in.”
He nodded. I put my window up and drove away without looking back.
At quarter to nine, Kyle and an entourage walked past my desk. He didn’t even glance at me, which was typical, and I was okay with typical. I
fol owed a moment later, coffee in hand, just the way he likes it. I put the mug on a coaster on his desk while he “yel ed” at the entourage. He raised
his voice, but not nearly as loud as usual, and every few seconds he’d rub his head. Hangovers can be a bitch.
I tapped my watch on the way out, as a silent reminder that he needed to make a few phone cal s and would have to finish yel ing later. On his
way to the board room for a meeting, he stopped at my desk.
“Reschedule my second meeting, Emmy.” He rubbed his head again. “Maybe reschedule al of them after this one.”
“I can clear your schedule up until one. That’s the best I can do.” I say without looking.
“How do you know that without looking?” He frowned.
“I know every aspect of your schedule up until Wednesday of next week, where it gets a little murky. I know which meetings are more important
than others, who can wait, who can’t wait, who wil be irate, and who wil be
more
irate.”
He frowned some more. Typical. “Just clear my schedule as far as you can.” With that he walked away, rubbing his stupid head.
When he returned a little more than an hour later, he didn’t look any better.
“Did you clear my schedule?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, fol owing him into his office. He col apsed into his chair and held his head. I put a blue Gatorade on the coaster and three
Tylenol next to it. He looked at the Gatorade, confused, but before he could ask me any questions, I walked out the room. I returned a moment later
with a baked potato that I ordered from a diner down the street while he was out of his office.
“What the hel is this?”
“Eat the potato, drink the Gatorade and take the Tylenol. Eat and drink slowly so you don’t make yourself sick,” I spoke briskly, professional y,
as I lowered the blinds. "Rest for a little while – I’l hold al of your cal s and keep anyone from coming in. You should feel better just in time for your
1:00 meeting.”
Before I closed the door, I saw him staring at the three items I left for him as if they were alien. Typical.
Kyle’s lack of enthusiasm for work today didn’t make my work load any lighter. I threw myself into it, head first, completely emerged myself in it.
The more I worked, the less I thought of the night before. It was only a one night thing. It didn’t change the fact that he was stil my boss, and obviously, it made him no less of a dick. Reminiscing about it would only be a stupid distraction from important things. Besides, it was a mistake,
an accident even.
Forget the fact that he was the first person I had slept with in almost a year or that even though I was drunk I remembered it clearly (and it was effin
fantastic!). Forget the fact that I have a hickey, which I haven’t had since high school, on my neck under the scarf I was wearing, tied fashionably
around my dumb neck.
A little before one, before anyone arrived for the meeting, Kyle came out of his office, looking wel rested, and less hung over. I didn’t ask him if
he was feeling better, I barely took my eyes off of the computer screen.
“Emmy, email Diedrick with the financial reports I told you to do yesterday. Did you do the reports?”
“Yes.” I write down the note about Diedrick, and he continues on, giving me extra work to do on top of the heavy work load I already had.
“Did you order my tux for the gala?”
“Yes, I did that last week.”
“Emmy, I didn’t even know about that gala until Monday.” His tone was accusatory, as if I was lying to him.
“I have known about the gala since they first announced it two months ago, Mr. Sterling.”
“I need a copy of that guest list, who’s who.”
“It’s already on your desk.”
He barked a few more orders at me before going back into his office. Once the door shut, Eliza, the receptionist said just loud enough for the
few of us in the office to hear: “What a dick.”
By six, almost everyone in our part of the building had cleared out. It was snowing, and I sometimes found myself staring out of the window. I
loved to watch the snow fal onto the city, but I had a lot of work to do if I didn’t want to have to do it over the weekend. Kyle came out of his office,
jacket slung over his shoulder, sleeves rol ed up, as if he had been in his office doing physical labor. I almost snorted at the idea.
“Did you need anything else before you leave?” I asked him, not taking my eyes off of the computer as I typed.
