Rolling for Love Read online

  I suddenly feel Amorino’s warm hand on mine as he pushes a Styrofoam cup into it. His other hand lightly pushes my lower back, propelling me forward and activating my body’s natural response to grip the cup. The smell of cheap coffee fills my nose. I ignore the tingles his hand leaves on my back as I finish the half cup in one noisy slurp.

  “It will be hot if you get here on time,” he adds. “Are you ready to get started?”

  I look down at myself. I’m wearing the outfit that Amorino required the first time he hired me to work on one of his sites. Layers of thick materials and steel toe boots, protect my body while a bandana covers my head, waiting for the hard hat I know he’s going to make me wear. The layers give me a minus two to sex appeal, but they are quite comfortable.

  “I’m ready,” I declare. He motions me to his desk and pulls out the broken wheely chair. I ungracefully sit and his hand drags up my body. His heat against my back traps me as he leans over my shoulder. I half expect him to kiss my neck. My brain is flashing danger sings as my traitorous body leans toward him.

  “You won’t be leaving the office today,” Amorino smirks. He moves to my side, I feel a chill as my freedom is returned to me and tension I didn’t know I was holding leaves my body. “Just like we talked about over coffee, memorize everything on this desk,” he instructs. “And you’re officially a site manager, so don’t be afraid to butt in when you hear something off. I know you’re good at that.”

  I turn my attention to his table as he starts flipping through papers and showing me the various plans and things I’m going to be responsible for. “Am I using your desk?” I turn my head to ask. His wide lips are right in front of me.

  “Do you want to use my desk?” he asks playfully. I swallow.

  “What if I met another desk?” I ask. I blush a little, thinking of Joe. After the game on Saturday, he said some very nice things to me. I don’t usually stick around. The better I know people, the more comfortable I feel, and the sooner I offend them.

  “I didn’t ask about another desk.” Amorino’s lips fill my vision.

  “I’m not looking for any desk right now,” I breath honestly.

  “Too bad, you need one for this job,” Amorino backs off. “Use mine for now, I have meetings and inspections this morning. Once you have an idea of what you need, we can find you your own space.”

  I nod and turn back to the charts and diagrams on the table. This is a terrible idea.

  “I love your memory,” Amorino says. He smiles at me … that special smile that I feel is only for me. That I want to be only for me. I had avoided him for months because our random hook-ups never work out but, honestly, he still melts my heart. How can one man have so much power over me?

  “It’s just how my mind works,” I lament. I never know how to take compliments, especially about my photographic memory. I have always just had it. It’s not like I did anything to earn the praise.

  I haven’t left his office pod; his crew has gone home. The sun set and I didn’t even notice. The entire days was spent getting the project straight and organized in my brain, and now I have a list of questions for him. Just because I can remember something doesn’t mean I understand it. I know more about construction, as this is the fourth time I have done work for him, but I still don’t always know what beams need to be load-bearing, and if certain materials are strictly necessary. Amorino can see my list of questions and shakes his head.

  “Day’s over,” he declares. “Save your questions for tomorrow.”

  I nod and put my list down on his desk.

  “What are you doing for dinner?” he asks.

  I think of the moldy food in my fridge. “Probably ordering a pizza,” I answer.

  “My treat, we can go to that little pizza place down the road from here,” Amorino offers.

  “Amorino,” I start. All day he has been giving me little signals and small touches when no one else is looking. It worries me sometimes how comfortable I’m with him in my personal space. Not that I have said anything to discourage him, but I also didn’t ask for his advances. In fact, I told him “no” at Cafe Soul. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again. Dinner is going to be more than dinner.

  “I’m not getting dinner with you,” I say after thinking for way too long. The pod gets too quiet. The low hum of the tiny beer fridge reaches my ears. It’s rare that I turn Amorino down when he asks.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” Amorino asks.

  “I’m wishing you hadn’t cheated on me,” I admit. Amorino’s hand comes down on my knee and he squeezes it. “And I was thinking that despite all our baggage, you have always been there for me, since fifth grade.” I want sex with Amorino to be more than just sex. I want to be in love again. Like my stupid books. People are so much more complicated and need-driven in real life.

  “All we can do is move forward,” Amorino intones. His hand moves from my knee up my leg. I hesitate before I put my hand over his and interlace our fingers, keeping his touch innocent.

  “I’m not sleeping with you that easily,” I joke, forcing a laugh to hide the confused emotions filling me. Amorino bites his lower lip and stands. He pulls me up by our still twined fingers. He plants a more than friendly kiss on my lips and releases me. I watch him lock up before we head to our separate vehicles. Eyeing each other the entire way.

  Chapter Ten

  Reality, Exabyte Data Solutions

  Working in an office is like having a second, slightly less dysfunctional family. Except you get paid to deal with them. And they are always around, unless you need them.

  Dillon Dempsy

  “Yo, how did it go on Saturday?” Blake cuts right to the question of the hour. I swivel my chair around and frown.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That bad?”

