Rocked by Him

by Lucy Lambert

  Not that Drake was my man.

  I kept thinking about how he probably had his phone off, or on silent, while he slept in, some beautiful, naked girl tangled in the blankets beside him, both of them still covered in a sheen of sweat from their earlier endeavors.

  “Damn it, Jennifer!” I said under my breath. I couldn’t deal with this right now; I had work to do.

  So, with a great effort of will, I set my warm, slightly sweaty phone down beside my keyboard. I even managed to keep my eyes on my monitor for a good fifteen seconds before glancing down at the cell to see if he’d texted.

  Shaking my head at my behavior, I bumped the volume on my ringer up another notch and triple-checked to make sure it wasn’t on silent.

  Why was I acting like this? It was really, really too soon after getting dumped for me to feel like this. I needed to concentrate on my own life, on being with myself for once.

  But Drake’s handsome face refused to leave my thoughts. It took only a moment’s idle daydreaming to see his features swim up from my subconscious, only a few moments for my thoughts to stray to wondering what getting kissed by him might feel like.

  Forcing my senses back to the present, I skimmed a few lines on the printout of a product description and then typed a few words into the slide describing how the new taps resisted heat and cold better than the old metal ones. The keys tapped beneath my fingers, and I found myself acutely aware of exactly how much pressure each stroke took to make a character appear on the screen.

  Looking down to check my finger placement on the keyboard, I saw my phone again. My eyes refused to unlock from it.

  Maybe he’d texted while I was typing…? The clacking of the keys could get really loud…

  My willpower crumbled and I checked the phone again. Nothing.

  This time, I went so far as I to bring up his entry in my contact list. My right thumb hovered over the green phone icon, ready to call him so that I might demand to know what game he thought he was playing.

  And so my morning went, creeping with a sort of inexorable slowness towards lunch. All this frustration compounded inside me, slowly suffocating that sense of contentment and happiness, replacing it with irritation and helplessness.

  It even crept over into my slide show. I created a slide dedicated to all the downsides and negatives I could find in this new wonder product. I even smiled smugly as I thought of Bud getting to this slide in his presentation and trying to justify it, since I doubted he went through to vet them first.

  My fingertips pounded harder in the keys. The sound reminded me of hail pattering off a car’s roof.

  The air conditioning chose that moment to kick on, and I winced when the cold air touched me. Goosebumps broke out over my shoulders, leaving me with that unpleasant sensation of being uncomfortable in my own skin.

  Then the phone rang. Its electronic tone jolted me, and I stared at it before my brain recognized the reason for the noise.

  Picking up the receiver, I said, “Yes?” with a bit more venom than I intended.

  “Jennifer? Mr Loughery wants to see you in his office right away,” Lucinda said.

  She didn’t deserve that tone of voice, I knew. I wanted to apologize, but only managed an “Okay,” before hanging the receiver up.

  I stood up, wondering if this was the universe getting even with me for having one good day. Fate had accidentally deposited some good will into my account, and was now trying to collect, telling me that it hadn’t been mine to spend in the first place.

  A couple people glanced back at me from their cubicles as I wended my way over to Bud’s office. I offered sheepish smiles. Just how loud had I been typing, anyway? Had I been saying anything? Giving voice to my frustrations?

  Lucinda glanced up at me as I came up alongside her desk.

  “Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that…”

  “Don’t worry about it. Mr Loughery wants to see you right away,” she replied.

  It had been a bit since he’d seen me. I wondered what he wanted, and put the question to Lucinda.

  The phone rang when she opened her mouth to answer, then offered a shrug instead.

  “Mr Loughery? Yes, she’s right here, sir. I’ll send her in. Thank-”

  He cut her off. She looked at the receiver, then we both shared an eye roll as she hung up.

  “Better go in,” she said.

  “Want to go out for lunch?” I said, slipping past her desk and reaching for the door latch. It was almost noon, and hunger was just starting to sink its teeth into my stomach. Lucinda nodded. That made me feel good. I didn’t want to get on her bad side. We could be friends, I knew. Having a friend at work would be really good. Especially one who could relate to having a crappy boss like Bud.

  My fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the latch when I heard the chirp of my phone. Other people had that default noise for their texts, too, but I doubted anyone else had their volume up this high at work. My heart rate picked up, and I wanted to run back to my cubicle right then. It had to be Drake. No one else had any reason to message me.

  But Lucinda looked over her shoulder at me, and Bud probably saw me at his door. I couldn’t go back. Not until Bud said his piece, at least.

  So, wanting to get this over with quickly, I went into his office and stood in front of his too-big polished desk.

  “Yes, Mr Loughery?” I said.

  Bud spun around in his chair to face me. He smiled. “Jenny! How ya been, sweetie? Haven’t talked in a couple days. All’s well?”

  I clasped my hands in front of my hips and squeezed my fingers. I could feel, as well as see, his eyes travel over my body. They displayed a naked appreciation, and a hunger that made my own appetite go sour.

  Just get through it, I told myself. Drake’s text is waiting.

  “If you mean the slide show on the new garden hose taps? It’s going well, yeah. I’ll have it ready for you by the end of the day.” Now that Drake had replied to me, I knew that I could spend the rest of my work hours getting that damn presentation done.

