I let my gaze drift over Andrew, even though his appearance rarely holds any surprises. The man’s a lesson in sameness, like some sort of anal-retentive version of Groundhog Day.
There’s always the black mug with some healthy gunk inside held in his right hand, Tom Ford briefcase and Armani garment bag in his left, containing what I know to be a perfectly tailored three-piece suit.
Andrew’s coppery hair is perfectly styled, although I’d swear that there’s some natural curl in there threatening to disrupt his perfect order. I imagine that annoys him, so it therefore makes me happy.
Let’s see, what else about my nemesis?
He’s got a hard, unfriendly jawline that’s perfectly shaven.
Dark brown eyes, cold and flat. Black gym bag over one shoulder.
I suppose you could say he changes up his attire, because he does alternate between black and gray gym shirts. But considering that they seem to be the exact same fit, both colors molding perfectly to his impressively sculpted upper body, we’re not giving him any points for variety there.
Same goes for the lower half. The black shorts worn in summer have given way to sleek black sweatpants now that October’s upon us, but they’re both black and Nike, so we’ll give him no credit for changing it up there either.
The shoes, though…
I do a double take.
Well, well, well…
Instead of the usual black gym shoes, the man’s shoes are red. I don’t know how I missed it before.
I drag my eyes back up his body with a grin, and he gives just the slightest roll of his eyes to indicate that he’s noticed my slow perusal and isn’t fazed in the least.
“You went shopping, Dorothy!” I say happily.
He stares at me. “I don’t shop.”
Of course not. Far too frivolous.
“No, that makes sense,” I say, pointing at his feet. “Glinda would have given these to you.”
Andrew looks down at his Rolex watch. “I’ve got to go. Have a good day, Mr. Ramirez.”
“You too, Mr. Mulroney,” Ramon says with a deferential nod. “Enjoy your workout.”
“Yes, do,” I say, turning and watching as Andrew moves toward the front door of our building. “What’s on the schedule today? Treadmill, or just skipping down the Yellow Brick Road?”
Andrew Mulroney, Esquire, doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even turn before pushing through the revolving doors and stepping out into the still-dark autumn morning.
Now come on. Tell me that wasn’t at least a little bit fun, despite the ungodly hour.
I turn back to Ramon, who’s once again picked up his donut. “You don’t have to kiss his ass, you know.”
Ramon gives the slightest smile. “I do if I want a Christmas bonus.”
I lay a hand over my chest in mock affront. “You don’t kiss my ass, and I’ll still give you a Christmas bonus.”
“Respectfully, you’re a bit different from most of our residents, Ms. Watkins.”
“Does that mean you’ll call me Georgie?” I ask hopefully.
He merely smiles wider. “Enjoy your morning, Ms. Watkins.”
I sigh. “Thought so.” I push the box of donuts toward him. “Give these to the other guys when they come in. And don’t forget to take one home to Marta.”
“Will do, and thank you.”
I pluck my cranberry-colored clutch off the desk and walk backward toward the elevator, not even the slightest bit unsteady in my sky-high Jimmy Choos. “Enjoy your ‘weekend,’?” I tell Ramon, knowing that although today’s Tuesday, Ramon has Wednesday and Thursday off.
When I step into the elevator, the button for the eighty-sixth floor is already lit up, courtesy of Ramon and the building’s fancy tech. I give a happy sigh and start to anticipate the prospect of crawling into bed and getting a few hours’ sleep before I have to be at my hair appointment at four.
And if for a second my mind registers the depressing thought that the most exciting part of my day has already come and gone?
I push it away.