  “The campaign was great,” I recount. “Strider was suave and Nozomi trusts him probably more than anyone else in the group. Afterward, I did not get to her first, and Joe convinced her to have beers with all of us.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Blake responds.

  “He pulled out a chair for her and brought out a microbrew that he’d shipped here from wherever he came from,” I say bitterly. “Just for her. After she took a sip, he asked if he could as well to make sure it hadn’t spoiled and then gave it back to her.”

  “A bottle kiss,” Blake scoffs. “What a cheap move.”

  “I know. He even turned up the heat in his house so he could wear a t-shirt. Women don’t even like arm muscles.” I suddenly stop talking. I sound like I’m back in high school. “I need to stop talking.”

  Blake laughs loud enough that I hear keys stop clicking. I can imagine other cubicles looking around for the outburst.

  “It doesn’t sound as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Blake says. “You made a foundation with Strider. To me, it sounds like she stayed and had beers with everyone.”

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “And let’s assume the worst and he asked her out. It’s one date. There’s no reason you can’t also ask?”

  “I know,” I respond. “I just really wanted to talk to her first.”

  “You can’t wish for what you don’t have, only work with what you’ve got to get it,” Blake recites.

  “And how is that working out for you?” I ask.

  “Great,” Blake grins. “There was a Doctor Who marathon on Sunday. I watched it with my cat and my favorite Chinese takeout. I used the tools that I have to make both appear at the same time.”

  I chuckle.

  “It’s Chicken Steve today. You joining us?” he asks.

  “Blake,” I answer. “Have I missed a Chicken Steve yet?”

  “Just making sure you weren’t too sad to come. Seeing as Joe got to play with the new toy first,” Blake teases with a shit-eating grin.

  “He hasn’t played with anything yet,” I insist.

  “You hope,” Blake says quickly before darting out of my cubicle. The p
iece of paper I just balled up hits the space he was just in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reality, Buckley Air Force Base

  Everyone thinks that secured military bases are high tech and exciting, when really they function like college campuses. Each one has its own boring little city complete with grocery stores, gyms, fast food, and dorm buildings filled with youth and energy.

  Joe Smartin

  I put down my leather-bound notebook as a ticket pops up on my screen. The little window is red, meaning whoever is having an issue thinks it’s an emergency. I scan it for the number of our on duty IT person.

  “Lydia Schult’s desk.” Lydia’s voice is very calm and relaxed.

  “This is Joe. I just sent a priority ticket over to you. Can you take care of it?” I ask.

  “Of course, boss. Although if It’s Mr. Tanner again, It’s a PEBKAC. I have been down there twice.” Lydia’s voice doesn’t change as she tells me about the situation. I can’t tell if she’s being friendly, informative, or complaining. I scan the ticket I just forwarded.

  “Do the best you can,” I tell her. Mr. Tanner is indeed who sent in the ticket.

  “Yes sir,” she says, and we both hang up. She could have been trying to be funny. PEBKAC does mean Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair.

  I don’t know my people well yet. I’m career military, as are most of the people at this base. I move every one to three years as my military orders demand and I will be in Colorado for two. I don’t have a choice about where I’m sent. I spend most of my time at my new office trying to figure out who I need to be nice to and if I can apply for promotions or not. A piece of me wants to sell out. Go contractor. Better money and more choices. But there is no stability in contracting, less benefits, and hell, the military put me through college. I can be the loyal paladin for the full 20 years to retirement. I went in at 18 and am now 33 and am more than halfway through.

  I pick up my leather book again and look down at my notes for my campaign. I read through what I just wrote and have to erase it. Third time. I’m starting to wear through the paper. I planned this campaign to go one direction, and my brain keeps focusing on Sandy and, by extension, her character Nozomi. As much as I wanted to use the game to get in her good graces, it just isn’t fair to the rest of the party.

  My email notification sound chimes and I again put down my notebook. It’s an email titled “Final Character Sheet for Nozomi Sato”. I quickly open it. There is no text in the body, just a PDF attachment. I laugh a little. A piece of me had hoped for maybe something personal in her email, but the simplicity of it fits her straightforward personality too well.

  Looking at someone’s character sheet is like looking at a piece of how they think. When I first started managing, I tried a team-building exercise based on D&D character sheets. It’s not an experience I will ever repeat, but I learned a lot. I click on the attachment and a piece of Sandy’s thought process quickly loads onto my screen. After just a short scan, my eyes narrow. I close the PDF and shoot her a quick email.

  Hi Sandy,

  Thank you for the copy of your character sheet. Looking at some of your choices, I need a little bit more information about your back story and how some of these combinations would be possible. Did you really go through and skill optimize? I also need your bond and your ideal to be different. Just the word “Change” does not give either of us anything to work with.

  Remember:

  Your Bond is your goal. Your connection to people, places and events in the world.

  For example: I wish to find love and protect it.

  Your Ideal is one idea that drives your character, and the things you believe most strongly.

  For example: generosity. My talents were given to me so that I can use them to benefit others.

