Nothing Personal: A Standalone Romantic Comedy Page 2

  But both of us knew that worrying about my sister wouldn’t change anything and we did it anyway.

  At ten past eleven, Desiree calls me and tells me to come into her office. With the call coming ten minutes later than expected, I’ve already given my pineapple-shaped stress-ball a real workout and I’m practically flying out the door. I give a quick wave to Teef, our IT guy in the office next door, and hurry around the other side.

  The door to Desiree’s office is open slightly so I poke my head in. “I’m here,” I tell her.

  “Come on in,” she says. “Shut the door, please.”

  Desiree’s office has sweeping views of the harbor and you can even see a bit of Diamond Head peeking out from between high-rises. Today the water looks extra nice, sparkling in lines of deep blue and turquoise. The office next door to hers is…was Mike’s and I would kill for this view. My office faces another building with only a glimpse of the green mountains behind. There’s one guy across from me who spends his lunch hour doing yoga in his underwear on top of his desk.

  I shut the door and take a seat across from her.

  She has a folder in her hands but she pushes it to the side. It has a name on it that I can’t quite read and I don’t want to be obvious that I’m trying to.

  “So, I take it you had a nice time,” Desiree says, folding her hands in front of her.

  This is where it gets tricky. Do I just pretend everything is fine or do I tell her the truth? Before I got to the office, I was all prepared to vent to everyone since my co-workers are my only family here. But now that this whole Mike quitting thing has reared its head, I’m not sure if the distraction is a good idea.

  “It was very dry and busy and hot,” I tell her with a quick smile. “So, what did you want to speak to me about? Did something happen while I was gone?”

  She frowns for a moment. I’m usually not so blunt.

  “As it happens,” she slowly goes on with a sad look in her eyes, “something did happen while you were gone. We didn’t want to bother you about it until you got back but Mike quit unexpectedly.”

  I try to act shocked. “Oh my god,” I say in a hushed voice, my hand at my chest.

  Her lips quirk up. “So, I take it Kate already told you,” she says dryly.

  “Am I that bad of an actor?”

  She laughs. “Yes. You are. So what did Kate say?”

  “She didn’t say much except that Mike fell in love.”

  “That’s pretty much it,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t understand it myself, but he met this woman who was here on vacation, I guess she’d gone to his bowling alley, and the next thing I know I get his resignation letter saying he was going to go live in Thailand with her.”

  “Thailand?! Are you sure she’s a woman?”

  She shrugs. “Oh, she’s a woman all right. I guess Kate didn’t tell you the part where this woman happens to be a quasi-famous…adult film actress.”

  “He ran away with a porn star?”

  This is getting weirder.

  She winces at the thought. “Yes.” Then she shakes her head, as if trying to shed a mental image. “So that’s the story as far as we know. He’s already gone. No two-week notice either. So we’re scrambling to try and fill his position.”

  Oh my god.

  Here it comes.

  My promotion.

  I try to keep from squirming in my seat, pressing my lips together so I’m not prematurely smiling.

  She goes on. “As you know, you’ve been working for Mike pretty much since you got here. You’ve learned a lot from him. And you know we’ve been talking to him to see who he’d recommend for his spot.”

  Here it comes, here it comes…

  “But as adamant as Mike was, we just couldn’t be sure. There’s so much pressure right now to fill this role and we want to do it right.”

  “Uh, huh,” I manage to say, getting confused.

  “It’s a bit unorthodox to ask someone to uproot their lives for a three-month temp position but we figured it would be the best thing to do, considering your history together.”

  I blink at her. “My what? My history?”

  For some reason, anytime anyone mentions some sort of dubious history, I always think back to the time I got taken in by the cops when I was fifteen for tipping cows in a neighbor’s field.

  “This isn’t about the cows is it?” I add.

  She frowns. “No,” she says slowly. “This is about your work history. Mike knew you worked together for a few years and because of that we thought we’d run it by you. Though I do hope it’s not a problem, because he’s waiting in the lobby.”

