Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 7

  Out, out, damn thought. She composed herself. “I do. It’s clean. Quiet, so far. The bed’s comfortable.”

  “No bedbugs?” His cheeks twitched as if he couldn’t decide between winking and grinning.

  “Oh no, just the hairy spider thingee.”

  “Tarantula. Any other hairy creatures you want to avoid?”

  Was that an invitation to brush her fingers over his chest to see whether he was hairy or smooth?

  “The spider, er tarantula is okay if it stays in its box,” she admitted, lowering her face to hide what was surely a fierce blush red enough to light the way for Rudolph.

  “Must be me you want to stay away from.” He made a show of sniffing his armpits. “I’m sure I showered and put on deodorant.” He swept his fingers over his shoulder. “No flakes. I even brushed my teeth and used mouthwash.”

  Carina couldn’t suppress a giggle. “It’s not you.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Then there’s no reason to move out. Steak’s getting cold, and I’ll pour you some wine to relax.”

  Could she risk it? Live with a constant throb for a guy who had thirty-one flavors of women in and out of his bedroom, knowing she was only the roommate, the one who paid half the rent?

  “Say you’ll stay?” Dylan lowered his face to her level, smiling sweetly.

  He was a prescription for heart trouble, but fun and cute. Whoever gave her the idea she had to live like a nun to succeed? Oh, right, her mom’s prescription. Ancient Chinese wisdom. Success comes to those who relinquish all desire and live like monks.

  “I’ll stay.” Carina closed her suitcase. “But let’s forget the rule about not having overnight guests. I’ll be okay as long as they don’t use my shampoo, conditioner, and razors and they’re quiet in bed.”

  She’d show him she was not crushing on him, that the only reason she set up the rules was to ensure peace and quiet for her necessary rest between work, not that she had any inkling of jealousy over his visitors. So there.

  “You sure?” Dylan said as he slowly lowered himself onto her bed.

  “Definitely.” She folded her arms, suddenly cold. After all, he had had an active social life before she moved in. How could she expect him to curtail it for her? She’d hardly be around anyway and most likely so sleep deprived she could doze through a mosh pit.

  “Same for you.” He bounced on the bed, making it squeak. “I don’t even mind if you scream. Don’t hold back on my account.”

  “Right. As long as our guests are respectful.” She put on a brave face, dreading the way her heart constricted at the thought of him having female guests while her chest flushed at the notion of orgasmic utterances.

  “We can work out a signal. I’ll hang a pair of panties around my doorknob if I have a visitor and you can hang a tie for yours.”

  “Agreed, and no barging into each other’s room and definitely not the bathroom.” Good show, Carina. No quivering lips. This was purely a business agreement.

  “That’s so right.” He lay down and stretched his long legs. “Make sure you refill your share of the condom jar. I’m sure you noticed it under the sink.”

  “Ahh …” No need to let him know she’d been monitoring the supply, and surprise, surprise. He hadn’t used any since she moved in.

  Carina bit her tongue. “Since I don’t have time for groceries, I’ll reimburse you for anything you buy. I’ll also hire a cleaning service because I’ll be too tired to do my share.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He rolled to his side. “And you’ll still get your latte heart every morning. That one’s on me.”

  And with that, he cradled his head on her pillow and gave her a smile so inviting she fled her room and locked herself in the bathroom.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday morning was the last day of orientation. Carina dragged her tired body from the elevator and walked stiffly to the conference room. Yesterday afternoon, the bank’s employees had participated in a five-kilometer run at the Embarcadero to raise funds for homeless children.

  James plopped his laptop bag on the conference room table next to Carina, while Hal sat at her other side. Daniel pulled up a chair behind her. “How come you were a no-show at the social last night?”

  “I was too tired, and I don’t drink,” Carina said, pleased that the Ivy Leaguers sat with her.

  “So?” Hal stifled a yawn. “You’re supposed to schmooze. Get to know the analysts, associates, and directors.”

