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Created by Diane Brown, Buena Beach is an online soap opera, giving up all the juicy details of some of the hottest guys and gals of Buena Beach, a small town in Southern California. Check back everyday for a new episode here on HelloBeautiful.com.

Diane

Mario’s only been the Acting Director at work since Danny went out on leave a week and a half ago, but I’ve already gotten used to hitting my snooze button a couple of times and strolling in at 8:15. It’s just a few extra minutes, but it makes a world of difference. Mario barely made it to work by 9:00 when he was just a regular old Senior Coordinator; in his acting capacity, seems like he’s been getting some extra snooze time as well. Last Friday, with nothing on his schedule except for lunch with his wife, he didn’t come in until 10:05. Made no apologies or excuses about it, either.

And neither will I, just pulling up into the lot this morning at 8:35. If the added sleep had done me well last week, I figured a supersized cup of coffee and matching bagel from the Buena Beach Café would do me even better. I’m feeling a little cocky, walking with a Look-at-me,-coming-in-when-I-want-because-I’m-so-cute-with-my-coffee-and-bagel strut, when sheer horror overtakes me as I spot Danny’s car parked in his space.

“Shoot,” I say aloud, stubbing my big toe as I sprint to the front door.

Oh my gosh – what am I going to say? I could take the time to come up with some brilliant justification for my tardiness, but it would probably take me good twenty minutes to come up with something. So, I take a deep breath as I round the corner leading to his office and say my least favorite word.

“Sorry.”

Danny turns around to look at me, then smiles. “Oh, Diane. That’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

Really? Well, that’s a relief. Maybe there really is something to this sorry thing.

But then I start actually feeling sorry – for Danny, seeing him fill a cardboard box with all the items Mario had me put up around his office just a week and a half ago. “Need some help?”

“No,” he says, giving me another smile, though it looks like it hurts to do so. “I’m almost done.”

As an accessory to the crime at hand, a warmth of shame and embarrassment spills over me. I mean although he was technically my supervisor when he told me to move all of his things into Danny’s office, I should have stood up to Mario and told him that that wouldn’t be appropriate. Standing pathetically in Danny’s doorway, I must look as guilty as I feel because he says, “Don’t worry, Diane. I know this wasn’t your idea.”

He’s right about that. Sure, perhaps there were some perks with Mario as my boss the last few days, and the two of us were actually getting along for once – but he’s no Danny. “Well, at least let me help you put your stuff back up.”

He shakes his head. “No. Don’t worry about that. Who knows – I may be asked to take it down again soon anyway.”

Wait, hold up. Who is this man? It’s not Danny, my boss who’d never take crap from an egotistical bonehead like Mario, especially after the guy basically ransacked his office. I mean, I’d be pissed if some little hoochie (take Veronica, for instance) took over my cubicle while I was out on leave. Mario more or less wallpapered Danny’s office with pictures of himself with Cynthia; pictures of himself with the mayor; pictures of himself receiving awards; pictures of himself with his fraternity brothers; pictures of himself on vacation; pictures of himself all by himself.

And that’s just the beginning. By the time Danny finishes (with me jumping in to help out, eventually), there are three and a half boxes of Mario that we stack on his desk and in his chair at exactly 9:04. Danny, however, still is way too melancholy and defeated, like he’s given up. Then again, he has been out ill – maybe it’s the drugs.

He comes out from his office a few minutes later to ask me about a contract when I finally ask, “So, are you feeling better?”

“Yes, yes. Much better. Just needed some rest. Annette took me to a spa on Saturday, which was really nice.”

I don’t mean to pry, but I do. “Do they know what’s…what’s wrong with you?”

He chuckles. “No. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me, honestly. My doctor just thinks it might be stress, but we’re trying some things – exercise, and changing my diet. We’ll see.”

That sucks. All this money we pay for our medical insurance? They’d have to do a little better than that if it were me. And now I feel bad once again – could I be responsible for all his stress?

“Where is everyone, by the way?” he asks, which sort of answers my question – heck no, I’m not the cause of his stress. Sure, I messed up this morning but, for the most part, I work hard for Danny. I’m not even bitter with him about the whole Calvin thing any more since hearing about dude’s money laundering stuff. Honestly, I’m not sure what money laundering is, but I know it’s deep.

It’s the rest of these fools up in here that are stressing out the poor guy. Literally no one is here except the two of us. Even our trusty human resources people and the geeky tech guys aren’t in yet. “I’m not sure where everyone is,” I tell him, then feel bad for selling out my girl Sandy. “Oh, actually, Sandy did call in and leave me a message that she’s running late because of a…a flat tire. But I didn’t hear from anyone else.”

Which is a lie. Actually, I do recall Veronica mentioning something to me about needing to take some time this morning to wait for the electrician or something. But, I’ll conveniently forget that matter until another time. Danny frowns before going back into his office and closing the door. Poor guy. At least he was cool with me. Then again, I was only half an hour late. The rest of these people are straight trippin’ with their’s.

So it’s with great anticipation and enthusiasm that I await each of their arrival. First is Chris, tiptoeing in at 9:15. When he points to Danny’s closed door and whispers, “Is he back?”, I cross my arms and nod with a scolding “Yes, he’s back.”

Sandy’s next, dread in her eyes and posture when she passes by.

“Don’t worry, girl. I told him you had a flat tire.”

“Thanks, Di. I owe you big time.”

The rest of the gang follows, most trickling in by 9:45. Mario, however, has yet to show his pretty face by 10:00. And that’s when I get an idea. While it’s certainly been entertaining see everyone freak out when I confirm that Danny is back, I’m missing the initial shock because they all, like me, first noticed Danny’s car outside, in the closest space to the building. How fun would it be to have front row center seats to Mario’s initial reaction exactly when he learns that he’s no longer acting. I mean, I guess there is the chance that he already knows; but, then again, I doubt it or else he would have been in on time.

Rooting around my top drawer, I find Danny’s spare set of keys that I keep for him in case of an emergency and race to the parking lot. Usually, I hate it when the building is overwhelmed with visitors to the point where we’re forced to park along the street and I have to make the trek down the street to the office; but today, I do so with exuberance, parallel parking Danny’s car in between two huge SUVs about a block away, where Mario won’t notice.

At 10:23, I can hardly keep a straight face when Mario finally makes it in and welcomes me with a cheerful “Good morning, Diane.”

“Morning,” I say, gazing intently at the memo on my desk. I’m sure he finds that his key gets no resistance as he shoves it into the keyhole and turns since the door’s already unlocked. But he doesn’t seem to notice, pushing his way in, which is my signal to sit up and roll my chair back for a good view.

Unfortunately, Mario’s back is to me, but his body language speaks volumes – shoulders falling, hands fidgeting, and feet tapping when Danny says “Mario! Welcome. Glad you could join us this morning.”

Beautiful.

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