Cutting Loose

by Charity Hillis

  “Nothing wrong with taking a risk every now and then, right?”

  ***

  Even though Amy knew she had to be at her best the next morning for the big meeting, she and Sharlene stayed up half the night, talking about everything and nothing. Amy had forgotten what it was like to have a girlfriend she could trust; since college, she’d made a few friends in the city, but she hadn’t realized that the friendships didn’t run as deep as they could have until she’d gotten back in touch with Sharlene. Despite the years that had gone by since they really knew each other, it was almost like no time had passed.

  When Amy finally went to bed, she fell asleep with a smile, but she woke up foggy and disoriented at the sound of her alarm three hours later. She glanced at the clock blearily, but then her eyes opened wide. “Shit!” Checking the time on her phone, she practically fell out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit!” She scrambled into the bathroom to take the fastest shower on record. Amy didn’t bother to wash her hair, and her fingers deftly pulled it into a simple bun at the nape of her neck rather than worrying about one of her more intricate styles. There wasn’t time to do a proper job on her makeup, so she smeared on some lipstick and hoped that she looked good enough as she hurried back to her room to get dressed.

  “What’s wrong?” Sharlene called from the living room. “It’s only seven.”

  “I’m late,” Amy said, biting back another curse as her fingernail snagged on her pantyhose. “The meeting’s at eight!”

  “Oh, shit!” Sharlene echoed, and Amy fought back a giggle. “I’ll make the coffee.”

  Buttoning up her crisp white blouse, Amy grabbed her fitted navy suit coat out of the closet. “There’s no time,” she said, hurrying out of the bedroom with her spikey heels in her hands. “I’ll grab some at the office.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sharlene offered, looking dazed in her rumpled pink pajamas.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can make it. And here,” Amy said, digging her keys out of her bag and tossing them to Sharlene, “now you won’t be trapped here waiting for me.”

  “Do you want to do lunch? I can come up to your office.”

  Amy shook her head as she rushed out the door. “No time. But I’ll text when I have a minute and we can figure out dinner.”

  She didn’t hear if Sharlene said anything else, because she was already racing to the elevator, trying to tuck in her shirt and pull on her left shoe at the same time.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Amy paused, startled. Staring out at her with a surprised expression was Sean, his jeans as tight as she remembered, with a guitar case strapped to his back. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” She asked, frozen in the hallway with one shoe half on.

  Sean’s lips stretched wider. “I’ve got a few gigs in the city this weekend, and thought I’d drop by for a chat.”

  Amy shook her head. “How did you find me?”

  He chuckled. “No need to be so melodramatic about it. Sharlene gave me your address.”

  “I’m late for work,” Amy blurted, still standing frozen in the hall.

  Sean caught the elevator doors with one hand just as they started to close. “So come on,” he said, gesturing beside him.

  Baffled, Amy got into the elevator with him. “I still don’t understand what you’re—“

  Before she could finish her sentence, the doors had clicked shut and in one movement, Sean had backed her up against the wall, his mouth covering hers with a hot, insistent kiss. Rational thought fled, and Amy opened her lips, savoring the sensation. Her hands slid around his hips, fingers twining around his belt loops before tugging him closer to her, and Sean chuckled against her mouth.

  The doors opened again with a soft chime, and Amy heard someone gasp. Pushing Sean away from her, she tried to straighten her shirt. Giving her doorman a quick, businesslike nod, Amy strode into the lobby, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing and the heat that had built between her legs. She glanced back over her shoulder at Sean, wondering what was wrong with her all of a sudden. He took her look as an invitation, and, smiling, sauntered across the lobby. With a wink at the doorman, Sean stepped in front of Amy to hold the door.

  “After you,” he murmured, his face hovering dangerously close to hers.

  She brushed past him, her heart pounding, but when they were on the sidewalk and he slid his hand to the small of her back, she swatted him away and stepped to the side, struggling to regain control of herself. “What the hell was that?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  She shook her head, trying to get a grip on her scattered thoughts. “You can’t just show up at my apartment and jump me like that,” she finally said, settling for what she thought was a reasonable tone.

  “Why not?”

  “We can’t…people don’t…” exasperated, she trailed off, blowing a chunk of blond hair that had come free from her bun out of her eyes. As hot as Sean was, something was holding Amy back, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It’s just because I’m late, that’s all, she told herself.

  Sean didn’t seem to register her exasperation. “I thought it might be fun to finish what we started. But if you’re not in the mood for fun,” he held up his hands defensively, “I’m not going to force you.”

  “Sharlene’s staying with me this week,” Amy told him automatically, “so that kind of fun is out.”

  Sean took a step closer to her, his eyes sparking. “But you’re saying it wouldn’t be if she weren’t with you?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know!” A horn blared from the street, and Amy jerked her head, pulling out her phone. “Shit. I’m seriously late now.” Hurrying to the curb, she put out her arm to hail a cab.

  Sean touched her shoulder, his fingers lingering a moment more than necessary. “But I’ll see you later, right?”

