The Everything Girl

by L. Maleki

  He winced. “A little grace. That’s what I’m asking for here. We’re new to the city. If you don’t want to be intimate, that’s understandable. But we can help each other.” He tipped his head down the hallway, down to the open pit where my desk was. “It can’t hurt to share networks.”

  “Are you serious—”

  He adopted a wounded mien, a kicked dog. “No, no, not just that. I really do care for you. You know that.” He reached out a hand and brushed my hip.

  “No, I don’t know that. I don’t think your girl knows that, either.” I tried to hand him back the chai, but he shoved his hands in his pockets. I shrugged, took a sip. It was too sweet. “You—”

  “Paris! Who’s this?”

  Oh sweet mother of God. It was Frank. In a dress shirt, slacks, and beat-up Birkenstocks. Nicki, clipboard in hand like a Hollywood extra, was close on his heels, glee emanating off her like old lady perfume. I couldn’t think of two entities I would want to be part of this interaction less than Frank or Nicki. Maybe Death incarnate. No, scratch that. I’d fucking love it if Death showed up right now and whisked me away.

  “Um, hi. Darien, this is Frank Coyle. The CEO.”

  Darien stuck out his hand, smooth, a car salesman. “Hello there, I’m Darien Basir.” Beat. “Paris’s boyfriend.”

  I grimaced. The audacity.

  Nicki shifted from hip to hip in the background. I could feel her giddiness but ignored her.

  Frank, at least a foot shorter than my ex-boyfriend, squinted at Darien’s hand for a second, then pumped it loosely, once. His hand was tiny and pasty in Darien’s big man hand. He flinched when Darien squeezed.

  Staring at Darien, I threw daggers from my eyes. He seemed to catch one in the frontal lobe, finally, and let Frank’s hand go.

  “Heyya,” the CEO said, craning his neck upward, spreading his stance, and crossing his arms across his chest. “What brings you to the office? Here for Paris? Or are you an investor?”

  I almost laughed out loud at my boss’s dropped pitch, going from a tenor to a baritone, but I simultaneously wanted to scream in frustration. Men. Quickly, I said, “Oh, he’s not an investor. He was here to bring me a tea. He’s leaving.”

  Darien tried to wrap an arm around my shoulder. I awkwardly shrugged away from him and he laughed. “Ha ha, you. So shy, this one.”

  Frank frowned at me. “You need to get back to your desk.”

  “Yes, of course. Like I said, Darien is leaving.” What a fucking coward I was. Always had to keep the peace, though both these men had no problem acting douchey.

  Thankfully, the elevator popped open.

  “Paris!” Liam jumped into the hall and sprinted up to me, wrapping his short arms around my midriff, smiling up at me as if I were his long-lost best friend.

  I felt immediate gratitude to the kid, and then a surprise burst of emotion. The sweet little boy was unconditionally showing me affection, simply because I’d been nice to him once. I squeezed him back, grateful to see he seemed to be doing okay despite his awful parents.

  “Hey, slugger! Long time no see. What are you doing here?”

  “We have a conference with my teacher.”

  “I told you I’d meet you at the car, Liam.” Frank stepped around the group in the hallway, swaggered into the elevator. “Come on.”

  I tousled Liam’s hair. “Good luck.” The teacher must be hot if Frank is going to a school function.

  Frank yelled from the elevator, “You! Redhead, whatever your name is, let’s go. What’s the holdup?”

  Nicki swept past me, her remodeled nose in the air. “Just so you know,” she stage-whispered, “Frank was looking for you earlier. He said you’re irresponsible.”

  Damn it, I’d been gone for less than fifteen minutes. Then again, did I want to go on another field trip with Frank? The last one had been so not enjoyable, but now Frank’s son was stuck with those two.

  Liam gave me one more squeeze. “Bye, Paris!” He hustled into the elevator behind Frank and Nicki, correctly guessing they’d leave him behind if the doors shut before he got in.

  The CEO’s hand emerged from the elevator at the last second, grabbed the closing door, and pushed it back. He bent forward and shouted, as if I weren’t three feet in front of him, “I’m going to be back in an hour!” He released the door and offered a look as if I should know why that was so important. I simply nodded, trying to give the impression I was on the same page.

