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Chapter One
Her
“I’m sorry I can’t help you this time.” I check my watch. I’m going to miss the bus. My car battery has been dead for a week, and my dad hasn’t been able to stop by to give me a jump.
“But, Bellamy, I don’t have anyone else to ask,” Shelley whines through my earpiece.
“It’s so last minute, Shell. I have plans.” My plans consist of a bowl of popcorn and a movie, but my friend doesn’t need to know that.
“Since when?” she scoffs. “The last time you went out on a date was with Greg and me…” She trails off, remembering too late that my first date with Greg happened to be the last because Shell showed up, batted her eyelashes, and Greg ended up calling her the next day instead of me. “Anyway, never mind about that. Can’t you move your plans? Just this once?”
“No.” I race toward the front door of the café.
“What?”
My abrupt response surprises both of us. In the past, I’d do anything she asked. I guess I’ve grown tired of that. “I said no.”
“Is this because I couldn’t meet you for dinner the other night?”
I stop in the middle of opening the door. The other night happened to be my twenty-eighth birthday. My parents had forgotten and scheduled a vacation—separately, of course. They haven’t been in the same room together for the last fifteen years. I didn’t have many friends, other than Shelley, which is why I let her use and abuse me for so many years. “Couldn’t meet? How about standing me?”
“I called,” she says.
“Forty minutes after our reservation.” I’d sat there alone, enduring pitying glances from the waiter.
“It’s just a dinner,” Shelley protests feebly.
“It’s not about the dinner.” It wasn’t just missing that one event that angered me. It was all the times she stood me up to go hang out with her cooler friends or some guy. It was all the times she called asking for some ridiculous favor like baking a pie so she could pretend that she was a great cook or having me pick up donuts at five in the morning to schmooze some client she wanted desperately to land.
“Then what is it?” she asks impatiently.
Her obtuseness is frustrating. I was there for her in all those times, but she couldn’t come to celebrate my birthday with me? An event she knew about for weeks? She even booked us at Flavors, a restaurant whose prices are too high for my impoverished state. Yet, I went anyway, even though I knew it meant eating ramen noodles for the rest of the month.
“I’m busy,” I repeat. I pull open the door and search for my mother.
“If you don’t do this for me, then I don’t see how we can remain friends,” she snaps.
Mom raises an imperious hand in my direction. I can tell by the stiffness in her frame she’s pissed. My shoulders slump. “You called me this morning to ask me to drive two hours to deliver a report that you should’ve delivered two days ago. Even if I wasn’t busy, it’s a really big chore you’ve asked me to do.”
“God, Bellamy. You’re so dramatic. We both know you have no love life and that the only thing you’re going to do tonight is sit on your butt and watch a movie by yourself. At least this way, you’ll get out of the house and get a little exercise. You need it. Come on. Be a real friend.”
Did she just say I was fat and needed to work out? “If you were a real friend to me, you wouldn’t steal my boyfriends, tell me I’m fat, and call me to ask me to do a last-minute favor.”
“Fine,” she snaps. “Don’t call me again, then. You’re no friend of mine.”
She hangs up. I look down at my phone in shock and then give myself a mental head slap for not seeing that coming. Shell and I have grown apart—if we were ever true friends in the first place.
“Sorry I’m late,” I tell my mom as I slide into the seat across from her.
“You were born late. I was in labor for twenty-six hours before you decided to make an appearance.” Mom closes her eyes as she engages in her favorite pastime—reliving all the pain I’ve caused her in my twenty-eight years.
“Sorry about that,” I say. I never really know how to react to her.
“Well, at least you’re finally here, and you look appropriate.”
I glance down at my white blouse and black skirt. Mom said that she wanted to see what I was wearing to interviews since I’d been having a hard time finding a new job. “I have my best undies on.”
She grimaces. “I don’t need to hear that vulgar talk. I went ahead and ordered since I knew you would be late. Ah, here it is.”
The waitress sets down two bowls of oatmeal. I gag slightly at the smell.
“You’re looking a little heavy, so I ordered you oatmeal. It’s good and filling. You should be able to skip lunch and have only a light supper. I’d recommend chicken, unseasoned, by the looks of your waistline.”
Self-consciously, I draw a hand across my stomach. “Um, thanks.”
What’s really going to happen is that I’m going to end up being so hungry after not eating my oatmeal that I’ll end up at the vending machine in two hours. And unseasoned chicken? I’d rather be fat than eat that shit.
Mom nods grandly and then slides a slip of paper across the table.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a job, dear.”
