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He watched me over the top of his glasses. “Humph.Let’s go eat. I’m starving.” He grabbed my hand and led me to the Starbucks on the other side of the lobby.
As we ate, he told me all about Mr. Reed’s complaint and other tidbits of office gossip. I half-listened and gave the necessary “oh really?” and head nods to show that I was engrossed in his stories.
But my mind was busy devising escape strategies. Steven told me to take the time I needed to get a dress, but I didn’t want to overdo it. I didn’t want to give my haters more ammo. Shopping on company time was not professional.
My cell phone rang. I checked the screen. “Hello, Mr. Cox.”
“Yes, hello, Ms. Bloom. I need you to go to the deli two blocks away to pick up my lunch.” His voice was loud enough for Andrew to hear.
“Right away, Mr. Cox.” I jumped up, waved Andrew goodbye, and sprinted away. “Thank God you called. I was trapped.”
“I know.”
“Were you in the lobby?”
“No.”
“So how?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“What? That makes no sense?”
“Go buy your dress, shoes, lipstick, and whatever else you need to give me a yes for tonight’s date.”
The word date bounced around in my mind, like the happy bouncing Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.
“Oh, and Laura.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I love watching you wiggle like that.”
I spun around, scanning the entire lobby. “Where are you?”
“My office.”
I gasped. “Noooo…Are you watching me on the security monitors?”
“No comment. Goodbye.”
Less than one hour later, bags in hand, I walked back into the building’s lobby. Mr. Reed, with his chest puffed out like a bloated peacock, blocked my path to the turnstile.
“Ms. Bloom, may I have a word in private?”
With a forced respectful tone, I said, “I have to get back to my office.”
His lips twisted into a sneer. “This won’t take long.” He turned his phone toward me. On the screen was a picture of me and Steven walking outside at night. He swiped the screen. A picture of me and Steven in his car, probably from Christmas Eve when I went home with him. He swiped the screen again. Another picture slid into view of…
I gasped.
No. This couldn’t be happening. What had I done? Why didn’t I stick to my original plan?
His sadistic, triumphant laugh grated on my nerves. “I wanted you to know that you’re done, you twit. You’ll be out of here before the end of the day.”
Acid burned my throat. My career was over before it even began. I would lose my internship. And rumors would spread throughout Wall Street, ruining my chances of getting another job. I’d fucked up. I’d broken my own rule. My only rule. Focus on my career and now it was over.
He started to turn away.
