The Dumb Fuck Page 3

  Adam was leaning against his office door frame, arms crossed watching. Watching her having sex. Watching her having sex, naked with this man, this man Walker, his friend. She shrieked, disengaging herself from Walker and dropping her naked body to a crouch, below the desk. Adam walked forward clapping slowly, a leering smirk on his face.

  “Very nice performance Miss Matthews, thank you. Although I appreciate you literally taking one for the team, here at Brown + Grey, we don’t fuck the client.”

  “The what? I thought – ?” Frozen in her position on the floor, her hand scrabbled to find her tank, or her skirt, or her thong. Her mouth opening. “I, I thought” she whispered, looking behind her to Walker, who had finished tucking himself back in and buttoning his jeans

  “Get dressed, Don’t say a fucking thing,” he bit out through gritted teeth. Picking up her skirt from the other side of the desk and throwing it at her. She caught it as it landed over her face. She pulled her tank on stepped into the skirt practically tripping herself as she tried to get it out from under her feet. She couldn’t find her panties anywhere but right now that was the least of her worries.

  Waverly was humiliated, she peeked over at Walker, waiting for him to say something, anything, to support or defend her. Nothing. Standing there nonchalantly doing up the buttons on his shirt - like she didn’t exist. Adam, however, was rubbing his hands together as if he was warming up to watch his favorite football team win the playoffs.

  What an asshole. Both of them, complete assholes.

  She was totally fucked. Then and now.

  Waverly righted her clothes, tried to calm her breathing and compose herself . She turned to Walker, who was staring at her lifted her head to look him straight in the eyes. He looked right back at her, calm, cool and collected. Her heart sank, this was nothing to him, this was no meeting of hearts, or minds. She had just become another fuck to him.

  “Fuck you” she whispered, stomping past him and around the desk. Waverly was too embarrassed and flustered to make eye contact with Adam, he was still her boss after all and the man had just seen her naked. Crossing the doorway out of his office, Adam called to her in a scary, polite voice.

  “Oh Miss Matthews”

  Good God, what now, could they not just let her go with the tiny scrap of dignity she was clinging on to just to get into the elevator and escape. Way paused tried to suck in a breath, and turned, looking back at the two men questioningly, “Yes?”

  “You’re fired,” Adam stated flatly.

  Oh Yes, she was fucked all right.

  Six steps. She held it together for the six steps that it took to walk beyond the glass that lined Adam’s office. She would not be seen by either one of those assholes when the crying began. On the seventh step, she stopped, tears sliding down her face she, bend from the waist silently screaming inside.

  She heard the low rumbling timbre of the voice that she now knew to be Walkers’, then she heard Adam.

  “She’s nothing, man. Don’t give it another thought, she was a junior creative. They’re everywhere, I’ll have another one just like her in here by tomorrow afternoon.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Waverly Amelia Matthews hung up the phone at WestMat Creative, pushed back her chair and looked out her large, glass-walled, office with a smile. Her assistant Kate popped her head into the door and grinned.

  “You got ‘em?” Kate asked.

  “I got ‘em.” Way grinned back at her – a huge, fucking grin.

  “It’s a big fucking deal getting that account,” Kate said waggling her eyebrows.

  “It’s a Big Fucking Deal.” Way agreed, her smile radiant.

  “Biggest deal being talked about in Chicago right now,” Kate said, walking in and plopping herself down onto the white suede chesterfield sofa in Ways’ office.

  “Biggest fucking deal being talked about in Chicago,” Way softly agreed.

  “Now, do I get the shoes?” Kate asked.

  “Now, you get the shoes. The beautiful, red soled, best-assistant-in any-ad agency-ever, Jimmy Choo’s,” Way answered a big eyed, and very happy Kate.

  Six years later and life was better than ever – she had everything she wanted, everything she had dreamed of, and worked her ass off for.

  No matter how big a city is, the creative industry within it is small and gossipy, within days of being fired by Adam, no agency would touch her as an employee. After weeks of trying, calling and sending resumes, Waverly finally heard back from one place, a place so small that she had never even heard of it. By then she was beyond desperate, a week away from eviction with thirty two dollars left in her bank account. Sweet, old, Steve Short, with twinkling green eyes, and overly bushy eyebrows, an ad man still around from the sixties. He took one look at her portfolio and hired her on the spot. Although, Steve Short was old, set in his ways and the pay was horrible, she had learned a tremendous amount. Steve was happy to share every bit of the years of experience he had under his belt. He became somewhat of a father and grandfather to her, and to this day she spoke with him once a week and tried to have dinner with him at least once a month.

  Ben Westhelm, she met during her first two weeks working at Short’s, she and Ben had shared an office the size of a closet for two years. There were times when Ben would get so sick of her he would take his laptop and go sit in the women’s restroom to work, the men’s room was too small for him. Both hard workers and Ben was a good yin to her creative yang, they had been cranking out killer creative work together ever since. They began combining their efforts on freelance jobs after hours, to help pay the bills that their meager salaries didn’t cover, and word spread quickly about their skills and success.

