Wrong Number Page 10

  Cal

  I carried the tray of tiramisu out the side door of Buca di Beppo and walked up to the passenger door. My sister had the music blaring and couldn’t hear me, so I kicked the door.

  She jumped, and I laughed at her like any brother would. She turned down the volume.

  “Open the door for me.”

  She got out of the front seat and opened the tailgate in the back. “Why did Mom order so much? That thing’s huge.”

  I set it down and shrugged. “I don’t know. Because Dad loves it?”

  “They’re going to be eating that until the New Year,” Amy said, getting back into my SUV.

  When we got back to my parents’ house, I carried the dessert inside as Amy took my crying nephew from our mother.

  “Mom, why did you get so much? You know we’re not going to eat all of this in one night,” I asked.

  My mom pulled the lid off to inspect the tiramisu. “Your father and I are having friends over tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. This way, I only had to put in one order.”

  “You’re so wise.”

  “Who do you think you got your smarts from, dear?”

  I grinned. “You, of course.”

  “Oh, by the way, your brother’s not coming tonight.”

  “Thank God,” I said in a dramatic voice. “You know, Mom, you don’t always have to invite the whole family every time I come to dinner.”

  “Nicholas Robert Callan.”

  “Yes?” my dad said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. My father had been doing this joke since I was little, but for him, it never got old.

  “Not you,” my mother said. She also always explained to my dad that she was talking to me, as if he didn’t know I was the one being reprimanded.

  “It’s your father’s birthday. Of course I’m going to invite my whole family.”

  “I understand today, Mom. But you know I wouldn’t mind coming to dinner and it just being the three of us.”

  “Then, how are your brother and sister supposed to see you?”

  “We live in the same town now.”

  She stared at me and blinked.

  I threw up my hands. “Forget I said anything.”

  I grabbed my own beer out of the fridge and followed my dad into the living room. Amy was changing the baby on the floor, and her husband, Jon, had their three-year-old in his lap.

  “Unca Cal,” she said when she saw me and ran over.

  I picked her up and took her to the empty recliner to sit. “How’s Chelsea?”

  “Good,” she said with a smile.

  “What are you watching?” I asked her since there was a commercial on.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Grandpa’s show.”

  “What are you watching, Dad?”

  “Some movie.”

  I rolled my eyes. My dad never knew the name of anything.

  “It’s Transformers,” Jon said.

  “Dad, how could you not know it’s Transformers? They literally transform.”

  My dad’s response was to grunt.

  Amy looked at her husband. “Is this appropriate for Chelsea to watch?”

  “She’s fine. It’s PG-13.”

  “And she’s only three.” My sister got up from the floor and handed her husband the baby. “Come on, Chelsea. Let’s go help Grandma.”

  Chelsea laid her head on my chest. “I want to stay with Unca Cal.”

  “Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll go help Grandma.”

  After my sister left, I thought about what Indy had said on Monday about sexism. And the fact that my mom and sister were in the kitchen, making dinner, while us guys were out in the living room, watching TV.

  I lifted Chelsea off my lap and set her on the floor. “I’m going to go help your grandma, kiddo. Why don’t you go back and sit with your dad?”

  I stood, and she grabbed my hand.

  “I go wiff.”

  I led my niece back into the kitchen, and my mom glanced up at me before turning back to the food she was preparing.

  “Need another beer, Cal?”

  “Nope. Chelsea and I came to help.”

  My mom and sister both looked up at me at the same time and the same way. I laughed at how much alike they were.

  “Did I just hear that right?” Amy asked.

  “Yes.” I picked up Chelsea and set her on one of the kitchen stools, so she could see. “What can we do?”

  Mom grabbed a large bowl, a hand mixer, and a box of cake mix in front of Chelsea and me. “You can make the cake.”

  “Cake and tiramisu?”

  “Not everyone likes tiramisu.”

  “I yike cake,” Chelsea said.

  “See,” my mom pointed out.

  I smiled. “I see.”

  My niece and I—more me than my niece—went to work on the cake.

  “How’s work?” my sister asked me.

  “It’s good. I like it. Different from what I did in New York, but not so different that I feel completely lost.”

  “That’s good.”

  After a few seconds, I asked, “Can I ask you two a question?”

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Mom said.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just wondering if you’ve ever experienced sexism on the job.”

  Mom and Amy exchanged looks.

  “What?” I asked them.

  My mom turned around. “Did something happen? Was there a complaint filed?”

  “Wait. You think I’m the one being sexist?” I waved my hands in front of my face. “No, no, no. It’s not me. It’s one of my employees.”

  Mom put her hand on her chest in relief. “Oh, thank God. I didn’t raise my sons to treat women badly.”

  I scowled. “I’m a little offended that you would think that about me.”

  “Cal, it’s not like Mom and I think you would do something like that on purpose. Even decent guys can be sexist and not know it.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a good excuse,” I said.

  Amy looked surprised. “That’s great to hear you say.”

