by Jamie Knight
He would call me into his office on the flimsiest pretense and, because of my job description, I had to go. He never outright told me to ‘do a little turn,’ but he basically did when he called me in then claimed to forget what it was about, getting a lengthy view of my ass as I crossed his large office back to the door. I could almost feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my pants. It was always such a relief to see Sean after a day in the office. A nice reminder that not every guy in the world was scum.
I tried to last, not wanting to give Mr. Chau the satisfaction of quitting. I couldn’t ask for a transfer without saying why. And such an accusation would need some pretty solid evidence, or I would be the one in trouble. It was silly to quit on the second day of my promotion, but I just got too scared. It wasn’t much at first. Just his usual leering while I was filing. Then I raised my ass a bit further than usual to get to the back of a drawer. From the way his breathing increased, I knew what he was doing. I turned around to see he’d cupped his crotch and was rubbing his hand up and down while leering at me. I shrieked and fled the office.
The clicks of my phone echoed off the tiled toilet walls as I texted Nicole, doing my best not to wreck my makeup with crying.
Me: I can’t do this.
Nicole: What happened?
Me: Need to talk soon. Drinks after work.
Nicole: Of course, meet me in my office.
The rest of the day bled together. Chau knew it was my word against his, but he seemed to know he fucked up and turned up the niceness. No doubt in case I wanted to make a complaint. With any luck, things could be resolved before that was needed.
Quitting time finally came, and I was off like a shot to Nicole’s office, doing my best not to run.
“What happened?” she asked, coming over to hug me.
“Not here.”
“Okay, I’ll get my coat.”
Sean wasn’t there to greet me, which was actually a relief. I sent him a quick text so he wouldn’t worry when I didn’t make it home at my usual time.
The shamrock on McGinty’s called up a lot of memories, all of them good. Nicole held my hand as we walked to the bar, not very professional but fuck it, we weren’t at the office anymore.
“Two shots of Tennessee Whiskey,” Nicole said, taking the lead when the waitress came by for our order.
“I think I have to quit,” I blurted.
“Why would you do that?”
“I knew Emil is a bit creepy, you warned me about that, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, not directly. I mean, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I have this thing, a sort of intuition. Something felt different today. I was filing like usual, except I lifted a bit higher than usual, and Emil was watching me. He’s always watching me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. It was like I could feel what he was thinking. Not hear it but feel it, he wanted to fuck me, whether I liked it or not, and he wasn’t going to be gentle. I turned around and saw he had his hand cupped around his crotch. I ran away and hid. That’s when I texted you.”
The tears came back in their inky cascade as Nicole did her best to console me. I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but I was clearly upset, and she wasn’t about to call me a liar.
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?” I asked, blowing my nose.
“I have the same thing. It’s why I started wearing pants at work. The junior partners aren’t much better than the senior.”
“Now I really have to quit.”
“Do you want to give him the satisfaction?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Didn’t think so. Here’s what I suggest. Get one of those hidden cameras and have it on whenever you are with Emil. It won’t stand up in a court of law, but at least you’ll have evidence if you need to file a complaint with HR. Unfortunately, you need proof. It’s an old boys club in there.”
It was a good idea, if a little weird. After leaving the pub, just drunk enough to be bold enough to try it, I went to a nearby electronics store with only the vaguest idea of what to ask for. Not the best plan I ever had, but better than nothing.
“May I help you?” asked a pleasant girl in a company polo shirt.
“I hope so. I’m looking for a camera. A video camera small enough to fit in here.” I lifted my purse feeling like an idiot, but at least my plan might turn out to be a success. I was sadly glad the clerk was another female. Emil putting me off men for the immediate. At least men I didn’t know.
“I have just the thing.”
With my new camera in my purse, I headed home. I was dying to see Sean. I wanted to tell him about my day, have him hold me and kiss me and tell me everything would be alright. But I also wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to tell him, at least not right away. Sean seemed so gentle, but Maggie had told tales about what Gavin was capable of when the situation called for violence, and there was no way of knowing that Sean wouldn’t react the same way. Probably with backup from Gavin. I wanted Emil Chau fired, not crippled or dead, which I had a terrible feeling would happen if I told Sean.
Sadly, my apartment was dark and empty. Needing to hear him, I dialed his cell.
“Hey, you.” The sound of his voice already put me at ease. I didn’t have to tell him about what happened, but I still wanted to talk to him. It seemed like the best thing for it at the time.
“Where are you?” I asked, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt.
“We’re at the Tin Whistle. I don’t think that’s too far from you.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Changing quickly into a dress and my Chuck’s, I locked up again and headed out, not wanting to risk the car again. I was just under the limit as it was, no point in doing something stupid.
****
“Hey,” Sean said and kissed me gently.
“Where’s Maggie?” I asked.
“At home,” Gavin said. “She wasn’t feeling well but insisted we come out as planned. I’m showing baby brother the Americanized version of a real Irish pub.”
“We’re thinking of expanding into the pub business,” Sean elaborated.
“In Ireland,” I said dumbly, reminded again of the situation. It wouldn’t be long until he left.
“Yeah, Jim is keen on it. I’m not so sure, particularly after seeing this place. I’ve been taking notes.”
He showed me his notebook full of his neat, handwritten observations, none of them particularly flattering. I couldn’t blame him, really. He had the real thing at home. The best California probably had was a Disneyland knock-off.
I was tempted again to tell him about what happened with Emil, but he seemed in such a good mood, there was no point ruining it, plus his happiness was rubbing off on me.
“How was your day?” Gavin asked.
“I need a drink,” I said, both by way of repose and evasion.
“Then you’ve come to the right place.”
“Debatable,” Sean snarked, polishing off his beer, nonetheless.
