by Lucy Lambert
I liked having my own place. I hated having a mortgage. But it beat renting, and besides, it made me feel more like an adult.
Although with how the day went I wasn’t certain for how much longer I could afford said mortgage.
I fished my key fob out and knocked it against the sensor of the inner door. The deadbolt shot back and I walked into the mailroom. The sound of the door closing and locking behind me was the best thing I’d heard all day.
I don’t know if it had been out of revenge or what, but Ward had really laid into me in the meeting. He hadn’t let Mr. Callaghan get a single word in.
Every slide Ward pressed me for more details. After viewing the rough cut of the commercial he’d asked me if I’d been the one to cast it, a reference to his displeasure with my having him booked at Langham instead of the Harbor.
By the end of it, I’d been getting dirty looks from everyone else there, like I was costing C&M a huge account.
“You’ll be hearing from me soon,” Ward had said to Mr. Callaghan at the end. Ward hadn’t smiled once throughout the whole meeting, his handsome face looking like it had been chipped from stone. It contrasted so sharply with his behavior before that.
Mr. Callaghan, normally composed, had shooed everyone from the room as soon as Ward had left. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went to the office on Monday and got called in for at the very least a dressing down, if not getting handed my pink slip then and there.
I checked my mail, sorting the junk into the recycling bin without really thinking. God damn Vaughn Ward, I kept thinking. I hated him so much. Right from the first time I set eyes on him.
And he asked to kiss me! The nerve! Clearly being a rich and famous bachelor had gone to his head.
I slammed the little door to my mailbox shut and huffed my way down the hall. How could one man be so infuriating? So beautiful and infuriating? I didn’t mean to add that second part.
But I had to admit it, grudgingly. You could hate someone and still admit they were attractive, right?
Before I could get to the elevator the doors opened and two young children, a boy and a girl, both sandy-haired and freckle-faced, popped out.
“Quinn!” they both screamed when they saw me.
“Hey, guys!” I replied, dropping down to my knees.
Alexander and Charlie were brother and sister. Alexander was nine and Charlie seven. They both rushed into my arms. They both smelled of fresh soap, and Charlie’s long red head tickled at my nose.
“Watch out, or they might not let go,” Mary said as she came out of the elevator. She was their mother, and she had the same red hair. She looked a little more tired than usual, the darkness below her eyes detracting from her striking features.
“Maybe I’ll just hold on, then!” I said, wrapping my arms around their waists and standing up. They squealed as they left the ground. I groaned. “You guys are getting too big for this!”
I set them down, wincing and thinking I should up my workout from twice a week to three times down at the GoodLife on the corner.
“Kids, go wait by the door,” Mary said. The kids went, grinning back at us over their shoulders.
Mary came closer to me. She really did look tired. “Quinn… I hate to ask, but do you think you could watch them for me tonight? I had to take another late shift. And I just finished a double in time to go pick them up from school…”
She tried carrying on, but I held up my hand, “Not a problem. Send them over whenever you want to; I’ll be home all night.”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I love seeing them,” I said, giving Mary’s elbow a reassuring squeeze. My heart went out to that woman.
“Kids! You’re going over to Quinn’s tonight, ok?” Mary said.
“Woo!” Alexander and Charlie called back from the door.
“And if you’re both good, I know I have some mac & cheese we can have for supper,” I added.
Both their faces lit up and I couldn’t help grinning. They were great kids.
I started up in the elevator. I had a nice corner unit on the fifth floor. I also had a nice bottle of merlot from California I intended on starting on right away, but now that babysitting came up that was out of the question.
Mary’s husband had died suddenly almost five years back. She worked three jobs to keep food on the table. I once suggested to her that she could find a cheaper place to live, but she wouldn’t hear it.
She and her husband had lived together here for nearly ten years, and she said she couldn’t stand to go. It felt too much like leaving her husband behind once and for all. Besides, she hated the thought of pulling the kids out of school.
I admired her, too. She never asked for help, and I didn’t think I could do what she did every day. So I offered when I could, taking the kids when she had late shifts. Because what sort of world would it be if no one offered a helping hand?
Sometimes she tried to pay me, but I never let her. It just felt wrong to take money for that sort of thing.
Besides, maybe they’ll take my mind off this day! I hoped, going into my condo. I tossed my keys into the bowl beside the door and went to change into something comfier before the kids could get here.
Shower? I wondered. Getting harangued by a billionaire while getting the stink eye from your boss was hard work.
No, I answered myself. Thinking of a shower just made me think of him taking his shower earlier while I stood there in his room, waiting.
So instead I settled into the chair by the window that overlooked the corner below. It was Friday night and I was young, but even if I hadn’t been babysitting I’d be staying in the whole weekend to work on the material for Ward. Even though I couldn’t stand him.
I couldn’t stand not doing a good job. And besides, I thought, Mr. Callaghan is the one who has to deal with him in person from now on. I wouldn’t have to see him again.
***
I went into work Monday morning refreshed and ready to go. I felt really good about the work I’d done over the weekend, and every time I remembered that I didn’t have to deal personally with Ward again I smiled.
