Chapter 8

I got into Tampa late the next day. I hadn't meant to take so long, but the weather was so nice that I decided to do some sightseeing during the drive. Since I'd never been to Florida before the entire state just amazed me. The weather was the one selling point as far as I was concerned though. With sunny weather for most of the year, with an occasional hurricane thrown in just for the hell of it, I thought I could've done worse. Like moved to California for example! I don't think I could put up with the constant threats of earthquakes.

I spent the evening in a Holiday Inn just about half a mile from the airport and immediately went to my room, taking only what I'd have to have the next day, and then crashed. I didn't realize I was so tired until I spied the bed and my eyes got so heavy that I didn't even get in the shower first. I just stripped out of my clothes, pulled back the covers, and crashed.

The next morning I was awake before 9 am. I did get in the shower and realized just how much better I felt after I got out and dried myself. I turned around and admired my body in the body-length mirror on the wall behind me. I was still slim and had a good looking body. I rubbed my hands over my butt, feeling the tightness in my cheeks and smiled to myself,"Not bad, kiddo. Keep in great shape like this and you'll turn all the heads at the new job!"

I didn't have to be at work until Monday, and today was Saturday, so I still had some time to find that apartment and get settled in.

I opened my purse and found the paper that Leslie had given me, and I found the name of one of her best friends, who happened to manage an apartment complex that was only about a half mile from my job, so I went to the desk, picked up the phone, and called the number.

"Tampa Apartments," I heard on the other end of the line. "This is Janice, may I help you?"

"Hello, Janice," I answered. "My name is Chris Eggers. A friend of mine gave me your name and number and told me I might be able to find a reasonably priced apartment."

"And who would that friend be," she asked me.

"Leslie Withers."

"Oh, yes. I do know Leslie. Have you seen her recently? How's that georgous husband of hers doing?"

"Yes, I spent the night with her and Jake on my way down here. He's a hunk, alright." We both laughed.

"Tell you what, Chris. I do have a couple of apartments available right now, but I have to show one in about an hour. Can you come by later this afternoon and I'll show you the other two and you can decide then."

"Great, Janice. I appreciate it very much. Say around 3:00"

Silence on the other end, but I could hear the rustling of some papers over the phone, so she must be checking her appointment schedule.

"That's fine, Chris. I'll see you then. Bye."

Before I could answer I heard the dial tone and simply hung up on my end.

Since I had a couple of hours to kill I decided to drive to the office and look around. I knew I wouldn't be able to actually get into the building, but it would give me a chance to find a place to park my car. If my apartment wasn't going to be too far I might even be able to walk to work on the prettier days.

I had no problem finding the building. There was a huge sign on the front announcing the occupied offices of Bachman Brothers Construction. The building was nice looking, standing about 4 stories tall with a nice facade and an inviting-looking enterence. In fact, on one of the windows several construction cranes had been painted on the inside, which also gave the casual outsider some idea of what kind of business occupied the offices inside.

I did find a parking garage on the next block and pulled in. I asked the boy in the stall how much parking was and the prices he quoted me sounded reasonable so I paid for 2 months in advance, he gave me a parking assignment and I went up to the 3rd level, parked my car, took the elevator to the ground floor, and started walking back to the building where I'd be working come Monday morning.

As I stood in the front of the building a gentleman came out, locking the door behind him. I recognized him from the picture he'd sent me when I'd gotten the letter letting me know I'd been hired.

"Mr. Bachman?" I asked.

He turned towards me and I could see it was indeed Dean Bachman, the man who'd hired me.

"Yes?" he asked. Apparently he didn't immediately recognize me, so I introduced myself.

"Hell, Mr. Bachman. I'm Chris Eggers. You hired me to work for you and I'm supposed to start on Monday."

The surprise on his face let me know that he did indeed know who I was, and for that I was thankful.

"Forgive me, Ms Eggers, but I didn't recognize you. I must say, your picture doesn't do you justice," he said as he took my hand and shook it, with a very nice grip. I could tell he was surprised at my grip, too. Apparently he'd been expecting a 'lady-like' shake, which was something I didn't do.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Bachman." I think I blushed slightly as I returned his shake.

"Please, call me Dean. Everyone does. Do you mind if I call you Chris? Or do you prefer Ms Eggers, or perhaps something else?"

"Chris is just fine, Dean." I felt a little uncomfortable calling him by his first name, especially since I'd just met him, but if I was going to be working with him, as well as for him, I knew I could get used to it fairly quick.

"Do you work on Saturdays?"

"Not usually, but today I had some pressing paperwork that had to be attended to before Monday morning. I guess that one of the things about being the boss. Some times you have to do things yourself and can't regulate them to others. I love this business and I've worked hard to get it where it is, so I think you'll understand what I mean."

"I do," I answered him.

"Would you care to join me for lunch, Chris?"

I looked at my watch and saw that it was now only 10:30 am, and I didn't have to be at the apartment complex until 3 pm, so I had plenty of time.

"Don't mind if I do," I answered. "It's not every day that a handsome man asks me out to eat with him."

We both laughed and I could tell that it was an easy laugh and I knew I was going to like working for this man and his company.

Dean recommended a small resturant about a block away from the parking garage and we walked there. The weather was nice and the sun felt good. Just the kind of weather I could get use to in a hurry. "No more snow for me," I thought, and laughed to myself.

The place was called The Rib Rack and Dean told me that he had built the place about 10 years earlier for one of his clients. Now, everytime he ate there, the manager gave him a huge discount.

When I stepped inside I knew right away that this was a popular place. It was busy, and that's an understatement. I thought we'd have to wait for a place to sit down, but the manager, Sidney, came right over to Dean and shook his hand.

"Hello there, Dean. Didn't expect to see you here today." Then he caught sight of Dean's date. "And with such a lovely lady, too! I've got just the seat for you. Please, follow me."

Sidney selected a secluded booth near the center of the buildings east wall, presented us with menus, and then disappeared towards the cash register in the front, hollering to one of the waiters that a special customer was at table #8.

The waiter appeared in no time, recognized Dean, and immediately asked him if he wanted his usual, which I found out was Coors Lite Bear. Before the waiter could ask I told him I'd have the same, which kind of surprised Dean.