  Then the doors slid shut. I whirled back to Darien.

  “My boyfriend! Why would you even say that? Why are you even here? You left me, remember? And I’ve made it pretty clear I have no interest in you now.”

  “Sorry, sorry. It just seemed the easiest way to explain us.”

  “There’s no us!”

  “Why do you care?” His eyes became slits. “What, are you interested in this guy? He’s your boss. Is that how you roll now?”

  “Are you insane? You did not act like this when we were together, why in God’s name would you act like this now? Are you trying to get me fired? Is that what you want?”

  He backpedaled. “No, I swear, I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted to see where you worked, meet some of the people you spent your days with. And I wasn’t kidding, networking would be great.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I can see this didn’t go down the way I meant it to—”

  “And what about your real girlfriend? You’ve sidestepped her every time.”

  “I’m not sure where that’s going. We’re really more like friends.” He leaned against the wall, visibly shedding the jealous act, morphing into his sensitive-guy persona. Always the actor. “No one gets me like you do, Paris.” He grinned. “And it looks like you’ve overcome your fear of children.”

  I had the chance for intimacy right in front of me, a strong pair of arms to hold me at night. My apartment was drafty and lonely. I didn’t even have a cat. I wanted love. But I did not want to wake up to lies and arguments and disdain. I did not want conflict.

  Suddenly, I realized if I was willing to face conflict, I’d pick Benji. The other guy with a girlfriend, I reminded myself sternly.

  I put on my game face.

  “Eh, I don’t know, Darien. You’re a child and I don’t like you.” I winked as if I were teasing, punching him on the chest, pretending it was a playful blow but hoping the sting lasted.

  “Damn, Paris.” He grabbed his chest. “That kind of hurt. You must be working out.”

  “Yeah, good one.” I smoothed down my shirt, moved back a pace. “I’ve got to get to work. Thanks for the chai, but call next time.” I turned and strode down the hall before he could draw me back in.

  “What, no hug?” he called down the corridor. But when I glanced over my shoulder a minute later, he was gone.

  Back to work. Thank God.

  The irritants were gone.

  I loped over to my desk and grabbed up the office phone. “Hey, Kwan, can you try to catch Nicki before she gets in the car with Frank? Tell her she needs to get him some real shoes before he goes into the school. And make sure there’s water and snacks for Liam in the car. Thanks.”

  It was a long day, but quiet. I worked through a number of projects with no interruption.

  Later, I heard Frank before I saw him. As I looked up, I saw Nicki settle into her desk chair slowly, as if she’d just run a marathon. Liam was nowhere in sight. I hoped he was spending time with a friend, another nine-year-old with parents who would cook him a well-balanced meal and ask him questions about his favorite color and consider adopting him.

  Frank, disheveled and revealing far too much chest hair, stood in the pit, in front of the analyst he’d made cry that morning.

  “Hey there,” said our middle-aged boss, waving his hands under his sweat-stained armpits. “Why don’t I take you out for a drink? Take your mind off your dead dog?”

  “Me?” The girl put her hand to her chest, a deer in the headlights.


  “Yeah, you look sad.”

  “It has been hard …” She petered off weakly.

  “Damn, is it hot in here or is it just me?” He ran a hand across his forehead, creating streaks in the perspiration. “You know, my kid keeps saying he wants a dog, but my family shoots them back in Texas. I don’t really see the attraction.” He patted her on the shoulder, leaving a damp handprint. “A couple of tequilas will make this better.”

  By the time I reached them, the office was silent, waiting to see how she responded. Beyond a gasp, she seemed stymied.

  I broke the spell. “Uh, Frank, Andrew wants to see you in his office. He said it’s important,” I said loudly.

  The CEO frowned and tromped toward his partner’s office. I widened my eyes at Michelle and she nodded; Frank brought out the mental telepathy in us. The savvy assistant picked up her phone and said something quietly. Andrew’s door popped open a second later, just as Frank got there. The two disappeared inside.

