Page 5 of Druid Dreams

I heard what the previous owner of the company was asking for. We all heard. We also heard that the woman that came in to do the negotiations was a stickler and didn’t give them the over priced payment they were asking for. It was hard to put a price on a pharmaceutical company, I get it, but the man was asking for billions. Literally. I mean, the company just wasn’t that big yet. Maybe in the hundred millions, but billions? No way.

I knew the son of one of the owner’s screwed up the negotiations somehow. That thought made the side of my lip curl up a small bit. He was always a dick. I’m sure he thought he could hit on her and get what he wanted. That was Taylor’s usual MO. He’d throw a few lines out and expect to reel a woman in with his Daddy’s money making his pockets look fat. Let’s be honest. He liked thots. You know? That hoe over there. The easier they were, the more he liked them. Whatever floats his boat. I was sure this woman wouldn’t fall for his shit though.

I was slightly apprehensive about meeting the new owner, or the new owner’s daughter I should say. She’d be coming in today to do a walk through after their meeting wrapped up. Which meant there would probably be budget cuts and firing sprees in the near future. I had worked too hard to get to my position and I was not ready to give that up.

I stood by the window and sighed as I looked out over the floor that I managed. Five years in this company, five years kissing ass and moving up the ladder. It could all come crumbling down after the buyout. I didn’t need the actual job so much as I needed the intel from within the walls.

As I scanned the floor, I noticed some frenzied movement near the sixth aisle. Fuck. I’d bet Susan came in drunk again today. Of all the days to have visible fuck ups, today was definitely not the one.

Sighing again, I opened my office door and trotted down the stairs. My paperwork and inventory checks would have to wait until later. I needed to send this lady home, or to a rehab facility. The latter would be the best option. I couldn’t fire her today, but I also couldn’t have her on the line messing up the sorting rotation or dropping the pills. So, that would have to wait until Monday. I’d have to make sure to ask the new boss before I did it. I didn’t know if I’d still have that ability in my job description after today.

I approached the red headed woman in question and her neighboring coworker, John. He gave me an apologetic smile. He knew today was the worst kind of day for her mistakes. I tapped her on the shoulder as politely as I could and said in the most gentle voice I could muster, “Susan, I think you should go home.”

She reeked of alcohol so strongly that I wondered if she’d been bathing in it. The smell flared through my nostrils, making me nearly gag. It was cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke. She was probably wearing the same clothes that she wore last night under her white lab coat. If her strappy silver heels were anything to go by, I’d say she was wearing a short, glittery dress she found in the prom section of a local thrift shop. It was just an educated guess based on past experiences with her though.

She glanced up at me with dark, bloodshot eyes and batted her eyelashes. What’s left of her makeup was smudged across her face. Mascara flaking off her sparse eyelashes onto her sunken cheeks. Lipstick smeared on the edges of her thin lips. She was a fucking mess. I had to fight not to roll my eyes. “Sir, I’ll be fine. I just lost my balance and needed a hand,” she slurred in what I thought was meant to be a flirtatious tone. her voice came out thick and rough from years of smoking. Right. Sure she did.

From over her shoulder John shook his head. He was done with her antics too. She still had a buzz from her night out. “Susan,” I addressed her a little more sternly to take her attention off my covered body and bring it back to my face. “I need you to get off the floor. You have to go home. We’re expecting visitors today and I cannot afford you causing any sort of commotion. Please leave. We’ll talk about this on Monday morning.”

I didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. I need no more excuses from her. Turning, I exhaustedly muttered to John, “Would you mind walking her to the back to gather her things? I’ll call a cab to pick her up at the back exit.” I was already fishing my cell phone from my pocket as I spoke.

Today would’ve been easier if she’d have skipped work. Great. Now I’d be meeting the new owner and covering Susan’s shift. What a fan-fucking-tastic Friday. I thought through all the times I should have fired Susan as I mindlessly started sifting through pills.

John came back a few minutes later and thanked me as he took his position back on the line. He was a wise older gentleman who should be doing my job but said he didn’t want the added stress. I didn’t quite understand what he meant at the time, but I damn sure did now.

I was 20 minutes in on the line-work when I heard the creaking of the large double doors on the other side of the factory floor open up. We never opened both doors so I hadn’t felt the need to request for maintenance to fix the hinges on the unused door. I’d add that to my to-do list after hearing the heinous noise though.

It’s showtime, I guess.

Sort of....