I perk up. I need a job. Desperately. “It is?” I stop pretending to eat my oatmeal and snatch up the paper.
“Yes, I met this nice couple at a dinner the other day. We got to chatting, and I ended up telling them about how you can’t hold down a job. They both work at this company and suggested you come by for an interview.”
I unfold the heavy linen paper. “BMI Enterprises” is stamped in gold along the top. I scan the body of the letter which welcomes me to the family of BMI Enterprises as an administrative assistant to Mr. Garrett starting at a salary of—
My eyes bulge over the number. I drop the paper. “I’m already hired? And at this salary?”
She gives me another imperious nod. “I couldn’t believe it myself and suggested that you weren’t at all qualified for the job, but they were insistent that you’d fit the position perfectly.”
“Since when does an admin assistant make six fig
ures?”
“Since she works for BMI,” a new voice announces.
Dropping the letter, I twist in my chair to see Dad behind me. His usually stern face is lit up with a smile. He pats me on the head and leans down to give Mom a peck before taking a seat at the table.
Confused, I rub the back of my finger across my forehead. This is all pretty unusual. Mom and Dad hate each other. The last time we all had a meal together was…I can’t even remember a time.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
“I’m here to drive you to your new job. Didn’t you say that you had a dead battery?” He reaches out and tweaks my cheek. “You look nice today.”
“When I called you last week for a ride to an interview, you told me that you weren’t my chauffeur service.” I’m so confused. “Is this April Fool’s Day? Am I being punked?” I swivel in my chair, looking for a camera or something to explain this very strange behavior.
“Your mom and I are excited about your new job.”
“Hopefully, you’ll be able to hang on to this position. You’re so flighty, you know,” Mom says.
“That’s your fault,” Dad snaps. “If you hadn’t let her believe all that shit about fairies, she would’ve been able to pay her own bills instead of asking us for help.”
“I called for a jump this morning. Not for a new car.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“What you should be doing is saving up to support your parents. That’s how they do it in other cultures.”
“Why should she support you?” Mom shoots a disdainful look in Dad’s direction. “You’ve done nothing for her since you walked out.”
“I had to leave for my own sanity,” he declares. “If I’d stayed one more minute with you, I’d have killed myself.”
“And the world would’ve been a better place.”
And here I thought the oatmeal was going to be the most unappealing part of breakfast. I stop pretending to eat and grab my glass of water. Is it too early to start drinking?
“It’s time to go,” Mom says. She stands up, adjusting the strap of her purse. “You pay the bill.”
“Me?” I have to pay for a breakfast I didn’t want? Sighing, I reach for my wallet. “Can one of you drive me to the bus stop. It’s about five minutes away.”
Mom reaches across the table and slaps the wallet out of my hands. “No, your father will pay.”
“I’m not paying for it,” he protests and shoves the folio back at her. “I didn’t eat anything.”
“You have money now. You pay it.” She pushes it toward him.
“You have money, too.”
My head swings back and forth until I start to get a neck ache. “I’m going to walk to the bus stop.”
Dad jumps to his feet. “No. Your mother and I are supposed to drive you to your new job.”
“My new job starts today?” I ask.
“Yes. You have to be there at ten.”
I watch in astonishment as he throws two twenties down on the table. He grabs Mom’s arm and marches out. I follow like a confused duckling.
Out front, the lights on a gleaming black Mercedes flick on. Dad stops in front of it and throws open the passenger door. “Get in,” he says.
“Is this…your car?” I scan the street for Dad’s old ’Vette, the one he bought that impresses no one but himself. All I see are a couple of black Suburbans pulling out of their parking spaces.
“Sure is. Sweet, isn’t it?” He pats the roof.
My eyes narrow. This can’t be right. He’s broke. “Did you win the lottery?”
“Something like that.”
I start to ask if I can borrow money for the new battery when the revving of an engine catches my attention. I turn and see the black Suburbans idling right behind each other, as if they’re waiting for us to leave, which doesn’t make sense because they just left their parking spots. Is there a celebrity inside the restaurant? I twist to look, but before I can spot anyone familiar, Dad shoves me forward into the passenger seat.
“I was going to sit there,” Mom objects.
“Well, you didn’t move fast enough. Do you want the bonus or not?” He slams the door in my face.
The bonus? What bonus?
“Get the cuffs!”
“No, the collar!”
There’s a thud and a growl behind the thick mahogany door. Make that several growls, in fact.