  Unless he says something bad, I thought. A cold feeling swirled at the small of my back.

  “Good, good! Glad to hear it. Why… Why don’t you tell me about it a bit more before you go?” Bud said.

  Then he pushed back from his desk a bit. He patted his thighs.

  It took me a second to see what he wanted. I balked, my mouth dropping open. He doesn’t actually want me to sit on his lap, does he? I thought.

  Then he rubbed his thighs again, giving the fat things that stretched out his slacks a good slap.

  Oh, God! He does!

  “Just come on over and have a seat! Tell me all about it!”

  Instead, I took a step back. Bile pushed up my throat, my appetite completely gone. I wished I had a thick winter coat on right then, one that went all the way down to my feet and had a big, fur lined hood I could pull tight to hide my face. I didn’t want him looking at me.

  “You can’t be serious…” I said.

  “The more you keep resistin’, the more I like ya, dear. Now come on around the desk and tell Uncle Bud what he wants ta hear…”

  I snapped. Didn’t he know how he disgusted me? Didn’t he knew I that a very important text waited for me back at my cubicle?

  “You’re just a dirty old man! My God, you’re old enough to be my father! Did you know that? Just some creepy old perv who thinks he can do whatever he want because he’s the boss.”

  For maybe ten seconds, that big, creepy grin remained on Bud’s face. Except now it looked like some invisible fingers were pulling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes certainly didn’t look happy anymore.

  I realized that this was probably the first time one of his subordinates had rejected him so harshly.

  A warm swell of triumph rose inside me at the same time as a cold ball of anxiety. My appetite was definitely gone.

  With a realization that dried my mouth and sent a shiver up my back, I thought tha
t my job might be going the same way shortly.

  Bud’s smile began to falter, the left corner of his mouth drooping like wallpaper peeling away. The right corner soon followed.

  Bud always had a reddish complexion which I put down to blood pressure and generally being a fat old perv. But before my eyes his skin grew fiery, and a single bead of sweat snaked its way down from his temple.

  I fought back against the urge to retreat, though I couldn’t keep my eyes from widening and my heart from pounding.

  Drake’s message had better be life altering! I thought. Then, right after, I felt stupid for reacting this way, felt stupid for acting like I had all morning, as though my whole world revolved around a hot rocker I barely knew.

  Without a word, Bud got up. He squeezed around his desk. My muscles went rigid. Was he planning on hitting me? On smacking me?

  My eyes refused to blink as he got closer, his nostrils flaring and his jowls jiggling.

  But he passed me by. I didn’t dare turn around. I felt like a soldier standing at rigid attention, about to go through a grueling inspection. At the same time, I wanted to bolt, to squeezed my way around him (despite the physical contact) and just get the hell out of there.

  “Lucinda, hold my calls and don’t let anyone in until I say otherwise. Okay, sweetie?”

  “Y-yes, Mr Loughery…” Lucinda said. She’d heard everything, I knew. What was she thinking? Was she on my side?

  The door clicked shut behind me. Suddenly, Bud’s office felt even more cramped and confined. It was a jail cell, with Bud both my bunkmate and my jailer. The air didn’t circulate as much, and I caught a whiff of his pungent body odor mixing with the cheap cologne he tried covering it with. My eyes began watering.

  “You think this is a game, girl?” Bud said from directly behind me, practically spitting the last word.

  I knew that I should wheel around and face him, that I should stick my finger in the fat face of his, tell him what I thought, and go straight to HR with my sack full of sexual harassment charges.

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get my feet to move; I couldn’t get my heart to supply me with the courage. I never could talk back to authority like that. Not teachers or principals. Not Bud Loughery. So instead I stared at his desk, watching his shifting, blurring reflection behind me.

  “No…” I said, my lips barely parting, hardly enough air passing up from my lungs to breathe the words. My knees trembled, and I tried to hide it.

  I couldn’t lose my job. Not now.

  A strong fist squeezed around my heart when I thought of that check in the mail.

  Bud’s meaty hands landed on my shoulders. His fingertips pressed into my flesh. I didn’t think it possible, but I stiffened even more at his touch.

  “It is a game. And do you know what? I always win. You little sluts always wander around the office, throwing yourselves around…” Bud said.

  Then he smelled my hair. It was lucky that my stomach was empty, otherwise the contents would have splattered all over his shiny desk.

  “And if you want to keep your job, you’ll start following my rules. Is that… clear?” he said.

  His hands slid down from my shoulders, moving down my back, getting dangerously close to my bottom.

  Something in me snapped, then. Something that allowed a bit of my anger and disgust to push back against the fear and shock. I remember thinking to myself: What would Drake do?

  I knew just what a rebellious, independent, and self-assured guy like Drake would do. Something I never would have thought of unless I’d met him.

  I wheeled around then, batting his hands away. I jabbed a finger against his chest, his flabby flesh yielding, and looked up into his eyes, trying to ignore the continuous jiggling of his jowls.

  “You can take your rules and shove them up your ass, Bud. I would never do anything like that with a person like you. Never. Do you understand me?”