  I do like your flaw. I won’t share it with anyone so that It’s a surprise. I think it will lead to some very funny moments.

  Your humble Dungeon Master, Joe

  I read my response a second time and then press “Send”. Character building is tricky and can be personal. I was surprised to see an email back from her right away.

  My numbers are legal. I know you asked for Bonds and Ideals but they are not used in 3.5E. – S

  Before I can think more on it, three tickets make their notification sound and I hear a curse through the thin door to my glorified cubicle that passes for my “office”. I quickly get back to work, shoving Sandy and her character sheet of cold math to the side.

  Chapter Twelve

  Reality, Bela Casa Construction, Home Development

  The mostly straight road that connects Boulder to Longmont has been known for as long as anyone can remember as the Diagonal. Treacherous in the winter; this twentyish mile stretch is in transition from farmland and small communities of the past to bulk housing developments and large technology warehouses. It’s inevitable that eventually Boulder and Longmont will swallow the tiny towns in between and turn everything into one big suburbia.

  Sandy Yuhi

  I put my clipboard down on the little desk across from Amorino’s and take off my gloves and hard hat. My ears are still too cold to take off the thick beanie covering my hair. I blow warm air onto my fingers before rubbing my hands together. It’s very cold for October.

  Fortunately, the little pods came with space heaters, and I kick mine on. The pod is not warm by any means, but much better than outside. Today, anyway. If Amorino notices I have come in, he doesn’t look up from the laptop he’s currently typing on. I unclip my notes from the clipboard and walk to his desk.

  “I have a report for you. The one on the top is time sensitive,” I say. Amorino looks up from his laptop.

  “Does it have anything to do with the foundation pour?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck,” Amorino swears. Before he can look at my notes, the door bounces opened.

  “Mr. Bianchi,” a clipped Irish accent says. Devon is short and stocky. His red hair is mostly grey at this point and he always looks like he needs a shave. Devon is one of Amorino’s supervisors, and he’s familiar from a few other jobs I have done for Amorino. Devon is currently working with the subcontractors digging for the foundation pour. I can’t believe how many contractors, and sub-contractors, and sub-contractors to sub-contractors it takes to build a housing development. The facts don’t make my head spin, but the impracticality makes my brain hurt.

  “Balfour has found a wire,” Devon states.

  “They have found a wire on the wrong site,” I add.

  “Come again?” Devon asks, surprised.

  “Balfour is digging the foundations in the wrong order,” I reiterate. I take the top page of my inspection out. “They found a wire because Power and Gas has only inspected the south side of the complex and they started digging in the north.”

  “Look kid,” Devon starts to say. But Amorino waves him off and takes the paper out of my hand.

  “There isn’t a compass on this,” Amorino points out.

  “An important detail,” I comment. “But if we line up the site map with the pod we’re in, even if you couldn’t see the obvious flags that the surveyors left in the ground to denote wires, I think you will find it still accurate.”

  Amorino hands the map to Devon. I don’t blame Devon for not trusting me. The last time we worked together, I was one of his many minions.

  “We will both go,” Amorino confirms. He grabs his jacket and they head for the door. “This is their third strike. It will put the project behind, but if they can’t do their jobs …”

  Amorino’s and Devon’s voices trail off as the door to the pod bounces shut behind them. I reorganize the papers I just put on Amorino’s desk and take off my beanie and my winter coat, shuffling back to my own space. Amorino seems very used to these types of things, every site has similar problems. I don’t dwell on it.

  I get out my phone and reread Joe’s email about Nozomi. I had hoped that he wasn’t going to put so much emphasis
on role-playing. Those are the bits that always get me into trouble, but obviously he’s going to. I can’t tell from his email if he was impressed by my numbers optimization or didn’t like it. He probably didn’t like it as he was asking me to justify it.

  “If I was powerful human-vampire hybrid, what would give my life meaning?” I ask out loud. The empty pod doesn’t answer me. I could look up some bonds and ideals on the internet and use one of them. But, if I need to justify Nozomi’s existence, maybe I should start there with her past. I haven’t written her a back story, I never write back stories. I’m so deep in thought about the game that the pod door bouncing shut startles me.

  “Thinking about something?” Amorino’s deep voice asks.

  I stand up, smoothing down my big sweater as if that will return my dignity. “Just the meaning of life,” I answer honestly. Nozomi Sato’s that is, not that Amorino would understand that reference.

  He just chuckles. “Crisis averted, thanks to you. I think we deserve a break and you a reward,” he purrs. His smile is absolutely sinful and he bites his lower lip and looks me up and down like I’m naked.

  “You’re talking about a raise already?” I say playfully, purposefully missing his innuendo. My lady bits still just melt at his look. Amorino slips behind me. His breath tickles my neck right before his gently nips it, his arms come around my waist. A pleasurable shiver runs to my core. It would be so easy to just be with him again. My child hood friend. The man that held me at my Dad’s funeral. My best friend still to this day.