“I don’t mean to do it.” He said quietly. I looked up, surprised at his demeanor.
“You don’t mean to do what?”
“Be a dick.”
I looked away. He sat down in the chair next to my desk, but I kept my eyes on my work. In the near two years that I’ve worked for him, he’s
never once sat in that chair. I felt a little uneasy.
“I know you said I have a choice, but I almost feel like I can’t help it.”
“You have a seven o’clock dinner date with Miss Venner,” I said softly, continuing to work. “If you’re not careful, you’l be late, especial y with the
snow.”
He was quiet for a moment, probably feeling put off by the way I changed the topic.
“I forgot about that.” He final y said and stood up. “You shouldn’t work too late, the weather is supposed to get worse. You don’t usual y work so
late on Fridays, do you?”
“No,” I sighed, not wanting to say what I was going to say next. “I usual y stay up late Thursday nights and get ahead, but I lost a night of work.
So…”
“Oh.”
“You should go. I wil see you Monday. Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Sterling.”
“Thanks.” Before the elevator doors closed, he said “Don’t stay too late.”
When I heard the doors slide shut, I breathed a sigh of relief. That was awkward. I think I liked it better when he was just being mean and bossy.
An hour later when I was getting ready to leave, I noticed a piece of paper in the chair Kyle had sat in. I hoped it wasn’t one of his little notes
regarding an appointment or something. I picked it up, turned it over, and my face flushed. I covered my smile as if there was anyone left to see it on
my face. He hadn’t left it behind by mistake. It was a SpongeBob sticker.
Born Esmeralda Grayne, to a southern bel e and a damn Yankee retired marine, I am the youngest of five children. My two brothers and two
sisters are married, with children, living storybook lives. I am the black sheep of the family, unmarried and completely unattached at thirty. My job
pays fine for me, but my mother, a trust fund baby, believes I am destitute, and if not for the kindness and love of her and my dad, she insists that I
would be living in a rat and roach infested efficiency apartment in the city. So every Friday while she and daddy are in the freakin' Bayou, she cal s
me to check on my "progress."
The phone was ringing when I walked in the door. I ran to catch it before it went to voicemail.
"Hi, mom."
"Esmeralda," My mother's southern drawl was just as strong as it was when she first left Louisiana in her late teens. "I cal ed you twice before
already. Girl, where have you been?"
"I was working, Mom." I kicked off my shoes, soaked from the snow. The bottoms of my pants were wet as wel , so right there in the kitchen, I
stripped off my pants.
"I wish you would go back to school. It's not too late to be a doctor or lawyer. Better yet, marry yourself a doctor or lawyer and you can stay at
home and have babies."
"Mom, this isn't the 1800's, and my job is fine."
"You never even have time to meet anyone because of that damn job!" She lowered her voice for what she said next. "How do you get your...needs met without a steady beau?"
"Mother!" I was irritated that she went there - again, but I had a secret satisfaction knowing I had my "needs met" on her couch last night, by my boss no less.
"I'm just asking, Esmeralda. You can't just go giving it up to random men."
"I'm not giving it up to - you know what? I want to speak to a rational human being. Let me speak to my daddy."
"She don't want to talk to
me, her mother.
" I heard her say as she gave the phone to my dad.
"Dad, why did you marry a crazy woman?" I asked after the usual pleasantries.
"I didn't know she was crazy before I married her. By the time I found out, she was already knocked up and it was too late."
I talked to my parents for another fifteen minutes before they had to go meet my sisters Charlotte and Lucil e and their families for a late dinner
around a bonfire.
Even though I enjoyed the winters while my parents were gone, sometimes I felt very lonely in the big house. No one real y came to visit, even
most of my friends got married and moved away or were too busy with their families to pay attention to poor, single Emmy. My two brothers Fred Jr.
and Emmet lived in Florida, not far over the Louisiana border. Sometimes I had the nagging feeling my parents only kept their main residence here
out of concern over what would happen to me if they closed up shop and left.