Taylor Caplin, the previous owner's son, was escorting a woman in, standing a little too close to her for propriety’s sake. He was the definition of a scumbag. He had nearly black hair that was gelled back, a patchy goatee, and a greasy grin. The guy had always rubbed me the wrong way. And not just because of the way he looks.

Last June I came nose to nose with him in a bar downtown. I wanted to beat his ass but didn’t want to lose my job. He took my date home that night, but not before I ran his tab up. Petty, I know... But that’s what happens when you are friends with the bartenders. Free drinks for everyone all night, courtesy of dicks-for-brains. That shit still made me grin.

I couldn’t see her well, though I could hear her edgy tone politely telling Taylor off. “You can let go of my elbow, now. I can walk unhindered on concrete flooring. Thanks.” I grinded my teeth together after hearing the revulsion in her rasping, musical voice. Have I mentioned how much I dislike him?

“I just didn’t want you to slip in those heels you’re wearing. Sometimes it happens.” Taylor’s tone grated on every nerve in my body. The sound of his slimy voice made me want to crawl out of my skin for a moment. I couldn’t imagine how she felt with him touching her. He didn’t want to let her go and she wasn’t sounding too happy about it. With my sensitive hearing I picked up on the growl she gave him as she snatched her arm away, making him stumble forward.

“I see what you mean. Must be hard to maneuver over these slick concrete floors wearing your heels.” She said it so sarcastically that I had to fight to keep the grin off my face. His dress shoes did have a bit of a heel on them. It still didn’t make him tall enough to look me in the eyes, but I bet he wished he could. It’s the only reason why he leaned over my desk when he spoke to me. He wanted to feel superior. He’s not. But... whatever helps him sleep at night.

She was getting closer. I heard each footstep she took, even though her steps were near silent. There was no clicking of her heels on the concrete. It seemed like she was gliding as she slowly made her way to the end of the aisles. I counted every stop she made to greet the workers, listening to their heartbeats speed up in her presence. It was easy to pick up on the smile in her voice as she acknowledged them, like they were real people and not beneath her. Maybe she wouldn’t be so bad.

And then she was close enough to see. I had to swallow hard when my throat suddenly dried. She turned a sharp eye to me and headed in my direction like she already knew who I was. When her eyes locked on mine and I felt an insane pull. I’d never experienced anything like it before.

She stood at 6’2 or so, easily matching my exact height. I knew those killer “fuck me” pumps she walked so effortlessly in were giving her a good five inch boost. They helped her radiate that professional “don’t fuck with me” attitude. She’d need it around the assholes in this company.

She extended a hand to me with her introduction. I couldn’t help but watch her lips move as she spoke. My lack of attention nearly made me miss her hand completely. Her lips though. They were blood red and designed with perfection in mind. The V shape of her jawline made me wonder if she was a demon, but the creamy honey color of her skin looked all shifter to me. It was a bit of an anomaly.

“Hi. You must be Vaughn Winter. My name is Sloane King. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Sir. I almost scoffed. Palmer would jizz his pants right here if she said “Sir” to him with those full, pouty lips. Thankfully, I didn’t hold the same kinks as my roommate, and, excuse me, but I wasn’t that much older than her. Maybe four or five years if I was judging it based on her looks. But I guess formalities and all that bullshit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. King. Please enjoy your tour around the factory floor. If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them for you.”

Yeah, I’m so fucking formal. I smiled brightly at her and she exchanged a genuine smile back. Her gesture made the dip shit beside her sneer and try to call me out on bullshit that had nothing to do with him. He’d never worked a day in his life and he knew nothing about this company, except the inside of his daddy’s secretary.

“Vaughn, why are you on the floor when you should be finishing your paperwork. Are you slacking again?” Taylor gave me a shit eating grin as he spoke, like he’d just made me look bad. He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t successful. Taylor didn’t realize the woman standing beside him was a predator. She saw his grin slide away and his fidgeting fingers tuck into his pants pockets as he waited for me to snap. He was baiting me. I knew it. She knew it. I wasn’t the kind of male to deal with his bullshit line of questioning. Especially with him being someone who knows not a godsdamn thing about what I did for this company. Constructive criticism? Yeah, absolutely. Being a dick and trying to make me look like I didn’t do my job? Big, fat fucking nope.

Before I could say anything to defend myself, Ms. King interjected on my behalf. She seemed to be more done with his shit than I was. I’d wager a bet and say I wasn’t the first person he’d done that to today. I bet her tour had been quite insightful. He’s such a hard worker. I barely managed to not roll my eyes at my own wayward thoughts.