  The hum of monitors and trading and gossip turned back on. The young analyst sat back down. “Michelle, he asked me out for a drink. What should I say?”

  “No,” we said together.

  “But I just started. I want to keep my job.”

  Michelle leaned in, her ponytail swinging forward with definitive purpose, and said quietly, “Then say no in a way that lets him off the hook, like, ‘Oh, I can’t, my fiancé’s parents are in town, but thank you. It was nice of you to want to cheer me up.’ Pretend you don’t know what he really meant.” Michelle sighed, straightening her ponytail out of habit. “Yeah, I know, sexual harassment is illegal. You shouldn’t have to tiptoe around your boss’s ego, and it’s definitely against company policy to date your superior. Unfortunately, Frank doesn’t pay attention to any of that.” Her voice became serious. “If he becomes pushy or he tries to touch you, you tell Todd or me. Stick up for yourself, tell him to stop. It might create conflict, but you can’t let it slide. A job is never worth more than your integrity. Right, Paris?”

  “Right.”

  Hypocrite, I thought.

  Chapter 14

  I spent the week avoiding Benji’s calls, working on an acceptable birthday “surprise” for Frank, and trying to get a hold of my dad. I was starting to think he was ignoring me like I was ignoring Benji. Thankfully, Darien seemed to have backed off.

  Until the ass hat sent me a text.

  I’m glad I ran into you. Tell Frank I said hey. Maybe one of these days when the office is slow, he’d be interested in chatting? I’d love to pick that guy’s brain.

  I erased his message. I wanted to erase his narcissistic, delusional face from this planet. Did he think I couldn’t see through his desperate attempt to use me to get to Frank? I wished with all my heart he was in front of me right then. The pain I would deliver …

  Then Frank called me in to go over his agenda for the weekend.

  “Frank, I totally forgot to give you the recording of Liam’s game.” I thrust a labeled flash drive at him.“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to keep it so long.”

  Actually, I had not forgotten. Instead, I’d spent multiple nights going back into the recording and erasing some of the audio, thanks to YouTube tutorials. Though the limo driver and I had bonded over our shared dislike of Frank’s fathering methods, I hadn’t always remembered to mute the mic. I’d learned a lot about video production in the last few days.

  Frank grabbed the flash drive and tossed it to the side of his desk, amidst a stack of magazines and newspapers he’d already read.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  No, please! I did not want to rehash the experience. I’d have to swab out my brain again.

  He tugged his wallet from his suit jacket. “Here.” He withdrew a number of hundred dollar bills. “This is a bonus. Good work with Liam. He liked you.” His nasally voice sharpened. “And I liked that you kept your mouth shut.”

  “Thank you. I liked him, too.” I took the money and stood there like an idiot, unsure of what else to say. I didn’t want to deconstruct his afternoon with the Funsy Twins and their sister, the cleanest stripper in the world, but I also was not going to turn down a bonus I had definitely earned.

  Luckily, his attention span was that of a gnat.

  He brought up a host of spreadsheets on his desktop, fiddling with codes, numbers, and formulas. He immediately became absorbed, forgetting I was there.

  “Sorry to bother you, Frank …” He didn’t look up. “But when you’re done with that, if you have a second, could you look over that report on the trends I sent you last week? I need to talk to you about which traders were making some of the unlabeled trades.” I needed to get the finalized report to Todd and Andrew.

  Dismissing me with a flick of his fingers as if I hadn’t just spoken, he said, “My wife called, she wants some caviar for our weekend guests, from that place on Seventh Avenue. Petrossian. Get a lot.”

  A lot. Sure. I knew his chef was on vacation, and the maid was at a funeral, so I didn’t bother calling the main house staff. Still, I wished there was someone who could tell me how much “a lot” was. There was no way I wanted to go to 7th Avenue and back for caviar. But as I was dialing, I realized I could use the company car to stop at the bank and deposit my fresh wad of cash along the way. Frank had given me over two thousand dollars; I doubted he knew he’d given me that much, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

  I could even pick up a few things for Lucia, like ginger cookies, or pickles, or whatever crazy food she could keep down that day. She was almost six weeks pregnant and she was terrified and anxious and confused about what she wanted. It didn’t help that she and Gina were in an odd place. I’d stopped by twice that week, but Gina was distant with both of us. She said she was wrapping her head around “things.”