I got to the C&M floor and went for my desk. I’d gotten a nice corner unit as my reward for my last assignment. It wasn’t an office, just a cubicle. But it was mine and I’d earned it.
Even if it was right below an air conditioning vent. I compensated for that by not taking off my jacket.
“Hey, Quinn!”
I cringed, trying to hide the expression. What now? “Trish,” I said, putting a smile on my face.
Trish reminded me of Ward. Pretty and she knew it. And flaunted it. I would say that she probably woke up early to apply all that makeup, but she was usually late.
She always let her bottle-blonde hair down. And she always undid the first half-dozen or so buttons of her blouse. I managed to keep my eyes from straying down to her cleavage.
She also always wore the highest heels she could get away with. Probably to make her ass stick out more. They always gave her a few inches over me, an advantage she pressed at every opportunity.
Coupled with the heels was the skirt. She always wore a skirt, usually one that ended above the knee, despite the normal dress code at C&M leaning more conservatively.
She went over to my desk and picked up the plaque with my name on it, moving it back and forth in her hand so that the bead of light running along it kept dancing between the W and R in my surname.
“So, I heard you screwed up big time with the Ward account.” She caught sight of her own reflection on the plaque and paused the movement of it so she could check her makeup in it.
“Did you?” I said. I sat at my desk and leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out into the kneehole. This earned me a squinty-stare. Trish hated that I got the corner desk. I guess she couldn’t find anyone to sleep with who would give it to her.
I basked in her anger. It was a short-lived basking.
/>
Trish dropped my nameplate down onto my desk, grinning when she saw how I winced at the clatter. “Yeah, I did. And if you’re not careful, I’ll take it away from you. If you haven’t already lost it, that is.”
I bristled. I worked so hard to get to where I was. Trish was everything I hated in a coworker. She got ahead on her looks alone, chatting up and sleeping with any man higher up the ladder than her.
What was worse was how nice to me she’d been when I first started. I recognized it now as her taking advantage of me. I’d helped her out on a few projects for which she then took all the credit. When I confronted her about it she just winked at me and called me gullible.
She hated me, too, though. Because she knew I got where I was by doing good work.
What made it worse was that I really did think she was quite pretty. Prettier than I was, definitely. I tried not to let the jealousy get to me, but sometimes it did.
“I’m not going to lose it,” I replied. I sounded more confident than I felt. Because I remembered the way Mr. Callaghan looked at me at the end of the meeting and I knew Trish might be right.
And I hated the thought that Trish might get a shot at working on the biggest account C&M had taken on since I started working here.
“Really?” Trish said. She grinned, ruby-red lips pulling back to show off a set of perfectly white teeth in a terrible, wolfish grin that made her beauty twist to ugliness.
“Yes, really,” I said. I started tapping my foot.
“Hmm…” Trish said. She sat on the corner of my desk. Then she started examining her fingernails. They were long and manicured and the same ruby red as her lips. And I had the sneaking suspicion that they were also fake.
“If you’re finished, I have to get to work. You know, that stuff you’re supposed to do in exchange for your salary, that stuff?”
Trish smiled, still examining her nails. She started picking at one, cleaning it with another. I clenched my teeth.
“Trish,” I said, my jaw tight.
“What? Oh, yes. Your… work,” she said, snorting when she looked down at my briefcase.
She seemed to forget that without my “work” all those months ago she would probably have been out of a job.
Trish stood, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to grind up whatever she’d found under her nail and then dropping it to the floor. She started walking away, her hips swaying.
I started breathing again, started letting my jaw relax. Then she stopped and spun around, her hair whipping around her face.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she said.
“Forgot what?” I said. It felt like there was a heavy stone in my stomach. It got heavier when I saw the wolfish grin return to Trish’s face.
“Oh, you weren’t here when she came down.”
“Who, Trish? Who came down?” I said, standing.
She shrugged. “Ms. Spencer’s secretary.”
“What? Why?” I said, the rock in my stomach turning to an icy block. What did Trish do this time?
Seeing my obvious discomfort tickled Trish pink. “Oh, she wanted me to tell you to go see Ms. Spencer as soon as you came in. Apparently she really needs to talk to you.”
My eyes wide, I glanced down at the clock on my computer’s desktop. It had been 20 minutes since I came into work. I was supposed to get that message straight away. Supposed to have been up there in Ms. Spencer’s office fifteen minutes ago at least.
I stared fire at Trish. She lapped it up. “You better hurry. Don’t you remember how much Ms. Spencer hates tardiness?”
“Why, Trish?” I asked, feeling like it was pointless to ask but feeling the need to do so anyway.
She shrugged, looking back at me over her shoulder. “I guess it just slipped my mind.”
“…Slipped?” I repeated. I stood up too fast, banging my thighs against the top of the desk’s kneehole. I sucked in a sharp breath.
I wanted to scream at Trish, but I didn’t have the time. I ran for the stairs. Ms. Spencer’s office was two floors up. I started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. A pair of men in suits pressed themselves to the wall as I went by. “Sorry!” I called back to them.
