Gorilla Dating Read online

  Gorilla Dating

  Because Love’s Not War, It’s a Zoo

  Kristen Ethridge

  Contents

  Gorilla Dating: Because Love’s Not War, It’s a Zoo

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  The Right Resolution

  Untitled

  Untitled

  About Kristen

  Acknowledgments

  Gorilla Dating: Because Love’s Not War, It’s a Zoo

  Kristen Ethridge

  1

  “Chimpanzees live in social groups called ‘communities’ or ‘unit groups.’ Chimpanzees’ social structure can be categorized as ‘fusion-fission.’ This means they travel around in small groups of up to six, the membership of which is always changing as individuals wander off on their own for periods of time, or join other groups.”

  --Jane Goodall Institute’s “Chimpanzee Central”

  * * *

  I guess it’s because I’m a writer, but for some reason, when I daydream about my life, I tend to see it described with splashy headlines and laid out on the cover of a magazine, just like I was the front cover of an edition of Cosmo.

  Well, okay, not just like on the front of Cosmo. All the women who grace the Cosmo cover are drop-dead gorgeous. Wind-blown hair, glittery eyeshadow, designer clothes and that smoky, sultry gaze. I have short, chocolate-brown hair that flips up just below my ears in choppy layers. I used to be part of an MLM that sold cosmetics so I could attempt to subsidize my eyeshadow habit with wholesale prices, and I’m usually described as “cute,” not sultry. I do have a weakness for the shoe department at Nordstrom, so at least I qualify as a designer clotheshorse.

  Okay, we’re all friends here, so I’ll be honest. I’m not a designer clotheshorse. I’m not even a designer clothesmule or designer clothespony. I’m more like a clotheshorse whisperer who tries to turn outlet mall pieces into thoroughbred looks. But deep down inside, I know I have the soul of that dramatic Cosmo girl.

  “Oh my goodness, Devon. You, like, totally did not say that to Skyler, did you?” A loud, slightly squeaky voice screeches over my cubicle wall. It’s more than just an interruption of thought, it’s a reminder to buy earplugs next time I’m in Target.

  It’s one of the Chimpanzees, walking down the hall talking on her cell phone.

  Ever since I started my new career as a public relations Assistant Account Executive two months ago, I’ve come to realize that the best way to describe the office environment of Brown & Company Communications is to use three simple letters: z-o-o.

  Al Brown, the owner and founder of Brown & Company, is a college friend of my dad’s. He’s definitely the zookeeper. Al knows everything that happens within the office, and he keeps all the different species that work here functioning harmoniously in our cubicle habitats.

  It seems as though all the other Assistant Account Executives have all come here straight from their respective sorority and frat houses at the University of Texas. I call them the Chimpanzees. Chimp Matriarch Laura Lynn Connors was the one on her cell phone outside my cube just a minute ago. I like to call her the “Queen Chimp.” She’s also been recently promoted to a full-fledged Account Executive.

  Close observation of this species has revealed a high-speed form of communication within the pack, built largely on instant messenger programs for their computers and text messaging on their phones. When the Chimpanzees do communicate verbally with others in their area of the office, hereby dubbed “The Pen,” it is usually in high-pitched tones best described as a squeal. Further observation is needed to decide what value the Chimpanzees provide to this organization other than drinking all the coffee in the break room, yet never replenishing the stock.

  As I hear the loud chatter swirling down the hall, I take a look at the calendar pinned up in my cube.

  “Daydreaming again, Kate?” Our company’s resident techie sticks his head around the toast-colored padded wall which marks the boundary of my cubicle.

  “Focusing, Wally.” I swing my chair around to face him, eager for the distraction of a chat with one of the few friends I’ve made in my short time at Brown & Company. “It was a little loud in the hall just a second ago. This calendar is like my own ‘take me away’ gateway. Look at that beach.”

  Wally leans forward, checking out the details of the sun-kissed photo. You can almost feel the breeze dancing in the perfectly green fronds waving around the edge of the photo. “Tahiti, huh? That’s a lot better looking than that bend at the back of the trail around Lady Bird Lake. I almost tripped over some roots the other day.”

  “I’m not letting anything trip me up now, Wally. I’m a girl with goals. I’ve given up on just about everything outside of work so I can put my focus on getting up to speed here.”

  “How long do you think it will take you to get promoted out of the AAE stage? Has Al or Cindy given you any indication?”

  I try not to chuckle too much. “Cindy doesn’t indicate much except how good Laura Lynn is. Al told me that I only need one good project to prove myself on. I’ve got several years of experience as a journalist. I just need to find my footing here. Between you and me, though, sometimes it’s hard being older than everyone else in my work group, but still regarded as so far behind them.”

  Wally stands up from where he’d been leaning against the cube frame. “I’m sure it is, Kate. But hang in there. Good things will happen. And then you can go on a vacation to Tahiti.”

  “I’d love that, Wally. But it’s not going to happen without a lot of focus and some lucky breaks. Until I get that promotion, I can’t let anything distract me”

  My cube buddy nods his head and raps the cabinet unit twice as he heads back to his own padded corner of the working world.