  It felt good, the heat of that anger.

  His lips moved, but I didn’t make out what they said.

  “What?” I asked, not daring to lean in any closer, lest I get some spittle on me.

  “You… You’re fired. Fired!” he said, managing to find his own anger again.

  It took a few seconds for the meaning to sink in. Bud shoved my hand away from his chest and trundled back over to his desk, squeezing his bulk between it and the wall.

  My hand fell to my side, and the hot anger stiffening all my muscles gave way to a cold panic that left my legs feeling like jelly.

  “What are you still standing there?” Bud said. I heard his chair groan beneath him as he settled onto it.

  My eyes started blurring as they got wetter. I knew I should tell him off again, but my throat began closing.

  I managed to hold onto enough of my anger to throw his door open. It banged loudly, getting the attention of everyone nearby. I stomped out of his office, my whole body trembling. I could feel all their eyes on me, wondering, considering, judging.

  “Jennifer…” Lucinda began when I stormed past her desk.

  When I didn’t look over or respond, she didn’t push further. Even if she did, I couldn’t hear it. The tapping of keys, the ring of phones, all the sounds of the office became muted as I marched back to my cubicle. The blood rushing past my ears was the loudest noise.

  And it got louder, and louder as my blood pressure rose.

  My computer monitor still displayed the slide I’d been working on. The cursor blinked at me without feeling when I snatched my phone up from beside the keyboard.

  I knew that I should empty my desk, but all I needed was my phone and my purse. So, with those, I left. I fought back against the pressure behind my eyes, slung my purse over my shoulder, and walked as calmly as I could.

  By that point, most people had gotten back to work. Only a few looked at me. I refused to look back, only seeing their glances through my peripheral vision.

  Everyone hated Bud. Especially the women. I told myself that they were in silent solidarity with me, and not looking at me like I was some sort of crazy lady who’d just announced her intention to fill her apartment with cats.

  But as I left the office of Styrex, Inc behind, I consoled myself with the text awaiting me when I got the chance to look at my phone. I dangled it like a carrot, forcing myself into the crowded elevator, down into the similarly crowded subway.

  Only when I sat down between a homeless guy wearing a beanie and an old women whose gray hair stuck out at angles from her wrinkled head did I let myself remove the phone from my purse.

  Some of the tension melted out of me, and the rocking of the train as it pulled from the station into the tube comforted me.

  I thumbed the button on my phone and slashed my finger across the screen, my heart again quickening when I saw the little green box that represented a text.

  I found myself hoping Drake had sent something funny. A laugh would do me so much good right at that moment.

  My eyes devoured the words like a hungry dog thrown some scraps from the table.

  “What!?” I said. And I said it loud. The phone nearly jumped from my hand.

  All conversation on the train died, and again all eyes were on me. I tried to shrink myself, to hide from view, but I couldn’t.

  “You okay?” the guy wearing the beanie beside me asked. His accent betrayed his Caribbean heritage.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, just wanting those eyes to stop their staring, and their silent accusations.

  That broke the spell. Everyone went back to their own murmurs, their own swaying with the train as it rounded a gentle curve.

  “Bad news?” the guy said.

  “Yeah…” I said.

  But it wasn’t bad news, at least not directly. I looked down at my phone, which I held clutched against my stomach, the screen kept pressed out of sight against my jacket.

  “Thass too bad,” he said, turning away from me to watch the lights from the tunnel as they flashed in through the windows.
r />   Tilting the phone away from my body, I ran my eyes over the words again.

  “Congratulations!” the text message read, “You’ve been randomly selected to receive the new joke of the day…”

  The joke wasn’t even funny.

  Drake hadn’t even texted me. I’d flipped out on my boss and gotten fired in my rush to get back to my phone…

  My right eye twitched once, and I smiled. Now that was funny.

  “Okay, stop going crazy…” I said, as much under my breath as I could. The old lady with the funny hair gave me a sidelong glance and scooted as far from me as she could.

  The train pulled into the next station, the driver mumbling indecipherably over the PA. The doors opened and people jostled to get on or off before they closed again. I watched silently.

  When it really came down to it, this was all Drake’s fault, right? I mean, if he had just texted me this morning everyone would have been fine. I wouldn’t have been so anxious. I would have found some way to deal with Bud that didn’t result in getting fired.

  I wouldn’t be sitting in a crowded, claustrophobic tube that smelled of stale sweat and urine. Not for another few hours, anyway.

  It felt good to have a focal point for my anger, to have a scapegoat.

  My thumbs danced across the screen, typing out a message to Drake detailing just how big an asshole I thought he was. A self-satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  I didn’t even hesitate to send it, the pad of my thumb pressing confidently against the screen. Being down in the subway, it took a bit longer for the little status bar to advance to completion.

  It sent just as the mumbling voice came through the static-filled speaker to announce my stop.

  I stood up and a hand touched mine. It was the beanie guy.

  “You be all right, okay?” he said.

  I thought of what I’d just sent to Drake. My sickly sweet smile had the beanie guy pulling his hand back.

  “Oh, I will be just fine. Don’t worry,” I said.

  I spun around and pushed through the eclectic crowd jamming the door.