The Other C-Word

by Schiller, MK

  I threw the bar across the room and it hit him right in the chest. “You can’t train me, you jerk! I’m not Pavlov’s dog.”

  I slammed the door and headed back to my desk. I tried to get my breathing under control as the realisation that I’d just assaulted my boss spread through me. Well, I’d be fired for sure now. It was an attack at worst and insubordination at best. He came out a few minutes later, and I pretended to be busy replying to an email. He sat on the edge of my desk and studied me for a minute. It was unnerving.

  Finally, he set the Zesty bar next to me. “For the record, Pavlov used bells. Would you mind telling me why you attacked me with a protein bar?”

  I stared up at his emerald eyes, trying to keep my face locked in stern indignation. “I know what you’re doing. I’m totally on to you. I made a spreadsheet.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “What were your results?” Damn, he smirked, and I found it difficult to keep my composure.

  “You give me one of those whenever I wear a skirt. I figured it out. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  His face became suddenly serious. He bit his lower lip as if thinking about my words. The sight of him, leaning against my desk, so close to me, made it difficult to maintain my ire. “Marley, not a lot of places sell these. The only place I’ve found that’s convenient is my gym’s café. When I go to the gym at lunch, I pick up a sandwich at the café and two Zesty bars after I work out. One is for me, and one is for you. I’ll make sure to just pick up one from now on.”

  I knew when he went to the gym. I could always tell because his hair was damp, and he applied fresh aftershave. It drove me crazy. I scanned my spreadsheet quickly, surmising he was telling me the truth. Coincidently, he had gone to the gym the same days I’d worn a skirt. My resentment instantly dissipated, replaced with humility. I was so stupid.

  “I’m sorry,” I said contritely, looking down because I was sure my cheeks were crimson. He lifted my chin with his finger to meet his gaze. A warmth spread across my chest that I wasn’t expecting.

  “It’s okay.”

  I should have said more, but he was already walking back to his office. What else was there to say really, except that I was a dumb girl who had a total crush on her boss? He probably didn’t return my feelings at all. The Zesty bar controversy just proved that.

  We worked quietly the rest of the day. I felt too embarrassed to make any polite, non-work conversation. He was probably debating whether to write me up or worse, fire me. As the days progressed, though, he never mentioned it again and the comfort level we had previously enjoyed returned.

  * * * *

  On the Wednesday night of the following week, I promised Dillon I would have a drink with him at RJ’s bar while I waited for Doug. I liked Doug. He owned a motorcycle and had tattoos. He wasn’t great in bed, but he managed to help me achieve ‘O’ at least half the times we were together.

  “I can’t believe you’re going out with Doug the Douchebag,” Dillon chided. Dillon didn’t like Doug. Then again, he didn’t like any of the guys I did casual consensual with. He was overprotective, like a brother. I tended to be more accepting of his relationships, although they were far and few between. Luckily, he kept his mouth shut about my extra-curricular activities to my family. I knew my mother and sisters had their suspicions, since I’d never had a boyfriend, but if they knew about my ‘rotation’, they would freak.

  “Don’t call him that, he’s a nice guy.” I sipped my beer and checked my watch. Doug was late.

  “No he’s not. Any guy who picks you up for a quick fuck and drops you back off is not nice.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dillon, those are my rules. Stop being judgemental.”

  “Hi, Marley.” The soft cadence of the familiar, sexy voice startled me. Rick was the last person I’d expected to see. He sidled up to the bar and sat down next to me. I felt like bolting out of the door. My face flushed and I prayed he hadn’t overheard the conversation between Dillon and me.

  “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” I blurted, trying to replace my fear with newfound outrage.

  “Um, no, I’m here with people.” He gestured over to a nearby booth where Henley, Kathy and several other top managers from my company sat. Just like in the Zesty bar controversy, embarrassment won out again.

  Open mouth—insert one adorable Mary Jane shoe.

  RJ’s was actually a hangout for our employees, so seeing Rick here shouldn’t have made me assume anything.

