Читать книгу The Open Affair - Patsy Ponce - Страница 3

ONE

A woman, at the cusp of one career and the beginning of another stepped into Boehme’s dilapidated office. Paint peeled from walls that connected to decade-old carpet. Lindsay wondered why life had spiraled so awkwardly out of control. Yet, something about this place beckoned, as if her visit there was more integral to fate than everything else had been before.

Not long after Lindsay crossed the threshold, a willful-looking woman cut down the hallway. Her green eyes turned to slits, accentuating her short hair and apparent need to bully everyone. “You’re here for an interview?” It was rhetorical. “Follow me!”

Lindsay nearly sprinted after Casey, wondering with each step about the diverging twists of life. The woman glanced at her judgmentally at one point as every action proved her dominance. Lindsay had come for the role’s base wage—twice what she’d earned previously—and that alone kept her there after seeing the interviewer and Boehme’s rundown building.

Before Lindsay slipped into Casey’s office, she noticed a man somberly facing a computer. He wore small glasses, not the kind to hide most of his face, but rather the small-rimmed spectacles a professor might don. His glasses didn’t garner most of her attention though, for the man also wore a sober countenance that stirred curiosities. He looked up, momentarily surprised by Lindsay.

She tried to break eye contact but faltered due to the irony of a striking man working in such a filthy place; she longed to interrogate him as he grinned mischievously, and a strand of brown hair fell next to his cheek.

“Come in! Come in!” Casey bellowed from the office. “And Thane, I need those designs on my desk within the next thirty minutes!”

Lindsay shook herself from previous thoughts and stepped toward the interim manager who obviously hated even remote signs of weakness.

***

Days passed into weeks; weeks became months. Lindsay managed at the local Boehme site well, but still, the check printing industry slowly collapsed, eaten away by people’s need for credit cards and electronic transfers. Despite problems with revenue, the corporate office generously gave Lindsay a raise—her first real taste of wealth and the kind of shackle that inevitably cages men and women alike. She never wanted to be poor again, and as a countermeasure, began investing all extra funds into a start-up furniture business with her boyfriend, Logan.

“We’re making enough now,” Logan said, after closing out another successful month of furniture sales. “You’re working too many hours at that stupid job, and I never see you…” He ended up begging Lindsay: “We can work together at home. I just want to see you.”

“I’m not ready to leave Boehme.” Why should she commit to ending a career when he couldn’t even commit to a marriage?

He shook his head. “I wish I could understand… At some point Boehme will go out of business—what’s the point of staying?”

Many of her twelve employees shared Logan’s view. When they saw the death of an era, most left for stable jobs. Lindsay told herself this made way for lean profit margins during financially troubling times, but as it were, those who remained each took on multiple roles and soon, the office slimmed down to three people: Thane, Kenzie, and Lindsay.

Learning new tasks, some shifts were all-nighters as the team of three ensured checks were shipped on time. And throughout the whole experience Lindsay marveled at how hard both Kenzie and Thane worked to keep the Boehme site alive. Thane had to offer training during this transformation period, and luckily, he was able to teach both Lindsay and Kenzie what they needed to know until their hours finally reduced and the office ran smoothly once again.

After finally getting a full night’s sleep, Lindsay walked into Boehme to what seemed like a normal day at the office - until she passed Thane. He’d been completing paperwork at the copier, but when he turned, the two faced each other as a formality and time lost all meaning. Lindsay’s high heels raised her to just under his eye-level, and at that moment, as she looked at Thane, something instantly rose inside her. She perceived the captivating color of his brown eyes, so gravity-defying that she easily lost herself in them. Nearly dropping her own papers, distracted by what might have been longing in his eyes, too, her breath caught because he hadn’t looked away.

Lindsay darted to her office, wondering what had transpired. Her thoughts drifted to Logan; they’d dated for years—and had lived together for seven. Yet, there was something about Thane. And now, a dark excitement had birthed itself between them, hungrily waiting under the surface...hoping she’d step too far. And like Pandora’s box, the past had shown that this kind of desire could be dangerous.