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I’m in Emma’s apartment sipping emergency Pinot Grigio and watching her unpack four new lamps she bought online. A few of Emma’s friends are making a surprisingly good living by styling their minuscule New York City apartments and posting about it on Instagram. So Emma is making a somewhat half-assed attempt to do the same thing. I’m not sure her heart is completely in it though. “Damn it. Do you think these clash? They’re all different colors. Why didn’t I think of that when I was buying them?”
“It’s eclectic. I think it works.” I take another sip of wine. But then I set my glass on the table, wiping my tears. Wine isn’t going to help me right now. I didn’t allow myself to cry in front of Ace but I started bawling like a baby as soon as I got to Emma’s door. And I’m not usually a cryer. The avalanche of emotions wanted out and now that it’s over, I feel the tiniest bit better for it.
Emma looks up from her mountain of bubble wrap. “What did you say to him when he fired you?”
“I grabbed my backpack, told him I’d have the apartment cleaned out by the end of the week and walked out.”
“Did he follow you?”
“Like a caveman dragging his knuckles, all the way down the stairs—I didn’t think we should be trapped in an elevator together—demanding I listen to him and trying to grovel and talk me out of it. He even threatened the cab driver but I told him he was acting like a psycho and that he had to let me go. I finally managed to jump into the cab and I came straight over here.”
“I still can’t believe you left him.”
I can’t either.
“I still can’t believe he fired you.”
“To tell you the truth, I was kind of expecting it to happen sooner or later. I was skating on thin ice the whole time. I knew that the minute I saw him sitting there in his executive office.”
Emma gives me a sympathetic look. “It was probably a knee-jerk reaction. Him firing you, I mean. What had you been talking about when he did it?”
“I said if it was between him and the job, I’d choose the job.”
“You did?”
I nod, feeling kind of bad about it now. “And now I have neither.”
“Poor Cash. That’s harsh.”
I know. I wish I hadn’t said it.
“No wonder he was mad,” she says. “He was probably just hurt.”
I take another sip of wine, wishing it would help me rewind time. “I feel so terrible. But it can’t really work, Em, can it? I can’t have him as my boss and still be having sex with him 24/7. I’d be trying to rise above the rumors but would always feel like everything I do at work is being undermined. Every achievement would always be eclipsed by the fact that I’m screwing the boss.”
Emma contemplates me for a few seconds. “You know what your problem is?”
“What’s my problem?”
“You care too much about what other people think. Who cares if they have the wrong impression?”
“That’s what he said too.” My phone vibrates again from inside my backpack, which is sitting over by the door. I’m avoiding him, which is probably wildly immature but I told him I needed some headspace to work through all this stuff and it’s true.
“You don’t have to try to rise above the rumors, Dust. Just rise above them! Swan past them. You know what the real story is, that’s all that really matters.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I rub my sore, tired eyes.
“Of course I’m right. Still, I know it’s easier said than done.”
“I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re just finally getting laid properly by a prime hunk of alpha man meat and it’s thrown you a little. Your emotions are on overdrive. It’s understandable.”
I smile weakly. “I guess so. Anyway, maybe we’re just too different. He’s the king of New York and I’m…not.”
“You’re a badass Texan power chick, Dusty Rose. You’ll figure it out. Either you’ll find your way back to him or you’ll find a new job and I’ll introduce you to all the suits I know for some great rebound sex.”
“I don’t want rebound sex.”
