A Daddy for Christmas 3: Nova

Chapter 1

(Nova)

Ping!

Oh, come on, I wasn’t even on the plane yet. Hell, I hadn’t even had my coffee, which I was in line attempting to manage after catching the light rail to the airport terminal at butt fuck earlier than the miserably early hour I usually rise to go to work.

“Could I get an iced caramel macchiato with a double shot of espresso, please?” I asked when it was finally my turn at the counter.

It seemed like everyone in the airport not in line for a flight was there trying to caffeinate this morning, and who could blame them? The sun still wasn’t up yet.

I paid and moved off to the side, getting into an even bigger line to wait for my coffee to be made. One lone worker bustled around looking red-faced and out of breath as he struggled to keep up with the drink orders.

Whoever had scheduled these two poor guys to work the stand alone on a fuckin’ Friday morning needed to march themselves down here and start slinging drinks until they were all caught up.

It was asinine. It boggled my mind whenever I encountered a manager that was so out of touch with the job their crew was working that they were of little help when their team needed anything.

It was one of many reasons I was about to fly the fuck out of here until after the holiday shutdown was over in January.

I was sick to death of managers without a clue and a daily grind that consisted of constantly fixing other people’s mistakes.

Doing the work of those too lazy to take the time to figure out the right steps to accomplish the tasks they’d been given was starting to piss me off to the point where I’d nearly had a meltdown at work.

The problem with my meltdowns was that they rarely ended in tears the way other people’s did.

Mine ended with my self-censor button malfunctioning and me telling everyone exactly what I thought of their behavior, in the loudest, most detailed explicit way possible.

In full-on meltdown mode, I’d once broken down every facit of my job description, to drive home the point to my supervisor that my duties did not include making sure his presentation included a detailed breakdown of the proposal I’d put on his desk over a week ago.

Had he actually read it and his emails, he wouldn’t have had to hear, third hand, about all the problems that still needed to be addressed with a major advertising campaign.

Some of my co-workers were applauding by the time I’d finished, and my volume had attracted the attention of one of my supervisor’s supervisors.

Neither had been happy, though for vastly different reasons.

Needless to say, my supervisor wasn’t my supervisor for much longer after that, and I’d found myself with a heap of new responsibilities.

I still wasn’t sure who’d come out on the winning end of that one yet.

On one hand, Jason had been bumped up to department head, and he was much better at his job than his predecessor. On the other, he’d insisted on having his useless cousin Pete moved into our department, and guess who had the misfortune of overseeing his work?

He frustrated the hell out of everyone with basic and sometimes ridiculous questions that any basic marketing class would have taught him the answers to, so much so that they just went ahead and did the task themselves along with their own assignments.

I kept meaning to dig further into his job qualifications, but other things had taken precedence.

I was more than ready for a break from that bullshit and the pushback I’d already received from Jason when I’d attempted to point out the uselessness of having Pete on our team. This was not a training department.

The second reason I was itching to kiss Minnesota goodbye was how much this time of year, with so many cold, dark nights and short, dim, and dreary days, tended to affect my moods.

I’d grown up in northern Minnesota, gone to college in the Twin Cities and stayed when I’d been offered a spot with my current employer, though not in the department I’d been hoping for.

Most of my life had been spent in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and while it was a beautiful state, and home to everyone I knew and loved, it was downright miserable in winter, even on a sunny blue sky day.

On the gray ones, everything felt long and sad.

The colorlessness made it feel like all the joy had fled for warmer parts of the world.

I hoped it had. I couldn’t wait to see it when I landed in Maui.

I was flying into clear skies and a beautiful high of 86. There were palm trees in my future, drinks with umbrellas, miles and miles of beach, and if I was lucky, the worst cell phone reception known to man.

Please let me be that lucky.

Ping!! Ping!!

Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Come on, what the actual fuck!