  “I was just kidding,” I said, in a miserable attempt to redeem myself.

  “No, you weren’t, but that’s okay. Can I buy you guys a drink?”

  “Sure,” Dillon replied jovially, giving his order to the bartender. “Thanks, Rick.”

  Rick looked at me for my order, but I shook my head. “I’m leaving soon. I’m meeting someone here.”

  “Who?” Rick asked.

  “Douchebag Doug,” Dillon answered for me. I responded to Dillon’s unwarranted description with a swift kick under the table.

  Rick seemed unshaken by Dillon’s depiction. In fact, Rick seemed to ignore it, except for the fast flicker of anger that shifted through his face. He ordered a drink for himself and remained seated next to us, making small talk with Dillon, much to Dillon’s delight. I sat with my arms crossed, wondering how a casual drink after work had become so uncomfortable.

  I received a text from Doug saying he was outside waiting for me. I looked out of the glass doors of the bar and felt relief at the sight of Doug on his motorcycle. As far as I was concerned, Dillon and Rick could hang out all night. I had other plans. I noticed Rick followed my gaze to the door although he was still talking to Dillon.

  “Well, he’s here. I have to go,” I announced, getting up. Rick clasped my arm.

  “Marley, he’s not wearing a helmet,” Rick said.

  “So?”

  “That’s fine if he’s not going to wear a helmet, but does he have one for you?” The question surprised me, and my mouth went dry. I couldn’t find the answer. ‘None of your business’ seemed cruel, when he looked so concerned. At the same time, I just wanted to leave.

  “Nope, he doesn’t believe in them,” Dillon answered for me. I suddenly wanted to snatch the perfect brown curls right out of Dillon’s head.

  “Tell him to come in here,” Rick commanded with a slow, ominous voice that almost scared me.

  “Why?” I demanded, pulling my arm out of his grasp.

  “Because I want to meet him, and that’s the appropriate way to pick up a lady when you’re taking her out on a date.”

  God help me! I almost said ‘I’m not a lady’, but luckily, some inner sense of self-control stopped me from uttering that embarrassing statement. Instead, I said, “It’s not a date.” That wasn’t much better.

  “Whatever it is, I want to meet him,” Rick insisted.

  “It’s not prerequisite of our working relationship that you need to meet him,” I retorted.

  “That’s true,” he said nonchalantly. I grabbed my purse, attempting to make a hasty exit. “Call me when the police pick you up. I’ll be giving you a ride sooner than I thought.”

  I halted in my tracks. “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “It’s illegal to ride without a helmet. It’s my duty as a citizen to report you. They’ll probably confiscate his bike, and you’ll need a ride.”

  I laughed, but it came out like a hysterical shriek. Rick’s face remained impassive, except for the vein that throbbed on his neck. Dillon looked like he was ready to high-five Rick, infuriating me further. Dillon was my best friend, why was he on Rick’s side?

  “You… You can’t do that,” I stammered.

  “Then ask him inside.” Rick and I stared at each other in an awkward standoff for several minutes. His face was completely serious—hard, unyielding and commanding. I tried to mimic his expression, but I knew I was failing miserably.

  I finally brought my face close to his and
whispered in a low voice so only he could hear, “He doesn’t want to come inside. He’s waiting for me out there because he’s going to take me to his place and fuck the hell out of me for the next twenty-five minutes and bring me right back here, so you can just back out of my business right now.”

  I pulled away, expecting shock, disgust—even dismissal—but instead Rick gave a tight smile. It wasn’t a happy one. It was as if he was holding back his anger. The throbbing vein in his neck became more prominent. “He only lasts twenty-five minutes? You don’t have very high standards, Marley.”

  Although he couldn’t hear, Dillon must have sensed the intensity of the moment, because he cleared his throat and announced, cheerfully, that he would fetch Doug. Dillon had never talked to Doug, although he had been a witness to me hopping on the back of Doug’s bike numerous times. I had always kept my rotation separate from everything else. Now because of Rick, my two worlds were going to meet, and I didn’t like it.