  Hold the phones. What the hell is going on here?

  Does this mean I’m not getting the job?

  Who is he?

  “I’m sorry Desiree, maybe it’s the jet lag, but what on earth are you talking about? What history? Who is in the lobby?”

  “The man who Mike recommended for the job. He’s been working at one of our rival chains for the last few years, same position as you. And before that, you both worked for us in Palm Desert.” She picks up the folder and tosses it to me.

  It lands face up with a splat.

  The name glaring up at me as if it were carved from a dagger.

  Kessler Rocha.

  My ex-coworker.

  My ex-lover.

  My level-ten heartbreaker.

  “Kate,” Desiree says, pressing the intercom button on her phone. “Can you show Mr. Rocha into my office now? Mahalo.”

  OH.

  MY.

  GOD.

  CHAPTER TWO

  KESSLER

  “FIRST DAY AT WORK, little buddy. You going to wish me luck?” I ask Hunter while I fiddle with my tie in the mirror.

  When I don’t get an answer, I glance over my shoulder at him.

  He’s hanging out in the doorway, one finger up his nose, shirtless, even though I just saw the nanny put his shirt on a minute ago.

  “I’m afraid of leprechauns,” he says in a quiet voice. I’ve gotten used to having to lean in and really listen because he’s just so quiet but I’m still not sure I heard him right.

  “What leprechauns?” I ask carefully.

  “The leprechauns who hang out with the pot of gold in the toilet and wishes you luck.”

  Ah. I see.

  Sorta.

  “Well let’s just ignore all that for now. You going to be good while I’m gone?”

  He stares at me for a moment with his big blue eyes and as usual I’m struck with the strangest combination of love and fear. Love for him because he’s my child, and that’s becoming more and more apparent every day.

  Fear because I have no clue in hell what I’m doing and I don’t think I’m ever going to get any better.

  He doesn’t answer. Getting him to talk is like pulling teeth, something I’m trying not to take personally. It’s not me he doesn’t want to talk to, it’s everyone, and I should just understand that he’s quiet for a three-year-old.

  “Loan,” I call out, and she appears right behind him, silent as snow. “Hey Loan,” I say, giving her my biggest, most charming smile, the smile that appeared on many sports calendars back in the day.

  Loan nods her greeting but doesn’t smile back. I met her only three days ago and she hasn’t smiled once. She rarely talks either, even though I know she speaks fluent English. She and Hunter seem to be well-paired.

  “So you think you’ll be okay for the day? I won’t even be there that long. Just a couple of hours to get my office set-up and get myself oriented.”

  She stares at me like it’s annoying her that I’ve already asked her this a million times. Is this what it’s like to become a helicopter parent? I barely know what it is to be a parent as it is.

  “Okay then, good talk,” I tell her. Hunter runs away from the door and over to my leg, wrapping his arms around it and hugging it.

  Well, fuck.

  I’m not used to a lot of affection from the little guy eit
her, and this is breaking my heart. “Hey, hey, hey,” I say softly, crouching down so we’re at eye level. “I’m going to miss you buddy. But I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go,” he says. “I don’t want to be with the leprechauns.”

  I really wish I knew where he was getting all of this from.

  “You’re safe from the leprechauns,” I tell him, messing up his hair. “Miss Pham will take very good care of you, don’t you worry. She’s a bona-fide leprechaun hunter, isn’t that right?” I glance up at her, and upon seeing her stone-faced expression, immediately look back to Hunter. “And when I get back from work, I’ll bring you a present.”

  He swallows as he thinks that over. “Will you bring me a present every every day you go to work?”

  “Um, yes,” I say, knowing I walked right into that one. “Every every day.”

  He seems to consider this thoughtfully, then he nods.

  Whew. Meltdown averted. Even though Hunter is quiet, he can throw a tantrum that rivals Steven Tyler’s vocals.

