The Other C-Word (13 page)

“How could you? It’s not your fault at all,” Stevie said, clutching my hand tightly.

I shook my head vehemently. “No, you have the wrong idea—I know it’s not my fault. I feel guilty because I think you all feel guilty, but it’s not your fault either.”

I broke down in tears. This time they were crying with me, followed with sniffling words of encouragement and love.

I was luckier than many others who had gone through what I had. I had a wonderful family that loved me. What more could I need?

Chapter Five

As with the other intense moments we’d shared, Rick and I never spoke about the elevator escapade. He complimented me on my work, but held back on anything else. Although I noticed his eyes still leisurely rolled over my body when he thought I wasn’t looking. I felt comfortable with him again, which was strange, considering our history.

On the following Friday, we had a visitor on our little island office. Rick’s girlfriend, Amanda, stormed in as if she owned the place. She was even more gorgeous in person with stylish, short brown hair and icy blue eyes. Her skin let off a cool, pale glow like it was made of porcelain. Rick hugged her and gave her a peck on the cheek. I turned away, but not before she’d grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a long, sensual kiss. They used tongues—I didn’t look, but I doubted a kiss could last that long without any tongues being involved. A million tiny daggers pierced my heart. It felt a hundred times worse than when Kathy had flirted with him.

Rick told Amanda he had to finish some work, and she could come into his office to wait. She insisted on waiting in the reception area with me. Rick seemed uncomfortable with the idea, but his phone rang so he left us. I fidgeted horribly as she took the seat in front of my desk, not hiding the fact she was surveying me closely.

“Is my boyfriend a good boss?” she asked, breaking through the heavy silence with her piercingly, high-pitched voice. I looked up from the spreadsheet I was working on—I couldn’t focus on it anyway.

I smiled at her reassuringly. After all, I had nothing to feel guilty about. Rick and I had never done anything. We’d barely even touched, so there was no reason to be uncomfortable, yet I was. At least she had no idea how I fantasised about him at night. It was possibly a sin, but definitely not a crime. “Yes, he’s very fair.” I had thought of saying sweet, but it conveyed something more personal than I wanted to share with her.

“He’s a great guy. He makes people feel like they are important. Sometimes it’s easy to forget why he does that.”

My curiosity was piqued. She wanted me to ask the question, so I did. “What do you mean?”

“It’s part of his job. He’s the caped crusader, right? He comes in, saves miserable places like this one and then moves on. Often, the people he leaves get the wrong idea. They think they are important to him, but it’s just part of a perception, really. You see what I mean, don’t you?”

I saw loud and clear. Amanda’s statements were aimed like a series of grenades, blurring my vision with smouldering doubt. She was forceful in her strikes. She wanted to put me on notice, but maybe what she said was true, too. Suddenly, all the little gestures seemed less meaningful. Maybe Rick would walk anyone down to their car if they worked late for him. Maybe he wouldn’t want anyone to get on the back of a motorcycle without a helmet. Maybe he had a case of flirtatious. I decided right then and there that I was going to get laid tonight, and not by my vibrator.

Rick came out with his suit jacket on, and stared uneasily between the two of us. I knew he was questioning what possible exchange we could have had that left Amanda smiling with smug satisfaction while I was struggling to smile at all.

“Ready to go?” he asked Amanda tentatively.

“Yes, darling, we’re going to Macah’s, right?” Ugh, she called him ‘darling’. I tried not to cringe.
 

Rick sheepishly ran his hands through his hair. “Sorry, Amanda, I was totally busy today and forgot to make the reservations.”

“What!” Her sudden snap made me wince. “I told you that is the
only
place I wanted to eat in
Chicago
. I told all my friends you were taking me there.”

I knew why she wanted to go. It was the hottest new restaurant in
Chicago
. It was the kind of place she wanted to brag about on Monday to her colleagues, not because of the food, but because of the exclusivity and price.

“We’ll go somewhere else,” Rick suggested. It was obvious Demanda’s—my new nickname for her—temper tantrum was not having any effect on him.

Her perfectly glossed lower lip quivered.
Is she actually going to cry because of this?

“I don’t understand, if you were busy, why didn’t you ask
her
to make the reservation for us?” Demanda shrieked, pointing to me. Her cool demeanour was gone.

“Amanda, that’s not Marley’s job,” he spoke to her with patience, like an adult talking to a small child.

“She’s your assistant. Her job should be assisting you, doing whatever the fuck you tell her to do, whether that’s picking up your dry cleaning, or having flowers ready for your girlfriend, who flew all the way from New York to see you, or making a God damn reservation, so we’re not eating at some bar and grill tonight.”

I felt like I should have left the room, but my ass was pasted to my chair.

“It’s not her job to do any of those things, and if you don’t want to go to some other restaurant perhaps I can just drive you back to the airport?”

Actually, if Rick had asked, I would have done it. I’d done things like that for Bellman all the time, but Rick had never asked me to do anything personal for him.

Demanda immediately softened her expression and clasped his arm. This was too much drama, even for me. I cleared my throat and they both gaped at me. “I can get you a reservation for Macah’s tonight. I know the maître d’.” He was a man my mother had dated for a short period—one who still crushed on her, and I knew he would do me the favour if only to get into my mother’s good graces.

