Serious Potential

by Maggie Cummings

  “Right,” Tracy drawled out, remembering. “Did you even know she was a hygienist?”

  “No idea.”

  “So how was it?” Tracy asked.

  Meg shook her head slowly from side to side. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Go on.”

  “It was fine, I guess.” Meg blinked long and slow. “It was weird. She was doing my X-rays.” She stopped talking altogether, letting the air hang stagnantly between them.

  “Meg?”

  Meg found her voice. “I don’t know. I feel like she kept holding my face while she took those cardboard X-ray thingies out of my mouth. And then when she did my cleaning, she like, I don’t know, left her finger in my mouth when she reached for her scraper doodad.” She paused again, replaying it in her head. “Then she like, rubbed my lip with her thumb,” Meg finished, absentmindedly imitating the action with her own hand.

  “Did she have gloves on?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Meg answered, still thinking about it.

  “Dude, you were turned on by your dental exam.”

  Meg snapped herself out of it. “I wasn’t.”

  “You should hear yourself right now.” Tracy raised her eyebrows. “And see your face. Pretty kinky stuff.” She wagged her fake cock at Meg. “Don’t ever make fun of me for what I like to do after this confessional.”

  Meg laughed. “I didn’t make fun of you at all,” she corrected, smiling. She reached in her pocket and slid Reina’s folded-up note across the counter. “She gave me this before she left.”

  Tracy stepped forward and unfolded it, her dark eyes moving quickly over the words. “Holy shit, Meg.”

  “Right?”

  “Are you interested?”

  Meg met her friend’s eyes. “I have a girlfriend. A secret one,” she added, laughing a little. “But still, a girlfriend.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Tracy leaned in close. “I didn’t ask if you were going to call her, or cheat on Sasha.” She moved her head from side to side. “I asked if you were interested.” She paused dramatically. “Are you?”

  Meg stayed quiet for a second. She spun the note in a circle with her index finger, not lifting her eyes from it as she spoke. “I love Sasha,” she said, picking up the slip of paper and folding it back into a small square. “I’ll tell you what, though. Having her flirt with me right out in the open”—she looked up at Tracy—“it was pretty awesome. Not because I’m an exhibitionist or anything,” she added in defense of her comment. She turned her mouth up into a slight smile, still thinking about it. “It was just nice to feel, I don’t know, validated for a second.”

  “No progress there, huh? With Sasha?”

  “Not really. A few of her friends know, but she’s still mostly living the double life. Which, in a weird way, kind of means I am too.”

  “Nobody at work knows what’s going on with you guys? I find that hard to believe.”

  Meg put Reina’s note in the back pocket of her jeans with a sigh. “I think some people are on to us, but who knows.” She shrugged off the comment. “Anyway, we’re going away in two weeks, did I tell you?”

  “On vacation?”

  “No, for work actually. My boss, she’s one of the people I’m pretty sure knows about us, keeps assigning us to work on stuff together. This one’s Sasha’s client, but I’m being sent along to assist.”

  “Sweet. Where are you going?”

  “Chicago.” Meg added with a knowing smile, “Not bad for you either. You and Betsy have the whole place to yourself for a week.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  In downtown Chicago, Meg and Sasha were booked in two rooms at a moderately upscale chain hotel, per standard Sullivan procedure. The second they left the hotel registration desk, though, Sasha followed Meg directly into her designated room and made it clear she planned on staying. It warmed Meg’s heart.

  During the day they worked side by side in Ardmore’s conference room, crunching numbers, analyzing data, and running comparisons to come up with the best possible solutions to present to the board on Friday. At the end of the workday, they hurried back to the hotel to change clothes and explore the city’s local culture together. Meg could feel how relaxed Sasha was and she attributed it to a number of things—time alone together, a distant city, the excitement of a not-quite-vacation.

  On Tuesday night they sat kitty-corner at a small window table waiting for their pizza. Meg was trying to concentrate as she jotted notes, ironing out the remainder of the week’s tasks, while Sasha teased her, running her hand the length of Meg’s inner thigh, getting closer and closer each time.