  Amy nodded absently as she started to get into the cab that had pulled up. “Sure. Whatever. Why don’t you tell Sharlene where you’re playing this weekend and we’ll see.”

  His lips stretched into a wide smile, and a jolt of desire shot through her. “I like the idea of wait and see. Gives me time to think of plenty of things you’ll think are worth waiting for.” He shut the door to the cab and gave a jaunty wave with his fingers. Amy was still turned around in her seat watching his shape recede when the car turned the corner, and even though he was out of sight, she couldn’t quite let go of the sensations he’d stirred in her body.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sean watched the yellow cab pull into traffic, and then he shook himself. What had gotten into him? Sure, he wasn’t one to ignore the offer of a little fun, but he’d never ambushed a girl in an elevator before. But then again, you don’t usually have the whole delayed gratification thing going on, he reminded himself as he turned away from the street.

  He glanced back at the apartment building; Amy had mentioned that Sharlene was staying with her, and Sean figured she was still back in the apartment, given the hour. For a minute, he considered going up there and seeing if she wanted to spend the day bumming around the city with him, but then he shook his head. He shot off a quick text to Sharlene, inviting her to the gig that night, and then he pocketed his phone. With a wave in the direction of Amy’s floor, Sean turned and headed into the crowded sidewalk, strolling along and savoring the sights and smells of the city.

  Once, when he was a junior in high school, his class had made the trek to New York for an art field trip. Sean hadn’t paid much attention to the museums, but he’d sure noticed the buskers on every corner. It had been the first time he’d seen musicians performing somewhere other than a stage or a sold-out stadium, and his teenage-self had been fascinated with the idea of making music on a street corner someday. I’ve got plenty of time to kill until the gig, he realized, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked. Maybe I’ll find myself a street corner and play a bit.

  It seemed a little too early for any street
performers to be out, even though he wandered around for what felt like miles, so Sean finally planted himself on a barstool in the window of a café, where he slugged back some coffee and people watched. The rhythm of the city seeped into him as he watched the people going by, and lyrics teased at his brain, just begging to be written down. Before he realized what he was doing, Sean had absentmindedly jotted down a line on the napkin in front of him. City feet move, move, move. He read the words back to himself, and even though he could hear the chords that should accompany those words in his head, he crumpled up the napkin.

  What is it with me all of a sudden? He thought, ordering another coffee to go and heading back into the street so he wouldn’t be tempted to keep composing. I don’t write songs anymore. That part of my life ended a long time ago.

  Everyone had said that Joy was unstable for a long time, that he shouldn’t blame himself for what happened. But they didn’t know that Sean had spent hours on the phone with her, tossing lyrics back and forth that were dark and deep, trying to outdo each other with melancholy words and notes. They didn’t know that she’d sometimes cried when they kissed, or that he’d just thought she was being poetic when she told him her soul was bleeding. “If anyone could have helped her, it should have been me,” he muttered to himself as walked. It was something he’d held over his head since he was seventeen, something he’d never voiced to anyone, not even the guidance counselors who called him down for mandatory weekly sessions after Joy’s parents put her in an institution.

  When he’d realized that his music had probably hurt her more than she was already hurting, Sean spent a long time beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner. That was when he’d stopped writing music; if his words had that kind of power, he had never wanted to use it again. So why am I suddenly compelled to write songs? He puzzled over the question as he wandered around the city, but by the time he found a promising spot in Central Park just waiting for a street performer, he was too distracted by the past to want to play anymore.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Although the cab ride gave her a chance to calm her racing heart and fix her hair, Amy was sure that all the male partners could read the heat on her cheeks as she rushed into the board room fifteen minutes late. A couple of the men smirked at her, and Amy forced herself to meet their eyes with a determined, confident gaze. As she slid into her seat, she smoothed her skirt, surreptitiously checking one more time to make sure she wasn’t untucked or unbuttoned, and then she turned her attention to the front of the room, where Samuel Fitz, her boss, was watching her intently.

  “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Savoy.” It sounded like he overemphasized the Ms., and his piercing dark eyes pinned her to the spot and made her palms start to sweat, but Amy tried not to show it. How the hell do I talk myself out of this? I was up too late with my old college roommate, oh, and by the way, I had a random elevator hookup on my way into the office? She gave him what she hoped was an apologetic smile. “I’ve got company in from out of town, and I had to make sure my guest had a key before I left.” True enough, she thought as she waited for his reply.

  He studied her for a long moment, but finally tipped his head slightly. “So it won’t happen again.” It was a statement, not a question, but Amy still shook her head in response. “Fine,” he said, surveying the room, “let’s get back to it, shall we?”

  Amy resisted the urge to sink back into the plush leather conference chair and sigh in relief. Instead, she sat up straight and flipped open the folder that was sitting in front of her on the table. Her thoughts kept straying to Sean, however, and his unexpected appearance back in her life that morning, and Amy didn’t really hear much of the meeting. Luckily, after the public shaming her boss had given her for being late, he seemed disinclined to speak to her again. On any other day, she would have felt slighted and worried by his behavior if he’d ignored her in a meeting, and then she would have then spent the rest of the week working twice as hard to make up for whatever it was she’d done that had pissed him off in the first place, but that morning, Amy was happy to be left alone with her thoughts.