  “I thought it was an intern-only event.” Carina had been too sore after the race to squeeze her feet into high heels and endure a late night of drinking and karaoke.

  “Supposedly,” James said. “Except Rebecca was there and she made some remark about you being absent.”

  “Did she say what she wanted me for?” Carina’s heart lurched. Her mother had warned her about missing social events and the opportunity to suck-up to superiors.

  “Female bonding,” Daniel said. “Heather, Amy, and Pauline followed her around all evening.”

  Carina glanced across the table where the three other female interns sat, looking confident and smug.

  Not good, especially after her disastrous first day. Now she’d shown herself a non-starter on top of a receiver of personal texts on company time. If only she hadn’t rushed home after the race, eager to tell Dylan about her day, she would have gone to the social and maybe had a chance to put in a plug for her preferred assignment.

  Once again, Dylan tripped her up. But she wouldn’t let these guys know. She put on a confident aura. “Ready for your assignments?”

  James flicked through his email. “Can’t wait. I put in for tech media telecom or mergers and acquisitions as my first two choices, then leveraged finance and equity capital markets. I hope I don’t get fixed income or sales and trading. How about you?”

  “Definitely mergers and acquisitions,” Carina said. “It’s where the big deals are made. I’ll also take global macro trading. It’ll get me ready for my hedge fund exit strategy.”

  “Same here,” Hal said. “I can’t wait for orientation to be over. This shit’s so boring.”

  The three guys snickered as Van Ding dragged his backpack into the room.

  “Now there’s a guy who’d be lucky to get consumer retail,” Hal added.

  Carina felt bad for Van, but figured he could fend for himself. He’d won the five-kilometer run and got to take a picture with the Managing Director while presenting a check to the children’s shelter.

  “I’m ready to get to work,” Carina declared, cracking her knuckles to show how tough she was. The past two days had been filled with speeches by senior bankers and videos on the illustrious history of Mogul Bank, followed by analysts coming in and talking about their departments.

  The morning dragged by with a litany of inane speakers. A woman from Human Resources lectured on the importance of work life balance while another motivational speaker encouraged everyone to find their purpose in life. After the laughter died down, Rebecca Morley entered the room and gave all the interns one last pep talk.

  She strolled around the conference room, eyeballing each intern as she talked. “You’ll look back fondly on orientation as being the easiest days of your internship. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Everyone will receive an email about their assignment in the next half hour and report to their group after lunch.

  “I wish all of you success this summer and will leave you with my key takeaway message.” She stopped in front of Carina and narrowed her eyes, as if singling her out. “When you’re an intern, you do everything and anything asked of you and more. Capiche? You’re free to go to lunch.”

  Carina rushed to the women’s room to check her messages. She didn’t want anyone looking over her shoulder when she got her assignment. She slunk into a stall and peeked at her smartphone. Dylan had sent her a text: Good luck. I’m rooting for you to get what you want.

  At least he made her feel supported. She hadn’t dared to discuss the assignment with h
er parents, knowing they’d make her anxious with all of their pronouncements of doom and warnings against bad influences.

  A text message appeared. It was from Rebecca’s admin, Debra: Stop by Ms. Morley’s office in ten minutes.

  Her heart pounding, Carina stuffed her phone into her purse and exited the stall. Rebecca wanted to see her? This had to be good, right? She texted Debra: Got it, will be there.

  Carina finger-combed her hair and straightened her suit jacket. Heather, Amy, and Pauline walked in and plopped their purses on the counter.

  Heather and Amy were Princetonians, whereas Pauline was from Northwestern. Rumor had it her mother was one of the first female banking VP’s at Goldfinch. They were all well connected, and Carina couldn’t afford to alienate them.

  “You missed a fun party last night.” Heather smirked and took out her lipstick. “Have you gotten your assignment?”

  “Not yet.” Carina dried her hands. “What did you put down for?”

  “Tech, media, and telecom,” Heather said. “Rebecca practically promised me. Besides, she owes my father a favor.”

