18. Ana
CHAPTER 18
ANA
T o help foster a welcoming environment, I plan to keep my office door open anytime I’m not involved in a confidential meeting or phone call. And it’s with my door open that I hear strange warbling sounds in the outer office that afternoon.
Pausing from tapping on my keyboard, I strain to figure out what I’m hearing. Now it sounds more like … moaning?
Concerned that someone’s in pain, I go to my door and look out, but I don’t see any commotion. I can hear others typing and holding conversations, even as the strange sounds continue.
Then I make out words. It’s not moaning that I’m hearing, but singing … sort of.
The words cut in and out, they get louder, then softer, then louder again. I’m pretty sure it’s a man’s voice. Then—oh my, he’s singing something about a woman, and something about all night, something about going hard. The only song I recall people singing at my last job was “Happy Birthday,” and this is definitely not that!
I go over to Jackie’s cubicle to see if she’s hearing what I’m hearing, but she’s on the phone with her back toward me.
Down the aisle, Owen is heading in my direction. When I catch his eye, he makes an amused wide-eyed face and shakes his head.
Meeting him halfway, I whisper, “Who is that?”
“It’s Rob, the retail manager. He gets a little caught up in his music sometimes.”
I stand on tiptoes and look over the wall to see the man, who’s in his late forties or early fifties, wearing earbuds and typing away, lost in a world of his own.
“I’m gonna do ya down and dirty all night, you nasty girl…”
My eyes bulge out as I hold back laughter. “Is this a regular thing? I’m going to ask him to stop.”
“I wouldn’t bother,” Owen says. “He doesn’t go for long. I don’t think he’s even aware he’s singing.”
“Does he do this often?”
“I usually hear him once or twice a week.”
The singing stops for a long moment, but just when I assume he’s finished, he starts again. My jaw drops. Now he’s singing “Baby Shark,” complete with its upbeat chorus of repetitive sounds.
I can’t resist looking over the wall again, where Rob is now bobbing his head from side to side with the beat, and making swimming motions with one hand, while he pecks at his keyboard using the other.
“Baby Shark?” I whisper to Owen, who’s shaking his head in disbelief.
He reaches out and grabs my arm as we’re both sent into hysterics. “What kind of playlist is that? I have whiplash!”
“A preschool and NSFW mashup?” I suggest.
The singing fades away and so does our laughter, but Owen keeps his hand on me for a moment longer. He gives my arm a light squeeze before he pulls back.
He’s flirting. It’s obvious, but I don’t want to encourage it, because I would never fraternize with a coworker. Not me. And definitely not a boss, either. And absolutely, positively, not two bosses. No, I’d never do that.
“I’d better get back to work,” I tell Owen. “Besides, I don’t think I want to hear the next song.”
“No? I’m guessing it will be either country and western or a Gregorian chant.”
I shake my head and snicker as I turn to go.
I end up staying late in order to meet with Derek and Jansen again, so I can get their signoff on my staffing plans. They both look like they’ve had a very busy day and are even grumpier than the last time I saw them.
Standing in front of Jansen’s desk, I slide my list toward him. “Here’s the list of positions that need to be filled, and my priority ranking for filling them.”
His smokey green eyes fixed on me, Jansen says, “I’d like to put you in a position over this desk and fill you. That’s my priority.”
I blink at him, my eyes wide. Apparently, I’m not the only one with a filthy mind.
“That’s not happening again,” I say, nudging the paper closer to him and aligning it with the edge of his desk blotter. “I’d also like you both to review the job descriptions I’ve drafted.”
Derek’s standing beside the desk, his eyes roaming places they shouldn’t be.
I can’t be mad at them, because even though I won’t let it happen, I’d very much like to do what Jansen is suggesting. I thought that being with Derek that last time would work all the horniness out of my system, but it didn’t work that way. Quite the opposite.
And the chance to be with both of them again has me physically aching, but there’s an angel sitting on my shoulder whose sweet singing is drowning out the devil’s urgings.
“Show us your lingerie, Miss Flores.” It’s Derek now, looking positively lascivious.
“It’s very basic today. Plain and white. You’re not missing out on anything.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” Derek takes a step forward, but I take a step back.
“I can’t.”
“You will,” Jansen says. “It’s just a matter of time.”