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Did I spot a glimmer of recognition in his eyes? Or was it just the reflection of the light turning from red to green?
He pulled onto the 101, right into bumper-to-bumper late-afternoon traffic.
“We’re going to be here for a while,” I said. “It gets boring talking about the weather when it’s always 75 and sunny. And I don’t follow sports. Tell me what you’re thinking. What was the thing you shouldn’t say?”
He took a deep breath as he eased into the left lane. You could always tell an LA driver from an out-of-towner. We understood how the roads out here worked and the unspoken rules about when we could merge. Non-Angelinos gave too much space to the car in front of them and signaled too long in advance. Those of us accustomed to the roads spoke to each other with the grace of migrating birds, driving in a clean formation allowing us to move as part of the traffic rather than be stuck in it.
“Phantom zone,” he said.
“Whatever you say stays in here.”
“I was thinking women are demanding.”
“Whoa,” I said. This didn’t sound like Wesley at all. “Tell me more.”
“It’s not even a bad thing. Marty can’t make a decision to save his life. Right now, he’s just doing the opposite of what everyone tells him to do because he’s in a fighting mood. But when the two of them were in love, my guess is Rebecca called all the shots and Marty went along with it.
“As well he should have because she’s got a good eye for design and makes good decisions,” Wesley continued. “The renovations they made to the house will pay for themselves twice over when we sell.”
“But she’s demanding,” I said, bringing him back to the first thing he’d said, ensuring he couldn’t weasel his way out of his own words.
“Perhaps a better way to phrase it might be ‘She knows what she likes.’”
“Those weren’t the words you used, though,” I pointed out. “You said demanding. You said, ‘women are demanding.’”
He looked over at me and, wouldn’t you know it, he let out a little chuckle.
“Sue me,” he said. “We’re in the phantom zone. I’m just playing by the rules you set.”
He was right, but I didn’t like it. Because he didn’t actually clarify what he was saying. If he thought women were demanding wouldn’t that mean…
“Do you think I’m demanding?” I asked.
“No, Sloane, I don’t.”
I gave him a once over, as if staring at him long and hard enough could tell me whether or not he was telling the truth. It didn’t work. He was relaxed in the car and not nearly as grumpy as he was in the office. It was as if the freeway was a place of comfort for him. And the look suited him. Dammit. It suited him really well. Even as I thought he was making a subtle comment about me.
Maybe he was backing away from what he truly meant when I called him on it, but in trying to tell if he was lying, he revealed nothing and the only thing I uncovered was how handsome he was. He was telling me he thought women were demanding and I was getting turned on. Not because of what he was saying, but the manner in which he was saying it.
It was infuriating.
“I dragged you out to the house to stand by my side while I told those two off,” I said. “You’re telling me you think I’m demanding.” Yeah, there was an accusatory nature to my words. I wasn’t asking, I was piecing it together like at the end of a Sherlock Holmes story.
But he didn’t respond. At least not right away. It was clear he was thinking, choosing his words carefully. All the while, he remained calm and comfortable. In his own way, I’d even go so far as to say he was acting cool.
“It’s about the context,” he said. “I’m your boss. I’m your advisor. And because of that, I want you to be more demanding. Demanding people go far in business. I’ve got other employees back in the office and if you’re not demanding my attention, someone else is going to get it. And then they’re going to be the one I remember when time comes for promotions.”
We reached our exit, and he pulled off the freeway.
“Rebecca and Marty aren’t co-workers. They were spouses. That’s a relationship that needs to be based on compromise, but it almost never is. Some of the cruelest behavior I’ve ever seen was done out of love.”
“You speak from experience,” I said. “Was there someone in your past?”
Wesley pulled into his parking spot and stopped the car.
I expected a response, but instead, he turned to me and said, “We’re back at the office.” He opened his door and stepped out. “And out of the phantom zone.”
Dammit, I thought to myself as I followed him into the office.
