Don't You Forget About Me: Pam of Babylon Book #2

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “It’s obvious from your arrogance that you don’t realize what sexual harassment is.” She had a smirk on her face now.

  “I’m not harassing you!” he said.

  “If you keep making unwanted advances toward someone at the workplace, that is harassment,” she explained. “This isn’t anything new, for God’s sake.”

  “I don’t feel like this is unwanted.” He smiled his smirky smile at her.

  “So now you can read my mind? You better get the hell out of my office before you get reported, and trust me, I will not hesitate to take it as far as I need to.”

  He didn’t move, and that pressed the wrong button.

  Marie screamed at the top of her lungs, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

  Steve flashed her a dirty look and got out quickly. The receptionist and employees who were in the area came running. Marie stood up from behind her desk and straightened her clothes.

  “Are you okay?” the receptionist asked.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” Marie said. Why are men such assholes?

  Chapter 34

  Peter was on the warpath at Lane, Smith & Romney, and it was all Sandra’s fault. Since she had taken over Jack’s clients, they were down a researcher, and she had been trying to do both jobs for months. Several important files should be near closing, yet she was nowhere near finished with them. He had been hiding in his office for weeks, and finally that Thursday, he came out looking for her. The receptionist had warned Sandra the day before.

  “Just an FYI, Pete is in a snit about the Riverside Gardens file. It’s still out,” she whispered.

  Sandra knew just what she was referring to; it went to Marie’s office weeks ago. Then they had some trouble with it because it was incomplete. Sandra felt like Marie wasn’t doing enough to fill in the gaps and said so. That caused hurt feelings, and now she was afraid they were sitting on it.

  “I’ll call over there,” Sandra said. She dialed Marie’s direct number.

  She picked up with a loud, “What!”

  Oh, great! Sandra thought. “Marie, is that you? It’s Sandra.” She waited, and there was no response. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m okay. What can I do for you?” She knew it was probably about the Riverside Gardens file and said so.

  “Yes, my secretary just told me Peter is having a fit about it. Is there any way you can release it today? I’m sorry it has caused so much trouble. I don’t know what I was thinking when I did the research on that file,” Sandra confessed.

  “Peter can be a real asshole. I’ll find out where they are with the file and bring it down to you. I have to get out of this office right now, anyway.”

  Sandra was grateful and said so. There was no reason not to be nice when it was warranted. It seemed like Marie was having a rough day, yet she was willing to go out of her way.

  They said good-bye, and Marie hung up, got her purse, and left her office, locking the door behind her. She wasn’t taking any chances with Mr. Personality. She went to the office where they were working on the file she needed.

  “Gather everything up. The client wants the file back now. You did a great job in the time you had it; it’s not your fault that it was so much extra work. Trust me; they will be billed for those extra hours by all these extra people.” Marie stood silently as Steve and his team put the file back together.

  He came to her and held it out like he was offering it for a blessing. “What do I get if I give it to you?” The other staff members in the room thought he was nuts, the women shaking their heads.

  “You get to keep your job,” Marie said. She held out her hand, and Steve reluctantly handed it over. “It’s almost five, so you all go ahead and leave early today. Thank you so much for your effort on this file; it will mean a lot to the client.” She put the file in her briefcase and left the office, happy for a chance to get out in the fresh air, but nervous about seeing Jack’s office. It had been a long time since she had been there.

  What a hell of a day, she thought as she rode the elevator down twenty floors. Between learning she had AIDS and the harassment by that creep, she was surprised that she had handled it all so well. “Maybe I am finally growing up,” she said to herself.

  She hailed a cab to go downtown. Traffic wasn’t great, but she still got there before five-thirty. Jack’s offices were in a beautiful art deco building. The view from his personal office was breathtaking, encompassing all of New York Harbor. She wondered who was using it now. When she was in her twenties and just out of college, she met him there once on a Saturday afternoon; the excuse was to sort through some old files. She remembered walking across the threshold of the office and him dragging her into his arms, kissing her passionately like he rarely did because they were always hiding or sneaking around. This would be the first time that they had freedom, and they took advantage of it. It was total abandonment, complete joy. She had really loved him; of that she was sure. Of course, none of it meant a thing anymore. It could have been the love affair of the century and it still was a torrid, disgusting, and illegal union, almost incestuous. And now she knew that it meant nothing to him. He had been using her, and there had been no feeling in it for him at all.

  The cab turned onto Exchange Place, and she got out, looking up at the tall building, trying to get some of that excitement back that she had years ago. She walked into the lobby and felt nothing. It was gone for her, thank heaven, along with memories at the beach. He killed it. She rode up the elevator and got out on his floor. The reception area was small, but there was a huge brass sign spelling out Lane, Smith & Romney. Mr. Lane had sold out to Peter and Jack years before, but they kept the name. It just sounded right. The sign was imposing, well lit, and large scaled. The receptionist was new and didn’t know Marie. She approached the desk and asked for Miss Benson. Within sixty seconds, Sandra came out to get her. Marie was surprised that her belly wasn’t very big. She was hiding her pregnancy well. Sandra asked her to come back to her office. The carpeting was new, soft and thick. There was recessed lighting down the length of the hallway, which gave the space the feel of an airplane. She wondered if they had done that on purpose. She didn’t remember it from her youth.

