Wanting the Man

To fight the boredom, she pulled some invoices and tried to reconcile the variance in the sales figures. It meant digging around in dusty files and poring over old paperwork in the archive room.

It wasn’t long before she felt like her skin was covered in a thin layer of grime. Her hair wasn’t appreciating the experience either. But it kept her mind off other things, and time passed quickly.

She was keying in the figures at her desk when she realized she was being watched.

“This is a new look for you, Andy,” Henry had a smirk on his face, “I can see where you are going but you did know that grunge isn’t actually grungy, it’s more sort of urban.”

“What are you doing here, Henry? It’s Saturday. Haven’t you got something better to do?”

“The same could be said to you, young Andy,” he touched her nose with his finger then rubbed the residue off his index finger with his thumb.

“I don’t have a choice. You do.”

“So I hear,” he smirked and held up a black dress, “You’re going to need a shower and this.”

“I’m really not in the mood for your jokes, Henry.”

“Not joking. The Lord and Master rang and so here I am, babysitting.”

“Lord and Master? Babysitting? He didn’t!”

“Yup, he did.”

“That...,” she growled as she searched for an appropriate name to curse him with.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here?” Henry looked at her concerned, “Has the knight in shining Armani tarnished his perfect perfection?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Andy, every female in the office carries a torch for Mr. Unattainable. You’re all ‘Woodoholics’!”

“What? That’s not a word! What is a Woodoholic?”

“It’s Woodoholic,” A deep voice from behind her answered. She turned and found Mr. Wood leaning against the door frame, “It’s Henry’s little joke.”

“Yup! They all drink up his bullshit, get drunk on his sultry looks, and are addicted to his sparkling personality—Woodoholics.”

“No!” She said in horror. “And you know about this?”

Mr. Wood shrugged, “I’ve tried to discourage them but nothing I do seems to make any difference.”

She gaped at him. What an arse!

“Yeah,” Henry nodded sympathetically, “My heart goes out to you, Mate. It’s a terrible situation.”

Mr. Wood flashed Henry a deadpan not-impressed look.

“Anyways,” Henry strung out the word, “Just telling Andy that I’m not taking her out looking like that, I have my reputation to think of.”

“What is he talking about?” she glared at Mr. Wood.

“I’ve been called into a meeting. I can’t avoid it. It’s in an hour. So I’ve asked Henry to take you to dinner while I’m busy.”

She closed her eyes and died a quiet death.

“Yup, we’re going to paint the town red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, and puce,” Henry paused, “No, not puce, that’s too gay. What’s that other rainbow color?”

“Henry,” Mr. Wood’s voice was low with warning, “Dinner, at the hotel where the meeting is being held. That’s it. If you can’t handle that—I’ll ring someone else.”

“No!” she cringed, “I can’t believe you did this.”

“What? I have to go to this meeting,” he started to say.

“Yes, but did you have to tell him?”

“I thought, given your request last night, that you wouldn’t mind Henry’s company?” he seemed surprised.

“You wanted me? Last night?” Henry’s interest picked up, “You should have rung Andy. If Woody isn’t, you know, woody you can count on me to sort you out.”

“Shut up Henry,” both Andrea and Mr. Wood growled at the same time.

“I thought that you said Henry wasn’t appropriate. What’s changed?” She glared at him.

“This meeting is important and, given this morning, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t ask me,” she squinted her eyes at him and wished she could shoot laser beams through them.

“I’m sorry Andrea, I should have asked you but I couldn’t find you. I have to go to this meeting now and Henry has already altered his plans to do this, so let’s just make the best of it.” Then, before she could answer he added, “We need to talk Henry.”

Then he was gone, disappearing back into his office.

“This is where he reads the riot act to me—don’t feed her after midnight, don’t get her wet and no steak knives. Don’t worry Andy, I’ll nod and smile then we’ll get rid of Mr. grouchy and have some fun!”

She closed her eyes slowly and shook her head. What was Mr. Wood thinking? Oh, that’s right, he wasn’t thinking about anyone other than himself.

He had a meeting and now she was an inconvenience to get rid of. Enter Henry, irresponsible and anything but discreet but the perfect person to take over ‘babysitting’ her.

That’s what this was to him. He was ‘babysitting’.

And yet, he was right about one thing, this was done and there was nothing she could do to undo it. She snatched up the dress and strode off to the only bathroom on the floor which had a shower.

She knew she didn’t have a lot of time so it was lucky she kept a store of makeup in her desk.

She was surprised at the dress, yes it was very little and black, but it fitted and made her look glamorous. Henry had good tastes and an eye for styling. Maybe he was gay after all.

