WHISKEY GLASSES—MORGAN WALLEN
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September 14th, 2015
High Valley Farm
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Walking through the front door, Morgan's mother wasted no time in bombarding her with a zillion questions. Not in the mood to relay the back and forth babble between the two men or the hurtful comments, she flopped down on her father's peeling recliner and tossed her folder on the coffee table.
"How yer actin', I reckon it didn't go so well," her mother said while eyeing her steadily.
Huffing out an exhausted breath, Morgan tore the scrunchie from her hair and ran a hand through it.
"I'd rather not, ma."
Her mother took a seat across from her on their plaid sofa.
"I spoke with Boone after ya left and, I'm tellin' ya, he don't mind—"
"Ma! I told ya I'd find a job," she exclaimed, rolling her head back out of frustration.
She gave her daughter a sentimental look. "Sweet-cakes, we're just tryin' to help."
She sighed. "I know and I'm sorry. It's just . . . I'd rather find one on ma' own, y'know?"
"Alright. If that's what ya want."
As they both sat in the living room, Morgan contemplated whether to tell her mother of the other offer. She was curious to see what she had to say about it.
"I might've been given another offer."
"Oh, really?" she said with newfound interest. "And what's this offer?"
"I ain't sure yet. Hasn't told me yet."
With a lift from her sparse eyebrow, she folded her arms. "I ain't like the sound of that."
"We need the money, ma. Anyhow, I'mma just set-up an appointment and hear him out. That can't hurt, right?"
As her mother went to speak, a tooting horn cut her off and pulled Morgan's attention out to the window. She knew that familiar sound anywhere.
With profuse eagerness, she sprang up and brisked to the screen door. She looked out in time to see a restored retro bronco with a flapping American flag pull up out front. She walked out to greet the newcomer as they stepped out of their truck.
"Howdy, darlin'," he said with a toothy grin.
Standing before her was Rhett, a true southern gentleman with an all-American, wholesome attitude. He was the type of man that parents would pray for their daughters to bring home.
He held a bouquet of assorted flowers in one hand and removed his camo hat with the other.
Morgan's heart warmed in seeing his smile and she ran to him. Wrapping her arms around his broad physique, she borrowed her nose in his Army uniform. Rich and musky, exactly as she had remembered it.
Although it had only been six months since his deployment, she had dreamt of this moment night and day.
After realizing how long she had been holding onto him, she pulled back to stare into his cornflower blues. That's when she noticed his hair, or what was left of it. She was so used to seeing his soft blond mop that when she reached for it, the baby fuzz felt odd and jagged.
"Ya shaved it," she said.
She would miss running her fingers through it, though they caught in his hair most of the time.
"Either this or goin' bald," he joked.
She lightheartedly giggled and playfully shoved him in the chest. "Whaddya doin' in Alabama?"
"Did ya forget?"
She frowned, trying to rack her brain. Her own confusion ignited a hearty laugh from Rhett and he handed the flowers over to her. That's when it hit her. Today was their two year anniversary. How could she have forgotten? If anything, she was usually the one to remind Rhett days in advance.
"Awe, shucks!" Morgan groaned, clasping her hands over her face. She felt her cheeks blister out of embarrassment.
Rhett removed them and took her face in his hands. "It's alright, darlin'. Ya look beautiful today."
Blushing, she met him halfway for a yearning kiss and the warmth of his lips against her sent a tingle of electricity through her body.
"Would you two kids come on inside. It looks like dark clouds are formin' ova yonder," her mother interrupted.
Rhett broke off the kiss and Morgan turned to her mother with a pout. She gave her daughter a knowing grin and that was when she came to realize her mother had been in on the surprise.
Rhett nodded in agreement. "Yes, ma'am."
Her mother was right. Within a few minutes of both of them coming inside, the storm clouds had rolled in—hovering ominously over the large acres of land.
After Rhett and Morgan had caught up on each other's lives over the past couple of months, they drew to the privacy of her bedroom.
Lying on the bed with her head resting in the nook of his arm, Morgan spoke over the passing thunder.
"How long before yer leave is up?"
"Three days."
Her arms tightened around his torso, not wanting to let him go. She was saddened to hear that their time together would be so short. She hadn't seen him in over four months and three days was far from making up for that.
She craned her neck to look up at him and he ran his thumb over her cheeks, stroking her constellated freckles. Her wide, brown eyes stared fondly up into his.
"I love ya a bushel and peck," he said low, placing an endearing kiss to her forehead.
She couldn't help but beam. Morgan adored those words.
"And some in a gourd," she whispered back.
Like an old adage, they held their own expression. It was something that never went unsaid during a phone call or voicemail. That's how important it was to them. For her. It didn't just mean they loved one another, it meant they would loved each other even through trial and tribulation.
Morgan rested her head back down as he began stroking her hair and she nuzzled her face into his chest. His kneading fingers and the pitter-patter of the rain lulled her into a deep doze, and that night, she had the best sleep in a very long time.
• • •
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Pelham, Alabama
September 15th, 2015
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Morgan reluctantly stirred from her sleep, Big Red's crow far louder and more incessant than yesterday morning. The first thing she did was look for Rhett but found the other side of the bed cold and empty. She glanced over to the dull glow from her alarm clock and realized that Big Red had woken her up way too early for the second day in a row. She sighed and cursed the rooster.