The office wasn’t even open yet. Whoever the fuck it was had to be texting me from their house or, at the very least, their cell phone on the way to the office.

I really didn’t want to know what could have possibly gone wrong since the time I left the office last night.

I was literally the last fucking person from our department to leave.

There was no way something had gone wrong from then to now, when nothing but the bakeries and coffee shops were doing business.

I wasn’t going to look. No way. No how.

.

.

.

Fine. What can I say? I was a paranoid fucker when it came to my job and making sure everything was done correctly.

Besides, this line was barely moving, so what the hell else was I supposed to do?

What time does the Reynolds presentation start? It’s in conference room 3, right? Did you leave the presentation on your desk? That’s where you said you were going to leave it, right?

Do you have packets for everyone? Gordon is leading the presentation, right? I’m just supposed to take notes on any suggestions and requests?

Do you want a copy of those CCed to you once I’ve typed them up?

There was no way I’d read those three texts correctly. No fucking way when I’d left detailed notes on exactly how the next week was supposed to go in my absence. It was sitting right on top of the workshop packets I’d compiled for the very presentation in question.

Grumbling beneath my breath, I shifted the backpack I’d slung over my shoulder so I could use both thumbs to type a message to Pete and hopefully nip this word vomit of texts in the bud before he wrecked the start of my vacation.

Did you read the notes I left all the way through, or did you stop on page one where I mentioned the Reynolds presentation and that Mr. Funaka would expect an update on how it went precisely at 2 when he returned from lunch with the other stockholders?

It was a weekly event that he never missed but was never a minute late returning from.

And I thought I was punctual. When it came to being exactly on time, Mr. Funaka had everyone beat.

The attachments you’ll need for the update are on pages 6 and 7; make sure you attach them before you head up to Mr. Funaka’s office. Just read the whole packet, and you’ll see exactly what you are supposed to do. I’ve laid it out step by step; there is no way you should have any other issues.

I’d just hit send and shoved the phone back in my pocket when my name was called. I wove through the gaps between people to reach the counter and my much-needed caffeine, immediately taking a sip.

Ahh.

Cold, sweet, caffeine-infused bliss. I couldn’t wait for it to hit my brain.

“Brandy, Brandy, get back here!”

A high-pitched squeal nearly deafened me, and I cringed, turning to see where the ear-splitting screech had come from, only to spot a windmilling set of arms headed my way. In my efforts to sidestep, I shoulder-checked the man beside me, right before someone’s runaway toddler crashed into my leg.

The shock of the impact staggered me and sent my precious iced coffee flying out of my hand.

Coffee, ice, my caffeine-loaded espresso shots, and all that scrumptious heavy cream and caramel launched in cartoon slow motion to land all over the face and arm of the man beside me, whose business suit did not look cheap.

In an instant his expression went from horrified to outraged, as the giggling, squealing child skidded in the drops that had landed on the floor and nearly fell as he changed directions.

And do you think the exasperated human still calling his name and chasing after him took the time to pause and see the chaos he’d caused?

Hell no.

All we got was a harried "sorry, sorry," as he bumped into people and narrowly avoided collisions in his efforts to grab hold of the squealing rugrat.

No way was I getting back in that long-ass line to order another coffee, not at airport prices. Fuck that, I’d have some on the plane. It wouldn’t be as good, but it was still caffeine. At this point, that was as good as the morning was willing to give.

The guy wearing the remains of my beautiful drink clearly wasn’t happy with the tiny human’s guardian any more than I was; only he took off in pursuit, while I slunk away from the mess and back over to my gate, where I’d, hopefully, be much safer.

Once I was seated, I slipped my earbuds in, fished my phone out of my pocket, went ahead and put it on airplane mode, pulled up my Counting Crows collection, and sat back to wait for my time to board.

Flying first class had its perks, especially priority boarding and seats with some space between them and no one reclining right into my lap.

