Chapter 5. A Trial

Phillip’s POV 

“Another delay? Why?” I demanded angrily. “This is the third time this has happened. If you don’t want us to have the goods, then give us back our money. We will go elsewhere!”

 “I am sorry, Mr. Dale I really am,” the representative of the chemical company apologized hastily. “But it is not our fault.”

“Stop making excuses for your incompetence! If you are not ready to do business, then tell me!”

“But Mr. Dale, you sent an email at the last minute asking us to make some changes. I told you it would cause a delay, and you said you wouldn’t mind.”

I tried not to shout.

“I don’t understand you. I want the shipment here by Monday, or the deal is off.” I hung up.

What does he mean? What last minute changes? 

I had negotiated this deal three weeks ago and the shipment was supposed to have been delivered ten days ago. I had deadlines to meet, the delayed shipment meant missed deadlines and angry customers. 

Dale Enterprises won’t remain the biggest conglomerate in the country if we keep missing deadlines.

My phone rang. It was one of our big clients. I knew what to expect.

As expected, he called to complain about missing his deadline because of our delayed shipment. I spent all twenty minutes of the call apologizing, reassuring, and convincing him we were still the best to do business with.

As soon as that call ended, another came in, and another. After calming down five different clients, I was pissed.

It was Saturday, and I was in my home office. 

There was a knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I called irritably.

Frank entered.

“What’s with the long face? Did you have a fight with the foreman?” He joked.

“Shut up and come in,” I told him.

He was a few years older than me, average height, and his face still bore scars from an attack of chicken pox in childhood. His sand-colored hair was always in disarray.

“I am pretty pissed right now,” I continued. “The European shipment is delayed again.”

“Why? What now?”

“Some tale about changing something. I never ask for any changes. Did you?”

“No, of course not.”

“I knew it was nonsense, and worse still, our customers are complaining. I’ve received five angry calls already.”

“Leave it to me. How is the site doing?”

“Great. I was there yesterday. At least those guys are doing something right. The factory will be ready and functional by the end of the month.”

“Hmm, you don’t seem glad about it,” he commented.

“I am just stressed, that’s why.”

“You need to relax. Call Celine, she has what it takes to get you in a good mood,” he leered.

I shrugged. “I just might do that.”

Celine was my casual girlfriend. My relationship with her was strictly for fun. No strings attached. It was an arrangement that suited me.

I had sworn off love years ago. It didn’t exist as far as I was concerned. My last heartbreak had taught me that.

“Maybe you should consider giving love a chance,” Frank said softly, reading my thoughts.

“No, thanks. I don’t even know what that word means.”

“You can’t shut up your heart forever.”

“And I said forget it.”

“Okay fine. Any luck with getting Gran a new caregiver?” He asked.

“I will be interviewing someone this morning.”

“Then I will leave you to it. And don’t worry, I’ll handle the shipment.” He left and I went back to work.

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in,” I said, without lifting my head. 

Finally, I looked up and the waitress I had been thinking about for days, was staring right at me.

Despite all my efforts, she’d been in my head ever since that day. And now here she was sitting in front of me, mouth open in surprise, staring at me with sexy dark eyes.

“She has beautiful eyes.” I thought

Damn. What is wrong with me?

I guess from her expression that she was shocked to see me the same way I was in seeing her, but I recovered first.

“What are you doing here?” I asked lamely.

“Applying for a job. I got fired from my last one,” she cut in, slightly mocking. She is really bold, and I like bold girls.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I'm really sorry. I was being an ass that day. You were right about that. Just that I was having a pretty bad day, but it was no excuse for my behavior. Once again, I’m sorry.”

She seemed surprised. Clearly, she hadn’t expected an apology from me. She smiled. I liked her smile.

Then, stupidly, I spoiled everything by saying, “you should have controlled your temper though, when dealing with customers you have to be polite no matter the provocation.”

Damn it, I sound so patronizing, as if I’m talking to a child.

She felt so too. Her smile disappeared. “Apology accepted,” she said coolly.

“Let me have your resume.”

She handed it to me, her eyes never leaving my face. I was used to the stares of women, and they had no effect on me, but hers was different. My heart beat unevenly, and I felt my hand grow damp despite the air conditioning.

I read through her resume. “You didn’t go to college?” I asked incredulously.

“No,” she bristled, “terrible, right?”

I realized she thought I was criticizing her. 

“No, it’s not,” I explained hastily, “It’s just that you look and sound like you did.”

She raised smooth brows. “I didn’t know college graduates looked and sounded a certain way, I thought they all looked and sounded like other humans.”

I sighed softly. The wider I opened my mouth, the deeper my foot went into it. I returned to her resume.

“Have you done this kind of work before?” I asked.

“Yes. I was my dad’s caregiver for nearly a year, after he suffered a stroke.”

“I’m sorry about that. Is he better now?”

“He is no more.” Her voice sounded choked. “Died a month ago.”

I looked up at her. She looked really sad. I now realized why my crack about her father had made her so angry.

“I am deeply sorry,” I said awkwardly, although I meant it.

She shrugged.

“Well,” I said, “you seem decent and competent, but I’m sorry, Miss. Richards, I can’t hire you.”