She was grabbing her backup pair of glossy black stilettos from her desk when they came out of the office. Mr. Wood stopped mid-sentence and Henry’s eyebrows shot skywards.

“Well, Andy, don’t you scrub up well! I’m starting to see the positives in ditching Lush Leggy Lisa for our little date.”

“Henry,” Mr. Wood growled and, from what she could see, elbowed him in the side too. “Be polite.”

She took the opportunity to look him over, gone was the t-shirt and faded jeans that he was wearing earlier. He was now back in his dark business suit with the blue tie that highlighted his eyes.

It was the Mr. Wood she knew. But for some reason, despite—or maybe because of—all his faults, she preferred the casual Mr. Wood.

She walked in silence to the lift as Mr. Wood once more went over the plan.

She handed him her cell phone when he asked and didn’t argue when he programmed in his number and then texted himself so he had her number. She knew there was no point saying anything.

The man was a megalomaniac. All that power had gone to his head and now he thought that everyone around him was his to control.

The hotel was only up the street so they walked. It was only early but she still found herself walking close to him and looking around. For some reason, she felt exposed outside.

They might come back for her. They might be watching.

“I have to go,” He looked at his watch when they got into the lobby and cursed softly, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

And then he turned and left. She watched the lift doors closing and felt the warmth leave her. She closed her eyes as her heart sank.

It wasn’t that she felt she stood a chance romantically with him or wanted a chance to get romantic with him. But what she felt at that moment could only be described as rejection.

The only person who had been there for her was leaving her for a work commitment.

She’d never thought of herself as having an ego but right now her self-esteem was giving her the two-fingered salute and heading out the door.

She rubbed the place where her heart was supposed to be, it felt like it was made out of lead not flesh, and wondered if this hurt more than everything else that had happened to her.

“Come on, Andy,” Henry put his hand in the small of her back. He talked about himself as he led her into the restaurant. They were seated immediately, apparently reservations had been made, and the first thing Henry did was order two double single blend scotch whiskies straight up.

“No thanks, Henry,” she fidgeted with her linen napkin, “I haven’t touched alcohol since... well, you know... since Wednesday.”

“And that’s exactly why you need this, Andy,” He looked at her seriously, “I’ve been watching you. You’ve shrunk into yourself. I know that this whole situation isn’t ideal but you have to stay strong and not forget who you are. You’re hiding from everything. You need a drink.”

“Henry, alcohol won’t fix all my problems.”

“No, but you’re scared of it. You’re scared of your own shadow right now. If you can manage a couple of drinks, I think you’ll see that you can overcome everything else as well.”

“Is this what Mr. Wood told you to do?”

“Josh? Hell no! He gave me a fifty-eight-point lecture on what I could and couldn’t do tonight. I stopped listening after he said ‘You’re not sleeping with her’. Everything else after that was pointless.”

“He said that?”

“Yup, but that’s Mr. Unattainable for you. Just because he’s celibate doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to go without.”

“What do you mean—Celibate?”

Henry leaned back in his chair and smiled, “So the torch is still smouldering?”

“No, no way,” she shook her head, “I’m just curious.”

“Well, you know what they say about curiosity and little kitty cats. Drink up pussy cat and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

She looked at the scotch. It was a rich amber color and she could smell the peat and honey in its warm aroma.

“I’m not dishing out any gossip until you man up and take your medicine.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “I don’t need to know.”

“Sure, of course you don’t,” Henry smirked again. “And you wouldn’t be interested in knowing why he barricades himself off in that prison of a house. We could talk about the weather instead.”

“What about the house?”

“Today was sunny, wasn’t it? There weren’t many clouds. I’ve heard there is rain on the way.”

“Henry,” she rolled her eyes at him. “So I have to drink this, that’s your condition?”

“My condition is that you face your fears. I like the Andy who gives me hell. This Andy is too submissive and although I’ve never shied away from playing Dom, with the whips and chains...”

“Henry,” she growled, stopping him before he could say more. “Fine, I’ll drink it!”

“That’s my girl!” he smiled as he lifted his glass to her and drained the whole thing in one.

She looked at the glass in her hand. It still filled her with fear. Henry was right. And then she remembered Mr. Wood’s proclamations. Who was he to tell her what she could and couldn’t do?

“Hair of the dog, Andy,” Henry nodded to her glass. “Bottoms up.”

She took a deep breath, lifted the glass to her lips, and threw the liquid down her throat. It burnt a fierce path down to her stomach. She tried hard not to cough as her eyes watered.

“Yeah, it’s the good stuff,” Henry laughed, “This is all at the expense of Mr. Joshua Wood so let’s get this party started!”

She was still trying to speak when another glass landed in front of her.

