Boss: A Novel

by Lauren Love

Then she takes the dress and holds it up so I can see, as though she thinks I’m stupid and needs to demonstrate.

  “This is the largest we have.” But still she holds it up as though somehow I might just want to try it on anyway.

  It’s too small.

  It’s clearly too small.

  I’ve never been super skinny and nobody would ever call me willowy or even particularly graceful, but I’ve never considered myself big either. I have curves but I am not fat.

  I am a woman.

  I am a normal, natural woman with hips and breasts.

  That’s what I want to shout at her.

  But with the way she looks at me, her lips twisting as she gives me another slow once-over, I feel like a blimp.

  I should say something.

  I should demand to see a manager or make a comment about spending my money elsewhere. It’s not her fault that this shop only stocks clothes for skeletons and bobbleheads, but she doesn’t have to take so much glee in humiliating the normal-sized women among us.

  But I don’t do anything.

  I simply smile, turn, and walk out.

  It’s not till I’m out on the street that my lower lip starts to tremble and I feel tears escaping from my stinging eyes.

  Sucking in a sob, I quickly walk around the corner and out of sight of both the shop and other passersby. Still sniffling, I pull out my phone and call the one person I can count on.

  Chapter 5

  Twenty minutes and two triple-choc muffins later, Olivia walks into the coffee shop where she’s told me to wait.

  I just needed to hear her voice - I didn’t expect her to drop everything and come running. But watching her walk through the doors, her blond hair glowing like a halo around her smiling face, is the best thing ever.

  She looks a lot like the woman in the shop, actually. Immaculate hair and nails and makeup.

  But where the shop girl had been cool and snooty and even a little nasty, Olivia smiles and it radiates warmth and love. Her wide eyes glow with honesty and kindness and – and life. This is the reason she’s so successful.

  How could anyone not love her?

  My earlier sadness drops away and I smile brightly, letting a little squeal as I jump to my feet to embrace her. She’s still wearing the same perfume.

  It’s so familiar.

  It smells like home.

  “Hey girl,” she says as we take our seats at the table. “I did something totally naughty on my way here.”

  Her wicked grin makes me laugh. “You didn’t have to drop everything just for me. I’m okay now.”

  And it’s true.

  “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, at least face to face, but you’re still my best friend.” She waves to the waiter and orders two more coffees before continuing. “You call, I come running. You’d do the same for me.”

  “Thank you for coming. It’s so good to see you.”

  She takes my hand and gives me a squeeze. “So what do you want me to confess first? My naughty deed or my nasty deed?”

  “Naughty?” I ask, tentative.

  “I got that bitch fired. Called her boss, introduced myself and made it clear that I found her attitude and behavior abhorrent and told her boss that I could not possibly keep my thoughts to myself.” She laughs and we wait while the waiter serves our coffees. “The owner was so desperate, he practically begged me to let him fire her.”

  My hand slaps over my mouth and I immediately feel guilty.

  What if the girl needed that job?

  What if she was a single mother or couldn’t pay her rent now?

  “Oh no you don’t,” Olivia scolded me, seeing my thoughts like they’re written on my forehead. “People who need their jobs care about customer service.”

  A well-dressed older lady at the table next to us coughs and throws us a disapproving look.

  We both stifle a laugh and Olivia lowers her voice.

  “She made you cry, Claire, and she did it because she’s mean. She will never learn how to be an actual human being until she learns how to behave like a decent person. Maybe in her next job she’ll put her inner bitch away at work and treat people with the respect they deserve.”

  Olivia’s right, and I can’t help feeling a little thrill of delight at the nasty woman getting fired.

  But it still makes me feel bad.

  “What’s the nasty deed?” I ask, remembering what Olivia had said.

  She grins even wider and takes a self-satisfied sip of her coffee. “I visited the boutique and would you believe it, the girl recognized me!”

  “Oh…”

  “That’s what she said!” she gushes in mock surprise. Olivia is one of New York’s leading high fashion models right now. “She said, ‘Oh my gosh! Olivia, it is such an honor to meet you. Blah, blah, blah.’” She makes her hands like a yapping mouth by her ear. “She hugged me so hard I thought my ribs might crack. So I smiled and then I held up my phone and put it on speaker.” She leans closer. “Her boss fired her, right there, in front of me and the security guard walked her out.”

  My hand covers my mouth again and I know I should feel sorry for the girl, but another mad little giggle trickles out.

  “So, are we going to go dress shopping or what?” She swallows the last of her coffee just as I do the same and we set out to find me a dress.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia and I spend the rest of the afternoon shopping and catching up.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive or smiled and laughed so much. With her help, I shop with confidence and find the perfect dress: a million times nicer than the one in the skeleton boutique.

  It’s a gorgeous retro fifties-style with a wide skirt that drops to my knees and sleeveless bodice, cut square and showing just enough cleavage to remind everyone that I’m a woman. The dress is white and covered in shell-pink rose blooms, and the whole ensemble is finished with a wide, sheer sash of lush grass green.