The phone cal s from the south always leave me feeling a little low, even if my mom was on the other end of the line. I went into the formal living
room and made myself two drinks at the bar. I turned the radio on in the kitchen and took out the chicken I left in the fridge to defrost. Cooking,
drinking, dancing, and singing in my skivvies was perking me up a bit, but in the back of my mind, I knew it would be hard to get through the weekend with those alone. It's not that I was incapable of finding a man to spend a weekend with. My dark brown hair and greenish brown eyes and
flattering figure were easy on the eyes and I was fairly intel igent, but even pretty and smart girls have a hard time finding a
decent
guy.
Several times I found myself looking at the SpongeBob sticker. While on the phone to my parents, I had used a magnet to secure it to the
fridge. I was wearing SpongeBob panties again, but in a different color. What did he mean by leaving the sticker? Was he trying to be funny? Was
he flirting or was he making fun of me?
I was drunk before dinner could finish in the oven. I carried the tequila bottle with me. It was snowing like mad outside, but the heat was on in the
house and the alcohol kept me pretty toasty, too. I was about to take the chicken out of the oven when the doorbel rang.
Who the hell?
I crept to the foyer and careful y peeked out the side window. Forgetting how I was dressed (I had put on a tee shirt, but I was stil missing
pants), I threw open the door. Snow blew in, onto my bare legs and arms. Kyle stared at me a moment, looked at the bottle in my hand, and smiled
hesitantly.
"I can't find my wal et anywhere," Kyle said after I let him in. "I checked the bar and it wasn't there. I'm hoping it's here somewhere."
"You can go check. Maybe it got kicked under the couch. I have to go take something out of the oven."
I put the bottle down long enough to take my chicken parmesan out of the oven. The music was stil playing so I didn't hear Kyle enter the room. I
turned around and jumped when I saw him standing in the doorway, watching me.
"Found it." He held up his wal et. "It was under the coffee table."
"That's good. I bet Miss Venner wasn't too happy to have to pay for dinner." I said, taking another swig of tequila.
"Once I realized my wal et was lost, I canceled the date. Aren't you cold?"
I looked down, closed my eyes for a moment. "I forgot..." I felt my face flush. "Excuse me." I put the bottle on the counter and with my head
hanging low, I slipped past Kyle to go change.
I was so embarrassed, that it sobered me up some. Who forgets they're half naked when they open the door? This was the second time in
twenty-four hours that I wil ingly appeared in my SpongeBob booty pants in front of my boss. He probably thinks I'm al loosey goosey.
I went downstairs, in pants, and immediately said "I'm sorry. I am usual y here alone. My parents spend the winters in the south. No one real y
comes over, so I never have to real y worry about answering the door, drunk, and undressed. This isn't typical behavior, to find myself undressed in
front of men."
"I have seen you in less," he said quietly.
"Are you hungry, Mr. S?" I asked, ignoring his comment because it made my neck hot and my palms sweaty.
"Cal me Kyle, and sure, I could eat."
"Cal ing you Kyle is a little strange for me."
"You cal ed me Kyle last night. In fact, you screamed it at least...how many times?"
I threw an oven mitt at him. "You're being a dick,
Kyle.
"
He smiled. "I'm sorry."
I smiled, too, hesitantly. "You never smile," I said quietly as I set the table. "You're always scowling and growling. It's almost as if you hate your job, you hate being there."
"That's not far from the truth." He looked at me seriously, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
"Then you should find another career, because you're not being fair to your employees and you're certainly not being fair to yourself."
"I'm doing what is expected of me."
"If I were doing what's expected of me, I would be married, popping out a kid every couple of years."
"You don't want a family?"
"Of course, but look at me. I'm the poster child for Alcoholics Annonymous. I don't think I'm quite ready to raise any children." I took another swig
of tequila to prove my point. "My mom thinks I'm throwing my life away, that my best years are behind me."