  After two years of working with Steve, absorbing every bit of the knowledge he had to share, and with Steve’s blessing, she and Ben opened a small office of their own. They shared a strong work ethic and an even stronger desire to succeed.

  Benn was a total type A personality, everything organized to an almost phobic degree, sharing that office with her for two years, almost killed him. She tried, she really did, but the strength of Waverly’s inherent creativity did not lend itself well, or really at all, to a lot of organization. Benn always said it was like a second language that only a certain few people could speak, and Way heartily agreed. Typically, Way just had to take in all of the necessary client information from Benn and the ideas just spat themselves out. Benn could take the creative, parse through it, keep the big picture in mind, then sell the shit out of it convincing the client that nobody could bring anything similar to the table. And it worked, because their work was strong and on target that the client’s bottom line rose each and every time. Long term client relationships were born and maintained. That also was Benn’s job and with his attention to detail and organization skills, the clients felt coddled spreading the word about WestMat far and wide.

  Benn was more than a partner to Waverly, he was like a brother. Handsome, in a geek chic way, with thick longish sandy blonde hair, exactly her height with a slight build, killer sarcastic sense of humor and, although he was friendly, he didn’t let people into his life or heart easily. Once you were in though, he operated on a ride or die philosophy. Having been estranged from her family, Waverly was somewhat cautious herself, with whom she really let into her life and heart, but Ben was in, very in, always would be in. He knew her entire back story and became family to her, like a father, brother and mother all rolled into one when necessary.

  They had been there for each other through their occasional short-term relationships – hers, many one night stands – his. Through the creative all nighters, lunches and dinners of Raman, ninety-nine cent boxed mac and cheese, and drunken nights courtesy of the cheapest beer they could afford. They had each endured one long term relationship which had ended in a broken heart, had cried together, supplied the tissues, Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, and pound size bags
of M&Ms. Nobody was good enough for Ben in her eyes, and she worried that when he did find someone he loved whether she be able to share him in a mature, nonbitchy, way. Although, that may be a while down the road given that Ben was currently going through a man whore phase. Waverly was okay with that, though, it was easy to for her to justify just about anything Benn did if it made him happy.

  Waverly was aware that she was somewhat judgmental about people and their one night stands, and just maybe, possibly, it was due to that blue-eyed, dumbfuck, asshole, but, she never thought about him. That one disastrous night had shaken up some things deep inside her, brought about a real change in her. Hardened her a bit, made her grow up a bit more, become a bit more responsible for the trajectory of her life. She had never seen him again. That night meant nothing to her now.

  And, she was just fine with that.

  Benn popped his head in, a smug grin on his face, “You ready Way? Biggest account in Chicago soon will be ours”.

  He rubbed his hands together, waggled his eyebrows dramatically from under his sturdy, black-framed hipster glasses, which magnified his already owlish, golden brown, eyes.

  Waverly laughed at his enthusiasm, “I’m ready Bud, I’ll get it going, but you know this is mainly your show. I just draw the pretty pictures, you’re the one who does all the hard work,” she batted her eyelashes and drawled at him.

  “Damn right and don’t you forget it “he replied.

  She chucked the expensive pen she was holding at him hitting him in his shirt pocket and leaving a mark.

  “See you in there at ten, Art Girl,” was his only remark as he hurried away.

  Only ten minutes left but, there wasn’t a lot for her to do until the client arrived, but Way was a mover and doer by nature. Finding tasks to busy herself, she began double checking her presentation slides, pre-loading their new and expensive digital projector, and double checking the customized presentation folders. Each folder was emblazoned with the name RKI Industries, a conglomerate with seven different businesses under the company umbrella. So getting this account was bringing not just one company in, but really at least three. It was big talk in the local ad community and a huge coup for WayMat Group.

  Waverly didn’t really get nervous anymore, but being front and center at the meeting, she did a last minute make up check. Leaning over the sink in her en suite bathroom, she ran a hand over her hair, tucked into a sophisticated chignon, swiped a light pink colored gloss on her lips and slipped into her super awesome Christian Louboutin, three-inch heel black pumps. Excitedly wiggling her foot back and forth she admired, how perfectly they complemented her super glam, black Alexander McQueen long sleeve dress.

  Being a designer, Waverly loved clothes, and shoes, the look of them, the feel of them, the way they made her feel when she wore them, having lived hand to mouth for so many years, the expensive ones had only been on her feet in her dreams. Not anymore, when she started making real money as part owner of the agency, she spent that real money on clothes and shoes. From Bergdorf’s to Target, she indulged, really indulged. Although she got grief from Benn and her girlfriends, she simply didn’t care, she just kept buying whatever she wanted.

  After one last look and a happy sigh at her beautiful shoes, she headed out to their conference room, to take her place in one of the two head chairs, waiting for Benn and the client.

  Waverly stood, smoothing her dress as Benn ushered the group of men and women into the room. Giving a practiced polite smile to the group of lower level executives, who after being introduced and shaking hands seated themselves in the six chairs lining the conference room table and began polite chit chat.

