Chapter Four
The Silent War
Two days later, Giselle rolled into the auto dealership having plenty of time to spare. She had made it a point to leave her apartment ten minutes earlier so she could purchase a coffee in the drive-thru, chitchat with Ralph before starting the work day, and arrive at her desk devoid of boss drama.
Sipping her hot white chocolate mocha, she strolled into the showroom building and greeted the other employees ready to start their shift. She spoke to Ralph, and they discussed her upcoming game against the Blue Crush.
“Sounds exciting,” he said. “You’ll score four goals, easy.”
Giselle laughed. “As a striker, I’ll be lucky to get one. I heard their goalie is a beast.”
Nigel’s voice boomed as he approached the pair. “That doesn’t sound like a car sales topic.” His suit appeared too small for his frame, his pasty face poking from the gray jacket. “Get to work, both of you.”
We still have five minutes before the shop opens, Ding Dong head. Giselle bit her tongue, not wanting to provoke the jerk any more than necessary. She smiled at Ralph before heading to her office. “We’ll catch up later.”
Nigel seemed satisfied. He glowered at his employees, then turned and left the area.
Giselle barely stepped into her office when Ralph returned, his voice low as if Nigel might rush back to reprimand them.
“Oh! I almost forgot. A friend of yours dropped by right before you arrived. He delivered a box of cupcakes from Brandy’s Bakery and insisted on setting them up on your desk as a surprise.
I let him into your office, I hope that’s okay. ”
“A delivery by a friend?” she asked, puzzled. “I sure as heck wasn’t expecting anything.”
Ralph laughed. “That’s what a surprise is, silly goose.”
Giselle grinned. “I guess you’re right. I’ll give you one of the cupcakes for your trouble.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Ralph exclaimed, then smiled and left her alone.
Still confused and wondering what this entailed, she walked to her desk and stood next to it while studying a cardboard box marked by the Brandy’s Bakery logo. Lifting the top, she smiled at the colorfully decorated, chocolate and vanilla cupcakes packed inside.
An upgrade from Ding Dongs, I suppose. But who the hell is this from, and why?
Giselle sat in her chair and rolled herself forward. Her foot thumped against something. She pushed back and peered beneath the desk, her eyes wide in shock.
Her muddy soccer ball rested on the floor.
“What. The. HELL?”
The ball, coated in fresh sludge, had dripped and soiled the tile under the desk. Tracks of mud circled back and forth, a sign someone—Tony—had rolled it around down there.
Just like I did all over the hood of his car. Oh, wait. There’s a note. This should be good. She leaned down and picked up the folded paper, then read.
Chalmers, your messy desk requires a thorough bleaching.
Or better yet, a burning. I considered wearing a mask and latex gloves just to set the cupcakes down.
Crumbs, old food wrappers, and sticky stains I dare not guess what could be are all over the place.
Also, your chair is ergonomically unsafe.
The rear lumbar setting, seat angle, and armrest heights indicate you are a candidate for carpel tunnel and lower back pain.
Research a proper fitting. I recommend some YouTube videos to improve your posture.
Tony
Giselle shook her head. As the initial surprise and exasperation wore off, she smiled. Ok, buster. You got me back and even used a food delivery as cover to gain access to my office. That’s shrewd and actually a bit admirable, my worthy foe. Nice one.
She plucked a cupcake from the box and took a huge bite of a vanilla one. The sweet flavor burst in her mouth, and she moaned in delight. Tasty sprinkles crunched between her teeth, and a spongy inside melted on her tongue.
“Damn, that’s good.”
She ate half of the plus-sized treat, then returned the remainder to the box for later. She wiped her mouth on a tissue, the gears in her head turning in thought. It appears Tony and I are tied at two goals each. How are soccer games won in this case?
“By scoring another goal,” she announced to the empty office. “I gotta come up with a good plan, my linesman friend. It’s overtime, and it’s on.”
Setting aside her scheming for now, Giselle logged into her work computer to review the day’s tasks.
Five minutes hadn’t elapsed before an email popped into her inbox.
She clicked the message and frowned as Nigel’s unreasonable to-do list appeared.
Too much work and not enough time. He also berated her for leaving the break room dirty yesterday and stated another disciplinary memorandum for record had been created.
“That wasn’t me who left the mess on the table, you dolt!” she uttered through gritted teeth. “He’s doing this on purpose.” The sweet taste of cupcake on her tongue turned sour as she read her boss’s closing remark: Keep this up and you’ll find yourself fired!
Giselle took several deep breaths, the attempt to calm down a gargantuan effort.
I need the money. I need the money. Her mantra only took her so far.
She didn’t know if she could handle this stress for much longer.
I’ve got to report him or something, but how?
The people above him are his golf pals and drinking buddies.
They’ll never take me seriously. She sighed and grabbed the other half of the cupcake for comfort.
I must be patient. An opportunity will come.
Several hours later in the afternoon, the clock struck quitting time.
Giselle had already cleaned the mess beneath her desk.
She took the dirty ball and box of treats to her car, but not before giving Ralph two cupcakes.
In the restroom, she changed into soccer attire and jumped behind the wheel.
