Page 3 of Married to Lies

With a frustrated sigh, I got out my favorite pen from my pocket and wrote a response for the first time, right underneath their words so they’d know it was from me.

No more notes. If you want to talk to me, here’s my number. 555-9873

Either it would scare away my secret admirer, or it would get them to do more than leave a note. Either way, I could stop feeling like everyone who gave me so much as a passing glance was potentially my secret admirer. It was enough to give a girl a complex.

My watch vibrated on my wrist, reminding me of my appointment tonight, so I pushed my cart back to the supply room. Cleaning supplies lined one wall, and a row of lockers covered the other. After restocking my cart and docking it toward the back of the room, I took my bag to the changing room and got dressed in more formal clothes, leaving my uniform hanging in my locker.

When I stepped out of the supply room dressed in black slacks, a light-blue chiffon blouse, and wedge heels, I felt like Cinderella going to a ball. No more was I the invisible woman cleaning floors with her hair pinned back. No, I fit right in with all the office workers in my designer clothes.

From the café in the middle of the lobby, Dom, the barista, let out a whistle. “Damn, mama, where are you going? And can I go with you?”

I rolled my eyes at the hopeful musician with tattoos covering his arms and neck. Counting off my fingers, I said, “No stage, no guitars, no mics... wouldn’t be a good fit.”

He smirked at me, brushing back his messy blond hair. “God, you know me so well. Marry me?”

I chuckled and tossed, “That’s not how you propose.”

His smirk made the light catch his eyebrow and nose piercings. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

I shook my head at him, repressing a smile, and went outside. A sleek black town car was waiting for me a couple blocks away from The Tower. Its engine purred, blending in with the sounds of downtown Dallas.

An older gentleman in a suit got out to open my door. “Good day at work?” he asked.

“It was great,” I replied with a smile. “Thanks, George.”

He nodded in response. Once I got in, he closed the door behind me and walked to the driver’s seat. Then he passed me a takeout container and a set of chopsticks. As I opened the flaps, my mouth watered at the smell of fried rice with beef and broccoli. I took a huge hunk of broccoli and stuffed it in my mouth, savoring the soy sauce flavor.

“Forget lunch again?” George asked with a knowing glance at me in the rearview mirror.

I mumbled my admission of guilt, making him shake his head. “You want me to drop off food for you at noon every day?” he offered.

“That would look suspicious,” I reminded him. “I’ll set a notification on my phone.”

He looked unconvinced but turned to focus on driving through downtown traffic as dusk settled over the city.

Eventually, we arrived at an office park with row after row of red buildings accented with cream trim. George let me out of the car and took my container from me.

“Do I have anything in my teeth?” I asked him, flashing my pearly whites.

He pointed at a spot in his front teeth, used to the routine by now.

Maybe broccoli had been a bad idea before a meeting. When I thought it was gone, I bared my teeth again.

“Good,” he said with a friendly wink.

I dipped my head in thanks and started walking backward toward the front door. “Don’t know what I’d do without you,” I called.

“Me neither,” he muttered.

“Heard that!” I yelled before turning to walk forward the rest of the way.

I tugged open the door with Radiant Commercial Cleaning printed on the glass in big white letters. Inside, the young receptionist looked up from her phone with a bored expression. Not even a hello.

I frowned. “I have a five thirty with Conrad.”

“Remember where his office is?”

“I do.”