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There was a pizza place within walking distance. I turned right and started down the sidewalk. Ava came alongside me and we talked about the schedule for the rest of the day and the next. Since what we had in common was mostly office related, it was easy to stick to work topics. I didn’t feel uncomfortable with her though, or like I was standing on ceremony. In fact, her presence was almost friendly.
We ordered at the counter and grabbed our drinks and sat down. I chose a spot near the window, so we could see people walking by on the street. It was cozy, but somehow also boisterous. There was a baseball game on television and the few screens scattered around the place were all synchronized to the same channel.
Ava made some comment about one of the players, making me realize that she was following the season. It was a nice surprise. For some reason, I didn’t expect her to be that into sports and being proven wrong was an unexpected bonus. I was pretty good at reading people and for someone to exceed my expectations was rare.
My phone beeped while we were talking and I checked it. It was Jill, one of my regular hook ups. I decided to stop putting her off and give her a call later that night. I answered the text to let her know that I was busy, but not ignoring her. She approved with a thumbs up emoji and we left it at that.
Something about being around Ava made me feel a little more amorous than usual. Since Ava was obviously off limits, I would have to find companionship elsewhere. Jill was fun and low maintenance. We had a very casual relationship, bordering on no relationship at all. She just occasionally texted and I occasionally texted her back. We met up when we did and didn’t sweat about it if we failed to connect.
I wished everything in life was that easy. For one traitorous moment, my mind went to how nice it would be to have a similar relationship with Ava. I could take her home with me when I wanted to, and we could have fun together without consequences. We wouldn’t have to mar the office with a sordid affair, but we could let ourselves explore something more than just a professional friendship.
I put a stop to that train of thought as soon as it pulled into the station. There was no way I could occasionally sleep with my secretary and have it not affect the business. If I learned anything from my dad, it was not to date the people I worked with. I needed Ava to be sharp and focused on her job. I needed to keep the workplace drama free for my own sanity as well as the bottom line.
No, Jill was the way to go. I could take her out for drinks and escort her to my place for a night cap. She would leave in the morning and we would each resume our own lives. It was perfect. I just wasn’t sure why I felt so guilty about texting another woman while I was at lunch with Ava. It’s not like we were on a date. This was just work. Wasn’t it?
Chapter 10
Ava
After just two weeks, I was beginning to get my sea legs. I knew where all the rooms were in the building and I had made a few friends. I recognized other secretaries and salespeople by name and was building a reputation as someone who got things done. Everyone was super kind and helpful whenever I was lost. It seemed like one big family, and I was working for the boss.
Mr. Brockman, or Nate as he asked me to call him, was the best employer I ever had, hands down. He was never cross with me, and always appreciative. He went out of his way to thank me every night before I left. I would poke into his office and ask if there was anything I could get for him before I left. He would either ask for a document or tell me he was fine. And before I walked out the door, he would say “thanks.”
I learned that he came into the office early in the morning and worked late at night. He didn’t seem stressed though, just busy. He always had time to go to lunch and to stop and have breakfast when I came in. I began to look forward to our bagels or croissants with coffee, eaten at his desk.
He shared his lunch with me as well, ignoring my complaints. Whenever he ordered delivery, he ordered two of everything so that I could have one. If he had a lunch meeting, he would make sure I was in on the lunch order. I stopped arguing after the first week. I made a pact with myself that I would pay him back every single penny once I got my first check. It was silly. The man was a billionaire, he could afford $7 a day to feed his secretary. But I didn’t see it that way. It was a matter of pride, and I didn’t want to be a freeloader.
That first check was a godsend. I found it on my desk the second Friday. I supposed that HR must have dropped it there before the building opened. I knew what it was the moment I saw it. Nothing else looks exactly like a paycheck.
I tore into it, careful not to rip the check itself. Stunned by the number, I sat down heavily. I knew the salary was impressive, but somehow, it still surprised me. I would have enough from just one paycheck to pay rent on the place I was living at the moment. It was also enough to trade up to another apartment, although not enough to pay first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit. I would still need at least one more check before I could move out on my own.