On the drive to BMI I kept asking questions about the job and the company, but both parents were annoyingly vague until Dad finally snapped at me to be quiet and turned on the radio loud. Dammit, what was going on? I hadn’t even heard of BMI until this morning, and now they’re going to pay me six figures to do exactly what? My mind whirled with crazy possibilities.
Mom and Dad dropped me off in front of this boring industrial complex. The entire thing was ringed by barbed wire, and there was an actual gatehouse. I felt like I’d been ushered into a military complex. Inside the bland concrete building, though, were beautiful tile floors and acres of dark wood. There were plants and skylights everywhere.
The place smelled good, too. Like a forest.
Dad left me at the front desk, and a thickly built man wearing a dark suit brought me up to the fourth floor and left me in this office.
The receptionist told me to take a seat and that Mr. Garrett would be right with me. That was thirty minutes ago. The thumping, growling, and yelling didn’t start up until the last ten. I need a paycheck, but do I really want to work for someone who has cuffs and collars in his office? Dread has my gut churning away. Are they filming some kind of BDSM porn flick in there? It doesn’t look like a studio, but what do I know? It’s not like I’ve ever been on a film set before. I do a mental review of my bank balance. Currently at zero. My credit card balance, however, is not at zero.
I get up. “I…do you have a bathroom?” I ask the secretary seated behind a massive granite and wood desk.
“No.”
“No?” I ask incredulously. How can there be no bathroom? Isn’t that some kind of health-code violation. I peer around but see nothing but a paneled wall in either direction.
“Mr. Garrett will be out in a moment.”
“Is that…” I point to the door to the right of the secretary. “Is that Mr. Garrett’s office?”
“Yes, it is.” She gives me a bright smile, completely unfazed by the pounding, yelling, and commotion happening behind her.
But maybe that’s why she’s leaving this job. Maybe this Garrett person is this terrible boss and he goes through admins like water through a sieve and he has to pay an obscene amount of money in order to get someone to stay.
“What job are you taking, if you don’t mind me asking?” I direct to the secretary. I wish she had a nameplate or something.
“Why would I be taking a new job?”
Oh, crap. This is awkward. Does she not know I’ve been hired to replace her? I suck in my lower lip and drop back into my seat. This lady seems nice, and she apparently doesn’t care about all the yelling behind her, whereas that would bother the shit out of me. I like to think of myself as a strong person, but getting yelled at is my kryptonite.
“The door. Open the door! Open the door!” some unknown voice yells.
There’s another loud sound, like a heavy object crashing to the floor. The wall shudders.
This is my cue to leave. Actually, my cue to leave was when the shouting started, but the security guard who walked me up here stayed outside the door and was immediately joined by another well-built, black-suited man. Both of them glare at me every time I so much as look at the exit.
I make a show of checking my watch. “Oh, look at the time. If Mr. Garrett can’t see me today, I’d be happy to come back.”
“Please remain seated,” the receptionist replies calmly, not blinking an eyelash at the weird shenanigans going on in the office behind her. Is she a robot? She does have a perfect face and perfect skin, and this is a weird place what with the long, high fencing a
nd the gatehouse and the silent guards.
“I think I’m going to go now.” I get up from the chair, but I don’t take a step toward the door before the two men that were outside file in, taking up a guard-like position on either side of the exit.
This…this is not usual. I flip my phone over and try to furtively pull up the phone app.
Could I call 911?
What’s your emergency?
Two men in dark suits are staring ominously at me, and the secretary—
A secretary?
Yes, see, I’m in an office and—
Okay, that’s clearly not going to work.
I eye the burly guards again before turning back to the secretary. “I’m not sure I’m right for this job. I barely know how to type. I have a terrible memory. And I have a terrible time with obeying orders. I was fired from my last job because I was rude to a customer.”
The secretary barely blinks. “That won’t be a problem.”
“How do you know?” I ask incredulously. “You haven’t even seen my résumé.”
“I’ve seen all I need to.” And with that cryptic answer, she taps the headpiece in her ear. “This is BMI, how can I help you?”
Frustrated that my talk with the secretary goes nowhere, I turn to the goons because, until they leave, I doubt I’m getting out of here. I don’t know why I know that. I just do.
“Didn’t you hear? I’m getting the job no matter how terrible I am at it. You might as well go.” I make a shooing motion.
The two men look toward the door, then the secretary, then back at me. The one on the right gives me a huge smile.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s going to love you,” he says.
“What?” He’s going to love me?
The man opposite him growls. “Shut the fuck up, Mike.”