They were plusher too, which my back appreciated with the long flight I had ahead of me. In my office, I had a standing desk. My rarely used chair was something I reserved for face-to-face meetings.

Those were growing rarer, though, in this era of video correspondence. Saved companies a bundle on airfare though. Napping on the plane was easy, at least until my Bluetooth earbuds ran out of juice and exposed me to the squeals and pounding feet of a child running up the aisle.

“Brandy! Get back here; you can’t go through there.”

Fuck me sideways with a pogo stick, was the universe serious with this bullshit?

Fuck my life. I looked over to see the same harried man chasing the same exuberant toddler, with a grim-faced and clearly exasperated flight attendant following the man up the aisle while insisting that he and the child were not supposed to be in first class and needed to return to their seats because the captain had the seatbelt light on.

I didn’t feel any turbulence as I dug in my bag for the earbuds case and the spare set I never flew long distances without.

As I slipped them in my ears, I wondered if he’d turned the sign on to spare the rest of the passengers from having to listen to the toddler running up and down the aisles, screeching that high-pitched squeal.

As it was, the outraged shrieks they let out at being restrained were growing in pitch and frequency and quickly drowned out when I switched from Counting Crows to Drowning Pool.

My one hope, as I closed my eyes and sought to rejoin the tropical fantasy I’d been immersed in, was that we would not be on the same flight out of LAX.

The universe could not be so cruel as to do that to me.

I’d more than earned this vacation, every last fruity drink, tranquil hammock, and sunrise-lit inch of it.

Sunrise.

I couldn’t wait to dig my toes in the sand, feet in the surf, eyes on the horizon, my days spent listening to the waves crash and the gulls scream for bits of my sandwiches.

Mercifully, there were no signs of Brandy or her caretaker on the final leg of my journey. There was just music and the movie I’d finally decided to watch while I enjoyed my meal.

Excitement surged through me when the plane finally touched down, and I deplaned with my earbuds in, Counting Crows finally playing uninterrupted by irritating squeals.

Round Here followed Mr. Jones as I followed the signs to baggage claim, stomach rumbling.

I couldn’t wait to soak up all the warmth I’d been missing on the snow-covered streets of Minnesota.

Knowing my hotel had a shuttle that arrived at the airport every thirty minutes allowed me to slow my steps and enjoy the moment.

Recalling the meditation garden I discovered on my first trip here, I dragged my suitcases downstairs, where I could sit among the flowers and smell their lingering scent kissed by a hint of salty ocean breeze.

Delightful didn’t even begin to describe it.

Mentally I ran down the remaining steps left before I could kick back and relax.

Making my way to the shuttle stop was right at the top; below it was checking in and unpacking once I reached my room.

I was never much of a sleeper, so room snacks were a must, but I knew of a little corner market within walking distance of the hotel.

I’d stocked up there on my last visit, filling my hotel fridge with coconut water and a variety of fruit, yogurt, and honey-drenched tropical cakes I’d never found anywhere else.

I didn’t even know what they were called, just that they were fruity, colorful, and packed with some of my favorite flavors.

A slight throbbing at the base of my neck bumped one task up much higher on the list, and I carefully took the heavy elastic out of my hair and undid the bun I used to keep my waves in check.

Yes, I wore it longish, longer than most of the people I worked with did. Did setting it free help give the illusion of a surfer boy on the way to catch a wave?

Not most days, when I was in business casual or a full-on suit, but in the jeans and Henley I’d pulled on this morning, you’re damned right it did.

I knew I was going to regret leaving my heavy trench coat at home, but knowing where I was going, I opted for a thick sweatshirt instead, which I tucked into my backpack just as soon as I’d deplaned in California, happy to have it out of sight and out of mind for a while.

Time to find the shuttle and kick this vacation off properly, with drinks at the beachside bar just as soon as I’d ticked the last task off the list.

Then it was no more lists for me for three whole weeks.

Too bad it wouldn’t last a lifetime.