  “My father’s Princeton legacy, same as Rebecca,” Amy said, brushing mascara onto her eyelashes. “I’m a shoo-in for M&A. Where did you say your father works?”

  Carina hadn’t said, and she wasn’t about to admit her father was a mutual fund manager for a discount brokerage. She applied hand lotion. “I hope you both get what you want.”

  They spritzed hair spray and cast curious looks at her in the mirror. Pauline wrinkled her nose while powdering it. “Did you have that talk with the Dylan guy?”

  “Uhmm … well, I’ve told him not to text me at work,” Carina mumbled, then added, “Do you have plans for lunch?”

  “Rebecca Morley invited us,” Amy replied. “She wants to get to know the female interns. Do a bit of mentoring.”

  Heather froze, her hair spray high above her head. “You mean she didn’t invite you?”

  Carina let out a confident laugh. “Actually she wants to see me right now. I better go.”

  She stepped into the hallway and glanced at her smartphone. Her heart pounding, she texted Rebecca’s admin: On my way.

  Stopping at the doorway to Rebecca’s office, Carina pressed down her suit jacket and took a deep, quiet breath before tapping twice on the doorframe.

  Rebecca waved her in without once taking her eyes off the laptop screen. “Close the door and sit down.”

  Gulp. Closing the door could mean bad news. Carina gently latched the door.

  Three chairs yawned at her, waiting to take her into their jaws. A short armchair faced Rebecca’s solid oak desk and would put her in the position of a truant kid called into the principal’s office. A second one, an armless secretary chair on coasters, perched at the end of the credenza. A high leather back executive chair was positioned near the window and would put her knee to knee with Rebecca, implying collegiality and familiarity. Doable but ballsy.

  Rebecca darted a glance toward Carina and clicked her mouse with finality.

  Choosing ballsy, what bankers would respect, Carina slid onto the leather chair. She positioned her body in an open posture facing Rebecca, her knees together, one arm on an armrest, and the other resting at her side.

  Not surprisingly, Rebecca stood, forcing Carina to tilt her head upward. She circled Carina once and sat, half-perched on top of the credenza, her bright red pump dangling in a position to kick Carina.

  “You’re interested in mergers and acquisitions,” Rebecca said more as a statement than a question.

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “Great, I’d like you to jump.”

  “Jump?”

  “Yes. Jump.” Rebecca snapped her fingers, her mouth spreading in a grin Cruella De Vil would be proud of.

  Interns must do everything asked. Carina pushed off the chair and jumped to her feet.

  “That was pathetic.” Rebecca turned up her nose and twirled her finger. “Pretend you have to take a jump shot to get the job. Go ahead.”

  Maybe she should ask how high? Carina pictured herself squeezing a lemon into Rebecca’s eye as she crouched and launched herself up reaching with her right hand. She didn’t land quite right, turned her ankle, and stumbled, but Rebecca caught her arm with an iron grip.

  “That’s better. Now for the job. I’ll assign you to Rob Swindle, who works under me as an M&A analyst, if you’ll do a special project for me.”

  M&A was exactly what she wanted. Maybe the jump was worth a special project. This could work.

  “Sure. I’ll do it.” She refrained from rubbing her sore arm after Rebecca released her.

  “Never agree to a deal until you hear the terms.” Rebecca pointed a nail extension at her. “When I tell you to jump, you jump. When I ask you to fetch my coffee or dry cleaning, you jump. When I ask you to run my dog to the kennel, you jump. But never, ever agree to a project until you know what it entails.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As if she had a choice. Carina tasted bile in the back of her throat.

  “Let’s sit, shall we?” Rebecca gestured to the secretary’s chair.

  After Carina sat down, Rebecca took the executive chair. “How well do you know Dylan Jewell?”

  “Pardon me? Dylan?”

  “Yes, your roommate.” Rebecca brought up a photo of Dylan on her laptop. “I asked HR for your address and discovered you live in his apartment in Berkeley.”

