He takes my hand and shakes it. “Miss Blakely, I apologize for the miscommunication. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you,” I say as I sit down and cross my pant covered legs. “We are very informal. Please call me Nella.” I keep my eyes on my pad with my pen poised ready to pretend.
“Nella, I’m Mark. I’m surprised I didn’t meet you at the social after the presentations,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“I was a little disappointed at how white the new company is, so I hightailed it out of there.”
“They were disappointed you weren’t more aggressive about wanting the job and presenting for your boss was a little like high school.”
“This is supposed to be a seamless transition meeting. Shouldn’t we get started?”
“Where do we begin?”
“Will there be any layoffs?” I ask, getting ready to take notes.
“Not at first. Things will be status quo until I understand the setup. We should probably start with the technical sides and tackle personnel last.”
When Bridgette calls to say she has resumes available for him to choose from I shake my head in a negative way. He tells her he will get back to her.
“You need Mary. She knows the office and runs it very efficiently.”
“She is McCathy’s choice not mine.”
“Why didn’t you bring your own secretary then?” I ask, playing dumb.
“She changed her mind about coming at the last minute.”
“You shouldn’t have slept with her,” I say, muffled under my breath as I bend to pick up the pen that’s still in my hand.
“Excuse me?” he asks, looking a little puzzled.
“Sorry, a nasty American habit, talking to pens when they fall out of our hands.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
My cell vibrates at my side.
“Can you excuse me a moment, please?” I ask, waiting for a response before I look at my cell.
“Answer it,” he says keeping his eyes on me.
I look and it’s Kaitlin, my secretary.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“There’s a Leigh Downes here to see you, he says it’s personal.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and glance at my watch. It’s lunch time. I’m being careful to monitor my facial expression. I check my cell to see if he called me before coming and he did not. I look up at Mark.
“I have an unexpected visitor. It’s lunch time. If you have no objections, can we break here and continue after lunch?”
“Is it personal?” he asks.
I glare at him. “It is.”
“You have twenty minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say grudgingly. “We usually order lunch, pay out of petty cash and reimburse the company at the end of each month. Mary has the menus.”
I stand and put my pad and pen on the chair but change my mind and take them with me.
He laughs.
“And for your information, I never sleep with my secretary.”
I pause, open the door and walk out.
“Nella, are we ordering lunch today?” Mary asks as I walk past her.
“Burger, fries and a milkshake for me and I’ll have Kaitlin call you or you can call her.”
“What about Mr. Gagnon?”
I turn and he’s at his open door staring at me.
My eyes move to Mary. “I have no idea about him.”
I walk away and imagine that my behind is still holding his attention. I see Leigh across the hall, staring out the window, dressed in a gray suit looking very professional and starched stiff. I wonder what the hell he wants.
“Leigh,” I say and he turns. “Do you want to talk in my office?”
He stares at my face and I know what he’s thinking. ‘You’re a lying bitch’ or something along those lines. He’s sulking too.
“Please follow me,” I say as I walk pass my secretary and into my office. The blinds are already closed and for that I’m grateful.
I notice that his eyes are taking in everything. I had let him assume I was a secretary and he never imagined a corner office or all the comforts of home. I check the time on my watch.
“Please have a seat. I have twenty minutes. I came out of a meeting with the new president to talk to you.”
“I thought … I knew you … a little bit at least. You lied to me at every turn about everything. How could you?” he asks in his usual judgmental manner.
“About this,” I say, letting my eyes travel around the room, “I simply agreed with you. You assumed I was a secretary who made forty thousand a year. I saw how comfortable you were believing that, so I let you.”
“You lied.”
“Okay. You kicked me out and asked me not to call you. That was four months ago. What do you want?” I ask, folding my arms.
“I want us to talk and try to work it out.”
“How do we work out me being married? I’m still the treacherous bitch and you still don’t sleep with other men’s wives.”
He looks me in the face. “Get a divorce.”
“I told you. There isn’t a man who is worth me going home to get one.”
“I’m worth it. You just need to work on your self esteem and you’ll see that you do in fact deserve me.”
“Leigh, the last thing I need is a husband. I’ve had one and I don’t need another.”
The intensity of his stare causes me to turn away.
“I love you and … you need me.”
“What about the woman you’re seeing?” I ask, knowing that he is, according to our mutual friend, Joline.
His eyes jump to mine. He won’t lie, he’s above lying, but he won’t admit it.
“Why are you assuming I have a woman?”
“You had to have sex at least once a week and you don’t believe in masturbation, so tell me.”
“She is not like you,” he says almost humbly. “She’s needy and I need an independent woman, you.”
So nothing has changed. She probably wants him to pay her rent and he’s too cheap. It’s all about the money and he won’t put his hands in his pocket.
“Actually, the company just merged and I’m getting laid off, so I’m out of a job.”