  Doug came in, seemingly annoyed by Dillon’s pestering. “Hi, babe, you’re not ready?” he asked.

  Before I could respond, he kissed me hard on the lips. I backed away. I didn’t like public displays, especially not with Dillon on one side of me, Rick on the other and the owner of my company sitting at a booth across the way. I smiled tentatively, but I didn’t speak.

  Rick patted Doug on the shoulder. “Join us for a drink,” he said, pulling him over to the bar. Rick proceeded, to my utter shock and displeasure, to draw Doug into a long conversation about motorcycles. It appeared Rick knew a few things himself. I gave Dillon a look of helpless confusion, but Dillon wasn’t even looking at me. He was enthralled, watching Rick as he expertly manipulated Doug into being his new best friend. Rick bought Doug a beer, and they continued their conversation, ignoring me completely. After the second drink, it became obvious Doug had a man-crush on Rick. Then they did a round of shots, except Rick didn’t finish his shot. He slyly slid it over to Doug, asking him to do it as if it was a challenge. Doug rose to the challenge, repeatedly.

  “We should go, Doug,” I suggested.

  “No, babe, I’m having fun. You didn’t tell me you had such cool co-workers. Let’s stay for a while,” Doug replied, slurring slightly. I hadn’t told Doug anything about myself. He had no idea if I was a pole dancer or preschool teacher. I preferred it that way. I didn’t consider myself promiscuous, but physical needs were an indulgence I could afford, whereas emotional ties were not.

  Rick returned my scowl with a bright smile and had the bartender refill my beer, but he didn’t converse with me. He kept Doug completely occupied with stories about the motorcycles he’d owned, throttles, carburettors and American Chopper. I had no idea what they were talking about, not that I wanted to participate in their conversation.

  It further irked me when Kathy and Henley approached the bar and took up the remaining vacant barstools. Rick had a magnetic presence that naturally captivated people. Dillon and I watched silently as Rick plied Doug with beers and made jokes, which Kathy laughed too loudly at. He introduced Doug to Henley and Kathy as his friend. It made Doug feel welcomed. It made me feel pissed off. Occasionally, he would include me, as would Henley, but for the most part I sat and sulked as the crazy scene unfolded.

  Doug completely ignored me. Dillon was right…he was a douchebag. When Rick deflected one of Kathy’s advances, she pounced on Doug like a second round winner. She licked her lips seductively in a subtle sexual overture. When that didn’t work, she licked his. Doug seemed happy to act as a consolation prize and damn, if Rick wasn’t encouraging it. I could not believe what was happening. It was surreal.

  “Wow, this night is turning out much better than I planned. I was going to watch a marathon of Gossip Girl, but this is like ten times better,” Dillon whispered to me, lifting his glass. I narrowed my eyes at him, refusing to toast.

  “It ends, now,” I said, stepping off the barstool. “I’m going to the jukebox,” I exclaimed loudly. Everyone but Dillon and Rick ignored me. “Rick, can you come with me?” I asked with fake sweetness. He hesitated, but followed me. Doug didn’t notice. He was busy staring into Kathy’s high beams…and I’m not talking about her eyes.

  The jukebox was far enough away, and the music was loud, so we couldn’t be overheard.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

  “Marley, I’m just talking to your eh…friend,” he replied, matter-of-factly, as if I was asking a stupid question.

  My heart was racing, and I could feel the blood pumping through my veins. I’d had a few drinks, which didn’t help the situation. I blurted out, “You’re getting him drunk so he can’t fuck me.”

  Rick smirked. “Oh? Is that what you think?” He brought his face close to mine. “Are you making a spreadsheet or something?”

  I screeched. Yes, I actually screeched as if I was an inarticulate, blubbering teenage girl. Rick didn’t seem fazed by it. Instead, he smiled softly and his voice became serious, “Marley, I’m really going to need your help the next few months. I don’t want to see anything happen to that pretty head of yours and riding on a motorcycle without a helmet is a sure-fire way to do some irreparable damage. You’re a smarter girl than that.”

