Chapter Text
“Meeting adjourned. Thank you all for attending.”
Brooke stood as her team began rising and filing out the door. “We’ll meet again next week for the final design presentation with the client. An email will be sent with the details.”
Running her fingers over the touch pad on her laptop, she swiftly shut down the active programs. Her eyes were on the screen but she could see him in her peripheral vision, making for the door. Always aware of his presence, like an irritating insect she was unable to swat.
“Ian. Could I have a few minutes of your time?”
He kept moving and she wondered for a moment if he was going to ignore her, but as the last person shuffled out, his foot kicked the door shut behind them. He turned and she finally looked over at him. She stood and let her eyes travel from his bored expression, over the rumpled short sleeved for godssake ‘dress’ shirt, sloppily knotted tie, hands stuffed into the pockets of his baggy slacks, finally arriving at black Chuck Taylors. He looked like an overgrown skateboarder at a funeral.
He looks like an asshole. Which he is.
She suppressed the urge to fold her arms, conscious as always of her body language. His, as usual where their interactions were concerned, exuded barely concealed opposition and studied indifference. His eyebrows raised slightly as he finally spoke. “What?”
Now she had to resist the impulse to narrow her eyes and purse her lips like an annoyed schoolmarm. The neutral expression she had cultivated over the years had served her well in her professional life. Dealing with Ian for the past three years was the equivalent of daily workouts for her facial muscles.
“First, you were late to the meeting. Again. It does nothing for morale of the team when it appears you don’t take their time seriously.” She kept her eyes on his face while his wandered around the room like a bored kid waiting for the reprimands to be over; anywhere but on her.
“Second, when someone has an idea or suggests a tweak to your design, the professional response is to hear them out and take it into consideration. Or at least pretend to.” Her lips threatened to purse; she settled for chewing on the inside of her cheek instead.
Ian folded his arms, lazy hooded eyes finally regarding her. “Is there a third?”
And a fourth and a fifth and on into infinity. “Third, I would appreciate it if you would pay attention and not act like these weekly meetings are a colossal waste of your time.” The right side of his mouth stretched into a sneer.
“It’s disrespectful,” Brooke continued, ignoring it, “to me and everyone else.”
She turned back to the conference table, picked up her laptop and headed to the door. Ian didn’t move from his place in front of it. For a moment, they stood looking at each other. Gunslinger standoff music played in her head.
A muscle in her jaw twitched. His expression was studiously blank now, but his eyes glinted with something that made her want to take a step back. Not out of fear. She just didn’t like people -Ian- thinking she could be intimidated.
He moved forward a step and her eyes widened slightly. She blinked slowly and held her breath.
Anyone else and she would have backed up, turned, moved around them, dismissed them with her body language. But Ian always made her want to square up. She looked at him blandly instead of shoving him in the chest, like her hands were itching to.
He moved closer so they were just inches apart.
“Your poker face is very good,” he said, lips curved into what might have been a smile for him. He leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. The faint smell of cigarette smoke made her nose wrinkle and evoked a memory she quickly banished.
His next words, just above a whisper, made the fine hairs on her nape stand up.
“But I see your tells, Brooke.” A shiver rippled down her back and arms. He stepped back and looked at her, his smile gone. “Every fucking one.”
Before she could respond in kind, he turned and opened the door. An image flashed in her head: her hand reaching out to snatch at the messy, overlong hair, wrenching his head back, jerking him around to face her, and...and what? Too late anyway, he was gone.
Her heart was beating too fast. Prickles of heat washed over her. He usually didn’t get to her this much, or at least she usually didn't let him.
She walked back to her office, taking a longer route to give herself time to relax. To unclench her fingers where they gripped her laptop, calm her breathing. As she entered her office, her assistant Glenn gave her a distracted nod which she returned.
Alone at last, she thought as she closed the inner door and exhaled. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk. Reaching in, she wrapped her hand around a bundle of thin metal missiles.
The muffled thunk of each one hitting the board released more and more tension. A knock on the door sounded. It didn’t affect her concentration nor her aim.
“Come in,” she said as she walked over to the dart board and retrieved all six darts.
Glenn came in and shut the door behind him, leaning against it. “That bad, huh?”
She held out a dart. “Have a go?”
He shook his head. “I’d just put holes in the drywall.”
“Might be better therapy. Maybe I’ll requisition a sledgehammer,” Brooke said as she walked back to her desk, opened the drawer and dropped the darts in. She sat in her chair and looked at Glenn.
He was the ideal assistant. She could let her guard down with him. It was never good to get too chummy with anyone at work. That could come back to bite you in the ass. But she trusted him to a degree. And he could be counted on to tell her anything that was going on with office politics or gossip.
He sat down in the chair opposite her and ran his hand over his short, dark hair. Looking anywhere but at her and tugging at his tie.