  Meg smiled, looking right at Sasha as she finished the list. “God, I love Anne Whitmore.”

  “You love Anne?” Sasha teased.

  Meg nodded, playing back. “I’m pretty sure it’s thanks to her we’re here together. I’ve never heard of the company sending two junior associates into the field alone. So yes, I love Anne.” She leaned forward and Sasha kissed her. It was a rare display, but they were far from home and Sasha completely let her guard down. “You’re not so bad either,” Meg added with a sweet smile.

  Sasha pressed their foreheads together, giving her another small peck on the lips. “Meg, I think I may leave Sullivan,” she said, turning the conversation in a completely different direction.

  “What do you mean?”

  Sasha leaned back as the waiter placed their deep-dish pie in the center of the table. “Come on, Meg. You know I don’t really like consulting.” She shrugged. “I’m not even good at it.”

  “Sash—”

  “Meg, you don’t have to say anything. It doesn’t bother me. I mean, let’s be honest—even now, you’re doing most of the work here. Which I completely appreciate, by the way,” she added, placing her hand on top of Meg’s. “But I want to spend my life doing something I love, or at least like more than this.”

  Meg could hear the decision in Sasha’s voice. “What would you do?”

  “I’m thinking of going back to school for education.”

  “To be a teacher?”

  Sasha nodded. “That’s what I wanted to do when I was a kid. I had been talking to my mom about it a lot,” she paused, “before she died.” She let out a long breath.

  Meg looked right into Sasha’s eyes. “I think you would be an awesome teacher.” She reached for a slice, setting it to cool on her plate. “You should talk to Anne. See if you can work out a deal to stay at Sullivan, at least part-time, while you take classes.”

  “Do you think she would let me do that?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s worth asking.”

  *

  The whole week was this easy. They were a great team, a perfect duo, spending their days buried in work, stealing moments of downtime to research New York City education programs online, and taking full advantage of the nights together.

  Meg had made special dinner plans for Thursday night. Throughout the week, they had expensed most of their meals, as was company policy, but tonight she wanted to splurge. She’d reserved a table for them at the swanky Harbor House, a five-star seafood restaurant she knew Sasha would love. She’d kept it a secret until just before lunch when she warned Sasha to eat light. As she expected, Sasha was thrilled.

  Cutting through the hotel lobby en route to their shared room, Sasha was uncharacteristically frisky. She pressed the button for the elevator and dragged her middle finger down the front of Meg’s oxford.

  “I might not be able to wait,” she whispered, biting her lip seductively.

  Meg’s mouth hung open. “What?”

  Sasha shook her head slowly. “I’m not going to make it.”

  “Until after dinner?”

  “Oh, I’m definitely not waiting until after dinner.” She licked her lips. “I need to work up an appetite.” She pulled Meg closer. “I meant”—she let her hand drift along the top of Meg’s pants—“I may not make it to our room.” She looked right in Meg’s eyes. “You might be
forced to take care of me in the elevator.”

  Meg felt herself throb at the suggestion and was about to lean in when a familiar voice caught them both by surprise.

  “Aren’t you girls cute,” Scott teased as he walked over, wheeling his luggage up behind him.

  “Scott,” Meg said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked between them and Sasha took a step away—more than was necessary, in Meg’s opinion. “Didn’t you get Anne’s email this morning?” At their blank faces, he elaborated. “Artemis Ardmore, the old man who owns Ardmore, Inc., went ballistic when he found out there wouldn’t be a partner at the presentation tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I’m the compromise.” He pressed the elevator button repeatedly. “What rooms are you in?”

  “515,” Meg responded.

  Scott looked at Sasha.

  “Oh, 518,” Sasha said.

  “I’m up on the sixth floor,” he volunteered. “You guys want to grab dinner in a little bit?”

  “We actually have a reservation at Harbor House,” Meg said.

  Scott whistled. “Sweet,” he added with a nod. “Wait a second.” He looked at Meg. “Who’s paying for that? Meg, you can’t expense that kind of meal without the client being with you.”