  God help me, I wanted to kiss him and punch him at the same time. Most of all, I wanted to let him know I wasn’t his concern. “What I do outside of work is none of your business. You think you’ve ruined my night? You haven’t. I have other guys I can call. I have a rotation.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I wished I could take the words back. I knew, with certainty, that I’d feel even worse in the morning that I’d revealed this facet of my personality to him. Rick blinked in confusion.

  “Explain it to me.”

  “It’s none of your business,” I responded, looking down. He put a finger under my chin and lifted my head to meet his gaze.

  “You brought it up, now explain it to me,” Rick demanded.

  Whatever, why stop now? It would only make him think I was a slut. Maybe he would stop making advances then. I know it didn’t make sense to think a guy would cease flirtatious behaviour if he thought a girl was a slut, but for some reason, I thought Rick would. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy that was interested in slutty girls.

  “I don’t believe in dating. I have three guys, and we’re in purely sexual relationships without commitment. So, you can bench the first guy, but there are another two that will be happy to keep me company tonight.”

  I started walking back, but Rick grabbed my reddened wrist, holding it up to my face. “Which one did this to you, Marley?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Who did this to you?” he growled, demanding, rubbing his thumb across the crimson mark.

  I blinked rapidly, hoping it would hold back the tears. “No one! Leave it alone.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. How could I tell him I did it to myself? He regarded me with measured scepticism, as if he didn’t believe me, then his look changed to concerned, though the vein in his neck throbbed and he took a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself.

  “Marley, I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if he was apologising for asking the question, or for grabbing my wrist—either way I could hear the sincerity in his voice—but all my resolve was gone and I just wanted to end the conversation.

  “Leave it alone… Please.” I felt in that moment that Rick was closing in on the painful secrets I’d kept to myself. The ones that seemed to define my life.

  He moved my wrist down to my side. “I’ll forget…for now. Let me buy you a drink,” Rick said with a slow, soft smile.

  I matched his smile although I didn’t feel it, and nodded. Maybe this little interaction was crazy enough to prove to Rick that I wasn’t the girl he thought I was, and he would stop his childish antics.

  We headed back to the bar. I suggested to Doug that we leave again, but Rick insisted Doug stay. He ordered a round for all of us, including Dillon and
I. I didn’t feel I was part of the group, but Dillon seemed to be having a great time, which only pissed me off further.

  Rick was talking to Doug and Henley about incorporating outdoor elements in our new catalogue, including motorcycles. It was somewhat amazing how he steered the conversation into something both Henley and Doug would find interesting. They were two people who’d probably never converse in normal life, but to any outside observer, it would seem like they were the best of friends. I guess alcohol and motorcycle talk does that to guys.

  I played with my phone, deciding who I was going to text for a booty call. Rick grabbed it right out of my hand.

  “I need to use your phone.”

  “Why?” I asked, stiffening, trying to snatch it away from him, but he turned so his back was to me.

  “There’s the number of that mechanic on it that I want to give Doug,” he said casually.

  “What number?”

  “The number I gave you the other day”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t give me a number.”

  Kathy rubbed Rick’s arm, shaking her head at me disapprovingly. “Rick, I don’t know how you deal with Marley. She’s so scatter-brained all the time.”

  I met her gaze, clenching my jaw. “Yeah, but I never call in sick, even for two hours.” She shot me an offended look, but Rick gave her a bright smile. It made her forget what I’d said as if he’d put a spell on her. Women must be such easy prey for him.

  “Marley’s a great assistant.”

  “Give me my phone, Rick,” I insisted, loudly.

  “I will. Just give me a minute, please.”

  It occurred to me I was drawing too much attention. Everyone was suddenly looking at me, even Mr Henley, and the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was arguing with Rick needlessly. The conversation kept up at a jovial pace, while he pretended to be looking for a number that didn’t exist.