“I’ve always fancied Lobster,” Henry was saying over the top of his menu, “Have you ever wondered what truffles taste like? Do you think they would make us truffle stuffed lobster?”

“You can be such a child, Henry,” she said in a firm voice, “Don’t waste the man’s money. Order the steak. Now what were you saying?”

“Oh yeah, the weather’s going to get really stormy.”

“Enough with the weather, Henry,” she exhaled in frustration. “I drank it, now it’s your turn.”

He picked up the new glass, saluted her, and emptied that one too.

“No, I drank the first one,” but her hand was on the glass. The warmth of the alcohol was spreading throughout her body and the cold of rejection was ebbing away.

“Well, you are probably right,” Henry nodded. “I remember now, he did say that I wasn’t to give you anything to drink.”

“What?”

Henry straightened himself so he was sitting tall in the chair and deepened his voice. “And Henry—don’t let her drink. She can have water or juice—no alcohol.”

She narrowed her eyes and drained the glass. The burn of the whiskey wasn’t so harsh this time.

“That’s my girl,” Henry smirked.

“You are the devil, aren’t you, Henry?” She rubbed her face as the waiter refilled the glasses.

“I do my best,” he laughed silently. “So Andy, how did you get yourself into this situation? You’re not the type who needs a suicide watch.”

Her shoulders dropped and she ran her fingers over the rim of the glass. “Something happened last night.”

He leaned back in the chair and looked at her in a way that had her relax.

Maybe it was the scotch, as the glass in front of her was empty again and the warmth was loosening all her tense muscles, or maybe it was just because he asked.

Before she knew it, she was telling him everything that had happened since Wednesday.

Another glass was emptied as he nodded in silent encouragement. It felt good to talk and he was attentive with all the right facial expressions.

Not once did he judge her or show any sign of scorn, and his silent sympathy wasn’t sarcastic and didn’t make her defensive. He was the perfect listener.

She dabbed her eyes with the linen napkin and didn’t look at him after she had told him about the East Street Bar.

“Andy, you know that wasn’t your fault,” he reached over and offered her his hand. “There was nothing you could have done. But that doesn’t explain how you came to being in Josh’s care?”

She took a swig from the glass. “He was the only one who turned up at the hospital.” The alcohol was making her feel all tingly. “But he’s grumpy all the time, so I don’t know why he bothered. And he’s sooo bossy.”

Henry smiled.

“I don’t know what his problem is, but he really needs to get that stick out of his arse,” she giggled. “Maybe that’s how he knows Tom, he’s getting a stick-out-anectomy.”

Henry laughed and offered his glass. Their glasses clinked and she drank again. She was feeling so much better. This turned out to be a great idea. Who knew Henry would be such a great friend.

“You know, Henry,” she sighed, “You’re my only friend. Why are you so nice to me when everyone else sucks?”

“Even Josh? Does he suck?” Henry laughed.

“He sucks the worst—he’s the suckiest of the sucky,” then she covered her mouth and burst into laughter as she realized what she had said. She fell back into the chair and washed the last of the laughter down with a good dose of scotch. “Not that I would know. Why did you say he was celibate?”

“He doesn’t date. No girls, no pros, no liaisons, no one-nightstands, no one at all. He just hides out in that house of his.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for Miss Right?”

“Why? Are you thinking of changing your name?” he laughed at her confusion, “To Andy Wright. Then you can be Miss Wright!”

She almost sprayed her drink all over the table as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Well don’t waste your time Andy,” Henry waved his finger in the air as she coughed the whisky back down, “You’re too pretty to go wasting your time pining away for him. He doesn’t like women. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like men either. Does he have any household pets? Maybe he’s hot for his cat?”

“Nope, no pets, there is just him and that car.”

“Ahh the car!” Henry nodded.

Then they both proclaimed, “It’s the car!”

They both laughed so hard that their sides ached.

“What,” The deep voice was not loud but it cut through the air, “The hell,” he growled slowly, “Is going on?”

They both turned to look at Joshua Wood who was standing over them with his hands on his hips and a thunderous expression on his face.

Andrea pursed her lips together and tried to swallow the giggle that wanted to come out. She glanced at Henry who was trying to do the same. That was too much and she lost it.

The laugh forced itself out with a snort and that made it even funnier.

“Henry,” Mr. Wood snarled.

“Settle down, Mr. Wood,” Andrea was still giggling, “Henry’s been really great, no STDs involved.”

“STDs?” Henry’s eyebrows went up, which made Andrea laugh again.

“Andrea, we are leaving, now.” Mr. Wood grabbed her by the arm and had her out of the chair before she could get her shaky legs to bear weight, “And you, Henry, we’ll talk later.”