  “What are you going to do about your employee, Cal?” Mom asked. “And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

  “Thanks, Mom. And I thought I would start with sensitivity training.”

  Amy scoffed. “You know everyone’s going to hate it and make fun of it behind your back.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, probably. But I have to start somewhere. I want to make sure HR says I did everything I could before I get rid of this guy.”

  My mom walked over to me and squeezed my face, pulling me down to kiss me on the forehead. “Whatever you do, I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  “That’s not the way you felt two minutes ago,” I said through fish lips since she still had her hand cupping my face.

  Chelsea laughed. “Unca Cal looks funny.”

  Mom let me go, and I rubbed my cheeks.

  “That’s because Uncle Cal is funny,” she told Chelsea.

  “Mom’s right, Cal. I’m proud of you for not ignoring this,” Amy said, and I could see the pride in my little sister’s eyes.

  “Thanks. I’m going to do my best.”

  Twenty-Two

  Indy

  Monday morning hung over my head like a dark cloud. I didn’t want to go to work for several reasons. I didn’t want to see Cal and face the fact that I might have feelings for him. I didn’t want to expend the energy I knew it was going to take to avoid him. And I didn’t want to start the stupid sensitivity training that was supposed to last all week.

  I really did appreciate Cal’s efforts to improve things, but when it came to guys like Patrick, they weren’t going to change. Mostly because they didn’t know there was anything wrong with the way they viewed the world.

  “Hey, Indy,” Leslie said as she got to her desk that morning.

  “Hey.”

  She pulled out her chair and sat down. “You look
bummed.”

  “I’m just not looking forward to this week.”

  “Oh, yeah. The extra training classes.”

  “Exactly.”

  Leslie shrugged. “I don’t mind. If we get paid to sit there, I’m not going to complain. I heard the company that conducts the training actually tries to make things more interesting.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. What if we have to act out scenarios? I always feel so stupid, getting up in front of everyone.” I leaned toward her. “And since we’re doing this in teams, that means we have to put up with Patrick the whole time.”

  Leslie frowned and cocked her head. “I thought all the supervisors were doing a class together.”

  This was good news. “They are?”

  “That’s what I thought the email said.”

  I quickly pulled up my work email and reread the message from last week. Leslie was right. “Well, I’ll be. I wonder why they’re doing it that way.”

  “So that we’re with our peers.” She shrugged. “That’s my guess.” Leslie looked around and leaned toward me this time. “I also heard that while the supervisors are going to have this meeting, Cal is going to pull us all aside and talk about how we need to file complaints to make management and HR aware of sensitive situations.”

  “Wow. I had no idea.” I frowned. “How do you know this?”

  “Keith told me.” She studied my face. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Didn’t Cal tell you?”

  There were a lot of things I was surprised I didn’t know about Cal. This was just one of them. “No, but I didn’t talk to him this weekend much.”

  Friday, we had both been busy, and Saturday, he’d texted me later that night, but I didn’t answer. Not after seeing him with someone else. I sent him a quick message yesterday morning, telling him I had already been asleep and left it at that. Then, I’d pretended to be busy the rest of the day.

  “Do you think he’ll call you into his office again like he did last Monday?”

  God, I hope not. It would be really hard to keep my hands off of him if we were alone together.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I would guess no. He’s going to have his hands full with the extra training this week.”

  Leslie smiled. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to speak to you if he really wants to.”

  I didn’t know if Leslie was right or if I was just unlucky.

  First thing that morning, I ran into Cal as I was going into the restroom and he was coming out. We were the only two in the hall, so I couldn’t pretend like I was an average employee.

  He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Indy.”

  I smiled back and hoped he couldn’t tell my heart wasn’t in it. “Hi, Cal.”

  “How was your weekend?”

  “Good. And yours?”

  I held my breath, waiting for him to say something to make me stop obsessing over what I had seen on Saturday.

  He lifted a shoulder. “It was pretty boring.”

  I felt my heart constrict. I didn’t know if boring meant he hadn’t had fun with this other woman or if he was simply saying it as a way to not mention her.

  But then he stepped closer, and my body melted as he touched my hip.

  My body was not on board with how my brain had decided to take a step back to protect myself.

  “I’d rather have spent it with you,” he said in my ear.

  Now, why did he have to go and say that?

  He ran his nose down my neck. “It’s been a whole week since I’ve been inside you, and it’s killing me.”

  Damn him.

  I turned my head and kissed him.

  His tongue thrust into my mouth, and I groaned at the taste of him. I grabbed on to his sides and squeezed. I wanted him closer. I wanted him naked.

  The sound of laughter broke through my sexual haze, and I ripped my mouth away.

  Cal rested his head on my forehead, breathing hard, but I stepped to the side.

  He frowned. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just worried someone will find us.”

  He took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I probably shouldn’t be caught kissing an employee when everyone’s going to be learning about harassment this week.”