  “You look good for being as far along as you are,” Marie whispered.

  “Thanks,” Sandra whispered back. “I haven’t gained much weight. Now, with this new problem, I have to be careful about my diet.” She raised her eyebrows at Marie, and they nodded in agreement. Marie followed her into the office, and Sandra closed the door and locked it. “I know you know about me, so we can talk freely, correct?”

  Marie nodded yes, near tears but fighting it.

  Sandra continued. “There is no one else but you and Pam. No one.” She then thought of Tom, but didn’t mention him. “I have never felt so alone in my entire life. And it is of my own doing. How could I have been so utterly stupid?” She looked at Marie to gauge her response and decided she had said enough. The poor soul was on the cusp of breaking down. Sandra remembered that she was supposed to be tested. Most likely, no results had come back yet.

  Then Marie made an attempt to get herself under control. “I found out today that I have AIDS—full blown, worse than Pam’s. I have a printout of the blood work; it’s probably advanced because of my anorexia. My eating disorder is a big family secret, but I don’t care if you know about it. My mother would have a fit if she knew I was telling you this. We can either accept each other or not. I haven’t told Pam yet about the test being positive. There’s no point. She is as fragile as a human being can be. It can wait.”

  She dug through her briefcase and pulled out the file. “Here is that Godforsaken file. What is with this guy, anyway?” They shook their heads. “The reports are finished but not edited; I’d appreciate you explaining it to Peter. There are new photos and a large file of spreadsheets that need to be printed out. Tell me if the format works for you, and if not, I’ll send them to you in an email. There were just a few original documents missin
g, but we didn’t have any trouble getting copies from a new title search. It looks like a wonderful development, really keeping the flavor of the area. The neighbors should be happy.” She smiled at Sandra and then with some difficulty said, “Nice job,” to her. Where had all the animosity gone?

  They spoke briefly about the other project file, the one Carolyn was working on. Marie told her she would have it finished by the end of the month.

  Marie was going to the beach for the weekend; Sandra still had not made up her mind. She wanted to feel out what Tom expected of their first weekend together. Maybe Pam would let her bring him, give him a chance to meet all these people she talked about all the time. Marie got a cab to go back uptown and, instead of getting off at home, had the driver stop at a little bar that she and Jack had occasionally gone to for lunch and she now went to after work. Having forgotten already that she shouldn’t drink, she ordered a glass of wine. She sat in the dark at a table in the back, sipping her wine, and then ordered another. It was past sunset by the time she was finished, but she lived just a few blocks away and spent years walking home in the dark. It would be okay.

  As she was walking toward the door, she saw her new friend Steve with his back to the door, practically licking his chops as he watched her. He put his hands up in front of his chest.

  “Can I say hi to you? We’re not at work, so it isn’t workplace harassment, correct?” He had a disarming smile on his face, but she still didn’t trust him.

  She did manage a smile. “You can say hi,” she answered. She kept walking, more nervous now that he would follow her outside and toward home. So she said bye and kept walking. Her heart sank when he slid off his bar stool.

  “Wait, have a drink with me.”

  “I can’t. I have to get home and get some work done tonight. But thanks, anyway. Maybe I’ll take a rain check.” She opened the door before he could get too close to her, but he jogged up and grabbed it above her head. “Please,” she said when they were outside of the bar. “Please leave me alone. I really don’t want to have a drink with you, or a cup of coffee, or an office romance. I’m begging you to leave me alone.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with just a little friendly drink once in a while?”

  She wondered whether he had something wrong with him that he couldn’t take a hint. She’d have to approach her boss in the morning, play him the recording of this jerk bugging her.

  “I am just not interested, okay? Does that explain it for you?” Marie was getting a headache. What the hell is wrong with this man?

  “Come back inside and have one drink, just one, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

  She knew it was dangerous, but this guy didn’t get it, and she was tired. “Okay, I’ll come back and have just one drink. Do you understand me? Just one!”

  He almost jumped up and down. He was thinking to himself, One drink is all I need.

  But she was wise to him. She came in and sat down at the bar. The first thing she did was give the bartender her business card.

  “If anything happens to me tonight, if my family or my employer come here looking for me, here is my information. I don’t know this man very well. Meet Mr. Steve Marks. So can I count on you to remember me?”

  The bartender nodded and then said out loud, “Miss, if you like, I’ll call the police for you. There’s usually an officer sitting at the bar over there.” The bartender liked Marie, felt sorry for her drinking alone night after night.

  “No, just don’t forget my face.” She looked over at Steve, and he was as white as a ghost.

  This bitch is crazy! he thought to himself.

  She ordered another glass of wine, keeping her hand over it unless she was looking at it. She wouldn’t put it past this guy to drug her. When she was done with the wine, she said to him, “Okay, I had the drink. Now I’m going home. I want you to stay here. Don’t follow me, or I will call the police. This is the last time you are to bug me about drinking with you, do you understand me?”

  He looked at her and nodded yes. But he was thinking no.