  When she caught herself doodling in the margins of her notebook, however, Amy forced her mind to stop replaying the events of the morning, so she was actually listening when Fitz gestured to Kingston, a recent transfer from the Texas office.

  “I want to make sure this account is well-cared for, and I’m sure you’ll all agree with me that Kingston has earned the opportunity.”

  The men around the table nodded, but Amy could read the glares and insincere expressions behind the silent acquiescence, and she marveled that their boss didn’t catch the hint of mutiny. She should have been as furious as the rest of them; Kingston hadn’t been in the office for more than a few months, and whatever the account was that they’d been discussing, Amy knew from experience that new blood never, ever got a chance to handle anything more important than coffee and copies for at least a year. As the newest partner, part of her remembered that she should have had a say in any new account assignments, and she almost wanted to complain. Still, she didn’t grudge the newbie’s instant rise; it might mean she’d actually be able to unplug over the weekend and enjoy the rest of Sharlene’s visit.

  Amy shook her head. What am I thinking? I can’t lose focus, not after I’ve worked so hard for all this. After the meeting, she crossed the room and shook the Texan’s hand. They hadn’t really had a chance to work together yet, and Amy bit back a surge of jealousy when she realized that he was younger than she was.

  “Good luck,” she offered, mostly meaning it.

  He smiled a charming smile. “Thanks. Hopefully it won’t be too different from the accounts I’m used to back home.”

  “A word of advice,” she offered before she could stop herself. “If you want to make it here, you’re going to have to start thinking of this as your home.”

  He nodded. “I know. I’m still getting used to the city, but-“

  “Not the city,” Amy interrupted, “this office. You better learn to love your cubicle, because if you’ve got any plans of making partner, you’re going to have to work for it. You better love it like it’s the only thing that matters.”

  Kingston’s smile slipped. “Has that worked out for you so far?”

  Amy shrugged, trying to ignore the surge of defensiveness mingled with despair that threatened to overwhelm her. “It’s worked,” she finally ground out. “Did you see any other women around that table?”

  Fitz stepped into the hall. “Savoy, a word, please?”

  Kingston lowered his voice as she stepped around him. “I’m not gunning for your job,” he said softly. “I just want to do my own work and do it well.”

  She glanced up at him and realized his expression was genuine, and some of her ire softened. “Then seriously, good luck. But this office isn’t going to be like what you’re used to.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’ve already figured that out. I’ve been here since January, remember?”

  She nodded, although she didn’t remember; I’ve been too busy to notice things like that, she told herself firmly. Closing the door on Kingston, Amy faced her boss, resisting the urge to smooth her hands over her hair and make sure nothing was out of place. “Yes?”

  “How are you coming with the report I asked for?”

  He’d emailed her in the middle of her weekend in Vermont, asking her to pull the numbers for their corporate accounts in Europe, but between Sean’s distraction and her hasty retreat, his request had gotten buried in her inbox. Since she’d been back to work, she’d barely had time to glance at her Blackberry, let alone crunch any numbers. “I’m working on it,” she lied. “You’ll have it by the end of the day.”

  His steely gaze met hers, and Amy tried not to flinch. “I hope so,” he said slowly. “I’d hate to think that you weren’t pulling your weight.”

  Amy clicked her mouth shut. “I’m on it.”

  He nodded. “Are you enjoying the new position?”

&
nbsp; Since being made partner, Amy had barely had a chance to breathe, let alone realize if she was enjoying the work or not, but she forced a bright smile. “Of course! It’s what I’ve worked toward all these years.” Pausing, she wondered if it would sound corny if she thanked him again, but he still seemed to be waiting for something, so she offered, “Thank you.”

  “Being a partner at this firm is going to be different than you’re used to,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and looking out the window at the city below. “It’s a great deal of responsibility, and it wouldn’t mesh well with a frivolous lifestyle.”

  “No, sir,” Amy responded automatically, even though she had no idea where he was going with this.

  He gestured to a chair, and Amy sat down, perching on the front and keeping her back ramrod straight. Fitz towered over her, but he just clasped his hands behind his back and looked down.

  “You started working for us what, fifteen years ago, is that right?”

  Amy nodded. “Right after college,” she admitted.

  Fitz smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s right,” he said. “So that means you’re…oh, I know a lady never admits to her age, but I can do math as well as the next person. Have you begun thinking about starting a family?”

  Amy stared at him, dumbfounded. “I don’t even have a boyfriend,” she blurted without thinking. “Not,” she added, hastily trying to back-peddle, “that my personal life will ever interfere with my ability to get the job done.” Her lips tingled, remembering Sean’s insistent kiss from earlier that morning, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral.

  Fitz nodded slowly. “That’s good. I’d hate to think that I made a mistake recommending you for this promotion.”

  A bubble of fear had been building in her stomach, and Amy shook her head frantically, pushing the memory of Sean’s embrace completely out of her mind. “Oh, no. Not at all. I’m exactly the right person for the job.”