But with the efficiency apartment mine for the time being, I wasn’t worried. Mariah and the social worker said I could stay for up to six months if I needed to. And I could stay month by month, so that as soon as I was ready to move on, there would be nothing holding me back.
I considered spending some of the money on clothes. I was in desperate need of a wardrobe upgrade. It was becoming embarrassing only having three outfits to cycle through. People were unfailingly polite, but I could tell that some of them were beginning to notice.
I would have to swing by the bank. I wasn’t sure why I got a paper check. I thought that I gave HR all my information for direct deposit. Sending an email, I just had to be sure that all my forms were in. They answered an hour later, telling me that the first and last paychecks were always paper copies. Afterwards, I wouldn’t have to bother with the formality, and the money would be dumped straight into my account.
Throughout the day I kept sneaking peeks at it. It was beautiful, and not only that, but it meant a lot of really good things for me. I could pay Nate back for all the lunches that he bought, and I wouldn’t have to accept charity from him again. I might even be able to buy a cup of coffee for myself before work. That thought alone sent me into a dream state, imagining a steaming cup of fancy coffee with whipped cream and mocha or whatever it was that the glitterati drank.
I could put gas in my car and go grocery shopping. I might even splurge and buy some snack foods. I was so accustomed to eating only what I could scrounge from the office, from the shelter, and from the canned goods left behind by church goers, that I completely missed chips and popcorn. They just weren’t accessible.
Another thought hit me as soon as I opened the door to snack foods. I could buy ice cream. I could sit in my own living room, eating ice cream from a pint with a spoon, watching one of the old DVDs the charity left for me. The thought was almost orgasmic, and I made a date with myself to do just that as soon as the check cleared the bank.
I was ready to buy my own lunch but realized that I needed to deposit the check first before I could spend it. That meant one last meal courtesy of Nate. Or not. I didn’t want to ask him, and I was feeling so good about my impending party of one that I didn’t even need fuel.
My phone beeped, drawing my attention back to the real world. Checking the screen, my heart fell even further. It was from Marcus. He was angry that I was going out with another man. I was taken aback. I didn’t think he cared. It had been more than a month since he kicked me out, and I hadn’t heard a word from him.
He was the one who ended it. What gave him the right to comment on my love life? And when had I ever been out with another man? I tried to reconstruct my steps from the past few days, but the only possibility I could come up with was Nate. We shared lunch a few times, but it was nothing serious. Marcus couldn’t possibly be talking about my boss, could he?
That would mean that he was following me. That was a terrifying thought. How else would he have learned about my lunch dates? Maybe he was just innocently in the area, and had seen me disappear into the pizza place with Nate by my side. But innocent wasn’t exactly the word I would use to describe Marcus. He was more like a tyrant.
I promised Mariah and her domestic violence shelter that Marcus wasn’t dangerous. Suddenly, I was thankful that they made me describe his car. That meant that someone was looking out for me. They had experience with abusive partners who tried to reach out to women living in their apartments. I thought I was different, but maybe I was wrong.
The text scared me and made me wish that he didn’t have my number. I blocked him from texting me again and considered changing my number. I didn’t have that many friends who contacted me that way. It might be worth looking into. I could always update my file with HR, and let Mariah know what I was doing.
For the rest of the day, I couldn’t shake the icky feeling that Marcus was following me. There was so much vitriol loaded into his words, I lost all enthusiasm for my ice cream party. When I looked at my check again, it gave me a shot of adrenaline. It was still every bit as spectacular as it had been that morning, and nothing about it had changed. I was going to be able to pay my own way pretty soon. Marcus would forget about me, and I would forget about him, and we would both move on with our lives.
I struggled at first, but I was on my way back to the top. I couldn’t let my ex get under my skin like that. I was safe at work, and I was safe at home. Whatever Marcus wanted to think or get worked up over was his business. I didn’t have the time or emotional energy to worry about his drama.
