks. Two displayed dozens of lines of code and the last was filled with spreadsheets. Heath’s assertion that Blake did all the work seemed valid. Even I wasn’t sure I could wear that many hats at once.
In another corner of the office, an enormous television hung on the wall, connected to what appeared to be every video game console one could imagine. He led me to a large frosted conference table facing a glass writeboard.
“Very Mission Impossible ,” I said, secretly hoping for an excuse to write on it. Maybe I could illustrate the boundaries that needed to exist with our relationship.
He laughed and sat down at the table beside me. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”
I flipped a switch and my business brain took over, shifting my priorities and focus for the next two hours while we worked diligently, outlining a plan for the second phase of the presentation to Max. We hashed out numbers and I explained more about the business. I scribbled notes down, mapping out the points that I would organize back at the apartment tonight, trying not to be distracted by his proximity.
Even under these circumstances I couldn’t stop remembering that Blake and I had once shared a night of unbridled passion. People avoided workplace affairs for this very reason. When I wasn’t looking directly at him, I could pretend I wasn’t unbearably attracted to him, but not without concerted effort.
“Have I earned my dinner, yet?” He was leaning back in his chair, a pen tucked behind his ear and a wicked smile on his face that just wasn’t fair. Women had to work so hard to achieve “effortless” beauty, but Blake could make my heart skip a beat with a well-timed smile and a pair of well-worn blue jeans.
“Do you always wear T-shirts to work?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Usually.” He shrugged.
“But you wear suits to casinos?”
“I wasn’t at work.”
“Your wardrobe metric seems to be a bit skewed, Blake.” I turned back to my notes even though I had completely lost my train of thought. Visions of him in that gray suit propped up against my hotel door kept clouding my mind. He should wear suits more often , I thought. No. No, he shouldn’t. I shook my head at my notes, thankful Blake wasn’t tuned into my internal dialogue.
“If I wore a suit here, there’d be a mutiny. I have a reputation to maintain after all.”
Sid wouldn’t be caught
Just outside what I assumed was Blake’s personal office, a punky petite woman sat at an L desk, zeroed in on her computer screen. She looked up when we approached.
“Erica, this is Cady.”
She jumped up and shook my hand. Cady was dressed as casually as everyone else in jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Her left arm was sleeved in colorful tattoos that blended together as one expansive work of body art, but what stood out most was her short bleached-out mohawk frosted with hot pink tips. Her ears were decorated with shiny metal gauges that matched her spiked belt.
“Hi, Erica. It’s good to meet you.” She took my hand, revealing a beautiful smile that lit up her gray eyes. Despite all her decorations, she was actually very attractive.
“Likewise.”
“Erica, Cady is my personal assistant. She’s also your neighbor.”
My eyes shot to him. I didn’t realize he had a roommate.
“I live downstairs from you. I think we just keep missing each other,” she said.
I breathed out with relief, surprised by my own reaction. “Oh, wow. Okay.” What the hell? I shouldn’t care if he had a roommate. After all, I was about to have one.
“Let me know if you ever have any questions about the place or the neighborhood. I’m kind of Blake’s unofficial property manager too.”
“Right, thanks.”
She gave a little wave as Blake pulled us into his office, shutting the door behind us.
His office was more typical of what I expected from his apartment, though it still impressed me. Three oversized monitors lined one of his two desks. Two displayed dozens of lines of code and the last was filled with spreadsheets. Heath’s assertion that Blake did all the work seemed valid. Even I wasn’t sure I could wear that many hats at once.
In another corner of the office, an enormous television hung on the wall, connected to what appeared to be every video game console one could imagine. He led me to a large frosted conference table facing a glass writeboard.
“Very Mission Impossible ,” I said, secretly hoping for an excuse to write on it. Maybe I could illustrate the boundaries that needed to exist with our relationship.
He laughed and sat down at the table beside me. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”
I flipped a switch and my business brain took over, shifting my priorities and focus for the next two hours while we worked diligently, outlining a plan for the second phase of the presentation to Max. We hashed out numbers and I explained more about the business. I scribbled notes down, mapping out the points that I would organize back at the apartment tonight, trying not to be distracted by his proximity.
Even under these circumstances I couldn’t stop remembering that Blake and I had once shared a night of unbridled passion. People avoided workplace affairs for this very reason. When I wasn’t looking directly at him, I could pretend I wasn’t unbearably attracted to him, but not without concerted effort.
“Have I earned my dinner, yet?” He was leaning back in his chair, a pen tucked behind his ear and a wicked smile on his face that just wasn’t fair. Women had to work so hard to achieve “effortless” beauty, but Blake could make my heart skip a beat with a well-timed smile and a pair of well-worn blue jeans.
“Do you always wear T-shirts to work?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Usually.” He shrugged.
“But you wear suits to casinos?”
“I wasn’t at work.”
“Your wardrobe metric seems to be a bit skewed, Blake.” I turned back to my notes even though I had completely lost my train of thought. Visions of him in that gray suit propped up against my hotel door kept clouding my mind. He should wear suits more often , I thought. No. No, he shouldn’t. I shook my head at my notes, thankful Blake wasn’t tuned into my internal dialogue.
“If I wore a suit here, there’d be a mutiny. I have a reputation to maintain after all.”
Sid wouldn’t be caught
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