The day life as he was used to it changed, Chuck Lawson left his lunch in a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. It was literally the only hiccup in an otherwise great day. Only a week before, he had just been offered his own office. And a pay raise. And authority. A new job, with a new company. Chuck was on top of the world. On the morning of his first day, the sun was out, the coffee pot was working, and he was on time. But, about an hour into the day, he started craving a snack, but of course... his food was at home, over 20 minutes away. He probably could have scoped the building for a vending machine, hit up the sandwich boy for an apple, or even rode the elevator to the coffee shop on the first floor. But his wife was on a diet, and he was trying to be good, so instead, he called home to have somebody bring his sack lunch over.
After three rings, his daughter Megan answered. "Hello?"
"Hey, Megs. What are you doing home?"
"Hey, Daddy. I have the mornings free on Mondays and Wednesdays, remember?"
Chuck smacked his forehead with his palm. "That's right. Duh."
"Were you looking for Mom?" She asked.
"Not really, I just needed somebody to do me a favor." He said.
"What's that?"
"I wasn't thinking when I left this morning, and I forgot my lunch. Would you mind bringing it down to the office?"
Megan laughed, "Sure, Daddy, I'll bring you your lunch. You know, you really should consider joining the rest of the normal world and just buy your lunches. Nobody brown bags it anymore."
He chuckled. "Right. I guess I'm just stuck in my backwards ways. But, when I make my lunch, I know what I'm getting."
"You're hopeless, Daddy."
"That's me."
She snickered. "I'll be there in a few."
"Thanks, sweetie."
Megan chuckled as she set the phone back into the cocoon of the receiver. She easily spotted her dad's lunch on the counter nearby, grabbed it and her school bag, and headed downtown to his office building. Megan actually hated going downtown. While all her classmates were obsessing over which clubs were letting in the "Under 21's" and who's car would look best cruising the strip with the richer, bored members of the college crowd, she was honestly bored with teenagers and everything they were supposed to like. Downtown offered little to her liking. The boutiques were littered with sequined, garbage chic clothing. The restaurants were over priced and piped loud, sparkling pop music, or housed people sipping double shot espresso's and pretending to be 'cultured'. Whatever street corner wasn't home to a bum was inevitably under construction, or swamped with suits and loud heels. It was very much not her scene.
Of course, the only available parking was four blocks away and right in the middle of one of many construction zones. Megan eyed the workers, none of whom had yet noticed her, and took a deep breath. She through her pack over her shoulder, grabbed the brown bag and locked the car as she walked away. The air was thick with dust and the dense smell of exhaust. Her eyes watered just enough to blur as she made her way quickly past the crew and trucks. She was just about to sigh in relief, when the cat calling began. It started with a long, low whistle, and grew to a crescendo of appreciative shouts and banging metal.
Holding her head high, with her sweet face contorted into an annoyed squint, Megan hastened her steps to a near run until she reached the corner of the street. There she turned and a sweet calm descended upon her. She could still hear the ruckus behind her, but this street was clean and was currently home to only a few small groups of the business class. Women in pencil skirts or loose slacks, men in ties and jackets. All hurrying to their places of work, while shouting into phones or guzzling coffee from painted paper cups.
Several steps and turns later, she was in the foyer of the first floor of her dad's new workplace. She'd been here just last week, when her and her mom helped move his photos, books, and the leather armchair he'd been so excited about having room for. The brief memory made her smile. A handsome young man in the elevator caught her eye and smiled back, extending his suited arm to hold the elevator for her. Megan blushed and moved swiftly through the doors to stand in the small, but pleasantly lit box.
"What floor are you headed to?" He asked her in a smooth, masculine voice that sent shivers up her spine.
"Eight." She answered softly.
"Eight." He echoed, reaching past her to push the button. As the eight lit up, she looked him in the eye and he smiled again. "My floor, too." He said, and she laughed softly.
"What a coincidence."
"Indeed."
"So..." She started hesitantly, "You work for Bensen, Foster and Foster?"
He grinned at her. "I am Foster. Well, I'm the second Foster on the sign, anyway. My father is the first Foster."
"Oh. Wow. So, you're Benjamin Foster?"
"So you've heard of me?"
"Well, you're name is on the sign." She said with a grin.
"Touche. Anyway, you can call me Ben, if you like."
"You wouldn't prefer Mr. Foster?"
"Not from you."
He gave her a look. Not just any look. The kind of look that is given to say "you're special and interesting, please believe what I say". Megan's heart jumped and fluttered, and she looked away for fear of getting swept off into the unknown.
"Ben, huh? Okay. It's nice to meet you, Ben."
"Thank you. But we haven't technically met."
"How do you mean?"