  As I swing back to face my computer, an instant message pops up on the screen.

  [email protected] says: Meet me in the Sam Houston team room right now. Bring something to write with.

  Cindy Roberts, my immediate supervisor, reminds me of a picture I saw once in a collegiate zoology class—that of the Japanese Snow Monkey. The Snow Monkey makes its home in the northernmost climate of any monkey. In addition to comfort in frigid situations, the Snow Monkey also has a bright red face, which to me looks like it is on fire. Not only is Cindy equally at ease being frigid, but she appears like the fiery-faced primate. When she talks to me, her breath rolls out with flickers and flame. There have been times when I think I can smell smoke after she leaves a room.

  I guess I’d better go see what she needs before the Austin Fire Department is called out.

  And because I like to follow all of Cindy’s edicts to the letter, I’ll bring a pen to write with.

  But because I’m feeling just a little sassy today, maybe I’ll take her literally and not bring anything to write on.

  Laura Lynn and another Chimp, Logan, are already in the team room when I walk in. They have both brought their laptops.

  “Hey. Know why Cindy’s called this meeting?” I walk around to the chair at the other end of the rectangular, gray granite-topped table and have a seat.

  “Kate, do you always have an answer to everything?” Laura Lynn and I have tangled a few times lately. It’s no secret that I like to have a plan. Laura Lynn likes to have a planner, preferably something expensive with her initials monogrammed on it in gold. She’s a D
allas socialite princess who tells anyone who will listen that for graduation, her daddy pulled some strings to get her some new gadget Apple hasn’t even released yet. But my marginally scientific observations of our resident Chimp pack show she barely has any idea how to turn it on, much less fully-utilize the cutting-edge technology.

  Whoa.

  What did my boss bring with her? Brown hair, blue eyes, chiseled-looking chin. About 6’1”. Looks a bit like that Dr. McDreamy from TV. Wow. Definitely not a Chimp. I wonder who he is. If Cindy announces he’s joining our group here at Brown & Company, this will rate as my best staff meeting yet.

  “Team, we need to discuss our new project.” A by-product of Cindy’s fire-breathing is that she does cut quickly to the chase when she speaks. “Brown & Company has been retained by Lone Star Consulting to provide communications support for the new Capital of Texas Zoo to be built here in Austin. Lone Star is running the project for the city government. But because Austin already has a small private zoo, and the city’s budget is so tight right now, the mayor is anticipating some push-back from the community at first. That’s where we come in. We’re going to be managing perception on this project now that it’s close to the time for the zoo to open.”

  She gestures to the non-Chimp. “This is Jack Cooper. He’s with Lone Star and he will be heading up their team.”

  Jack gives a small smile and seems to prepare to speak after Cindy. But she’s no sooner paused for breath when Laura Lynn dives in. “Cindy, I think it is so important that we help demonstrate the ROI that a zoo can provide us to the citizens of Austin.”

  Really, the only return on investment I want out of this meeting is another smile of Jack Cooper’s. You know, to get the return on investment for my time spent sitting here. Sigh. Laura Lynn can have all the taxpayer/zoo ROI she can handle.

  “Our first meeting is this Thursday—that’s three days from today—with Jack’s team from Lone Star Consulting. Because of the way our staffing resources are already allocated, the four of us in this room are the entire team for the zoo project.”

  Cindy looks at the two junior staffers and tosses them a smile so forced and brittle, I’m worried she might crack. “Laura Lynn, Logan, this will be a wonderful developmental opportunity for you to work on some project management skills and learn how we standardize some of our processes here at Brown & Company, especially with Laura Lynn on her way to leading a team of her own. I specifically asked Al to make sure you two were with me.”

  Cindy looks down at her portfolio and checks her calendar printout, which is resting on top.

  I drop my something-to-write-with pen on the table.

  “Yes?” Cindy’s eyebrows raise toward her hairline, as though they’re doing the sun salutation in some kind of facial yoga. “Kate?”

  “What do you need me to do, Cindy?”

  “As the AAE, you can practice writing press releases and such, Kate.”

  I spent six years as an award-winning features writer for the Austin Journal-Times before switching to the PR side of the plate when I joined Brown & Company. The “developmental opportunities” Cindy has given me thus far have all helped develop her relationships with clients while giving me the opportunity to watch my boss take credit for my work. I guess that’s how it goes, but it wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for when I uprooted my career and made this big change.

  “Okay, that’s it. Just a short meeting.” And with that, Cindy walks out of the conference room as her two pet Chimps trail in her wake. The silent Jack Cooper (how rude of Cindy, really, to not let me find out if his voice is as gorgeous as his eyes) follows them, and I bring up the caboose of the train. He pauses at the door, as if to let the lady exit first.

  What a thoughtful and gentlemanly consultant he is, I think to myself.