  Now that he’s calmed down, it’s time for me to do the same.

  I may look like the picture of serenity in my tailored blue-grey suit and shiny new Audi, but I’m anything but. For one, I’ve only walked down the driveway and I’m already sweating like a criminal. I know that people in Hawaii like to keep it casual and don’t usually wear full suits, even in the corporate world, but since I’m needing to make the right impression, I’m sticking with it.

  Just as my shirt is sticking to me.

  And then there’s my car, which is pretty sweet, but I’m only leasing her for three months.

  That’s all the guaranteed time I have here.

  Three months.

  Three months that I was only aware of five days ago.

  In a life that completely changed six months ago.

  I glance back at the house and see Hunter at the window with Loan standing behind him, and for a second I’m reminded of some scene from The Omen of Damian with his nanny. This is what fatherhood is doing to me. I raise my hand in a wave and Hunter wiggles his fingers back at me. At least he wasn’t crying for his mother this morning—it was good to feel wanted for a change.

  And frankly, feeling wanted was the reason I packed up our lives and moved us out here for three months. I felt like my career at the Rockstar Collection was stalling. It didn’t matter the work that I was putting into it, once the novelty of who I was wore off, I was watching promotions pass me by.

  I needed the pay raise. I was getting on just fine with checks coming in from the NHL and sponsors, even though those had dried up to nearly nothing over the years. But once Hunter was in my custody, I knew that it wouldn’t cut it anymore.

  Then I got the call that changed everything.

  My old buddy Mike Epson said he did something crazy and he needed help.

  Specifically, he quit his job unexpectedly and felt bad about it and thought I would be the right person to replace him.

  In a way I can’t believe I said yes. I wanted a new opportunity but to go back to working for Kahuna Hotels after all this time wasn’t the one I was thinking of, plus uprooting Hunter and I from San Francisco and transplanting us to Hawaii looked too big for us to handle.

  We’ll see how we do, though with Hunter’s age and all the changes and moves he’s been through lately, he’s taken to Hawaii better than I have.

  A lot better.

  Look, I grew up in the Yukon. I may have worked in Palm Desert for a few years but that’s a totally different beast than a tropical island in the Pacific. I know everyone would be chomping at the bit to have the chance to move to Hawaii for a job, but honestly I’m approaching this with a lot of caution. I prefer rain and gloom and cold and things that keep to a schedule. Plus, I doubt there’s a single hockey rink on this sweltering rock and, despite everything, hockey is still my number one hobby.

  Thankfully, the drive from the house to the office isn’t that long and GPS gets me to downtown Honolulu on time. For a moment I’m almost tricked to thinking I’m back in San Francisco as I stare up at all the high-rises with Korean, Japanese, and Vietnamese restaurants dotted in between. But if I look a little closer, the abundance of shorts, Hawaiian shirts, shaved ice signs and lush foliage remind me that I’m not in Kansas anymore.

  It isn’t until I’ve parked my car in the parking garage and wiped a bunch of sweat off my forehead en route to the elevator that I start to get nervous.

  Now, I don’t usually get nervous. Playing for the NHL for that one year had me wishing for a pair of heavy duty Depends before every game, and after a while my body just learned how to obliterate those nerves (or risk spending the game on the toilet).

  But…I am nervous now.

  Just a smidge.

  Enough that I’m not sure if it’s the incessant humidity that’s making me sweat or that I’m about to start my first day on a job that’s essentially just a trial period.

  Who am I kidding? It’s both those things, but it’s also the fact that I’m going to see Nova Lane again.

  The moment Mike called and said he was putting my name down for a job, the first thing I thought about was Nova.

  Gorgeous, ambitious, closed-off, slightly neurotic Nova.

  She was the girl that got away.

  Okay, so she was the girl that I cut loose once I realized I didn’t want any commitment from her and that things would be better for us as co-workers if we just stopped having all that hot sex.

  Big, big mistake.