  “I was going to pay for it,” Meg said, clearly annoyed at Scott’s insinuation that she didn’t understand the rules.

  “Pulling out all the stops, huh, Meg.” He smirked, gesturing at Sasha with his chin as he muffled his slight laugh.

  “We were both going to pay for it,” Sasha piped up, not meeting Meg’s eyes as she lied. “Treat ourselves.”

  “Fine, whatever. I’m starving. What time are we going?”

  “Our reservation is for seven.”

  “Great, I’ll meet you down here at six thirty.”

  *

  In Meg’s room Sasha searched frantically for the keycard to her room across the hall until she found it under a stack of complimentary newspapers piled on the desk.

  Meg came up behind her. “Sash, it’s okay.” She held her tight and kissed her neck sweetly. “You need to calm down. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

  Sasha was breathing hard and she twisted roughly out of Meg’s embrace. “I’m going to put my stuff in my room.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  Sasha’s voice cracked. “Meg, I don’t want him to know.” She put her hand up. “I just don’t.” She didn’t say anything more.

  Meg stepped back and sat on the end of the king-sized bed, feeling her heart break a little as she watched Sasha throw heaps of clothes into her luggage, trying to erase all evidence of herself from Meg’s room.

  *

  “So, yeah, the old man blew a gasket when he found out neither Pat nor Doug would be there tomorrow,” Scott reiterated over drinks as they waited for their table at the restaurant. “But it’s complete bullshit. I mean, he’s barely involved at all in the redevelopment project, right?” He tossed back the remainder of his gin and tonic. “Anne read between the lines anyway. He’s old school, wants a dude involved.” Shaking the ice in his glass he added, “Sorry, Meg, you don’t count.” He barked a hearty laugh at his own joke. “Anyway, as ridiculous as that is, he’s still the client, and we aim to please. But everything is status quo. Sasha, you’ll still give the presentation tomorrow. I’m just going to sit there, really.”

  “Actually Meg is doing the presentation,” Sasha said, sounding nervous as she revealed the switch she and Meg had worked out earlier in the week.

  “Whatever.” He signaled the bartender for another round. “I’m just here to placate the old man.”

  They were seated at a table with a gorgeous view of the city and talked about work, but Meg was barely paying attention. She couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that her last night with Sasha had been snaked out from under her. She couldn’t care less that Scott had been sent to supervise them. And she believed his explanation. As absurd as it was, it made sense. She’d met Artemis Admore; he was a misogynistic douche. None of that bothered her.

  When Sasha ordered her third glass of wine, Meg couldn’t resist. She raised her eyebrows in open challenge.

  Scott looked back and forth between them. “Whoa, Sash, I think you’re in trouble.” He laughed and then made eye contact with Meg. “Jesus, Meg, lighten up.”

  Meg glared at him. “We still have a presentation tomorrow. It would be great if we all weren’t drunk at it.”

  “Well, the good news is you’re presenting. And you’re clearly the responsible one here.” He nodded at Meg’s half-full beverage. “Cheers, Sash,” he toasted, raising his glass.

  On the way back to the hotel, Scott lobbied hard for a final drink at the hotel bar. Meg refused immediately. But Sasha, who was already very tipsy, shrugged her shoulders and agreed amiably. Meg presumed this was Sasha’s sad attempt at ensuring Scott didn’t suspect anything. Inside Meg was seething. She couldn’t even look at Sasha as she stormed through the lobby toward the elevator bank.

  Back in her room Meg took a long, hot shower hoping it would calm her down. When Sasha still wasn’t back by the time she got out, she threw on sweats and an old T-shirt and thumbed through a magazine, waiting for Sasha to stumble in full of apologies. Maybe it was crazy, but Meg still thoroughly expected Sasha to stay in her room. It never occurred to her she wouldn’t. She really believed packing up her stuff and carting it across the hall was all part of an elaborate charade to throw Scott off their scent. But when it finally hit midnight, Meg was over the games. She slid on her sneakers, threw a hoodie over her thin tee, and headed to the lobby.