  “Jack Cooper.” He puts his hand out for me to shake. His ring-free hand, I notice, surprising myself that I even care, since I’ve sworn off the distraction of men in favor of solidifying my corporate career in the name of one day making it to that Tahitian beach. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Kate…” I feel my right eyebrow cocking up, as I blankly struggle for what comes next. Shoot, what is my last name? I’ve only had the thing for twenty-eight years. “Uh…Cormick. Kate Cormick.”

  I have to be the biggest cheeseball this man has ever met. Who forgets their last name?

  We both step into the hallway.

  “I’m looking forward to having you on the team,” he says. “This will be a busy project on an aggressive timeline, but I think we’ll all enjoy the end result.” He flicks his gaze a little bit downward, just for a second.

  Is he checking me out? “Oh, and your middle button is unbuttoned,” he informs me.

  Now I know what the Wicked Witch of the West felt like when Dorothy unloaded the contents of that water bucket on her.

  Melting.

  Melting.

  Melting.

  “Uh, thanks.” Panic overtakes my feet, and I walk off, just like that, leaving Prince Charming in the hallway. Great. My boss makes me out to be a junior writer in training, I can’t remember my last name, I need remedial tutoring in shirt-buttoning and I just walked off and left the twin of a hot Hollywood actor standing alone.

  When I make a first impression, I make sure it’s memorable.

  I lean forward and beat my head three times against the wall, slowly. I’m thankful, in a mortified way, that I’ve re-committed myself to my priorities of getting my career straight and getting out of the dating pool. Clearly, even engaging in small talk with the first good-looking man I’ve even noticed since Mark walked out on our relationship is enough to shove me straight on the time machine back to the eighth-grade dance in junior high. I sat in a taupe-colored plastic chair all night, never even asked to dance once. Some things are never going to change. Good thing I’ve realized that now.

  With a breath that can best be described as a snort, I look down and fix my stupid button.

  Rounding the corner back to my cube, I’m stopped by Al Brown.

  “Katie!” Al’s best described as “jovial.” He’s the reason I came to Brown & Company. When I realized the slow death of print journalism was squeezing the future out of the only career I’d wanted since I was a child, Al promised my dad that he’d “take care of Katie.” He’s known me since I was born, and I will forever be “Katie” to him.

  “Hi, Al. Are you revolutionizing the world of public relations today?” That’s our inside joke, but the truth is exactly that. Al has revolutionized the world of public relations, especially here in Austin, and he’s got an office full of awards to prove it.

  “Trying, Katie, trying. There’s a lot going on here, and now we’ve got this big zoo project coming. But you know that and are going to be working with Cindy on it, right?”

  Laura Lynn, hush-hush Apple gizmo in hand, stops and interrupts my hallway conversation. “Mr. Brown, thank you so much for putting me on the zoo project. I just know I am going to be able to be a value-add to this team.”

  I try to tune her out, but I can’t help but wonder when sororities started making business clichés a part of rush protocol?

  “Certainly, Lynn.” He sticks his coffee cup out. “Seems I’m out of joe. Can you fill this up for me?”

  “Oh, that’s Laura Lynn. Laura Lynn Connors. You know my dad, Johnny. He owns part of the Rangers.”

  “Sure, Lynn. That’s great. Always did think of the Texas Rangers as mighty fine law enforcement officials. And such a history there. You should get up to Waco and see their museum sometime.”

  Al jiggles his mug and Laura Lynn reaches out for it, readjusting her grip on the gizmo to manage everything with one hand.

  As soon as she is out of earshot, Al winks and leans close to my ear. “I’ve met her dad a few times, and I know it’s the Texas Rangers baseball team, but if she’s told me that once, she’s told me that a hundred times. It’s funny how young some youngsters are these days. Makes me just feel old
.”

  “You’re not old, Al. I’m pushing thirty. That’s old.” I toss our chief zookeeper a grin, topped with a conspiratorial wink of my own.

  My thirtieth birthday is 543 days away.

  Give-or-take leap year. But who’s counting?

  “Well, in that case…” He chuckles, and his metal-framed reading glasses slip down to the tip of his nose. “Anyway, are you ready for the zoo project?”

  I nod. Out of nowhere, my shoulder receives a thumping jolt, as Al claps a hand soundly down on it, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “Well, good. I believe in you, Katie Cormick. Now, you know we had to bring you in as an Assistant AE, because that’s the only spot we had open and you didn’t have any direct PR experience. But you can do this. You can make this career transition. I want to get you moving here at Brown & Company, so I’ll be watching to see what you do on this Capital of Texas Zoo project.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to the opportunity to move up, Al. Thanks. That’s why I left the paper, you know. I wanted a chance to have a future. To prove I could be more.”

  “I know, Katie, and I think that’s great. Right now, you’re behind people who are younger than you and I know that may be frustrating. But you haven’t been here long, and I believe that my decision to bring you on board was not the wrong one. I think my girl’s going to do great things here. Just don’t tell anyone. Can’t have them saying I’m biased…even if it may be the truth.” Al nods his head reassuringly. “And now, Katie, I’ve got to go find that Lynn girl. She has my coffee mug. I need my caffeine, you know.”