One Kiss: An Office Romance

Oh boy. Here we go.

I try to shake my head subtly, begging her not to do what I think she is about to do. Of course, I have absolutely no control over her.

“Sunny,” I start hopefully, “why don’t you tell Clarissa about your time in Italy working with Brian De Palma?”

Sunny turns toward Clarissa. “Oh, Brian is a darling! A genius! He really understood me, you know what I mean?”

Clarissa hiccups again, then reddens. “Were you and Brian de Palma…”

“Oh, of course not!” Sunny objects. “But he did appreciate me and what I could do. You see, as a woman in Hollywood, I always had to work twice as hard to gain the respect that any man would have been automatically given. A woman always has to work twice as hard. Surely you have also experienced that?”

“I… don’t know…”

“Clarissa is exceptional at her job,” I interrupt. “She’s amazing. You’ll see—”

Sunny turns to me slowly, a glint in her eyes. “Is she?” she says in a low, triumphant voice. “I know how you appreciate a woman of talent, Maxwell.”

Oh damn. I totally fell into this trap.

“Definitely an improvement from Zella,” Sunny purrs imperiously.

“Who’s Zella?” Clarissa asks innocently, leaning back in her chair and letting one arm drape over the side. It appears the wine and tequila have finally taken hold.

“Suddenly I am quite tired,” I announce. “Mind if I turn in?”

“Oh, you go on ahead,” Sunny replies brightly. “I’ll just stay here and tell Clarissa all about her.”

Realizing she has me completely beat, I settle back into my chair. I should have realized I couldn’t outwit her. I’m not sure anybody ever has. But I should stay, in order to make sure that I can minimize whatever damage she wants to do.

“Zella Hews was Maxwell’s fiancée, at least until recently,” Sunny explains.

Clarissa’s lips circle into a pretty oval of disbelief. Her eyes glitter, clearly tantalized by this obvious display of gossip-mongering.

“It didn’t work out,” Sunny sniffs. “And a good thing, too. Zella isn’t a good fit. It wasn’t going to work out for anyone.”

“Now, Auntie,” I interject, suddenly feeling defensive, “it’s not fair to talk about Zella when she’s not here to defend herself. It didn’t work out. That’s all we need to say.”

“I’d like to hear more,” Clarissa smiles, suddenly cheery again. She seems to be enjoying this.

“The woman has no backbone!” Sunny declares. “She’s like a marionette, completely limp unless someone is pulling her strings. No self-direction at all. Talking to her is like trying to roll Jell-O up a hill.”

Clarissa’s eyes widen. “I have never heard that one before!”

“That’s not nice,” I mumble, but nobody hears me.

“She’s a perfectly decent person, don’t get me wrong,” Sunny shrugs dramatically. “But not a match for Maxwell. Maxwell needs a person with spine. A person with a mission, even. A person who knows her own mind.”

“Oh, is that so?” Clarissa asks, leaning forward to balance her elbow on the edge of the table. She narrowly misses, and it slides off, but she catches herself immediately.

“I’d love to know more,” she smiles apologetically, charmingly sheepish. “Perhaps in the morning? I think I’d like to turn in.”

I can’t even express how relieved I am that Sunny allows her to leave. Though I am intrigued by Clarissa’s tipsiness, and I would like to follow her to find out what kind of person she is when she lets her hair down, at least metaphorically... it’s probably best that I just let her go.

I’m just about to lay into Sunny—as much as one can lay into someone like Sunny—when she leans forward and taps the tabletop with her fingernail.

“Now that is a woman,” she informs me emphatically. “I am just thrilled to see how much your taste has improved.”

“Wh-What are you talking about? She barely got a word in edgewise. You don’t even know her!”