  She was actually almost over her anger. By this point, her feelings had subsided to annoyance and frustration over the situation. She would deal with it all tomorrow, after the presentation, after they were home, she told herself as she stepped out of the elevator. For now she would rescue Sasha from Scott, ply her with water and aspirin, and help her to bed. They all needed to look alive in the morning.

  Meg shuffled down the carpeted hotel hallway. Way down the hall, past the lobby, just outside the small hotel bar, her eyes were drawn to them. Sasha leaned up against the wall, Scott pressed into her, his hands all over her body as they kissed heavy and hard in the bright corridor. Meg stood there and watched them, unable to move, until she backed away in slow motion before slipping into the stairwell and sprinting up five flights of stairs, finally collapsing in a heap on the floor of her room.

  Meg spent the majority of the next few hours crying, but she must’ve passed out at some point, because her alarm woke her with a start. She rinsed off quickly in the shower and packed up her stuff, heading for a small coffee shop she’d passed every morning on her way to Ardmore’s downtown office. Chugging espresso, she changed her flight from a five o’clock commuter to LaGuardia to a three thirty that landed in Newark. She was running the show today and would make sure she was on that plane. There was absolutely no way she was going to spend any more time with Scott and Sasha than was absolutely necessary.

  She had half a mind to bail on the presentation entirely and stick Sasha with it. Ardmore was technically her client anyway. But Meg would never do that. Partly because even though she hated Sasha right now, she still couldn’t bring herself to do something she knew would cause her that kind of stress. Plus, Anne Whitmore was relying on her, and Meg refused to let the company down.

  At eight thirty, a text from Sasha arrived. It said simply: hey. A half hour later, a second, where are you? followed. Meg saw through Sasha’s thinly veiled efforts to gauge her mood, probably testing to see if she suspected anything. Meg ignored both texts altogether. After the third message, sent in an obvious panic ten minutes before the meeting was to start, Meg responded. She used as few words as possible to convey she was already at the office, set up and ready to go. Her short generic response bordered on rude and she knew Sasha would pick up on it right away. Just in case, she added one more line: B
y the way, I saw you last night. She shut off her phone completely.

  Meg waited in the spare office until 9:58, when she strode into the boardroom and launched right into her presentation. Miraculously, she got through it. It wasn’t her best performance, but it wasn’t bad either, all things considered. She avoided eye contact with Sasha, who looked like hell—pale, pasty, hungover—and Scott, who didn’t look much better.

  During a break, Sasha tried to corner her in Ardmore’s ladies’ room. “Meg—”

  Meg looked right through her. “Don’t fucking talk to me,” she said, trying to storm past, but Sasha caught her arm.

  “Wait, Meg.” Her voice was desperate and pleading, but Meg didn’t care.

  “I saw you, Sash. Last night. With Scott. I fucking saw you.” She wrenched her arm from Sasha’s grasp and left the bathroom without looking back.

  It was difficult, but Meg managed to stay on point until she left the meeting, shaking hands and smiling at the principals alongside her coworkers. For Sullivan’s benefit, she even shared an elevator with Scott and Sasha, parting from them immediately when they reached the street without a word. She grabbed her own taxi, virtually shutting the door in Sasha’s face, and raced through the airport, holding in her tears the entire journey home.

  *

  When Tracy and Betsy came through the front door a little after seven, Meg was at the kitchen table with her knees pulled up to her chest, her face red and swollen from hours of crying.

  They rushed to her side and asked her what was wrong. She told them everything.

  “Have you heard from her?” Betsy asked.

  “No.”

  Meg looked between her friends, who had listened to her vent and cry for the last forty-five minutes. “Guys, you don’t have to stay here. I’ll be fine. Go do whatever you were going to do before you got sucked into my pathetic drama.”

  “We didn’t have any plans,” Tracy said. “I am hungry, though. Could you eat?”

  “No. But you guys can. Seriously, go.”