He comes out of his office just as I make my way back to my desk. I’m openly staring at him, but I don’t hear the words that are coming out of his mouth.
“Olivia!” he says my name so forcefully that I finally understand that he’s asking me something.
“I’m sorry?” Believe me, I really am, in more ways than one.
“For God’s sake, if you’re not well, please just go home,” he says with such displeasure that I feel my cheeks redden.
“No, I…uhm… I’ll be fine. Just please give me a few minutes. You were saying?”
“I have some preliminary revisions to one of the reports you emailed me. Primarily formatting. The others I haven’t gotten around to checking. I have to go. It’s that blasted affair tonight.” He says it like death is preferable to currying favor with the Board of Directors. Thank goodness for the cocktails. At least I have some time to recover from the jogging my memory got.
“I’ll look into it right now.” He looks my way like he wants to say something else, but changes his mind and leaves. A sigh of relief escapes me.
Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. The little I remember so far is causing shivers to run up and down my spine. I made out with a stranger in a crowded ballroom, and then presumably followed him to his room. He chose me because I was drunk and wanton and willing to go all the way. And I went to him because my judgment was compromised and my inhibitions had disappeared in the sea of alcohol. We never even exchanged names. We kissed, touched, and God knows what else. But we never even knew each other’s names. I can’t remember what we did. A lump of bitterness rises in my throat.
The only way I can stop thinking of that night is to focus my efforts on the reports that I need to do. I read his email on the changes he wants me to make. I can easily reformat the report and add a few columns for the percentages he wants to incorporate. I’m an old hand at Excel so I manage to make the revisions in no time at all. I go through my list and check what’s next, and then start on gathering the data…. And the day turns into night.
The phone rings and I wonder who could be trying to reach me at seven in the evening.
“Mr. Avery’s Office. How may I help you,” I say in a perfunctory manner.
“Oh, great, I’m glad I caught you,” he sounds relieved. Where else would I be after all the work you dumped on my lap? I wait for him to continue.
“Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“I thought I got cut off. Anyway, Dr. Stein, from the Board, wants to get a copy of the comparative analysis you did for the East Coast suppliers. Can you please email it to her and copy me?”
“I’ll do that right now.”
“Thanks, Livie. I really appreciate all the hard work you’re putting into these reports,” he says in a gentle voice. I think he really means it, but I’m flustered by this unexpected validation. Plus, I notice that he calls me by my nickname.
“Thank you.”
“Tony,” he prompts. “Say my name.”
“What?” I’m confused.
“Olivia, you’re hopeless,” he says with great amusement. Is he having fun at my expense or am I just being too sensitive?
Then, I get it. “Thank you, Tony.” There. I said his name for the first time. He laughs at my bad timing.
“Said with a quintessential Californian accent.” Where is this weird, light-hearted conversation going?
“We all can’t have posh British accents, you know,” I lobby back.
“I actually like yours better. Good night, Livie.” And just like that, he hangs up. Why is he trying to be friendly? And why am I so paranoid? If only we had never met at that party. Yes, it’s the ‘if-onlys’ that always get to you.
***
“He seems like a cool guy.” Melanie, Jen, and I are having lunch at Testino’s in Venice. It’s our favorite Italian restaurant. Good food at unbeatable prices. We’re biding our time until the five o-clock screening of a movie in Glendale. Jen’s been whining about my working hours for the past two weeks. And I’ve been telling them about my demanding boss. Needless to say, Melanie is getting caught up on what’s happening in my life, thanks to Jen’s big mouth.
“Really, Melanie? Why are you on his side?”
“His side? The man has been trying to make friends, or at least show his appreciation. Considering that he’s the big boss at Gallo’s, you’re lucky he hasn’t fired your sweet ass. Because, by your own account, you’ve been rather rude,” she says with her trademark brutal honesty.
“Whatever.” I know she’s right, but I’m upset that she’s not sympathetic to what I have to go through.