As she flung her legs over the side of her bed, the phone on her nightstand flashed white. She rubbed her eyes before grabbing it and checking her messages. Her face softened when she saw Rhett's morning text.
Rhett: Gooda morning, darlin'. Sorry I left. Had something to take care of. Dinner tonight?
Morgan: The Shed?
Rhett: You know it, sugah.
She felt a lot better knowing that he was home. Even if it was for a short period.
Feeling giddy, she sprang out of bed and headed to the chicken coop to put a snooze on the rooster.
The morning went on like any other. Morgan helped her father with the day-to-day chores of the farm, cleaning pens, and feeding the livestock. She could sense that something was troubling him by their short conversations, and though he continued to deny anything was wrong, she worried for him and his health. It was already deteriorating as it was.
Even with her pleading, she couldn't sway him into sharing his burden. That was her father. A man that provided for his family in any way possible, but took on much more than he could bear.
Just as Morgan was about to head to her room to wash the sweat from her body, her folder caught the corner of her eye and brought Atlas' business card to mind.
She didn't have much else to do for the rest of the day and decided it was best to make the appointment before she forgot again.
Taking a rest on the couches' arm, she dialed the number from their house phone.
"Hi, I'm callin' to set-up an meeting with Mr. Mackay."
"I'm glad to see my offer intrigued you."
Morgan was taken by surprise as Atlas' smooth voice rang out from the other end.
"Uhm, yes sir."
"Good. Your appointment is at two. Don't be late."
Bewildered, Morgan glanced over at the grandfather clock. "Two? As in today?"
The line had been cut and she soon realized that he was no longer on the other side.
Not wasting any time, she raced down the hall and clumsily went about her room, searching for something decent to wear. She briefly debated whether to rewear her clothes from yesterday but shook the idea out of her head. The last thing she needed was for him to turn her away because he thought she had bad hygiene.
She finally came across her old church dress from high school and worked her way into it. She threw on a cardigan to hide the fact of how tight the dress really was on her and gathered her things. She dashed out to her truck without so much as a word or a goodbye to her parents.
While driving down the open road, Morgan glanced at herself in her rearview mirror and groaned in annoyance. Her flyaways were a chronic problem. She ridded them with saliva and combed her fingers through her hair.
She looked a hot mess, but Morgan was more focused on getting to Eskinson on time than anything else.
• • •
Brisking past the doors, she took a beeline to the elevators while checking the time on her watch. She was thankful to have made it with a couple of minutes to spare. She was proud of herself.
Morgan walked down the halls of the building, searching for the waiting room. She finally found it and approached the receptionist. The young woman looked close to her age and sat behind the arcing desk reading an erotic novel.
"Hi, I'm here to see Mr. Mackay. I have an appointment—"
"U-huh, to your right. He's waiting for you," she shooed.
Morgan nodded and made her way down the same hall from yesterday but in the opposing direction. Coming to a stop at a cracked door, she softly knocked.
"Come in, Ms. Blaire."
She pushed it open and walked in. Atlas' office was a lot less cluttered compared to Mr. Koshka's and with a midcentury modern charm. It created a simple and aesthetically pleasing dynamic.
Atlas was sitting behind his desk, poring over a packet of papers. Removing his fashionable spectacles, he gestured to a couch off to the side of the room.
"Please, take a seat over there."
As she waited for him on the sofa, she could feel the leather stick to the bottom of her thighs. Her nerves didn't help as her body was sent into clammy sweat.
Atlas rose up from his desk and took the chaise across from her.
"Unlike my counterpart Neil, I see potential in you, Ms. Blaire." Morgan's heart swelled with excitement. She had never heard those words before. "However, the position I do have to offer you is different than the others you've likely come across." Her excitement dwindled just a bit as uncertainty set in. "There are employee benefits provided, of course, as this is a full-time position. But, what comes in conjunction with that are rules."
Her brows creased together. "Rules?"
"Yes. You will be my personal assistant. Most, if not all of the tasks, will be unassociated with Eskinson. In order for that to work, we need guidelines that we are both aware of."
Atlas stood up and ambled to his desk, grabbing a thick leather binder. He slid it on the table in front of Morgan as she took in all he was saying.
"Since this is solely an independent hire, I will be paying your salary out of pocket. If you have a problem with the percentage laid out in the offer letter then that is something we can discuss later on. Questions? Concerns?"
"What type of task will I be doin for ya?"
"Just various things," he replied vaguely. Atlas sped up their session as a call came through his landline. "With that said, read through the contract and offer letter in the binder and inform me within two business days of your decision."
Ending the meeting, he hastily answered the phone and took a seat back on his office chair. Left with more questions than answers, she gathered her things and made her way to the door.
"Ms. Blaire," Atlas called after her, stopping her from leaving. She looked back at him. "Don't forget to read the fine print."
With a short nod, she walked out of his office and down the hallway, her mind a clutter of unanswered questions. She was beside herself at the vagueness of his offer, and at this point, she didn't have a lot of other options. It could either go good or it could go bad, but Morgan wouldn't know if she didn't try.
Copyright ⓒ 2019, Desarae A Dotson. All rights reserved