Already late for practice, she raced to the city park and found her team running drills on the field.
Coach Jess screamed at Giselle and possibly ruptured an eardrum. Punished for being late, she ran three laps around the field, then joined her team for dribbling, kicking, and passing workouts.
During a break in the intense practice, the sweaty and heavy-breathing players took a knee while Coach Jess set a whiteboard on a stand. Having to face Blue Crush, the coach used her research on the opposing team to draw tactics and discuss strategies for defense and offense.
After the brief meeting, the players hit the field and worked on maneuvers that Jess had designed to counter the hard-charging Crush.
The team captain called out plays and encouraged her teammates, inspiring them to work hard and dig deep.
Giselle raced around the pitch to cross passes, control headers, and coordinate with midfielders as she practiced shots on goal.
An hour later, an exhausted Giselle hugged her teammates at the end of practice and received a hard shoulder-slap from the coach.
Walking back to her car, she spotted Tony’s sedan in the parking lot.
She must have missed it earlier when hurrying to practice.
She glanced around and saw a youth league match in progress on one of the adjacent fields.
After a moment, she found Tony on the sideline, his annoying flag in hand.
He’s a busy man. But that’s cute he also refs for the kids’ league.
Giselle hadn’t had time to think of a plan for the mud ball, but a daring idea suddenly came to mind.
Tony had been bold and imaginative enough to find out where she worked.
Had he followed her one day? Didn’t matter.
She gave him props for discovering her work routine and convincing Ralph to let him into her office.
“I have to top that somehow,” she said to herself, then nodded. “As they say, there’s no time like the present.”
Giselle put her sports bag in the trunk and changed out of her cleats.
Sitting in her car, she waited twenty more minutes before the youth game ended.
She swiveled in her seat to watch Tony pack his things then head for his vehicle.
Feeling like a cheesy spy again, she ducked low and peered over the dash as he threw his gear into the trunk and prepared to drive off.
She turned on the engine and followed him out of the parking lot. Grinning like a fool, excitement boosted her pulse as she tailed him. This is so stalkerish, but too much fun. Did Tony feel this way when he supposedly did his own spying?
Giselle tried to keep her distance, but not too far so she might miss where he turned.
After fifteen minutes, a few red lights, and a couple turns, she grew pleased by her tailing skill.
Her plan had been formed on the spot, and other than following him to who-knows-where, she didn’t know how the situation would end.
Tony’s car turned into a grocery store parking lot.
Giselle found a safe space a few rows over.
She waited until he got out and headed for the main entrance, then climbed out and took the dirty ball from her trunk.
The mud from this morning had dried, but enough grime covered the thing for a satisfying revenge.
But where will I put the ball? I don’t want to leave it on his car again. That’s lame, and he’ll think I’m lazy or unoriginal. She laughed, thinking about how ridiculous this all seemed.
We barely know each other, if at all. But here we are, stalking back and forth and letting this filthy ball do the talking for us.
I know what he drives. He knows where I work and what time I arrive.
And now I’m familiar with where he shops for food.
All this data and we’ve only exchanged a few words during an argument.
She shook her head. This is our little silent war.
Giselle watched a woman stroll by pushing a cart stuffed with groceries. An idea for the plan finalized in her head. “Time to be courageous.”
In the glove box, she fished around for a piece of paper and had to settle for the envelope from an ancient bill. She found an old pen—I hope it has ink—and climbed back out of the car. She went to the trunk and placed the soccer ball into a plastic bag, then headed into the store.
If Tony saw her, the situation would end in an embarrassing defeat.
Giselle slunk through the produce area, eyes darting back and forth for any sign of the linesman.
She moved into the main section containing aisles of food and peeked around corners.
She blended with families, hid behind cardboard displays, and hurried between spots after carefully choosing the best route.
Shoppers threw her several peculiar stares, but she ignored them all.
Giselle finally spotted Tony in aisle seven, his back to her.
A few items lined the bottom of his cart.
He checked something on his phone, then moved forward a few feet to scan the shelf of canned and boxed food.
After a moment, he pulled down a few cans of something and rolled on.
He turned the corner at the end of the aisle and crossed over to inspect the poultry next to the meat processing area.
Giselle didn’t have the luxury of time or place to draft a carefully worded letter full of witty remarks and insults. She only had a few moments to think of something on the spot. Taking out the envelope and pen, she quickly wrote a silly note based on her rushed observations.
Rinaldi, your choice of nourishment is questionable. I would think someone involved in sports would respect their body and recognize poor quality, like processed food shoved in a tin can. I bet you use the microwave more than your stove.
Giselle
She hurried down the aisle and stopped near the end for a peek.
Tony left his cart behind as he moved further away to look at the rows of chicken breast. Giselle waited until a chatting couple carrying hand baskets walked near, then scurried forward in their wake.
Heart racing, she quickly placed the ball and note on top of his grocery items, then backtracked into the aisle.
She bumped into a woman and received an annoyed glare.
“Sorry,” Giselle whispered, then sprinted away.
Back in her car, she whooped in victory and drove home to celebrate by eating a processed, frozen pizza.