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EIGHT
Carter
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Isit in my house,watching the NBA finals and drinking a Silver beer, but I’m too distracted to pay attention past an exciting turnover or a three-point basket. I glance at the clock: 6:32 p.m. I turn my cell phone around in my hand, debating on making the call.
Yes, of course, I’m going to hire Taryn.
Yes, I’m going to make her wait a few days.
But I want to talk to her now. I can’t get her out of my head. She looked the same, but different. First off, her tits were bigger—much bigger. She’d only been twenty-one when I saw her last. That’s not true, I saw her when I’d stalked her mom’s funeral but she’d been in a long, heavy wool peacoat. I couldn’t see anything about her body and frankly, it hadn’t been what I was looking at anyway. I was too damn sad to think about sex or her body. I was aching inside to go to her, to comfort her. But I hadn’t.
She didn’t look like she’d put on weight in all these years, just her boobs. I was dying to see what they looked like. I had to force myself to keep my eyes on her face the entire interview. Lisa was watching. She knew what a perv I could be. I’d gotten involved with my last secretary, Amie, and that hadn’t ended well. I was ten thousand dollars poorer after paying her off to not file a sexual harassment suit against me after we “broke up.” The relationship had been completely consensual, and we shared some damn hot nights together, but when she decided to move on and date someone else, I told her it was probably in her best interest to find another job, too. She accused me of firing her for not wanting to sleep with me (anymore), and I told her she was being ridiculous. Regardless, a few people in the office had sort of caught on to our relationship and Amie had threatened to go public if I didn’t give her a very large “severance” package.
Since then, Lisa is always very cautious about who I interview and hire. I knew once she saw Taryn, her radar would go off. So I insisted she be in on the interview herself, not send her HR assistant.
If I hire Taryn—she is more than qualified—it will be a very slippery slope. There’s no way they can know we have a past, that we’d slept together, and that I’ve known her since we were kids. It has to stay platonic.
Still, the look she’d given me when I told her it was nice meeting her was unmistakable. The incredulousness in her eyes flashed quickly before she put her professional mask back in place. I feel like I should explain.
Maybe leave out the part about Amie.
I find her contact in my phone. My finger hovers over the green icon, and I hit it before I lose my nerve.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Hi. It’s Carter.”
A pause.
“Oh, hi. How are you?”
She’s being professional. She really wants this job.
“Are you busy?” I ask.
“No, just cleaning the kitchen. I lead an exciting life, you know.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like it. Do you wanna meet for drinks?”
Another long, uncomfortable pause.
“Does me getting the job hinge on me having drinks with you?”
