THE JUNIOR BRIDESMAID (22 page)

“Just say what you
are really thinking,” he prodded trying to bait me even further.

I shook my head
and closed my eyes. Why say the words? What good would they do now? “Why are
you doing this, Hugh?” I whispered.

“Because I fucked
up!” he barked. And that wasn’t in response to my questioning why he was
behaving the way he was. It was in response to his own statement pushing for me
to admit why I wouldn’t turn down the Norstride opportunity. “You think I don’t
see how I helped cause all this shit. But I do,” he swiped his hand over his
jaw and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. There was nothing I could say
to alleviate his self-deprecating thoughts. His actions affected the outcome.
So I stayed silent and waited for him to work through it. “I hate that bitch,”
he added. “She is a conniving, manipulative, mother fucker,” he was referring
to Stacey who set the whole thing in motion. I wasn’t sure if the ceiling tiles
above his head agreed but I sure did.

So I tugged on his
shirt to get his attention. He bit his bottom lip and looked back down at me.
“Join the club,” I said with a half-hearted grin.

Hugh roped me
around the neck and pulled me in for a hug. It was nice to feel his arms around
me again. Even if it was going to be a short lived reunion.

Chapter 17

            Kissing
Hugh Rowen was quite possibly the best thing in life. I loved how his lips
gently worked over mine in the most deliciously possessive way. His kisses
weren’t designed to be a means to an end. He lovingly took his time thoroughly
enjoying the entire experience. He would get this predatory look on his face as
he approached me, his eyes zeroing in on their intended target. He would
hesitantly pause before lowering his lips closer to mine. As if once he took
the plunge he would invariably lose control. With a gentle graze he would test
the waters. But once he pressed his lips against mine he took command, turning
his head while holding my face softly in his hands so he could position my lips
right where he wanted them. His eyes remained closed sometimes pressing tighter
as if there was something that pained him as he took his time tasting, sucking
and savoring. The kissing always got wetter which led to his tearing his lips
from mine so he could catch his breath and rub his thumb along my swollen lower
lip. Then when he returned he would part my lips with his so he could touch his
tongue to mine. His arms would snake around me engulfing me in all that was
Hugh Rowen. Slowly his tongue would slide along mine and a low grown of
pleasure would rumble from his chest. I could feel the vibration as he
expressed his appreciation and the hum of his satisfaction radiated throughout
my body. I never knew lips could feel so soft or taste that good. I could kiss
this man forever. I always knew when he was done because he ended the artful
process with three kisses that consecutively became gentler. With the last one
he always lingered so his breath and mine could become one before pulling away
and opening his eyes to take one last look at the masterpiece, my swollen and
contented lips, he had just created.

            “Goodnight,
Junior,” Hugh whispered with his forehead pressed up against mine.

            “Goodnight,
Hugh,” I breathed back.

The porch light was blinking on and
off like there was a short in the wiring. “You better go inside before she
starts a fire,” Hugh suggested. Julia was peering through the window like a
father waiting for his daughter to come home from her first date.

            I
knew when I embarked on my temporary cohabitation with Julia that certain
aspects of my stay could be challenging. It just never occurred to me that she
would be one to keep a strict curfew. “Okay,” I agreed even though I really
would have preferred the ability to freeze time.

Hugh and I had
talked rather extensively earlier in the evening. We had come to a resolution
of sorts. He would return to New York to start his new job and I would remain
in Virginia to start mine. We would alternate visits back and forth every other
week so each of us was only flying once a month. Not a bad plan but given the
original, it was quite a sacrifice.

            “Call
me when you get in?” I requested. Hugh’s flight was first thing in the morning.
He was going straight to his new office from the plane.

            “I
will,” he rubbed his nose along the side of mine inhaling loudly. “My God, I’m
going to miss you, Baby,” he groaned. “I just got you back. I hate having to
let you go.”

