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Most people come to Miami to be discovered or to be seen. The rest of us come here to hide, overpopulated cities allowing us to blend right in without ever fitting in, which remains a constant struggle for introverts like me.
And as much as I want to stand right now, including stand my ground, the introvert in me eyes that boxy deep chair with unusable armrests the same height as the back and it calls out to me like a three-sided bunker to momentarily retreat from this verbal and emotional onslaught while I regroup.
After all, I’m not trying to make enemies in Miami like my dad did, and wind up six feet under, following in his footsteps.
I keep my head high, even though my tail is tucked between my legs, as I move as confidently as I can to the chair. At this point I’m more concerned with the crack in my armor showing, and that it won’t just show the fear he’s instilled in me, but also the desire. My body was reacting to him the same way my eyes do to food when I enter the ice cream section of the grocery store on an empty stomach after a long day.
His eyes don’t leave me until my backside finds the plush seat of the chair. Apparently not only does his mouth like giving orders left and right, but his heated gaze likes to look one up and down until said orders are fulfilled.
His attention turns to my juvenile Trapper Keeper as he opens it and flips through the loose pages, his face expressionless.
When he comes across one piece I’m especially proud of I take the opportunity to try and humanize an interaction that up to this point feels about as vibrant as a morgue.
“That one—“
“Needs a lot of work,” he interjects, his harsh reply cutting me off so quickly it’s almost as if he could predict what I was about to say.
His hand juts out toward me, alerting me that he’s seen enough while the fingertips of his other hand cascade across the top of his high-polish oak desk in succession, and my mind flashes to an image of those long digits of his wrapping around my neck one by one as he orders me to do things to him I’ve never dreamed of doing to a man.
But his disinterested body language, in both my work and me as a person occupying his precious time and space, which he’s clearly telegraphed is much to valuable for the likes of someone like me, brings me to the point where I have nothing to lose.
“I realize you’ve had a long day in your penthouse office interviewing under-qualified applicants who will clearly leave you unsatisfied in their ability to meet your unachievable expectations or ability to adequately praise you over the course of the sixteen-hour days you will demand of them, despite their lack of trying. Life in the ivory tower clearly isn’t what it used to be I guess, especially for the older generation who hasn’t properly grasped the Internet and inspired trust in their team members, we don’t call them subordinates anymore by the way, allowing them to flourish from home in ways washed up old men like yourself can’t comprehend as you continue holding onto the past. Now, if you’re done harassing me, can you please validate my parking ticket so the nineteen dollar a day sardine can with unlimited mileage car I rented to drive across four states so I could be graced with your angelic presence can at least avoid added insult to this injury you’ve tried to dish out? Despite being jobless and homeless, I actually wouldn’t have minded paying exorbitant parking fees to visit such rarified South Beach air if I would have at least been able a few seconds to take in the view, but all I’ve noticed at this lofty height is that the stench of the smells coming out of the manhole covers back down on the sidewalk where the peasants such as myself wallow in the mud for the occasional truffle, seem more dignified than the condor’s nest you so call home, watching the lesser species below in your attempt to feast on the less-fortunate in the form of lowball wages so you, like so many other blood-thirsty sharks in suits, can continue profiting from the exploration of the world’s true creators and artists.”
A jolt of pride shoots through me, and I mentally pat myself on my back for keeping my Kindle Unlimited subscription paid in full despite facing more than challenging economic uncertainties. This interaction, although brief, was the longest I’ve had with another human since my mom passed, and despite her many shortcomings I will always love her, especially as she’s the one who taught me to read which keeps my mind at least reasonably sharp and my snark locked and loaded for times just like these.
I have no idea where all this strength just came from, but I’m going to get out of here as quickly as I can, before I start second-guessing myself. I stand abruptly, ready to snatch my work from the hands of this tyrant. Like most men in my life, he seems to see me as a walking, talking headache and I’m not about to add punching bag to that list, whether verbal or physical. If this prick was hungry for my pain, well he will just have to keep starving.
My suddenly assured steps beeline me to him and I grab my Trapper Keeper, jerking my hand back toward my body, but the binder doesn’t budge.
“This is how you think you can talk to me?”
This time it’s my eyes that narrow and my lips that press together as I give him a look that lets him know this is over. And I’m not even going to dignify the aggravation he’s caused with a response.
“You’ll regret saying that.”
I already do, as just like that my confidence fades, realizing just how strong of a grip this singular man has over the art world, and any chances of my future employment in it.
A beat passes before he calmly continues. “I believe in authority and obedience, and respect by everyone underneath me. And as a successful businessman, and owner of the company which bears my name, not to mention the very building where you are standing, I demand control.” He pauses. “Sixteen hour days? I’ve logged that many hours by four p.m. most days of the week, including weekends. See, entitled young brats like yourself read an Internet article or two from some self-entitled trust fund kid who's been coddled their entire life and told they were the best at everything, only to come here and find they can’t cut it in the real world. I demand the best, and I lead from the front.”
My mouth falls open, both in awe and in preparation to argue, but I quickly clap it shut, thinking better than to leave it open and allow him the gratification of the verbal judo he just cut me in half with, or to argue.
“And that, little girl, is why your obedience is non-negotiable.”
Little girl?
Those two little words, two seemingly innocuous words that weren’t a title nor exactly a put down for my lack of experience, cause something inside me to stir. A feeling, something I can’t quite put my thumb on yet there’s something in my groin that could sure use a few strokes of my thumb right now in response to the feeling those two words are giving me.
I remain silent, which coincidentally speaks volumes louder than anything I could voice at that moment.
Mr. Steele leans forward, his forehead just inches from mine and the scent of his musky, masculine fury causes me to feel light-headed.
“Young lady, I want you to listen to me,” he begins, as my head tilts down and away but his cat-like reactions are too quick, the calloused tip of his index finger finding my jaw and lifting my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I believe that for some reason unbeknownst to either of us, maybe divine intervention for all I know, you were thrown into my life today. Like you, I’m an artist. I don’t live in a world of science, but in a world of emotions and feelings and despite my apparent lack of displaying either ninety-nine percent of my time on this earth, I am lead by what I feel. And I feel inside me, I know, that I can be the best thing that ever happened to you. But for me to be the best I can be for you, you need to trust me. Always. Can you do that for me?”
In like a lion and out like a lamb. The question is, is this some sort of sudden change of heart to lure me into a trap?
Or was this big game about to be the prized head on my wall?
Regardless of the push-pull happening between us, the change of pace from a bull in a china shop to a caring, dare I say paternal figure I never had, catches me off guard and I can do nothing but nod in reply, despite the fact that we both know I don’t trust him.