“Livie just wants to keep her distance, Melanie. It’s not like she’s being deliberately discourteous,” Jen, sweet Jen, comes to my defense.
“It’s not like he’s ever gonna find out. Chances are he was just as drunk as you were. He was seated by the bar. It’s not inconceivable that he was downing shot after shot. Okay, okay, worst scenario, he finds out you were the woman he had the hots for… what could possibly happen?”
“He could fire her?” Jen asks in a voice filled with doubt.
“Are you serious? On what grounds? He doesn’t want a lawsuit on his hands.”
“Well, it’s definitely going to change the dynamic. I mean, I couldn’t keep going to work, knowing I’d be seeing him and he’d be looking at me in a different way.”
“You mean with lust-filled eyes,” Melanie says with a laugh.
“Can you not use those words?”
“There are worse things than being looked at with desire. You should be so lucky. He’s rich, gorgeous, and has, or had, a hard-on for you. That’s not a bad thing at all,” she concludes.
“Will you please stop talking that way?” I whisper, looking around to see if people are listening in on our conversation.
“Relax! Nobody cares about your love life.” Melanie now looks bored with the topic.
I glare at her and Jen tries to ease the tension. “Guys, can’t we talk about something else?”
“Fine, little lady. What do you want to talk about?” Melanie says in an imitation of a southern drawl. Sometimes, Melanie is a pain in the you-know-what, but she does have moments when she can be funny.
“Ha-ha,” Jen says to mock her back. “Have any of you guys heard from Mark?”
“Nope,” I say.
“The jackass didn’t even respond to my text message the other day,” Melanie says.
“I know. No email, no text messages, and no phone calls. Where in the world is Mark?” Jen asks with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Remember the time when he was incommunicado for a month because he had left suddenly for Italy with a girlfriend and never bothered to tell us?” I remind them.
“But it’s just so rude in this day and age not to reply,” Melanie says in a huff.
“Oh, c’mon. Technology is a double-edged sword. Sure, we’re connected at all times, but it’s also intrusive. We have no private lives anymore. Let him be, guys. He’ll call when he wants to,” I say in Mark’s defense.
“I kinda disagree with that,” Jen says. “The fact that we are reachable is a good thing. And when your friends want to say hi, you really should make an effort to drop them a line or two. How hard is it to reply, ‘Hello. Busy right now.’?”
“I’m with Jen on this one,” Melanie says in agreement.
“But people need space. You really can’t expect everyone to be on call at all times,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Isn’t that what friends are for? To be there for you?” Melanie asks with a lift of an eyebrow.
“True, but it’s not like you have an emergency or something. By the way, among the three of you, it was only Mark who bothered to pick up the phone when I needed a ride. For shame, ladies. Tsk, tsk,” I say with humor.
“Oh, don’t you dare bring that up!” Melanie says in a loud voice.
“I didn’t hear the phone ring,” Jen insists vehementl
y.
“Lighten up. I’m just trying to point out that the poor maligned man must be occupied with some personal or professional project.”
Melanie inclines her head and says, “Well, the thing is, Mark is eccentric in so many ways. All that money sometimes makes him think he’s above the fray.”
Jen and I nod our heads. “The almost three-month long safari,” Jen mentions.
“Staying at the ashram in Kerala for a month,” I make my own contribution.
“Worst of all, staying at their co-op in New York for a year,” Melanie says with a pout, and we all laugh at her ridiculous example.
“What?” she says. “A year is a year, no matter where. He didn’t even communicate with us that much.”
“You know what, let’s just give him the benefit of the doubt. Sooner or later, he’s going to resurface.”
“Then we can all go somewhere for the weekend,” Jen excitedly chimes in.
“Or we can all just give him the cold shoulder,” Melanie naughtily suggests.
“Maybe Jen’s,” I say. “Already too much tension in my life.”
They simultaneously touch me on each shoulder.
