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Chapter Three - Lillian
5 weeks later
“Why are you staring at that old man?” Chuck’s voice, while it had been momentarily blocked out while I was focusing on the line of people waiting to get coffee, pierces through with his choice of words. I’m doing it again.
“I thought I knew him.” It’s not entirely a lie. I thought he was the one I fucked a few weeks back. I still regret walking out on him. It had been the best sex I have ever had and I’m sure he was double my age, and while it should bother me, it just makes it hotter. He was a real man; he had manners and he put me first and treated me like I was… valuable. He could pour more worth into me with one touch than some guys had in the whole relationship. It is those little realizations that make me kick myself a little harder. I walked out on a man that might have treated me the best over the span of a weekend compared to years' worth of commitment. Or I'm incredibly naïve in thinking something so good could last beyond a weekend. If I hadn’t walked out on him, he probably would have done it to me.
“You’re spacing again. What’s wrong?” Chuck’s genuine concern pushes Charles from my mind. I force all thoughts out of my head so I can focus on my friend who is actually sitting in front of me and needing my help.
“I’m sorry. I’m being so rude. I’m just a little fried I think, probably overworked.” I’m a virtual personal assistant. I manage tasks for twenty-seven professional people every week. I’m definitely overbooked but I can’t turn work away. Especially when I don’t know when the next client will come along.
That might be an irrational fear, however, because it’s not as though I’m not making enough money. I could survive with ten clients. I’m very good at what I do and what I know, since social media and networking is a skill to be learned, which I’ve mastered beyond most people’s lifetime capabilities. My price tag is up there since I not only have all the qualifications but over seven years' worth of experience.
I dreamed that I would be able to work anywhere and with people I liked to help and be my own boss. I did that. I succeeded but now I find myself in a rut. Most people my age are chasing that dream job. Well, now that I have that, I find myself wondering what I am meant to do next. What do I want to do?
“You’re always overworked.” He has a point; however, it’s not as though there is much else for me to do. Why shouldn’t I work?
“Maybe that’s my downfall. Although I still manage to find time to go out drinking with you every weekend.” I probably go out partying too much. “Although I still manage to babysit your butt every weekend.”
“Oh, that reminds me… Can you babysit my butt next weekend at my mom’s Christmas party?” He takes a sip of his black coffee. I smile, looking at the cup. It looks manly, but it has three secret shots of caramel syrup so it’s sweeter than a Southern belle.
“Sure, why not?” I wave to Sylvia, pointing at my cup before raising my hand as a plead. She nods, throwing me the peace sign, indicating two minutes before going back to serving the person at the counter. It’s great knowing the owner of the coffee shop.
“Except, will you go as my date?My mom’s been on my case about bringing a girlfriend. You two haven’t met so she’ll never know.”
This isn’t the first time he has brought up the fixation on his love life. For as long as I have known him, he has never had a long-term girlfriend, but I’ve known him to date plenty. I just assumed he was waiting on the right one. The way he respects women has always been a brick in the foundation of our friendship though.
“I’m sure she is just trying to bring forth you giving her grandchildren.” He is an only child after all.
“I have plenty of time to give her that.” The way he says it makes me think it’s not the first time he has said it and probably won’t be the last.
“Well, regardless of her plots, I’m sure we will have a blast. You’ve said before your mom throws a rocking party. Besides, Christmas parties are the best!” I try to muster enough enthusiasm for both of us, but it doesn’t do anything to lift Chuck’s gloomy gaze.
“Yeah, hopefully it’s fun. Even my dad is coming; he’s flying into town for it.” He throws back the dregs of his coffee. “Surely that alone should make it interesting.” He picks up his briefcase from underneath the table and stands up before I can ask him why. “I’ll text you later then. Thanks, Lilly.”
I watch him disappear out the door to go back to work before turning back to my laptop, knowing I should do the same. It’s a very busy week which means I should try and get ahead of it if I want to have more time off than usual to party this weekend. Luckily, I’ve managed to arrange it that after next week I can take a few weeks off. I don’t like telling clients that they will have to manage on their own, so instead I have pre-scheduled everything so it will just run itself while I’m gone. Which, with such a heavy workload already, hasn’t been an easy feat.