“I know that look. What is it?” she asked with an expectant grimace.
“Maggie wants to see you before you leave for the day.”
Brooke closed her eyes and sighed. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Glenn added. “Apparently Don was in the meeting?”
“Yes, but I didn’t really pay him any attention.” She tapped a pen on the surface of her desk. “I hate boss’s bosses, corporate structure, etcetera.” Her eyes raised to meet Glenn’s which were full of commiseration.
“Don’t worry. Maggie loves you. Everyone loves you,” he said with a grin.
“Mmm hmm,” she replied skeptically but couldn’t help grinning back. “Don’t think I haven’t heard the nicknames.” She waved her pen in the air. “Brookes-no-arguments, Brookes-no-fools. And those are the just the ones I’ve heard.”
Glenn leaned forward and rested his arms on her desk. He looked at her earnestly. “Terms of endearment. People respect you. You get the projects in on time and make it look effortless.”
She rolled her eyes. “When Ian’s not involved, anyway.” She tilted back in her chair, let her head drop back. “What is it with him? I know he’s shitty with everyone but-”
“He’s even shittier with you,” Glenn finished.
Brooke dropped her head down to look at Glenn. She rested her chin on her hands and they regarded each other for a moment. He was a good sounding board and they often brainstormed together. She wondered now why they had never talked about her issue with Ian before.
“Any thoughts?” she asked. He looked around the room; she could see him mulling things over. She waited patiently.
Finally, he spoke, looking at her with a determined gaze, as if he expected her to be resistant. Not a good sign. “There’s tension there.”
“Tell me about it,” she sighed. “We just seem to rub each other the wrong way.”
“Maybe you should rub each other the right way.”
“Glenn!”
He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.
She shook her head and looked at the ceiling. “Even if it wasn’t inappropriate to fuck a colleague, and I’m assuming that’s what you’re referring to, he doesn’t like me. I don’t like him.” She glared at him.
But Glenn remained unperturbed. “You don’t have to like someone to want to fuck them.”
She felt like the dartboard as Glenn’s knowing expression pinned her.
“He doesn’t like me,” she repeated. Even she could hear how lame it sounded.
Glenn leaned back and smiled an irritating, knowing smile. “Forgive my bluntness, but...pretty sure I know when a man wants a woman.”
A spark lit up in her chest which she ruthlessly snuffed out before it could show on her face.
He stood up and looked at her, putting his hands on the desk and leaning forward.
“I’m just telling you what I’m pretty sure will smooth things out between you and him. And get Maggie and Don, and anyone else in the chain of command off your back where their golden boy is concerned.”
Brooke drew in a breath, held it, released it. “He could reject me, report me to HR-” she wasn't sure which one would be worse.
“Ian couldn’t find HR on a CAD rendering,” Glenn said.
Brooke laughed. “For real.” She shook her head. “This is insane. This has got to be the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.”
Glenn moved to the door. “Look, take a day or two; think on it, sleep on it, whatever. I’ve said my piece and I won’t bring it up again.”
“I know. Thank you, Glenn.”
He walked out but then popped his head around. “Have you heard ‘by the Brooke’?”
She reached for her drawer. “I’m getting a dart.”
His laughter rang out as he hastily retreated and shut the door.
Alone with her thoughts, she recalled the moment she had been introduced to Ian, three years ago. When she had just started at the prestigious design group; questioning the ‘prestigious’ part in her mind as the specimen before her was presented as an award-winning architect. Even more absurd was his area of specialization-outdoor spaces, hardscapes, greenscapes. With his pale skin, he looked like he never spent a moment outdoors. More like a college kid holed up in his parents’ basement, playing video games and smoking weed.
His name was familiar to her of course, but she couldn't remember ever having seen a photo of him, assuming wrongly that he was middle-aged or older. She had seen his work though and it was great of course; he wouldn’t be at this firm if it wasn’t. Clean and modern, but with fanciful, surreal touches sparingly inserted into the overall design. Totally at odds with his outward persona.
She was sure she’d kept the uncomplimentary thoughts from showing in her expression, putting her professional mask in place in a heartbeat. But… I see your tells. Even if he had noticed, why did he care what she thought? He probably got that reaction all the time.
From then on, whenever they were paired on a project, it was like mixing oil and water. Her managerial style and his work process, if you could call it that, were at odds. She acknowledged that she could have changed or modified her methods; she had plenty of management books on tailoring your approach to different personalities. And Ian’s was the most difficult she’d encountered. But then, he could also just stop being stubborn and do things her way. It seemed they relished getting under each other’s skin.
Whatever her ultimate decision, it would be productive to clear the air with him. Glenn was right about that. She ran her hands over her face and sighed. Best see Maggie, placate her and get it over with. Then she’d go home, have a drink and make her decision.