  Despite my heavy heart, I had to smile at the hypocrisy.

  “You’d never fire me or give me a bad review if I told you no more sex, would you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Hell no.”

  He said it so loud and with such conviction that I looked behind me to make sure no one was coming.

  I turned back to Cal and patted him on the shoulder. “See, you’re not a sexual harasser.” I walked around him and headed into the women’s room.

  I walked up to the mirror and cursed myself. Why I’d felt the need to make him feel better irked me. I should have let him stew in his own guilt.

  And I shouldn’t have kissed him. Thank God I was wearing lip gloss instead of my all-day lipstick today. I grabbed some toilet paper from a stall and fixed my lips.

  I needed to stay away from that man.

  On Tuesday, my team and another team were scheduled for training. We were all crammed into the conference room where at least I didn’t have to see Cal all day. The information was good, but it was all stuff that I’d already known, as had most people. And Leslie was right because I could totally see Patrick thinking the whole thing was bullshit and a waste of time.

  On Wednesday, I had no run-ins with Cal either, and work felt a little more like normal.

  “I think I finally know what Asher and I are going to the party as,” Leslie announced that morning.

  “So soon?” I teased. “You still have three days until the party.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m choosing to ignore your negativity because I am excited.”

  “Spill it. Who are you going as?”

  “Aquaman and Mera.”

  “Okay”—I held up my hands—“you two are going to be so hot.”

  Leslie squeaked. “I know.” She ran her hands down the sides of her body. “My outfit is tight, and it’s going to show off my bod. And the girls get to be on display.” She pretended to pick up her boobs.

  I laughed. “And is Asher going to wear the outfit, or is he going to wear jeans and no shirt like in the beginning of the movie?”

  “Oh, he’s wearing the outfit. I don’t need everyone drooling over my man.”

  “That’s probably a wise decision.”

  “Are you and Marcus still going as a nurse and patient?”

  Leslie wasn’t impressed with our costume idea, but I liked it. I was going as a sexy nurse because I could fully admit I wanted to make Cal drool. And Marcus was going as my patient because I didn’t want him to spend any money. I felt bad about taking him as my date when my heart wasn’t all the way into it, but that was what happened when I asked someone out on a date when I was upset.

  “Yes,” I told her. “Marcus already has crutches from when he broke his leg in college. And we’re going to wrap his leg in an ACE bandage. It will be fine. I’m not trying to win the prize like you are.” I didn’t want to be stuck going on another date if I didn’t like this one.

  “Whatever you say. I still think you could do better.”

  On Thursday, Cal pulled our whole team into his office and went over the things we’d learned. He stressed that we needed to take action if we wanted things to change. We all kind of exchanged looks, but I doubted that anyone was going to write Patrick up. He’d never actually said outright sexist things. It would be difficult to prove that he didn’t pick women for certain projects when the men were just as capable.

  I thought Cal realized that his efforts were failing. He looked dejected as he talked to us, and he couldn’t seem to muster up much encouragement. I felt bad for the guy.

  So, when everyone else stepped out, I stayed behind. “Cal?”

  He looked up from his desk but didn’t smile when he saw it was me. “Yeah?”


  “I know you want to make this place better, but sometimes, things just are what they are. I don’t think anyone is going to do anything about Patrick because the guy knows right where to draw the line.”

  Cal didn’t say anything. He simply stared at me with an almost-blank look, and I started to wonder if he was mad that I had said something.

  “I’m sorry. You just look so sad—”

  “I’m not sad. I’m pissed.”

  I took a step back, not expecting the anger to roll off him like it did.

  His look changed to irritation. “Just go, Indy.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing—”

  “Go,” he snapped, and I jumped. He closed his eyes and opened them, meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”

  I nodded and backed up toward the door. I didn’t know where I got the balls to speak again, but I asked, “Are you still coming to the party on Saturday?”

  Cal took a deep breath. “I don’t know at this point.”

  I thought about telling him that I really wanted to see him there, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “There will be alcohol at the party. You could get Patrick drunk and buddy up to him. He might show his true colors away from work.” I smiled reassuringly. “Just think about it.”

  I headed to the door and walked out.

  Cal didn’t come out of his office all day on Friday, and he hadn’t texted since the weekend.

  I was beginning to think I didn’t need to avoid him anymore.

  Twenty-Three

  Cal

  I almost stayed home Saturday night, but several things convinced me to go. I was still new at my job, and I didn’t want my employees to think I had better things to do than hang out with them. I had also considered Indy’s advice about Patrick. I could either ask him out for drinks or take the opportunity that was presented to me and pretend to befriend him. I couldn’t pass it up because I had no desire to ask Patrick to get drinks with me after work and spend any more time with him than I had to.

  The biggest reason I wanted to go was that Indy had been avoiding me all week. I hadn’t pressured her or tried to get her alone after she walked away from me on Monday because I wasn’t going to be that guy. That would put me in line with Patrick.