Izzy

Gwen stops by my office while I’m still partially mesmerized by the sun cascading through the glass towers in the city. She knocks twice before I realize she’s standing there, holding her purse and her phone like she’s ready to go.

“So, how was your first day? I didn’t even see you get up for a lunch break, Izzy. You work too hard.”

“Yeah, I was just getting a little familiar with the system here. It’s really complex. Ivica Tech sells its software to customers all over the country, right? It’s amazing how they’ve managed to keep it all in line so far without any major bugs occurring.”

She waves off my assessment and offers a demure smile instead. “I have no idea what any of that means, Izzy. I’m just here to keep Alek’s meetings and phone numbers in order. The rest is better suited for a coding whizz, such as you. I’m just curious about how long you’ve been in town. I added your number to his company binder, and I noticed it was an Oregon number.”

“Yeah, I just moved from there this week. I’ve only been in town a few days, and most of that has been spent unpacking and trying to get the maintenance guy to fix my leaky kitchen sink.”

She smiles kindly, her friendly air a nice break from the other stiffs that have been pacing outside of my door. I have no doubt in my mind that I’m already not liked around here. They probably see me as the young gun coming for their job.

In reality, it’s nothing but a weird series of choices made by the CEO. I didn’t ask for a pristine office and the clearance of a code leader. I’m just a woman who likes tinkering online to escape the rural life thrust upon her by family roots.

“Well, I wanted to invite you out to the bar tonight. It’s classics night so there might be a lot of people there a bit older than you, but it’s always good fun. They play hard rock mostly, sometimes punk rock, but it’s Seattle. You never know who’s getting on stage, you just know that it’s going to be good.”

“Really?” I ask, somewhat surprised by her invite in the first place. “I never took these office workers for being into punk rock.”

She laughs, flicking her hand through the air like I’m telling a joke. “Oh, no, dear. Not these broad backs. The only people that usually go are the young guys on the third floor. They handle the legal parts of Ivica Tech. They’re pretty tame. You really need to worry about the women on the fourteenth floor.”

Gathering my things, I follow her to the elevators with my interest piqued. “Why is that?”

“Well, they all claim to have slept with the CEO, but that’s just a rumor. I do know for certain that at least half of them have been caught by the janitor in the evening getting it on with the coding geeks on the twelfth floor.”

I try not to laugh at the absurdity of all of this, but it’s far too funny to ignore. “Wow, there’s a lot of things I need to learn about this place, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it, girl,” she jokes, pressing the lobby elevator button so we are on our way downstairs. “You saw Mr. Wilde, right?”

“The guy Alek pretends is his friend but is actually like his worst enemy and competitor?” I ask, shaking my head. “Yeah, I saw him. What’s up with their friendship? It’s so weird.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs in exasperation like this is a common issue she’s had to deal with. “Oh, girl. It’s a story that would take me ages to explain. Pretty much, from the gossip I hear, Alek used to work with Dimitri’s father, and they started a little tech company together. They parted ways, Dimitri took over his father’s spot, and they started vying for the top of the market. It’s been neck and neck for decades, but in the last few years or so, it’s been Alek leading the way. I don’t know how he’s surpassed Dimitri, but he wants to keep his lead.”

“I guess that makes sense. Still, they act like their friends or something. That’s just weird to me. What if keeping Dimitri around backfires? Couldn’t he steal the software system somehow? I don’t know the linguistics of the issue. It’s just… odd.”

“You don’t know half of it, but we can discuss it later over a cocktail if you want,” she says, the elevator doors yawning open.

Thankfully our conversation has distracted me from feeling uneasy in that taut, little space, suspended over the concrete floors that could send the elevator carriage spiraling toward the ground. Still, I take the flyer she passes me and tell her I’ll think about her offer.

Gwen scurries off with some lanky men in suits who give me a favorable glance on their way. They’re cute, modestly attractive, and I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink or dance with some of them tonight. I am single, have been for a while, and there’s no nightlife where I’m from.

For once, going to a rock and roll club might actually be a little fun and—dare I say—just what I need to kickstart my social life in Seattle.

Now, it’s just a matter of replaceing the perfect outfit and getting myself downtown to this bar. But one issue remains, and if you ask me, it’s the most important one of all

What does someone wear to a punk rock concert hall?

* * *

I hurryoff the sidewalk once again, my heels taller and thinner than the ones I wore to work today. I managed to replace a leather mini skirt and a cool pair of black fishnets packed in one of the boxes that I haven’t worn since biker theme day in high school, and the fabric is tight against my a*s while nearly giving everyone a view if I dare bend over.

While wearing something this scandalous makes me feel a little … dirty, it was either this or another work skirt that comes down to my knees, so I wore a black thong and called it an outfit. My heels are bright red, much like the fake leather top that I’m wearing where the straps pull my breasts up so high and outward that I can no longer see my midriff past my cleavage.

I know my stomach is showing, this top is more like a fancy bra than a shirt, but it seems to go over well with the bouncer who lets me in without even having to wait in line first. I’m slapped instantly with the smell of cigarettes and the sounds of hard music that vibrates my body and burns my fingertips in a numbness I’ve never known. It’s exciting a new—more of the reason to be here.

Gwen catches me at the bar, handing me a shot of something clear and gawking over my outfit. She says something over the music, but it’s impossible to hear her, her eyes wide while she smiles and cheers on my outfit in support. I’m happy she doesn’t think I look trashy, or that my lack of modesty is something I do on a regular basis, but she doesn’t seem to care. She’s wearing a black top with studs on the shoulders and tight jeans that really show her age to not be too far from my own.

Assuming her facial structure hasn’t been altered by plastic surgery, I can confidently assume she’s somewhere in her mid-thirties. She looks fantastic, though, and I give her a compliment that is drowned out by cheering and a drum solo.