  Perfect.

  And a size smaller than I thought I was.

  We decide to keep the ball rolling and grab an early dinner before Olivia has to go. As we stroll, bags in hand, she throws me a concerned look.

  “You’re thinner than you used to be.”

  “I noticed,” I say, holding up my bag holding the dress.

  “You know you’re not fat, right?” she says. “And you never were before either.”

  “I know,” I reply and frown at the look of concern on her face. “I swear I haven’t stopped eating in the last few months. It’s the housekeeper.”

  Olivia grimaces. “Is she a bad cook?”

  “No! An awesome cook but mainly healthy stuff, lots of veggies and salads.”

  We walk in silence for a bit before Olivia stops me and asks, “Claire, are you happy?”

  “What?” I question in surprise.

  “Are you happy?” she repeats. “I know you well, Claire. I know that look on your face. I mean, I know we can’t all be happy all the time, but are you happy generally, overall?”

  I frown and it shocks me to realize that I don’t know how to answer.

  Am I happy?

  I think about the way I feel in Kaden’s arms, his mouth so urgent and passionate on mine, the pleasure he extends to every inch of my body when we’re making love.

  I realize that those moments have been the only moments over the last few months when I’ve felt even close to happy.

  Surely there must be more, I must be forgetting… something.

  “Of course I’m happy,” I say in defense of my life, without really believing it.

  Olivia nods to me. She doesn’t believe me.

  “I’m an incredibly wealthy woman with more money than I would have even been able to imagine less than four years ago. I have a big house, a fast car, horses, endless clothes, and countless shoes. I can spend money all day and not have to worry about it. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Is that enough?” Olivia presses.

>   “It should be.”

  “But is it?”

  Damn it, Olivia.

  What is with the questions?

  “With all that I have, how could I not be happy?”

  Chapter 7

  “I’m sorry I was so grouchy this morning.” His deep voice sounds gruff and tired but also familiar. There is the warmth that was missing when he’d called to tell me he wouldn’t be home.

  “It’s okay,” I reply.

  I was lying in bed, just contemplating either going to sleep or putting a movie on, when my phone buzzed and Kaden’s image appeared on the little screen.

  “No it isn’t,” he says. “You had every right to be upset. You’re just as important to me as these stupid business meetings.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  He chuckles and I swear I feel it vibrate through me. “It was meant to be. I get grouchy because I feel guilty about leaving you so much. I want to be with you all the time. That’s not an excuse though.”

  “Not much of a compliment.”

  He sighs. “Why do you put up with me?”

  I don’t answer his question, but the thought of his dominance in bed goes through my head.

  “You don’t have to go to that party tomorrow if you don’t want to,” he says. “It was selfish of me to make you feel obligated like that.”

  “Too late,” I reply. “I’ve already brought the perfect dress.”

  “I wish I could see you in it.”

  “Me too.”

  “Actually, I wish I could see you without it on.” His voice smiles.

  Our conversations always turn to sex. It’s like that’s all we have left.

  “Tell me about your day,” I state to him, directing the conversation away from our desires.

  “You wouldn’t want to hear about it. It’s been really boring meeting after really boring meeting. A lot of old men talking about how to make more money.”

  “Come on, something interesting had to have happened. What did you have for lunch?”

  “Lunch?” he ponders the thought for a while. “Lunch was a quick break for a steak in between meetings.”

  I giggle.

  His dietitian ordered him to have more protein at lunch so that he could maintain his ripped physique.

  His discipline and determination always impresses me.

  I wish I could be that controlled.

  “Is Natasha with you?”

  Damn.

  Why did I ask that question?

  “Yes… she is my secretary, Claire. She works for me.”

  Damn.

  I knew I shouldn’t have asked that question. Now I sound like a whining girlfriend.

  I’m not that person.

  At least, I never used to be.

  “So what are you wearing now?” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone and I nibble my lip as I sink back onto the pillows.

  The conversation has turned back to sex and that is where we are most comfortable…

  Chapter 8

  The next day I arrive at Melinda’s estate at around one o’clock. I’m still buzzing from my phone conversation with Kaden last night. We talked for over an hour, ending with a toe-curling session of phone sex.

  I arrive feeling confident and even a little excited.

  It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party. Once all the tension of not knowing anyone disappeared, I started wondering if my earlier sadness was caused not so much by Kaden’s absence but by my own loneliness.

  I haven’t really socialized much since selling my business, but that’s not Kaden’s fault. He never stopped me from going out or seeing friends – that was all me.

  Today that’s all going to change.

  I stride up the steps to the enormous front doors and ring the bell.

  I can hear the live orchestra filtering through from what I know is a breathtaking garden. Even if I don’t really know anyone, I do know that the food will be mouthwatering and the music will be incredible.

  I will enjoy this party.

  My mantra ends suddenly when a dour-looking housekeeper swings the door open.

  My first impression is that she looks like an angry vulture.