“You don’t have to do that, Marley. We’ll be fine.”

“Why not, Rick? If she’s offering, let her do it.” Demanda turned to me, putting on the smug smile again. “It’s very sweet. Rick and I are very pleased, Marley.”
Pleased? Oh puh-leese!
She’d said it as if I worked for both of them, and I didn’t appreciate the insinuation, but at least she’d stopped with the tantrum. Amanda was a complete spoilt princess.

“It’s no problem, Rick. I would never dream of ruining your evening. I hope you have a very good time tonight,” I replied, staring straight at him. He swallowed, adjusting his tie nervously. It was clear he understood the hidden meaning of my reminder of how he’d ruined my evening at RJ’s.

“Thank you, Marley. I appreciate it.” He smiled, but it was a half-smile, almost apologetic.

I called to get them the reservation while Demanda made a grand exhibition of PDA for my viewing displeasure. Rick actually pushed her aside from him uncomfortably, and I looked away quickly, concentrating on a loose thread of my sweater.

“You’re in for seven tonight,” I replied, trying to sound cheerful.

Rick approached my desk. Unfortunately, Demanda followed him. “Thank you, Marley. It was very kind of you. Are you leaving now?”

“In a little while. I just need to finish up the last batch of graphs for you.”

“They can wait until Monday,” he said gently.

“It won’t take long,” I responded, keeping my eyes glued to my monitor. I could feel Demanda’s penetrating stare without witnessing it first-hand. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

“Please, Marley, leave by five tonight. I mean it.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced, so they would go.

“Come on, Rick, we can’t stay here all night. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” This time I did glance at Demanda. She greeted me with an icy scowl, but I maintained my tight smile.

“Yes, I sure am,” I agreed. They finally left and I was all alone, dealing with a cacophony of conflicting contemplations brought forth by the girlfriend grenade.

I received a text from Rick a few hours later when I’d got home. It took me a second to remember how he had my cell number.

thank you and I’m sorry.

Sorry for what? Did he think I was pining away for him? Was he sorry about ruining my evening at the bar? Or was he sorry his girlfriend was such a bitch? I thought of texting back some sarcastic comment, but decided against it.

Unfortunately, I ended up enjoying the weekend with my vibrator again. I was done with Doug. Brian, my number two, had entered into a serious relationship. I was happy for him, but I felt dejected anyway. Keith, my number three, was too much work…on my part. I didn’t feel like working so hard for such an unsatisfactory reward. It was like they say—if you want a job done right, do it yourself, so that’s what I did.

* * * *

On Monday, I had to fiddle with the shelves in Rick’s office. He’d requested catalogues from some of our competitors, and I was placing them in order. I realised about ten minutes into my work that he was staring at me, and not attempting to hide it. It was strange, since I looked quite boyish today. My hair was in a ponytail, and I had on a pair of kakis and a V-neck sweater.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I finally asked him.

He grinned. “Why not?”

I grinned back—I couldn’t help it. Rick had the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. It was contagious.

“How was dinner on Friday?” I asked, stepping down from the stool I was using. It hit me just then what was missing from his desk. It was absent of the gaudy, silver frame.

He shrugged. “It was…lacklustre.”

I knitted my eyebrows together. “You didn’t like the food?” The food at Macah’s had been described as heaven on a plate, so his response surprised me.

“The food was amazing. The company was lacklustre.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk about your girlfriend, Rick,” I replied, turning away, so he wouldn’t see the smirk I had plastered on my face.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore, and are you seriously smiling right now?”

Although he’d asked the question playfully, it took me off-guard and my shoulders stiffened. He must have seen the peripheral of my face when I turned. “I’m not smiling.” My voice even sounded jovial, like I was perma-grinned—and I was.
Crap!

“That’s not nice, Marley. What if I told you I was in a great deal of pain from the break up, and I’d had hopes our relationship would develop into a strong union?”

I put my head down, keeping my hands busy by sorting a new pile of catalogues. “I would say I’m very sorry then.”

He chuckled. “Just kidding! I realised she was insipid, vicious and vain. I’m happy it’s over. Now what do you say?”

I turned to him, toning down my smile so I didn’t look like a scary clown. “I would say I’m glad you realised that because I think you deserve better.”

He straightened in his chair, moving forward. “Is that so, Marley?” He rested his chin on his steepled fingers as his wicked eyes grazed over me. The corners of his mouth curled, revealing the dimple that I had sorely missed.

It occurred to me how my statement must have sounded to him. I shook my head. “I didn’t mean me, Rick.”

His smile didn’t deflate. “I know that. A relationship between us would be very difficult.”

I swallowed, knowing I’d have to satisfy the aching curiosity his statement created. I asked the most obvious question, but I didn’t think it was the right one. “Because you’re my boss?”

His smile didn’t falter, but his gaze intensified. Although I was several feet away, I felt like he was right next to me. “No, Marley, not because of that. A relationship between us would be…controlling, consuming, complicated.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” I replied haughtily. His words made me wonder whether he thought I was weak or insecure, like Amanda.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he responded, turning his attention back to his computer monitor.

I took a step back, absorbing the weight of his words. “Well I guess that’s better than the other C-word I hate so much.”