  Carina crossed her legs, realizing it was a defensive posture. “I barely know him. He needed a roommate to help with the rent and I answered his ad.”

  “Then why was he ordering you to stay with a spider?”

  Is this any of her business?

  “That was a joke. Dylan pulled a prank on me with that stupid tarantula. Big, ugly, hairy, monstrous thing.” Carina made a claw with her fingers and shuddered.

  “I like tarantulas.” Rebecca perfected the Cruella scowl.

  “Oh, it’s not too bad. I mean, it just shocked me, that’s all.”

  “Good employees are not easily shocked.” Rebecca pursed her lips, lifting her chin. “Now, the assignment. You’re going to observe Dylan and let me know what he’s up to.”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “You want M&A or not?”

  “Uh, yes, of course.”

  “Great. I want you to start by talking to him about banking, hedge funds, and private equity. Report his opinions back to me.”

  Sweat prickled over Carina’s forehead. “Is this ethical?”

  Rebecca lowered her head and glared from under her eyebrows. “Let’s call it networking and staying in my good graces. As for Dylan, I’m sure he’ll enjoy the attention.”

  “Sure.” She wasn’t doing anything wrong, just having a friendly conversation and reporting on it. Should be okay.

  “I expect discretion. That should go without saying.”

  “Understood. I won’t say a word about this to anyone.”

  “Good.” Rebecca typed into her laptop. “Go see Rob in M&A. He’s expecting you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Dylan parked the food van across the street from People’s Park, an iconic piece of greenery near UC Berkeley where the homeless encamped. It had a colorful history. In the late 1960s, the university had tried to turn this plot of land into a parking lot.

  That resulted in a struggle pitting the people of Berkeley against the police. Eventually, after several people were shot and some injured, the people wore out the National Guard and planted trees and grass. People’s Park became a gathering place for the community, including the homeless and hungry.

  Dylan volunteered at an organization that provided hot meals for the homeless. He’d spent the morning cooking rice and beans, tofu spinach lasagna, garbanzo bean and pea curry, and brown rice. Gordie came along for the ride, but said he wasn’t going to eat the vegetarian fare.

  Gordie peered across the street, his hand over his eyes. A police car was parked in front of the park restroom.

 
; “Wonder what’s going on,” Gordie said. “Think they’re going to stop us from serving the food?”

  Dylan popped open the double doors at the back of the van. “There’s no law against giving out food. Give me a hand here?”

  “I think we should wait for them to leave,” Gordie said. “Nobody’s going to show up with them sitting there.”

  “I’m going to set up anyway.” Dylan yanked the folding table from the back of the van. “Hunger doesn’t go away because the police are taking a siesta in their squad car.”

  Subtle harassment. Typical. Dylan kept an eye on the police, but continued to unload the van.

  Two female officers entered the colorful restroom whose outside walls sported murals depicting the struggle and a manifesto: For those who question the mechanics of our tactics, that is not for them to understand only to open their eyes ... And if our actions are cause for debate, we’ve already been successful.

  Dylan pulled the tables across the streets to the basketball court where the volunteers were setting up. They assembled the tables and went back to the van to fetch the food.

  “Think there’s going to be a confrontation?” A woman wearing a headscarf and love beads pointed at the police car.

  “We’re not doing anything illegal,” Dylan said, carrying a hot pot of rice and beans to the table.

  “I don’t know. There was a showdown in Sacramento, something about serving food without a permit.” She opened a bag of napkins and placed a rock on the pile.

  “Maybe the cops have to use the loo.” Dylan chuckled. “Or having a smoke.”

  A line of people shuffled toward the tables. Young, old, mothers with small children. Some were street people, but others looked like students. It never ceased to amaze him how close to the edge a person could get. A lost job, a disability, or a death in the family.

  The officers emerged from the bathroom, dragging a disheveled woman wearing an oxford shirt and baggy jeans. She wobbled and weaved between them as they propped her against the squad car.