“I know, right? You used to be the one with the snooze-fest life, and now… mystery and intrigue stalk every moment of your life,” Melanie says with a dramatic flair.
“Here’s the thing. I used to think knowledge is power. But, now I’m beginning to think that ignorance is bliss.”
“Why, did you remember anything recently?” Jen asks.
“Kind of. I remember making out with him on the dance floor.”
“For real? That’s so crazy. How did you feel when you remembered?” Melanie asks this time.
“Totally embarrassed. I was coming on to him big-time. I was acting so out of character. Like… I don’t know…”
“A cat in heat?” Melanie suggests. I flush, unable to acknowledge how apt the analogy is.
“Melanie!” Jen shushes her.
“She’s right. I was a complete slut, if I have to say so myself,” I say truthfully.
“So you came out of your shell – big deal,” Melanie scoffs.
“Melanie, you really aren’t listening. I just told you how I behaved so awfully and you call it ‘coming out of my shell’?” My voice is steadily rising.
“Livie, you know what your problem is? You have this notion that good people only do boring things. Good people don’t drink. Good people only have sex missionary style. Good people don’t make out in public. Oh, just grow up!” Melanie sure doesn’t pull her punches.
“It’s not that…. Okay, maybe, you’re partly right. But, I kind of draw the line at foreplay at a party. It’s disrespectful, and… yes, I don’t think it’s proper behavior. So, can I please torture myself about my bad behavior?”
“Honey, I think what Melanie is trying to say in her usual tactless way,” Jen makes a moue at Melanie as she says this, “is that you’re too hard on yourself. It was a momentary lapse. You’re not yet a candidate for the second circle of hell.”
Melanie looks a bit apologetic. “Two words: Let go. Or you’ll soon be a basket case.”
“Maybe I already am. Thanks, guys. And I’m sorry too if I keep going on and on about this,” I touch both their hands as I say it.
“Eh, that’s okay. Today you’re the drama queen. Tomorrow, Jen, you can have your crown back,” Melanie says.
“Hardy-har-har!” Jen interjects and then laughs good-naturedly.
“Can we order another calamari?” Jen asks.
“Make that two. And another round of sangrias. We have time to kill before the movie starts,” Melanie declares.
CHAPTER 5
This week hasn’t been bad, so far. I’m well on my way to completing the last batch of reports. Tony (yes, I’m quite at ease using his name now) has not said anything derogatory about my work. He just had one or two comments about a few of them, and I simply tweaked the reports to his liking.
The topic of global warming bores me to tears (go ahead, hate me!), but I have to say that I’m becoming more and more convinced that Greenpeace is doing a good job of bringing awareness to the issue of renewable sources of energy. It’s still spring, but it feels like summer to me. We’re having record-breaking temperatures this week – in the nineties. The office still feels like an icebox, but when you step out of the building, you can feel the heat big-time.
I just got lunch at the pizza place one block away, and even with the air conditioning, I am feeling hot and sweaty. I take off my blazer and unbutton the top portion of my blouse. Yes, I’m still wearing conservative professional attire to work. No need to blow my cover when I’m sure it won’t be long now before my boss finds a suitable assistant. Tony’s out for lunch, though, so I can somewhat relax for a few minutes.
“Olivia!” I scramble to my feet at the sound of his voice. I nervously try to button the tiny pearl buttons of my blouse, but he calls me again and I give up.
He’s standing by his doorway, looking at me impatiently, and I ask “I thought you were having lunch at the Hyatt with one of the directors?”
“You thought wrong. Don’t you bother to check my calendar on Outlook?”
What brought about this ill-humor? He was fine this morning when I left some reports on his desk.
“Did you want something?”
“No, I just like to call you to see how fast you can walk to my desk,” he says sarcastically. “Of course, I want something. Come into my office. I need to show you the document.”