I’m going to kill her, I kept thinking, my heart forcing my boiling blood through my veins.
By the time I made it up all the stairs, I could feel my blouse sticking to the small of my back. My pulse pounded past my ears, and the back of my throat felt hot.
This was less from the actual physical exertion of the climbing and more the physical reaction of my body to Trish’s antics and my own worry about what Ms. Spencer might say.
I knew I couldn’t actually kill Trish. Not legally, of course. But even using the term “kill” broadly, I couldn’t take her down. She was protected. Mostly by the men she’d used to get to where she was now. They’d put down any complaints of mine to some sort of hand-waving female rivalry or something.
I know because it had happened before. That thing about her taking credit for my work? Yeah, that.
I yanked the door open and found myself on the C&M executive-level floor. Ms. Spencer’s office was on the other side.
I walked as quickly as I could, trying to avoid strange looks from the people I passed by. For once, I was grateful for the overpowering air conditioning.
I reached the wood-paneled door to Ms. Spencer’s office. It was closed. I paused, taking a moment to compose myself, tugging my jacket down, trying to smooth some of the frizz from my hair.
I took a steadying breath in through my nose and let it out through my mouth. Then I knocked.
“Come in.”
I went inside, my pulse pounding so hard I could taste copper in my mouth.
Ms. Spencer looked up the neat pile of papers on her desk. She wore glasses, and she peered up at me over the rims.
I’d always thought the best word to describe her was striking. Kind of like Helen Mirren. The streaks of grey in her dark hair, currently tied in a bun similar to mine, lent her authority.
She sighed when she saw me. “Miss Windsor, please have a seat.”
Thank God, I thought, sinking into the chair in front of her desk. My knees had just started trembling and I didn’t think I could hide it much longer. I pressed my palms together and shoved them between my thighs.
Ms. Spencer considered me, her expression neutral. “In the future, I expect you to be more punctual.”
“Y… yes, of course.” I didn’t try to offer an excuse for my tardiness. I knew that Ms. Spencer didn’t like excuses much, for one. For two, I hated giving them.
I was late. Did the reason for my lateness really matter? Besides, giving the real reason would just make me sound like a tattletale. I had the feeling that Ms. Spencer didn’t like Trish much, either. But badmouthing your coworkers to your boss didn’t feel right to me.
And then she smiled at me. It took me by surprise. “Good, now we can get onto the real business for this meeting. I wanted to tell you myself.”
“Tell me what?” I said, leaning forward. My mind kept racing for possibilities, but nothing it touched on made sense.
“The Phoenix Software account is yours. Apparently you really managed to impress Ward.”
My mouth opened and my eyebrows knit together. Realizing how ridiculous I looked, I forced my mouth shut until I actually had something to say.
Ms. Spencer had been expecting some positive reaction, so my ambivalence puzzled her. She frowned, a thin line crinkling between her equally thin eyebrows.
“Does that displease you?” she said.
“No, not at all,” I said, too quickly, I continued, “It’s just unexpected. I thought Mr. Callaghan had decided to handle this account personally?”
Ms. Spencer threaded her fingers together and then planted her elbows on her desk. “You know, I thought the same thing. But Callaghan sent down the order himself. I spoke with him about it. Ward requested you himself. By name. He supposedly followed this request up with the threat that he’d take his ac
count elsewhere when Mr. Callaghan questioned the request.”
Why did I have to give him my name? I thought, remembering our conversation in the elevator. I wished so much then that I could have just been another anonymous C&M employee at that meeting.
Ms. Spencer saw the look of panic on my face and offered a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I’m certain you’re up to the task. From the moment I hired you I knew you’d go far if you applied yourself. And now look, you haven’t even made junior partner and you’ve landed the biggest account this firm has had in a decade at least.”
I swallowed heavily, somewhat surprised that I didn’t make a cartoonish gulp noise as I did.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said, trying with some success to pull the corners of my mouth into something I hoped resembled a smile of gratitude.
Inside, a flurry of sensations tried tearing me apart.
“Say yes, of course,” she replied.
That made me blink in surprise. “You mean I have a choice on the matter?”
That earned me another frown. “Yes, of course you can decline if you like. But I definitely wouldn’t recommend it. If you do this and it goes well I can almost guarantee a promotion to junior partner. If you decline… Well, you’ll be setting your career back years if I had to guess. And if Ward decides to take his business elsewhere as he has threatened, I don’t believe Mr. Callaghan or the other senior partners would like that much.”
Now it was Vaughn Ward I wanted to kill. He just made it so I had to choose between my career and my feelings.
And it turned out to be a much harder choice than I thought it would. I’d always considered myself career-oriented. That’s why I felt so pleased when Ms. Spencer said that she thought I was going places.
The possibility of promotion to junior partner, probably the youngest junior partner in C&M history was also a tantalizing carrot dangling in front of me.
But then Vaughn Ward’s chiseled features appeared in my mind’s eye, his lips turning up in that crooked, self-satisfied smile and I suppressed a shiver.