            Despite
the fact that it was a massive understatement, I could only agree. I tried to
look at the bright side. “It’s just a couple of weeks. I’ll be knocking on your
door in no time,” I half smiled.

            “Our
door,” he quickly corrected.

            The
corner of my lips tipped up at his immediate response. “Our door.” I agreed
because it sounded a hell of a lot better than the actual circumstances at
hand, which sucked huge. We both knew how difficult a long distance
relationship could be but neither of us was willing to admit that that was the
road on which we were embarking.

Chapter 18

            I
stepped into the Human Resources Department, which was on the second floor of
Norstride’s new home. The brick and mortar building was an architectural gem in
Tremont, which was one of the larger metropolis’ in southern Virginia. When
Julia dropped me at the car rental office that morning she left me with words of
caution.

“Be careful in
that big city. Things are different over there even though it’s only a few
minutes away. And it’s huge…you might get lost,” she warned.

I choked back the
laugh that was threatening to burst from my lips. I guess I should have been
more forceful when inviting Julia to visit me in New York because she had
absolutely no frame of reference. In her defense, Tremont was the biggest city
around but it was still a far cry, size wise, from New York City.

As I parked my
rental car, which could only be described as a piece of shit on wheels, I was
wondering how the New York transplants were fairing in Tremont. Some probably
found the quaint and laid back atmosphere refreshing while others were probably
pulling their hair out of their own heads trying to get a decent bagel.

The relic who
greeted me in the H.R. office looked like she was 105 years old, and that was a
generous assessment on my part.

            “Can
I help you, dear?” she asked sweetly.

            “Hello,”
I answered just as sweetly having been taught from an early age to always
respect my elders. “My name is Delilah Welling. I am…a…um…new employee,” I
stammered, still unable to believe how my life had completely gone off the
rails.

            She
shuffled some papers on her desk and started to make some excuse for the big
pile. “We have a lot of folks coming in. All of them
big
New Yorkers.”

My eyes squinted
in response. Were these New Yorkers she spoke of big in stature or did she
think their egos were big? Though it was difficult to discern, I didn’t really
care to know so I kept quiet.

“Oh my,” she
licked her two shaky fingers and slowly lifted one sheet at a time from the
stack in front of her, which was clearly overwhelming. I knew when she found
what she was looking for because a loud burst of air left her lungs with an
audible humph. She kept her head perfectly still as her eyes traveled up to
meet mine. “Well!” She said with a hint of excitement. “That’s odd,” she sort
of muttered.

            My
eyebrows shot up in response. “What’s odd?” I questioned.

            “Well,
it says here that…well…how do I put this?” she seemed reluctant to share the
information in front of her.

            My
shoulders did a quick shrug in response to her question. I bent my arm at the
elbow, balled up my fist and pumped my arm giving the universal ‘college try’
sign. “Um, I guess just lay it out there,” I suggested with a bit of a chuckle.

            “Well,
Dear, it says here that you’re…um…
fired
,”
she blinked her eyes, which were magnified to an unimaginable size by very
thick lenses, three times in quick concession and offered an uneasy smile. Then
her heavily wrinkled upper lip began to falter and she stood only halfway out
of her chair leaning her hands on her desk to brace while I pondered her words.
She looked like she was preparing to bolt. Unable to hold that position another
minute she straightened to standing in front of her chair. “You know some
people get hostile when they are told they are fired. Do I need to call
security?” she asked bizarrely.

            My
eyes squinted in question. “I beg your pardon?” I was unsure if I heard her
correctly. Not about the need for security but about my walking papers. “How
can I be fired when I just got here?” I questioned instead.

            Under
the misperception that I was getting hostile, granny picked up the phone
threatening to press a button. “Child, I just tell it like it is. Don’t make me
call for Walter. He doesn’t shut up once he gets talkin’,” she drawled her
disquiet at having to dial Walter, the security guard.

My eyebrows
remained pinched together. “Are you sure you are reading that correctly?” I
questioned again. She was old. Very old. “Maybe your Coke bottle glasses need
replacing and your vision is faulty.”