  Chapter 35

  New York City policemen must prioritize their days. In the morning, between bank robberies and assaults, they had complaints that a former cop conned some Brazilian tourists, and a young woman said that a stranger had touched her breast. Tom and his partner, Jim, went from one call to the next all day long. He found the time to call Sandra during a short break before lunch and again around dinnertime, when she would be taking the subway back uptown to her apartment.

  In the five days he had known her, he was never surer of this one thing: She was meant for him. No matter what her current situation, bad by any standard, he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to integrate her into his family as soon as possible, let her meet his sisters and mother, and then his dad and Gwen. He was going to lie to them. They traveled in different circles, her late boyfriend’s family and his family, so the chance of the truth ever getting to them was slim. Sandra’s own family knew nothing of her pregnancy yet. He would encourage her to tell her sister, the only living relative she had. He hoped his sisters would embrace her. Granted, Sandra was on a different path than anyone he knew in Brooklyn. She wasn’t a snob, exactly; she’d be the first to say that it would be difficult for an unmarried, pregnant AIDS victim to be a snob. But there was just something about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was what had attracted him to her. She was aloof. For being so young, she had a haughtiness about her that he found extremely attractive, like she was born and bred on the Upper East Side, and not right next to the Lincoln Tunnel.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sandra left Exchange Place after she gave the file to Peter Romney. He was waiting in his office, and she took the file to him rather than having the secretary have to take his wrath. Peter grabbed it out of her hand and didn’t thank her. His behavior just rankled Sandra, who’d had enough drama during the past days to last a lifetime.

  “Peter, stop being a dick, okay?”

  The uncouth statement was so foreign to him and coming out of her mouth of all places was so shocking that he burst out laughing. “What did you say?” he asked, trying to control himself.

  “You heard me,” Sandra replied. “We’re all sick and tired of your histrionics, Peter. Get over yourself. We’ve all had a rough summer, not just you. You acting like a jerk around here day in and day out is not making it any easier. And before you pick the file to pieces, there is still some work that may need to be done on it before we hand it over to the client. I’m giving it to you to get you off my back. I’ll work on it this weekend, and it will be ready to go out Monday.”

  He flipped the cover open and thumbed through the work. Then he looked up at her. “Okay, whatever you say.”

  Sandra turned around and walked out. It was more interaction than the two of them had ever had. She fell to wondering how Jack ever got involved with such a zero personality.

  She left the office and walked up to the subway station. The train was packed, and she had to stand up the whole ride. Her car was full of rowdy young men who didn’t offer their seats to anyone, but yelled and pushed each other back and forth. Finally, from a forward car, a middle-aged, gruff-looking cop came back and stood near Sandra, holding on to a strap, staring at the boys. He took his nightstick and pointed it at them, sweeping it toward the center of the train.

  “Act like a gentleman and offer your seat to a lady,” he said to the boy he had pointed out. “You know better than to act this way.”

  The kid shrugged his shoulders and got out of the seat.

  “Now, offer it to a lady,” the cop said.

  The kid looked at Sandra. “You can have my seat,” he said, looking at her and then down at the seat.

  She thanked him and sat down. The others followed him, standing up and offering the vacated seat to a woman standing on the train. She found herself wondering about the young men, if the experience would be lasting. It was doubtful. Someone like Jack, who had every advantage, turned
out to be rotten to the core. If the information she’d found hidden in his desk after he died were true and Jack had been molested by his stepfather, it was sad and awful. But it was still no excuse for him to do what he did. He made the choice to be depraved and to use people. She remembered him saying to her that she was the one person who didn’t cause him any problems. What did that mean? Now that she knew Pam, she couldn’t imagine what he was referring to. She didn’t expect anything from him because she knew he wasn’t able to give it. He was a taker. And, at the end, he gave a gift that would keep giving.

  That morning, she’d taken her handful of pills with her breakfast of cereal, fruit, yogurt, and tea—more than she usually ate all day. She’d snacked on carrots and raisins during lunch and would pick something up for dinner from Zabar’s. She was hungry now, the baby flipping around inside her magnifying the growling of her stomach. Too many sensations at one time! she thought.

  She got to her building and gave a sigh of relief. It was a haven of rest and protection, always had been and always would be. She remembered the first time she saw it. A rental agent had taken Sandra and her father around town all morning, and each place was more depressing than the last. Finally, her father said to look at something in the next price range, almost too much for her, but he would help her out if she needed it. This apartment was the result. She fell in love with it right away. Each thing she brought into it was something she loved or was necessary. There was nothing superfluous to take up room or collect dust.

  She struggled with the key; it was getting harder and harder to turn. She’d have to get the building manager to take a look at it. The door opened, and she smiled. “I’m home!” she hollered. Wonderful, safe home. She threw her purse on the chair and took dinner into the kitchen. She would change into spandex and a T-shirt first and then read her mail. Her routine, sacrosanct when alone, was comforting and grounding. Before Jack, she often included a short prayer. But since Jack, the guilt and remorse over being his instrument to cause so much pain, she felt a distance from a higher power. She could thank Him for all He had done, but ask Him for anything? No.