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I swallow. “Yes, sir.”
He nods. “Good. Be here on time tomorrow. Dress like you intend to keep your job. Now, if you’ll excuse me… there’s the door.”
He looks down at his phone andpoof,it’s like I don’t exist anymore.
But I. Am. Pissed.
He doesn’t know what I’m going through. He doesn’t know Ben is snoring and farting in my living room, or that three little kids are waiting on me to pick them up from after-school care. He doesn’t know that I buried my sister or that I’m barely keeping my head above water. He doesn’t knowanything.
“No.” I blurt it before I can think better of it. “No.No.I’m not some little worm under your shoe,Mr. Oryolov.I’m a—I mean, fuck you, I’m a person! I have a life and hobbies and people who depend on me. I’m real! So I’d appreciate it very much if you’d pull your smug head out of your smug asshole and treat me with some damn respect for once.”
Ruslan blinks.
Blinks.
Blinks.
“Is there something else, Ms. Carson?”
That’s when I realize that my whole little tirade took place entirely in my head. It wasn’t real. All imagined. Just a pleasant little detour to a fantasy land where I give him my two cents and then some.
I swallow past the nasty taste in my throat and stand. “No, sir,” I say quietly. “Nothing at all.”
3
EMMA
“I’m gonna piss on his car.”
Phoebe, my BFF, bursts out laughing on the phone. “You’re gonnawhat?Em, I love you to bits, but you wouldn’t even remind the bodega guy that you asked for no mustard on your sandwich last weekend. I don’t think you have a rebellious bone in your body. You certainly don’t have a ‘pee-on-your-boss’s-car’ bone in your body.”
I sigh. She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right. “It’s bullshit that Sienna got all the rebellious genes,” I mutter. “My whole DNA is wired to be compliant. Even the thought of talking back to him gives me hives.”
“Aw, babe, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a firecracker when you wanna be. You’re just sucking it up with Prince Douche Bag because you need this job to keep the kiddos in a good place. Food on the table, roof over their heads, all that. You’re a martyr, seriously. They should make statues of you.”
I snort and get off the train at my stop. “I’m good without that, thanks. I don’t need statues of me. I’d just like to not be treated like I’m a second-class citizen at my place of employment.”
“Well, if wishes were fishes, we’d all have something to eat,” Phoebe says sagely.
“The hell does that mean?”
I can hear the shrug in her voice. “Beats me. Something my mom used to say. People from Oklahoma are weird; what can I tell ya?”
Phoebe’s whole family is Dust Bowl-born and bred. She grew up outside of New York, right across the street from Sienna and me, but she inherited the accent and generations’ worth of nonsensical folk wisdom.
“Seems like a pretty reasonable wish, though. It’s just insane for him to tell me I’m not dedicated to his job. I’m there from dawn ‘til dusk every freaking day. I dream in spreadsheets—did you know that? I literally have dreams about Ruslan’s stupid color-coordinated calendar and to-do lists. Even when I’m sleeping, I’m working. It’s insane.”
“Preaching to the choir, baby girl. But go on; don’t let me stop you.”
People are looking at me funny as I mount the stairs from the subway station and climb back up to street level, but I don’t care. All the things I wish I could tell Ruslan are pouring like word vomit from my lips.
“He’s just so freaking smug! Where does he get off on that? Like, do you think he just goes home and looks in the mirror to cackle and twist his mustache like some evil comic book villain? Like, ‘Muahaha, another successful day of ruining my secretary’s life. Well done, Ruslan, well done indeed.’”
“He has a mustache?”
“Pheebs. Focus.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that I had a very specific mental picture of him, you know? Tall, dark, that sexy, suggestive sort of smile that’s like sayingYou wanna get outta here?without actually saying it… Six-pack abs, forearm veins—oh God, I do love some sexy forearm veins—and like, maybe a hot tattoo somewhere, but in a place where you gotta undress a little bit to see it so it’s sorta like—”
