by Ella Goode
Jay cringes. “How do your parents feel about the two of you hanging out?”
I look to Avery, waiting for her answer.
“My parents are hot and cold. They have been off and on more times than I can count, but they always end up back together, so Mom knows about Dove. She just doesn't mention her, so I kind of do the same. I don’t want to rub it in her face.” I nod in understanding. I get it. I really do, but on some level it still makes me feel like a dirty secret.
I know Avery is doing the best she can with the situation, and I love her for that. I don’t know what I would have done without her when my mom passed away. She’d been my rock. Jay continues to stare at me, and I feel like he can see into me and knows everything I’m thinking.
“Anyone want more wine?” I ask, changing the subject. I try to always avoid it when I can. Avery has this dream in her head that one day we’ll all be a giant family. I top everyone off, including myself. Thankfully, the conversation falls into small talk about Jay doing some work on his place and hoping to have it done soon. That way we can have dinner over there sometime soon.
“Let’s watch a movie.” Avery pops up from the floor, grabbing the remote before I can agree or disagree. It’s getting late, and I have to be up early. Then again, I was enjoying having Jay here.
Jay picks up the food for us while Avery finds a movie for us to watch. I get up, sitting on the sofa. Jay comes back over, sitting right next to me. He’s so close that his leg is pressed up against mine.
“Oh, shoot. I forgot I have a paper I need to finish. Rain check?” she asks, picking up her purse.
“You’re leaving?” I stand. I’m going to murder her.
“Yeah, you two enjoy the movie. Call me tomorrow.” She gives me a hug like I don’t know what she’s up to.
I watch the door fall closed behind her. Jay gets up and locks it before coming back and sitting down on the sofa.
I should move to the other end of the couch now that Avery isn’t here, but I don’t move one inch. He grabs the blanket off the back of the sofa, putting it over me.
“You don’t have to stay,” I tell him with a yawn. It's nice having someone here with me if I’m being honest.
“I’m good.” He stretches his legs out as the movie starts to play. “Relax,” he tells me, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into his side. My head rests on him. I should protest, but it feels too good. Besides there’s nothing wrong with two friends hanging out and watching a movie together. None of this makes it a date. People do this all of the time. That’s what I convince myself seconds before sleep takes me.
Seven
Jay
I want to stay with Dove, but I don’t think she’s ready to see my ugly mug first thing in the morning. I carry her to the bedroom, tuck her in, and try not to snoop too much. There’s a small vase by her bedside with five daisies and a little greenery. I drag my thumb along my jawline as I contemplate where she got these. Did a man give them to her? Her sister didn’t bring them. They don’t look like they are from a professional bouquet, though. Aren’t those larger? The ones I buy my mom are big as her face. Could she have picked them?
There’s so much I don’t know about Dove. I draw my hand lightly across her forehead. I’m going to learn everything about her, from what she likes for breakfast to what side of the bed she sleeps on. Everything. With great reluctance, I show myself to the door. Before I leave, I jot down my phone number and tell her to text me if she needs a ride to work.
Because I’m not able to secure the lock, I move the folding table in front of my door and keep it ajar so that I can keep watch over her apartment. Around six, I hear her fumble with the latch. I hurry and close my door and wait for her summons. None comes, and I end up watching her speed walk toward the bus stop. I thrum my fingers against the sill. This time I’ll let her go, but next time, she’s with me. Having made that decision, I throw myself on the bed and try to get some shut-eye.
The construction team shows up a few hours later along with a curious Abel.
“I know why you’re here.” I scowl at the other man, rubbing the back of my head as I let them into the apartment.
He grins. “I was told to come and get the dirt, or I wouldn’t be allowed back in.”
Abel got married last year. I’d heard it was a whirlwind sort of thing, and to be honest, I was curious as to the woman who landed him. “Where’s your wife? I want to meet her.”
“Pepper? I can’t let her into this shithole. She might get injured.” Abel frowns. “What’s your woman’s place look like?”
“Better than this, but”—I kick the radiator—"it could be all cosmetic.”
“You should move her. Forget this place. With your money, I can put you into the penthouse over at this new place we’re redoing in Bell Heights. It’s beautiful.” He spreads his hands out, inviting me to see his vision. “Three thousand square feet overlooking the river with a wraparound terrace.”
“Have I ever struck you as a city guy?” I pick up the piece of radiator pipe that fell off and set it next to the one my agent knocked down a few days ago. Soon I’ll have the whole thing on my counter.
“No.” He taps his chin. “We don’t do any residentials, but I can have our agent look up some properties for you. Might take a couple of days.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” I wonder what Dove likes—something warm, I think, with lots of space for gardens. She has flowers in her apartment, which feels like an indulgence given where we are located, so she must really like them. “I need a few acres and lots of sun.” But her job is downtown and traffic can be a bitch. Maybe we get a cottage for the weekend and stay somewhere in the city during the week. “Does this penthouse have space for an outdoor garden?”
“It’s got enough room for five gardens.” Abel hits me on the back. “Why don’t we go look at it now?”
I glance at my radiator. “What about the crew?”