“You’ll get severance and it won’t be hard for you to find another job,” he states, calculatingly.
“My severance won’t last very long, plus it’s to cover my sons’ tuition. I’m going to take my time and look for a job. I’ve been killing myself for fifteen years and I think if I can find a man who doesn’t mind carrying me for about a year that’s what I’m going to do.”
He glares at me and I stare back. He gets that I’m serious.
He shakes his head and his mouth purses to match the negativity of his head. “You women claim you want equality, for men to take you seriously and all you want is a damn sugar daddy.” He stands. “I really thought you were different.” His eyes show his disgust and I feel rewarded.
“Have a nice day, Leigh.”
I watch him walk out and he closes the door behind him. I’m sad that I found it necessary to lie to him the entire three years we had sex. And it was just sex. I never once slept over in his apartment and he has never been to my house, met my kids or Zoi. In fact, he believes I still live in the Bronx. When I moved to Brooklyn, I neglected to mention it to him.
I met Leigh at a Caribbean function I attended to support my friend who has been trying to start a magazine for the longest time. He was the type of man I was looking for: dark skinned, West Indian and liked to keep his business private. He was divorced with two small children. His wife got the house and he was still bitter about having to pay child support and alimony. I didn’t need a meddling man in my life. He was preoccupied and fit the bill perfectly.
I check my watch. It’s been twenty-five minutes. I’m giving myself five more.
Mark Gagnon.
I saw his face and I remember how good he made me feel. I close my eyes. I
actually felt a tingling down there. Well it happened, I enjoyed him and it’s time to move on. I can stand it for three months. This is business; he is white and I have a way out.
I return to his office and the staring begins. I refuse to apologize. Yes, I should, but I’m not going to.
“Is it possible to move over to the conference table?” I ask. “It’s a little uncomfortable writing on my legs and I would like to eat my lunch.”
“Ah … sure … we can do that. Did your meeting go well?”
I grab my lunch and take a seat on the far side of the table. I open the straw, stick it in the hole in the cover of the cup and suck on it before I acknowledge him with my eyes. I decide to keep my business private.
“Are you going to pretend that night didn’t happen?” he asks, opening his lunch.
“What night?” I ask, biting into my burger.
“We’re going to be working very closely for the next three months; we need to be clear about where we stand.”
“You’re my boss and it’s strictly business between us.” I keep my eyes on my food.
“I need to know something before it becomes just business.”
I look over at him, at his eyes, and the warmth in them pulls on my heart strings.
“Ask,” I say flatly.
“There was a … a strong pull … a force between us. Did you feel it too?”
“Yes.”
“Ella, is your life so full that that night doesn’t matter?”
I smirk. What a contradiction, a woman with a full life having a one night stand.
“My name is not Ella. No one calls me that.” I glance over at him and he nods with a knowing smile. “That night matters a great deal. It was perfect for me. I needed it at that moment so thank you. Now, we’re in a different world and I’m myself again. Eunella Blakely would never have a one night stand.”
“Never?”
“Nope, she’s a prude who’s very picky about who she sleeps with.”
“Were you sleeping with him?”
“That is personal and we will only talk about business.”
“We’re having lunch, so humor me, please.”
I laugh. He’s getting to me the way I got to him. “He ended it four months ago and asked me not to call him. I didn’t, but he started calling me about a month ago and I haven’t returned his calls.”
“And today?”
“Today ended it for sure.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Are you?” I ask and I’m surprised that I really want to know.
He chuckles. “My ex-wife and I have an ongoing tug of war. Our children are still young and sometimes the lines get blurred.”
“So you two are still sleeping together.”
He’s silent.
“Why are you in the States? Why not try to work it out even if it’s just for the kids?”
“Do you have kids?”
“Yes. They’re both in college.”
“I didn’t get that you were as old as you are.”
“Wait a minute. How old am I?” I ask feeling a little slighted.
“I thought you were about thirty-five.”
I grin, wrap and crush the burger paper in the palm of my hand.
“I’m thirty-nine. How old are you?”
“I’m forty,” he says and we hold each other’s gaze.
I look away first.
“We can get through this without complicating your life any further. Three months will be over before you know it.”
“I’m not certain I can do this,” he says.
“Then you can always ask to move up my end date.”
“Nella, that’s not what I mean.” His eyes say it all.
I gather up my garbage and walk to the trash can. It’s time to get back to work.
“Mark, you were a total fluke. You’re not my type, so you don’t have to worry.”
“I’m not your type?” he asks in surprise. “What is it about me that you don’t like?”
“It’s complicated so no worries, I’ll keep us straight. Firstly, let’s get back to work. The quarterly news letter is awaiting your letter to the employees, so if you would like to do that now, I can go back to my office and do other things.”