  “She is so angry,” Lucia told me one afternoon, when Gina came into the kitchen, grabbed a bag of chips, and went back into her room without saying a word. “Not because I am con il bambino, but because she thinks I let a man use me. I have explained I was using him, but that doesn’t seem to make it better. I’m not a bad person, am I, Paris?”

  “No. You’re just human. A complex human.” I sighed. “She’s still your best friend. You just surprised her.”

  Lucia was lonely, bothered by Gina’s rejection while she dealt with the question mark growing inside her. God, I did not envy her on that score. She was a hot mess. A baby would make her runway career impossible for now, possibly forever, and, worse, she was sure it would destroy the relationship with her family. Even so, it would be worse if her family found out she’d had an abortion. I also knew, deep in her gut, she feared she was going to hell regardless of her decision, having been threatened with brimstone and flames every time she’d sinned as a child. Ugh. It’s all so complicated and horrible. If she wants this baby, she’s going to have to fight for it.

  Ginger cookies and pickles would be little comfort in the face of such turmoil, but it was the best I had to offer.

  Once I was relaxing in the back seat of the town car, I suddenly remembered I’d forgotten to give Frank his updated agenda for Saturday and Sunday, which also had contact information he needed. I could email it to him, but he rarely looked at his emails or texts unless they were from investors—or women named Bunny. I called Michelle, but a nasally voice answered.

  “Nicki, hi,” I said. “I need you to print off Frank’s updated schedule from my desktop. Knowing Frank, he might leave before I get back with his caviar.”

  “Why did you get to leave?”

  Biting my tongue at her snotty retort, I said, “I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I’d like you to do the same. Please give him the schedule.” I hung up on her before she could argue with me, but I texted Michelle and asked her to check in with Nicki, to make sure it had been done.

  Responsibilities delegated, I leaned back and appreciated the city streets, trying not to think too deeply on any one thing, taking the moment to just
breathe. To be.

  This time last year, I was working with securities from a bank desk, spending my free time helping my dad and taking Torah interpretation classes online, while watching Darien continue to drift away. My dad’s business had seemed to be going strong, despite some dips, but that might not have been the truth. The two men in my life at the time had lied to me, one to protect me, the other to test out the greener grass on the other side of the fence.

  Now, I worked for a madman but made a good salary at a successful hedge fund company, lived in New York, was in love with photography all over again, and I’d met … Benji. I hated to accept he was a cheater like Darien, but I would meet other men, right? I’d be fine. Lucia and Gina would be fine. My father would be fine. Frank would be … blown up in a terrible toilet tragedy. I smiled, pressed my nose against the car window, and breathed; fog blurred the harsh outlines of reality sliding by.

  My phone buzzed. A text from Benji.

  Please don’t be mad at me anymore. Come to the class tonight, we’ll talk. But even if you won’t talk to me, I have something you need to see … No, not that, sicko ;)

  My heart palpitated. Logically, I knew I had to stay away. Heartwise, I just couldn’t believe the sweet soul I’d bonded with emotionally and physically was playing me. He wasn’t smooth, not like Darien.

  Then the phone buzzed again.

  Dear Parisa, will you call me tonight? This is your father. I have to tell you about the new zoo I went to today. It only had one animal. A dog. It was a shitzu. Love, Dad.

  My dad had finally figured out the text function. I chuckled when I heard him say “shit zoo” in my head, his accent thickened by laughter. He cracked himself up. But what had taken him so long to get back to me? Why did he need me to call? The bad feeling came back to life in the pit of my stomach.

  A third buzz. A text from Frank. I was a popular girl, all of a sudden.

  Where are you?

  I’d been gone for maybe twenty minutes.

  Maybe I should have finished those conversion classes. Maybe God would like me more.

  “Dad, you said to call you. Call me back when you get this message.”