“They can do the work while we go look at this property.” Abel whistles. “Guys, here’s the list of things to get done.” He cocks his head in my direction. “You got permission to do this, right?”
I stroke my chin and pretend to think about it.
“You locals are all the same,” he says with exaggerated irritation.
“What would we need you for if we did all the work?” I parry.
Abel wanders off to make a call while I check my phone for a text from Dove, but like this morning, there’s nothing from her. This isn’t good. I don’t like waiting around for a response.
“We’re all set. You can improve anything you want so long as you pay for it, so will it be cash or charge?” Abel holds out his hand.
“I’ll pay you when I see the finished job.” I grab my keys. “Let’s go see this place. I’m driving.”
“Nah, I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, but I’m picking up Dove for lunch.”
“Your car sounds great.”
It takes me thirty minutes to get downtown, and the whole time, Abel alternates between grilling me about Dove and bragging about his wife Pepper, who is the prettiest, smartest, savviest designer in the business. I tell him that Dove is the prettiest women in town, which launches us into an argument that ends with Abel refusing to talk to me for the last ten minutes.
When I park in front of Dove’s building, Abel yells out the window, “Pepper’s got great hair. The best!”
“Whatever, dude.” I flip him off and head toward the bank of elevators. It’s only ten, but surely Dove can take off early to get some lunch. Miller, Thomas Dunn & Graham is on the tenth floor, and it smells like a law firm. There’s something musty about it—old money and old books maybe? Who knows, but I don’t like it. Being here makes that spot between my shoulder blades that is hard to reach itch like hell. I’m an outdoors person, not a library person. I lean on the marble counter. “I’m here for Dove Evans,” I tell the receptionist.
The woman rubs her lips together and leans forward un
til her shirt gapes, and I can see cleavage. “Do you have an appointment?”
I turn away and stare into the empty, glassed-in conference room. Is this how they run shit here? I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“Yeah,” I lie. “At ten to discuss some legal matters.”
“With Ms. Evans?” The receptionist sounds skeptical, as if Dove never has appointments. That is not a bad thing from my point of view. It means she doesn’t have to sit out front with low cut shirts, flashing her cleavage to any guy who walks in.
“Yeah. I’ll just wait over here.” I take a seat on some nice leather chairs and text Abel that I’ll be down in five.
“Sir? I understand you have a meeting with Ms. Evans?”
I look up from my phone to see a suit-wearing man looming over me. “Yeah.”
“I’m Thomas. May I ask what this is about? Perhaps I could help.”
“My meeting is with D—Miss Evans,” I quickly correct myself.
He gives me a once-over, taking in my dusty boots, my cargo pants that are almost worn at the knee, and my plain gray T-shirt with the swoosh logo over the breast pocket. He doesn’t think I belong here or could pay the bills if I needed his services. He’s right on the first count, but not on the second. I could buy this firm, sell the assets off for junk and still not notice the dip in my bank account.
“Dove doesn’t hold meetings. She’s not a lawyer.” The man smirks, and that tells me everything I need to know. Lawyers are the epitome of everything I dislike about humanity and why I spend so much time photographing animals, nature, and abandoned cities. I wonder how much she loves her job here because it doesn’t seem like the greatest work environment. The itch in my back intensifies. I know, though, if I fight this guy, it’ll make things worse for Dove, and I have a feeling things aren’t great here as it is.
I get to my feet. “All right. Tell her Jay Anderson was here, and that I’m sorry we weren’t able to have our meeting.”
The lawyer starts to leave and then stops, his eyes narrowing. “Jay Anderson the documentarian? Pulitzer Prize winning photographer Jay Anderson?”
I’m half tempted to deny it because he’s only going to suck up to me in ways that make me more uncomfortable than when he thought I was less important than the dirt under his shoes, but I also want to check up on Dove. Someone so light and cheery being stuck in this hellhole has to be some kind of misery.
“Yeah. I’m that Jay Anderson.”
He shoves his hand out. “Damn. I’m a real fan of your Canis Lupus series, although I admit I’m a little skeptical of your pack dynamic analysis.”
“Lots of people were.” Especially men. They really loved the idea of the alpha, beta, whatever hierarchy when real packs weren’t like that. This dude watched my five-episode series and despite watching nearly ten hours of footage, he’s still a doubter because it doesn’t fit into his world view.
“Still, gorgeous work and the Pulitzer. Not many people can say they have one of those.”
Silence stretches out between us as he waits for me to say something, but what’s there to say? That he’s right? Not many people do have that prize. Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. “So what was it that you wanted to chat with Dove about? Like I said, she’s not a lawyer, and I’m sorry if you got the impression she was. However, we here at Miller, Thomas, Dunn & Graham are fully equipped to provide any service you need.” He tucks a busines card into my shirt pocket.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that the things I need can only be provided by Dove, but I don’t like the way he’s talking and don’t want to reduce her to some kind of weird sexual object for him. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”
“Wait. You said you needed to talk to Dove? Let me get her. In fact, it’s already time for lunch, isn’t it? Bethany, what do I have on my schedule?” he asks the receptionist.
“There’s a lunch with Mr. Donaldson.”
“Cancel it.”