“Bye, Henry!” she waved back at him while being dragged from the restaurant.

He half carried her as they fast-walked back to where his car was parked.

“You are the most bossy boss ever, you know?”

“I would have thought that, after this week, you would know to stay away from alcohol.”

“Nope. But staying away from you sounds like a great idea.”

“Sure Andrea,” he shook his head as he leaned her up against the car, “What did you eat?”

“Eat?”

“At the restaurant.”

She thought about it for too long because he was glaring at her again, “Do you class ice as food? It’s solid and crunchy.”

He closed his eyes as they rolled backwards, “Why me?”

“Because you’re so bossy, that’s why,” she poked her finger into his hard chest with each syllable.

“Stay here, don’t move,” he disappeared into a room next to the stairs leaving her hand hanging in midair.

“Ditched again,” she sang. “I should be used to this.” Then the world started to spin. She pushed herself off the car and tried to walk in a straight line. The problem was that the line kept moving.

“Andrea?” His voice echoed against the concrete of the carpark.

“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Wood, I’m over here!”

Without saying a word, he was carrying her back to the car, dropped her into the passenger seat, and positioned a bucket between her knees.

“Please don’t vomit on the car.”

“Argh, the car!” she laughed. “Are you in love with your car?”

“It’s a car, Andrea,” the interior of the car was dark as they pulled out of the carpark but she didn’t need to see his face to know that this annoyed him.

“Well, you have something going on with this hunk of metal,” she tried to sound factual, “Do you have penis envy?”

“What?”

“You know when you buy a shiny red car to make up for what you’re lacking in your pants.”

“I know what it means, Andrea!”

“Actually, that would explain a lot. But it’s going to be a major disappointment to the Wood-o-holics, they’re convinced you’re well hung.”

“Andrea! Enough! The car is just a car. What I have is quite sufficient.”

“How do you know?”

“I know, Andrea. Can we please not talk about my... asset.”

“So it’s an asset, is it?”

“Andrea,” he growled out her name loud enough to have her stop and sit back in the chair.

“You’re not very nice, you know that?” she pouted.

He sighed loudly and didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Why do you have to be such a dickweed?”

“What did you just call me?”

“You’re self-absorbed,” she counted off her fingers, “Arrogant, filthy rich, megalomaniacal,” she stumbled over the word, “And really, really mean—a dickweed.”

There was no answer from the driver of the car, so she shrugged and continued, “And your house sucks.”

He took a deep breath. “My house sucks?”

“I mean really, Mr. Wood, how can you live in that museum,” she frowned, “That place where dead people are buried. Your house is dead. It’s soulless, emotionless, heartless, and really, really not like a home at all. Is that why you wanted it? Did you really want a house that was just like you?”

“Just like me? You were the one rubbing yourself over my desk begging for this ‘dickweed’ three days ago!”

“Yeah, well that was before I knew you. Now, you can keep your ‘dickweed’ to yourself,” she giggled, “Or weedy-dick if I’m right about the car!”

He huffed but didn’t say anything.

“How do you get the dashboard lights to spin like that?”

“Oh no,” she felt the car lurch forward just as her stomach lurched.

She grabbed the bucket with both hands and pulled it to her face. She vomited liquid, and the scotch didn’t taste so great the second time around.

The spinning accelerated, and she groaned as she spun into the blackness.

She woke to a dark room. She was lying flat and was dressed in something flannel. She went to sit up, but something large and painful spiked her in the head.

Her hand went up, but there was nothing there. She groaned. Her whole body hurt.

“There’s a bucket on this side of the bed,” the voice came out of the darkness.

She forced her eyes open and saw him sitting in a chair next to the bed.

“No,” she groaned, “Please tell me that didn’t happen?”

“Are you an alcoholic? Or do you just enjoy embarrassing yourself?”

She covered her face with a pillow. “You’re still a...,” she stopped herself and took the pillow off her face. She sat upright, ignoring the shot of pain. “I called you a ‘dickweed’ last night!”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I told you how much I don’t like this house.”

“I believe you said it sucked.”

“And I called it a mausoleum.”

“You might have tried to call it that.”

“I asked you if you had penis envy!” she waved her arms around in excitement.

“I remember,” was his deadpan answer.

“So do I!” she laughed.

“You find that amusing? I thought an apology would be more appropriate.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, but don’t you see? I remember everything.”

“Nice,” he sniffed, “Lucky you.”

“But Mr. Wood, this proves it! Doctor Layton was right! I can’t remember a thing from Wednesday night. I don’t remember a single detail from the Christmas Party. And yet I remember everything from last night!”

“So?” he shrugged.

“Don’t you see? This means that I wasn’t drunk at the Christmas Party—someone did drug me!”