  Waverly was positioned in the chair directly left of the chair reserved for the clients’ number one representative and Benn would position himself to the right. Basically, they flanked the client, a typical Benn tactic, which usually worked well for them. The back of the room held a big screen monitor to display the presentation and under it a sideboard filled with breakfast items. As the six underlings arranged themselves, their phones and their laptops, she tapped her pen lightly on her notepad, awaiting the big shot’s grand entrance. The conference room door swung open and Waverly looked up... Her breath caught in her throat.

  No. No. NO.

  Walker Sebastian Rike strode into the room with Benn, offering a quick unsmiling, nod to his employees. Looking over to Waverly as Benn began the formal introduction, the cold, polite manner, never faded, but she saw his eyes flash with recognition for just a second, then narrow, as he reached out to shake her hand. As their hands connected the corner of his lips lifted slightly.

  Positive that her mouth was hanging open as she shook his hand, she wondered if it would be wrong to start the meeting by slapping the faint grin off of his face. What the hell was he doing here!? This was the client Benn was salivating over?! Did he know this was her agency? What were the chances, she hadn’t run into this guy in seven years, thank God. Now, surprise, he was sitting in her agency, in her agency conference room. Waiting for her agency to present to him – the client. Her potential client. No. Fucking. Way.

  She wanted to throw her notepad at his fat, arrogant head. Hard.

  “Miss Matthews and I have met,” Walker stated bluntly, seating himself in the chair and turning back to Way.

  “Is it still Miss Matthews?” He questioned the slight smile, almost a smirk still in place.

  “Yes it is,” she replied gritting her teeth, as she fake smiled back at his arrogant face. This blue eyed, dumbfuck, asshole would not get the best of her...again.

  “Thanks for meeting with us today, Mr. Rike. Would anyone care for some coffee, water?”

  She gestured towards the back of the office. Ignoring her question, he instead, flipped open the presentation book and began looking over the information.

  Hmm, seems that he’s just as much of an asshole as she remembered.

  Benn launched into his standard impress-the-clients, presentation info about their company, powering up her laptop, as Benn spoke, she felt Walker staring at her.

  Keep it together, she told herself. He fucked you and he fucked you over. You own this place. You are not that girl anymore – now show him that. But, just the thought of that night, a night that she tried so hard not to remember, made a blush creep up her cheeks.

  When it was time for her part of the presentation, she was pleased to hear positive and enthusiastic murmurs, turning into outspoken praise as she continued. Way knew that it was really strong work, she was outstandingly good at what she did. God may have given her a crap family and some tough early years, but he had overly blessed her with creativity and talent.

  The meeting continued on through all of the usual phases and she chimed in when expected, although, determined to ignore Mr. Rike as much as she was able, without it being obvious. She did notice an odd look from Benn cast her way occasionally.

  Finally, finally, the meeting ended, pleasantries were exchanged with a few generic questions from Walker to Benn. When all of the lower level employees had exited the conference room, leaving just Benn, Walker and Way, Walker thanked Benn again, shaking his hand. Walker then announced that he would appreciate the chance to speak with Waverly for a few moments about the creative direction. Benn’s eyes raised slightly at her, recognizing the bullshit excuse for exactly what it was, but he smiled cordially, then excused himself. This was not the first time that a client took one look at Waverly and decided they liked more than just her creative direction.

  “It is you,” he stated.

  Way sighed and turned to face him, figuring that she may as well get this over with.

  “Yes, it is me,” she replied, looking up at him.

  Walker was staring at her, his head tilted a bit.

  “You look different, but not different. It’s been what, six years? And you work here now?”

  His eyes wandering over h
er face.

  Waverly laughed out loud.

  “Well a lot can change in six years,” she responded with a forced smile, trying for a light carefree tone.

  He intimidated her – still. And, she was no longer the shy, unsure young woman he first met. Looking away from him to the conference room doors, she wanted to escape, from him, the memory of that night and his intense examination of her.

  “I didn’t know you worked for him. Adam. I had no idea. I thought...”

  It was said in a low private voice. He was frowning, looking down at her, trying to meet her eyes.

  “Yes,” she interrupted, answering him, her own quiet voice too.

  “My first job out of school, not even two months into it. Just a young and very eager graduate screwed...over on her first job. Same old story,” Way replied watching his face.

  His frown deepened, his eyebrows went down lower.

  “You are very...different from how I remember you that night,” he told her, his voice soft and low.

  “You remember that night? Oh please, be honest, I was just another notch on your family heirloom bedpost. Besides, what was there to remember? You didn’t have much to say, not before we screwed, and certainly not after I was fired,” she harshly pointed out.

  “I remember…that night.”

  Looking up and meeting his eyes, Waverly watched them slowly roam over her from her head to her toes and flushed. Six years was a long time in a young woman’s life, particularly during that time of her life - since then, she had been with other men. She wasn’t a slut, but she wasn’t naive about sex anymore. But, something about this man, Walker, made her feel like that same innocent, good girl, right out of college, again. She didn’t like it. Stepping up close to him, toe to toe, she looked up directly into his deep, blue eyes.

  “It was one night, Walker, actually not even one night. It was a quick fuck in an office. You might have been the first for me, but, not the last. I think it’s best if we pretend like it never happened.”