She ushers me to take a shot, and I hate to be rude, so I down the liquor before even knowing what it will taste like. The stinging sense of alcohol in my throat nearly makes me puke, something horrible spreading through my throat and landing directly in the back of my lips. I choke on the taste as if I’ve just swallowed gasoline, handing her my empty shot glass only to watch her laugh at my reaction.

Gwen has to push her lips to my hair to say, “It’s gin, girl. You’ll have to get used to it in this town.”

My lips purse at the mere thought of having something like that again. I’m used to cheap beer and colorful cocktails that are almost always bootlegged moonshine. Even then, gin tastes like bad decisions, and I don’t need to make any of those tonight in front of my coworkers.

She orders two more drinks in tall glasses now, handing me one while she takes the other, her hand latched and locked on my wrist so she can drag me away to the back of the club, past the stage and the huge crowd of people listening to hard music. It’s daunting to be somewhere this crowded and tight.

I hold my breath until we’re in the clear, outside on the breezy patio that’s lit with cigarettes, people in their nightclub clothes, and some wooden picnic tables that sit under many heat lamps. I meet the guys from earlier, the coding geeks that are relatively familiar to me, at least.

They remind me of my online college friends taking coding courses. They’re a little awkward with very specific humor, but they’re all super friendly, nonetheless.

One of them elbows Gwen and asks, “You didn’t get her the swan, did you? Seems a little rough for her first time out.”

Gwen waves him away, eyeing my drink that I’ve been a little apprehensive to taste after that hell of a shot. “Nonsense! It’s Seattle. She has to get a taste of the town.”

“Only if the town tastes like sour rubbing alcohol,” a new voice warns, a heavy presence cascading over my back like a lingering shadow lifting from the ground. “Here, try this, Kitten.”

I turn just enough to see a familiar face with high-cut cheekbones, dark quaffed hair, and a set of dazzling dark eyes. He hands me a small drink with a spiced rim and tan liquor on ice. I take the drink, somewhat surprised to see him here at such a place—nonetheless while wearing a blazer and slacks.

Holding the drink, my lips are parted in thanks, or at least in utter shock, unsure what to do at this moment with everyone watching. He’s my boss’ rival! I can’t just accept a drink from him.

“Izzy, right?” Dimitri purrs. “Why don’t I show you around the place? I’m good friends with the owner.”

I swallow, only nodding while I stammer to reply, “Yeah, one minute, okay?”

He nods, pointing towards the doorway to get back into the club. “I’ll be right inside waiting.”

When he leaves, I replace Gwen’s eyes in my panic. She’s holding back a shocked look of surprise as well, taking a long inhale until her lips press upward in a smile.

“Oh my gosh, Izzy! What are you still doing out here with us? Go after him. He clearly replaces you attractive.”

I roll my eyes, hesitant to sip on my drink but when I do, it’s sweet and simple—just what I needed compared to that tart gin Gwen chose for me. “I don’t know if I should. Isn’t he Alek’s biggest competitor? I can’t be flirting with him at a bar… right?”

“You’re not on the clock out here,” one of the guys says poignantly.

Another guy chimes in with a very matter-of-fact tone, “Besides, I’ve slept with at least three of Dimitri’s coding chicks at Wilde Tech.” One of the other guys elbows him, but he doesn’t back down. “What? He has really hot coding chicks. It’s not like we talk about work. The rivalry is between Alek and Dimitri, not us.”

“What are you still doing here?” Gwen g****s, nearly ready to self-destruct. “Go, go, go!”

Taking my new drink, I hurry inside, only to bump into the mass of muscle that is Dimitri Wilde. He turns slowly, his eyes darkening while we’re nearly chest-to-chest. His line of sight comes right over the top of my head, standing way too tall for me to do the same to him, even in my stick heels. His grin is lopsided and proud, my chest flustered with the pressure of his attention while I fear my breast may pop right out of my red top.

Something tells me Dimitri Wilde would be more than okay with that.

“Where are we going?” I ask, the sounds of the music a bit louder than it was outside. “You said you know the owner.”

He leans in and forward, having to accommodate our clear height difference. His meaty, warm palm pressed to my side, brushing my smooth, bare skin with his strong thumb.

“Kitten, I am the owner.”

An old shiver strikes through me, and I wince, indirectly coming forward so I’m leaning against his solid chest. I can already feel the rippling muscles under his button-down shirt, my head spinning at how tough his body is. He doesn’t try to separate us, bringing me closer with his hand nearly stroking down my lower back, but keeping it above my skirt hem.

“Easy now,” he whispers, speaking his warm breath into the frame of my ear. “Don’t want to fall in those pretty heels of yours. You’d hurt yourself.”

I push my free hand gently against his chest to pull away, only slightly, my senses overwhelmed with his sweet whiskey scent that swarms my nostrils. His lips are just about even with my eyes, something about their perfect bowtie shape making my thighs pinch.

“I just wanted to steal you away for a moment.”

Clutching my drink, he takes the straw into his lips softly, pursed like he’s kissing me, and takes a long sip of my fruity-flavored drink. When he releases, I nearly want to bite down on that stray next, but I refrain.

In reality, I want him to bite down on me, but I don’t say that out loud. Even if I don’t, it’s clear he can read my expression—just as clearly as I can read his.

His hand soars south a bit more, right on the helm of clutching my a*s into his strong grip. “How about we get somewhere more private, Kitten?”

“And do what exactly?”

“Whatever you want to do, of course.”

Swallowing my shyness, I shake my head. “I don’t think we can do that.”

“You’d be surprised what we can do together in this place. Trust me, I have just the spot in mind.”