I follow him, but he doesn’t go behind his desk. Instead, he stands next to me and reaches for the report. He’s about a foot away, and I can smell his woody-citrusy cologne. I have this strange urge to touch his arm and feel his expensive lightweight wool suit. I look at him sideways and notice how focused he is on the paper in front of him. His eyes then dart to me and whatever he sees makes one eyebrow lift. Unconsciously, my right hand goes to my neckline. When his eyes follow my hand, I forcefully put it down.
A glimmer of humor seems to shine in his eyes, but he makes an effort to keep his face devoid of expression. He shows me this morning’s report, with several portions highlighted. “Do you see the highlighted parts?” I nod. He continues, “Well, these don’t make sense when compared against the data in the report of last week,” he enunciates every word like he’s talking to a stupid person.
I look closely at the figures and I really don’t see what he’s talking about. I don’t have a photographic memory, so I need to review the reports side-by-side and I tell him so. “I’m sorry, but I have to look into this again in order for me to give you a proper assessment.”
“Fair enough. I’m going to sort through the rest and, hopefully, by the end of the day, you’ll have an answer for me.” I turn to leave but he speaks again. “Oh, and Olivia, don’t worry. I won’t pounce on you if you dress more normally. Don’t you know that the more a woman covers herself up, the more curious a man gets?”
His words put me on edge, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “But then, you’re not a man, Mr. Avery. Just a suit in a corner office.” God, did I really say that out loud?
His loud burst of laughter echoes in the room and I find myself smiling at his contagious response. “There’s a lot more to you, isn’t there?” he says softly.
“No, not really. What you see is what you get,” I say lightly.
“Maybe…” he doesn’t finish his sentence and I leave at once, not wanting to prolong the conversation. Whew! One of these days, even if he doesn’t find out who I really am, I’m going to get myself fired for my stupid impulses.
***
It turns out that he is correct about the mistakes in the report. It was a miscalculation brought about by an error in the formula. Why didn’t I see that? I really don’t usually make such mistakes because double-checking formulas is one of my rules. Let’s just say that, with the volume of reports I’ve been generating lately, it was bound to happen. Of cours
e, I really need to be more careful in the future. The man has eagle eyes and actually reads every line.
I print the revised report and have prepared to bring it in to him when I hear someone cry out loudly, “Hola, Livie!”
No! No! No! It’s Mark, looking tan and fit, greeting me as he saunters my way. What the heck is he doing here?
He hugs me tight and asks, “How are you, Liv?” I cast my eyes in the direction of Tony’s office and am relieved to see the door closed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a whisper.
“Aren’t you happy to see me? You’re the only one in the group who hasn’t been bugging me with text messages and voicemails in the middle of the night,” he says, oblivious to my discomfort.
“Of course, I’m happy to see you, but now is not a good time.”
“Why not? I went over to your old desk and John told me you’ve been temporarily assigned to the CFO. Wow! That’s a great career move.”
“Not really. This is temporary, that’s all.” I look again at Tony’s closed door.
“Okay. Well, aren’t you going to pepper me with questions about where I’ve been or why I’m here? I’m hurt by your lack of concern.”
“Mark, can we just meet for dinner in like an hour or so? I just need to give this report to my boss and then I can go.”
“Fine. I’ll just hover around while you finish up,” he says nonchalantly.
“No! You can’t,” I say emphatically.
“I’ll be quiet. I’ll just sit down and read my hundred messages or so. Won’t even talk to you, I promise.” He puts up his right arm and crosses his heart.
“No, seriously.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Mark, sense the tone. You need to get out right now.”
“Ahh, I don’t know why you’re acting so weird, but okay. I’ll meet you at the Hawaiian Grill in one hour. Are you happy now?”
I smile my thanks and then he hugs me again. I hug him back lightly until I hear someone clearing his throat. No! I slowly turn around to see Tony staring intently at Mark and myself. His eyes are a smoldering gray. My reprieve is over. He must recognize Mark. He saw us dancing and now he’s putting the pieces together. He knows.
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