  Her mouth is tight and pursed, her nose is long and thin and her eyes peer out at me as though I’d arrived at midnight, in the middle of a storm, looking for shelter.

  “Hello?” she says and just stands there in the doorway.

  “Um, hi,” I say back.

  Is there a code word I should have used or a secret knock?

  “I’m here for the garden party?” It comes out as a question and I hate how I can feel myself shrinking back.

  “Do you have an invitation?”

  I just look at her.

  Are you actually kidding?

  For a split second I consider simply turning and walking away.

  To hell with these snooty assholes!

  “Claire!” The loud squawk comes from somewhere behind the vulture and she moves aside.

  Melinda is smiling and practically jittering on her feet.

  Like always, I feel myself shrinking slightly in her presence.

  She’s beautiful, not in the warm, welcoming way like Olivia, but in a stunning, breathtaking way that sometimes seems almost inhuman.

  Or maybe I’m just a little jealous.

  Her silky black hair falls just past her shoulders in luscious waves, framing her perfect porcelain doll face, and when she smiles I have to stifle a gasp.

  She walks right by the housekeeper as though the older woman’s not there and then looks over my shoulder before looking at me.

  “But where’s Kaden?” she asks.

  “He couldn’t make it,” I reply.

  “And you came anyway? All alone?” She squints at me and almost frowns but it’s gone in the next second, seamlessly replaced by a radiant smile.

  “Happy birthday,” I say and even manage a bright smile as I say it.

  “Thank you.” She giggles.

  She takes both my hands then pulls me into a perfumed hug before kissing both my cheeks.

  “Come in, I must introduce you to everyone. They are all dying to meet Kaden’s new girlfriend. But you must promise to come find me if you get lonely.”

  I nod and smile and tell myself that she’s honestly trying to be nice, she’s just… different from my friends.

  She leads me by the hand out into the garden and it’s even more spectacular than I imagined.

  A string quartet play familiar music that I can’t quite recognize and beneath a wide decorative marquee, there are tables and chairs and the biggest buffet table I’ve ever seen, loaded with literal mountains of fresh fruit, desserts, salad, and roast meat.

  Melinda’s gardens are huge. I’ve only seen them once before, but it was at night. During the day the roses and multitudes of other colorful flowers create a stunning effect and the grounds themselves are lush and green.

  It is picture perfect.

  Actually, I have never seen a picture this perfect.

  “Lucy!” Melinda squeals and pulls me towards a small circle of men and women about our age. I recognize a few of them from other parties.

  “You must meet Kaden’s new girlfriend.”

  I’m not new. It’s been a couple of years now.

  And I am also more than just a girlfriend!

  But I don’t say that, I just smile as she introduces me to her friends.

  “How did you two meet?” a girl named Karla asks.

  But before I can speak Melinda gasps and slaps a hand to her chest as though she might swoon. “It’s a wonderful story. Claire was a underprivileged programmer when she met our Kaden. Right away they knew that despite their differences in station, they were meant to be.”

  I grit my teeth but still manage a smile.

  “It was like a fairy tale,” I say and hope nobody grasps my sarcastic tone.

  This goes on for about an hour.

  Perfect Melinda leads me from circle to c
ircle, telling my rags to riches story over and over.

  I tell myself she’s trying to make me feel welcome but every time I hear her version of the story, I feel more and more excluded.

  It’s like she’s introducing me as merely an honorary member of their exclusive club, which I guess I am. I could never fit in here. These people have grown up with a lot of money – I could never pretend to understand their problems.

  I’m about to extricate myself and plead for a bathroom break when we join a small circle of three older women and a man about my age.

  He’s well-dressed, but his unshaven chin and slightly mussed hair separates him from the rest.

  Melinda introduces me, and immediately slips into my tale of woe and good fortune. By this point I’m not even really listening any more, just smiling politely.

  Maybe I should get a little hat so I can dance while she plays her music.

  The younger man suddenly snickers but covers it quickly with a cough before excusing himself.

  Was he laughing at me?

  Is that what I am here?

  A joke that everyone’s sharing, only I don’t get it?

  One of the older women, the one with the big hat and slim-line black-and-white dress, leans closer to Melinda and says, “I hope you don’t mind me bringing my nephew, Damon. He spends time in our society so rarely these days.” She lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “He’s an artist. His father had great dreams of the boy taking over the family business. The one consolation is that my poor brother-in-law has passed. He’d be so disappointed.”

  I excuse myself from the conversation and even manage to do it without glaring at the older woman.

  Melinda makes me promise, in an almost obnoxiously loud voice, to come find her if I have no one to talk to, and to my credit I even manage to kiss her cheek and wish her happy birthday again before I almost run to the bathroom.

  Behind the closed door I run my hands under the cool water and just breathe, staring into my own eyes in the mirror.

  Damn this place.

  Chapter 9

  “You can do this, Claire,” I say to myself. “Just a couple more hours. Eat some of that amazing food, let them talk at you and remind you just how much you don’t belong, then you can go home. But be nice. Be nice.”