  It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve been laid, I’ve forgotten what sex is, let alone hot sex. Like it’s the tastiest dish on a menu in a restaurant I’ve been shunned from, probably because I used to treat it as an all-you-can-eat buffet, cutting in line and hogging all the roast beef.

  Or so analogies go.

  Naturally, things between Nova and I became strained after that. She went from liking me, a lot, to hating me…a lot.

  Soon she was switching jobs, being transferred from the hotel in Palm Desert to the corporate office in Honolulu, in what felt like the snap of her fingers. Once she was gone, she cut me out of the rest her life. Instantly removed from Facebook and Instagram, emails bounced, phone number was switched. It’s like she never existed when she was making sure that I never existed.

  And yet here I am, existing, barely, about to start a new job of sorts in the same office where she works. Hopefully five years was enough for her to forget me so that we can start over.

  The Kahuna Hotels corporate office takes up the entire tenth floor of the high-rise. It’s interesting to finally be able to see where these people work. When I used to work for them in Palm Desert, I always pictured the head office as some zany loosey-goosey zoo on the beach, with the CEO surfing the waves in-between taking conference calls. Even though it was corporate and the head of the company, things seemed to run a little slower on their end.

  But now that I’m here, it looks clean and modern, lots of white with faded watercolor art on the walls, and the occasional teak furnishings.

  The receptionist, however, is only borderline professional. When I give her my name and tell her who I’m here to see, she eyes me up and down, very slowly, pausing at every corner of my body. It’s both flattering and unnerving, especially the way she raises her brows at the end. I can’t tell if she’s impressed or disappointed but it’s something.

  Then, when I sit down in the lobby to wait, she spends the whole time staring at me, deadpan, even as she’s typing something. I have the sneaking suspicion she’s typing something about me but I’m not sure what it is.

  Finally, she answers a call and after she hangs up, says, “Mr. Rocha? Desiree will see you now. Office just down there to the right.”

  I get up quickly, happy to get out of there, and take stock over my sweat situation. The AC in here is helping but a few strands of my hair are sticking to my damp forehead. The receptionist was probably tweeting about the sweaty monster in a suit she now has to wo
rk with.

  I head down the hall to the door and then take in a deep breath.

  You got this, I tell myself. No different than the start of any game.

  I knock.

  “Come in,” says a voice.

  I open the door, my smile already plastered on my face as I finally meet Desiree.

  Except that there are two people in the office.

  Desiree, the tiny, older Japanese woman with a flower clipped in her hair, and Nova Lane.

  God, even her name in my head sounds sexy.

  It doesn’t help that she’s only gotten even sexier over the years.

  Nova is still stunning and completely unique to any woman I’ve ever met. Her mother is Bahamian (or was it Barbadian?), her father Northern European, so she has high cheekbones and the roundest, cutest cheeks you’ll ever see on a woman. Then she has these pouty lips that I know for a fact are expert at sucking dick (specifically, my dick) and these dark, beguiling bedroom eyes that tempt you with all the dirty things she wants to do to you. Her body is both lush and strong and oh so soft. I once told her she had skin like mocha cream but that resulted with her hitting me upside the head for how inappropriate it is to compare her skin tone to food, but I do have to say her skin still positively glows.

  And she’s here.

  Sitting right in front of me, dressed in a sleeveless black dress and sandals, staring at me with total condemnation.

  Something tells me five years weren’t enough.

  “Mr. Rocha,” Desiree says, getting to her feet and extending her hand across her desk. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I tell her, and wince when I realize my palm is sweaty. “Sorry, it’s really hot here.”

  Desiree laughs and luckily doesn’t look put out that she shook hands with a wet orangutan in a suit. “You’ll get used to it,” she says, then nods to my clothes. “And you’ll learn pretty fast to leave your blazers in the closet. Please sit.”

  All this time I’m both trying to look at Nova and also avoid the dripping disapproval in her eyes. She visibly stiffens as I sit next to her.