At the end of the day, all I can think about is his mouth on mine. I wouldn’t mind tasting him one more time, feeling like that one more time. I pull on my sneakers and tear out of the house. Maybe five miles will set me straight, clear my head.
After, I check on Zoi. Darnell isn’t home yet and she’s eating dinner.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Leftovers, it tastes better than it looks.”
“If you say so.” I make a face and get something to drink out of the refrigerator. “Guess who my new boss is?”
“Is that a rhetorical question or does the possibility exists that I may actually know who he is?”
“You do know that you’re not in court, right? And yes, it’s possible for you to guess.”
“Okay, give me a clue.”
“He’s Canadian.”
“Okay, is he black?”
“No, he isn’t black.”
“That rules out any Canadians that I could possibly know, so the only other wild guess I could make is your one night stand,” she says jokingly.
“Bingo!” I say.
“You’re kidding!” Zoi exclaims, staring at me. “Did he recognize you?”
“He did and we have agreed to keep it to just business.”
She stops eating and stares at her plate.
“Nell, has it ever occurred to you that our life is what we make it? For fifteen years we have worked our asses off for our children. We have had exactly one fight between us and we couldn’t even stay mad at each other.”
She stops and takes a deep breath and glares at me some more.
“I know it was harder for you than for me, and you have sheltered me, and I’m grateful. When you told us about Keith I know you left out what happened that night.”
“Zo, don’t ask me, please,” I plead.
“I won’t, but I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world. You have never let me down and I will never think less of you. Just tell me what I need to do to help you to be happy.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out to be happy. Zo, I’m full of faults and full of pain. I’m dark and I want someone to love me for me in spite of me.”
“Then I’m going to say this. I believe in love and I think there’s a perfect person for each of us out there. You’re missing so much and if there’s a person out there for you who’s supposed to love you he’s missing a lot too. What’s his name?”
“Whose name?”
“Your new boss’.”
“Mark. Mark Gagnon.”
“Is he single?”
I laugh. “He’s still sleeping with his ex wife.”
We both laugh.
“How did you know that?”
“We showed a lapse in judgment over lunch and since Leigh came by to see me he asked if I was having sex with him. I asked about his sex life.”
“And he told you the truth? What else did he say?”
“Not much else.”
“Are you going to give him a chance?”
“Zo, I need a man who understands where I’m coming from, who understands what it means to live in a skin like mine. A man I don’t have to explain everything to about what I believe or how I behave. I’m quirky and miserable sometimes and West Indian people understand each other.”
She glares at me. “I think we should try to find Daddy. He’s not black and I bet he understands you.”
On Mark’s second day he has a town hall meeting with all employees and grievances are aired. At first, everyone’s addressing me, but when I tell one of our most out spoken colleagues to “have at him” referring to Mark, no one is shy after that. Mark complains half heartedly, but he holds his own and I am proud of him. We accomplish a tremendous amount the first
two weeks.
During the second month, he includes me in all of his meetings as if I will be here permanently. I’m even included in his meeting with Bridgette when they discuss the possibility of a reduction in staff. After, I suggest that maybe he could actually live without an assistant and that would save a few jobs.
“Which means I will have no personal life,” he responds.
“Not necessarily. You could restructure both Kaitlin and Mary’s jobs, change their titles and you could possibly have a life.”
“Is it possible you could change your mind?”
We’re in the conference room sitting across from each other. I stare at the table and listen to my body, feel my heart beat.
“No.”
“Why? Because we slept together?”
“Yes and because there are a million things going on with me right now.”
“Would your answer be the same if the sex was awful?”
I laugh. “Probably not.”
“Nella, do you always tell the truth?”
I look at his face to see if he’s being facetious. He’s serious.
I stand and gaze out the window. It’s a sunny day and it doesn’t appear to be too scorching. I turn back to him as I sit on the radiator at the base of the windows surrounding two sides of the room.
“I am usually an honest person. My grandmother used to say that there isn’t a man on earth she’s so afraid of that she would lie. The last guy I slept with, the one from six weeks ago, I never told him the truth. We had sex for over three years and everything I told him was a lie even the thing that ended it.”
“Was the sex that good?”
I laugh. “No, it wasn’t good sex.”
“Why? Why put yourself through that? I find lying takes so much more energy than just telling the truth.”
“That’s my experience too. But when your life is one big rush and there’s no time to think of yourself or what you really want, it doesn’t matter. In fifteen years my sister and I raised three kids, earned five degrees between us; she’s a lawyer, our kids are in Ivy League colleges, one is in law school, one in med school and some of us are not crazy.” I stop.
“Go on,” he says.
“I guess at the time my lies didn’t seem to matter. I didn’t want his full attention.”
“What was the lie that broke you up?”
“I told him I was married.”
TAKE ME as I am Page 4