That was the wrong
thing to say.

           
She shook her head and pressed the button as if I had given her no other choice.
“Walter, you better get up here. We have a live one.”

I was guessing I
was the live one.

            I
held my hands up in surrender. “I assure you that I am not a ‘live one.’ I just
don’t understand how I had a job with this company yesterday, they never saw my
performance or lack there of, and today I am fired!” Since my voice hit a
slightly higher octave than it had in the beginning of my sentence, granny was
ready to throw me in a straight jacket. As soon as Walter walked in Granny was
giving him the run down on how I was ornery and irrational.

I rolled my eyes
in response.

            “Listen,
Walter,” I began, “I am just asking a couple of questions. I am not hostile,
ornery or irrational,” I defended. “Now is there someone I can talk to so we
can straighten this out? I moved all the way down here from New York for this
damn job.”

           I
was pretty sure it was the ‘damn’ that did it. Granny and Walter gave each
other a knowing stare and a synchronized nod. Walter, who was sporting a
walkie-talkie on his shoulder, tilted it toward his mouth and pressed a button.
“Marcus?” I heard the ‘psht’ sound from the walkie-talkie but this time it was
the real deal not Logan’s ridiculous role-playing. “You better call for back
up. This one is going to be a problem.”

            I
sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. These people didn’t know what
hostile was. But since ‘back-up’ was already on its way I might as well push
the envelope. “I insist on speaking to Charles Dorn immediately.”

            Granny
picked up the phone in a huff and stabbed at a few numbers on her antiquated
phone system. “Betty? It’s Fern. I have a
big
problem down here. Yep. Unhuh. Mmhm. Exactly,” she added desperately. “Is
Charles in? This one is insisting on speaking to him,” Fern sounded as
exasperated as she looked. “A miss Delilah Welling.” She looked up at the
ceiling and then pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her finger.
“Mmhm. Yup. One of them big New Yorkers. That’s right,” she affirmed.

My eyes rolled
again and I purposefully exhaled as loudly as I could. Then I heard her say
‘thank you’ and she held the phone out to me with a snap. I stared at her a
moment unable to believe how inconsiderate this woman could be.

            I
pressed my lips together and slowly reached out to take the phone from her. I
ran my tongue over my teeth as I brought the phone to my ear. I could hear
light elevator music playing so I knew I was on hold. Then I heard Charles jump
on the line.

            “This
is Charles,” he said quickly.

            “Hello,
Charles,” I cleared my throat as if that would somehow make the call sound more
official. “This is Delilah Welling. I just arrived at the HR Dept and I was
informed that I have already been fired. Clearly this is a mistake,” I added an
uncomfortable giggle. “So I was hoping that you could straighten all this out
because Fern is calling for back up.”

Yes, I was
officially a tattletale. Fern plastered a satisfactory smirk on her face as if
she knew the answer before Charles dropped the hammer.

            I
heard Charles sigh his discontent before he began. “We received a phone call
from someone in the Premiere office outlining your drug and alcohol problem,
Ms. Welling. Since none of this information was revealed prior to accepting
your transfer we are under no legal obligation to hold the position while you
are admitted to a rehab for proper treatment.”

            What?

            “Charles,”
I chuckled trying to communicate the hilarity in his comment, “I can assure
you…”

            “I’m
sorry, Delilah,” Charles interjected. “You seem like a nice girl. Don’t let
this road bump define your life. Get the help you need. And please leave the
premises without incident.” Charles hung up without any further ado.

            “That
bitch!” I screamed, of course referring to Stacey who must have gone even
further to sabotage my career. Holy shit, she was thorough. But all Fern and
Walter knew was that I was officially hostile, irrational and ornery. And it
had to be said that it was true. So much so, that I quickly turned to Walter.

“I sure hope you
called for back up, Walter.” Then I finished my confession on a tear. “Because
you are going to need it!”