“But—”
“Cancel. It,” he repeats through gritted teeth, all the while trying to maintain a smile. It’s not a good look on him. “So Jay—I can call you Jay, right? Let’s get Dove out here, and we’ll go to lunch.”
If I say no, does he shit on Dove worse than he already does? If I say yes, do I put her in a tough spot? Before I can answer, Dove comes walking by. I jerk to attention like a hunting dog who just caught scent of his prey.
Thomas snaps his fingers. “Dove. Here.”
I shove my fists into my pockets so I don’t punch this asshole in the jaw and get Dove fired on the spot.
“Um, Jay?”
Thomas smiles his snake oil smile and says, “Yes, he said he had an appointment with you.”
Dove’s eyes widen in surprise. Her gaze flits from me to her boss and back again.
“I lied,” I say before she can figure out what the best response is. I’m a fucking prick for not thinking this through and putting her on the spot. “I’m actually her neighbor and I lost my keys to my place. Dove and I help each other out, and I was hoping I could hang at her place until the locksmith came.”
Thomas is taken aback. “You two live in the same building? I guess documentary work doesn’t pay much these days.” He plucks the card out of my pocket. “We’ll have to do lunch another day. Dove’s busy.”
She gives me a pained smile and a small head bob before trotting after her boss. The glass door behind me slides open. The receptionist tilts her head to the now open entrance. “Thank you for coming to Miller, Thomas, Dunn & Graham,” she chirps.
This place is scarier than a haunted house. I’m going to have to get Dove out of here.
Eight
Dove
“Back to work, Dove. I’m going to need your help later this afternoon. You might want to skip lunch.” Before I can respond, Thomas is turning and walking away. I bite the inside of my cheek so that I don’t say something to him.
I’m not a confrontational person, but he’s making it difficult for me to remain that way. It’s not in me, though, and I know it. I’ve always gone with the motto to keep your head down and do what you need to do.
I wish at times like this I could be a little bit more like my sister, but I think it’s easier to say what’s on your mind when you don’t have to worry about someone literally snatching the food right off your table. And that’s exactly what would happen if I said everything that I’ve bottled up inside to my boss. I’d be jobless and homeless.
Thomas was so rude to Jay today that I almost lost my cool. He even looked down his nose at him. He usually saves those moves for the women in the office so he can get a glimpse down their shirts. His behavior is nothing new. It’s commonplace around here. Almost all of the partners here look down at the staff.
I usually don’t let it get to me when they do it to me. Yet, for some reason when it was aimed at Jay, it bothered me more than I care to admit. Jay is a nice person, and he didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.
I’d bet anything that he stopped by because he was worried about me and wanted to make sure I’d made it to work. Everything the man does is sweet. He even put me to bed last night. There had been no expectations or anything from him.
“You heard him,” Laura says to me in a tart voice. You don't have to try to look down her blouse. There is no missing what she wants you to see. I can’t even blame her. She’s got killer boobs. If big boobs make you a bitch, then I am fine with my nice handful.
Still unable to be a bitch like her and unwilling to give her a reason to be a bigger one to me, I smile before getting back to my job. Well, kind of getting back to it. I retreat to the mailroom to text Avery but find I already have a few messages from her waiting for me.
She’s a late riser, but her classes start later in the day, and I know she stays up late to study.
Avery: So…. give me the details.
I can see from the time the first text was sent and the second landed that she didn't give me time to do anything.
<
br /> Avery: Hello.
Avery: Don’t do this to me
Me: We watched tv & I went to bed.
It was the truth. She sends me back a thumbs-down.
Me: I passed out & he must have put me in bed at some point. When I woke up he was gone.
Avery: What did the note say?
Me: How did you know there was a note?
Me: Never mind. He gave me his number.
I leave out the part about him offering me a ride to work. I wanted to ask him to take me in, but I felt awkward. I didn't want him to think he needed to give me a ride. He has a life of his own. He doesn’t have time to be my personal chauffeur. Still, he showed up here anyway. I keep finding that really sweet.
Avery: Go out with him.
Me: I’ll think about it.
Avery: Really?
I bite my lip. I know this is likely a bad idea, but he makes me smile. There is also something familiar about him. I feel safe. Why else would I have passed out with him alone in my home?
Me: Yeah really. I’ve got to work so I’ll text you later.
I drop my phone back into my purse. I could work my way into this dating thing. Hang out with him a few more times. The man is not only sweet but handsome too. Not in that cocky way either. He’s not trying to be good-looking. He just is. It’s natural, and I’m not sure he knows it. If he does, he doesn't care.
I get back to work, skipping right over lunch. Unless you count the candy bar I had in my purse. Dread starts to weigh heavy on me when the hours begin to go by, and I don’t get a call from Thomas. He said he needed my help this afternoon with something and now it seems as though I’m going to have to stay late again. I hate being here with him when most of the office staff has gone home for the day.
Maybe he had to go to court, and he wouldn’t be needing my help after all today. That’s wishful thinking considering he’s been in the office all day. I’m definitely going to be here late. I begin cleaning up my area, hoping that I can get out of here. But my hopes are dashed when I get the call to report to Thomas’s office. I take my purse, hoping I can leave right after.