Not sure what else to do, I sat with the two MacBride brothers getting gloriously drunk or ‘leathered’ as Sean liked to say. I could hardly remember the last time I’d had so much fun, aside from the impromptu bachelorette party, when we’d also had Ciara with us. I knew it was a stereotype, but I equated Irish people with fun in my head. Not least because they stood out in stark contrast to the slick, self-obsessed Hollywood glitterati I’d grown up around. It was quite a shock to realize most of it was fake, and some of our closest family friends were complete assholes. It was why I’d tried to distance myself from that lifestyle. Except the current situation didn’t seem much better. Since Maggie had resigned a while back, Nicole was the only co-worker I could stand. I knew I had to keep going and put up with Emil’s low-key abuse to pay the rent, but one thing was pulling me away. An urge to leave L.A. and even
California altogether for an entirely new environment. Every place had its problems. Of course, I wasn’t dumb enough to believe the greener pastures fallacy, but getting away from the roots of my dilemma seemed like the first step. The only problem was, at that point, I didn’t have anywhere to go.
It was dark as we headed back to my place, Sean seeming to hold his beer better than I could. I was relieved to be so close to a guy I could trust not to take advantage. I clung close and kissed him on occasion. Affections he seemed to take as drunk sincerity when I had actually meant them.
The couch puffed under us as we fell onto the embrace of the soft leather cushions. We became even more entwined than when we were upright. Sean smelled of stout and musk, and it was difficult to resist him. Despite the fact we’d had sex every other time we’d been there, I really just needed to be held and loved. On the upside, he didn’t even try to ask me about my day, mostly because he was more focused on seducing me. It started gently, his hands migrating to my boobs, massaging them lightly. I had to admit it was relaxing, which was why I didn’t stop him. One of his hands found its way down between my legs, tenderly stroking my pussy through my pants.
“You know,” he said, squeezing my boob as he stroked my pussy, “the sex with you is so good, I might have to take you back to Ireland with me. Then we could have it all the time.”
I put a hand on his stopping his movements. It was sharp and sudden, I knew, but I really didn’t want to think that our relationship was only based on sex. He was probably just trying to compliment me in his clumsy, drunken way, but his words hit a nerve. I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I just laughed and let him keep touching me despite how uncomfortable it was.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing my sudden discomfort.
It was a fair question. Usually, I was as active as him when we were intimate, if not more. I felt like I had switched off and was just letting it happen.
“I—I don’t know.”
But I did know. There was a distance between us. I didn’t blame Sean, not really. It was the whole situation with my parents, the fake wedding, and Emil’s disgusting intentions. It was all getting to be too much, besides which I still couldn’t be sure what my relationship with Sean was actually based on. I knew I felt drawn to him like he was the only man I could ever be with, but what did that mean, and where were we going?
“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly getting up. “I—I’m too drunk. I—I shouldn’t—I’m going to go sleep at Gavin and Maggie’s.”
He left, softly closing the apartment door behind him, leaving me alone in the dark apartment. Finding my way over to the bed, without bothering to put on a light, I hugged the pillow. The one that still had his scent. I breathed in deep, trying not to cry, but the tears came anyway. I knew I’d messed up things with Sean but wasn’t sure how else I would have handled it. I couldn’t put the blame on him. He’d stopped without me having to say it, probably feeling how uncomfortable I was despite him also being drunk. It wasn’t like I could take his suggestion of going to Ireland with him seriously, no matter how much I wanted to get out of Los Angeles.
Moving to a different country, while appealing, also seemed a bit too drastic. Realistically, our relationship to that point was based on a fake engagement and great sex. I knew in my heart there was more than that but couldn’t quite convince my head. What my heart wanted conflicting with what common sense was telling me.
Chapter Twenty - Sean
I’d never really understood the term ‘stupor.’ Not until I found myself separated from my soulmate by forces I didn’t quite understand. With no set purpose driving me, I embraced a new role, playing nursemaid to Maggie while Gavin worked.
Still not quite reaching leading man status, he’d managed to eke out a successful sitcom career and had snagged more than a few movie roles. His new role was something of a boon. As the main henchman for the villain of the piece, it allowed him to stretch his wings. The role brought him greater attention, as well as more money but also meant he was away from home, and his beloved wife, for as much as sixteen hours a day.
An absence he promised to make up for by bringing her to the wrap party. Something which she seemed to only be feigning enthusiasm for.
It really was typical of our relationship. Gavin off doing cool things, me staying behind to help keep things together at home. I didn’t mind, of course, someone had to be the responsible one, and I was happy to fill the role.
“More ginger ale?” I asked, noticing her depleting supply.
“Yes, please.”
“Coming right up.”
I’d spent the last two days playing nursemaid, and I was getting perilously close to when I’d have to go home. I loved Maggie as a sister but was really starting to miss Darcy. She hadn’t tried to contact me since the night I left her apartment, and I hadn’t reached out either. I was giving her space’. Obviously, my suggestion that we move to Ireland together freaked her out, like I’d feared it would. The way I’d posed it hadn’t really helped. If only she’d known what had really gone on. I kicked myself for not at least waiting until I was sober to broach the subject.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Maggie asked as I handed her the glass. “Your moping around is making me feel worse.”
“I think I might have screwed things up,” I admitted. “I asked Darcy to come to Ireland with me.”
“That was brave. How did she react?”
“Not well. Though it was at least partly how I posed the question. I should have waited until I was sober, then maybe I could have mentioned more of the circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“Well, her dad offered me a check not to see her again.”
“He did what?” Maggie asked, her eyes going big.
“Offered me a check. Right there in his swanky home office. A million bucks to stay away from his daughter.”
“What an asshole. What did you do?”
“Refused it and ripped it upright in front of him, six even pieces. We don’t go in for that kind of shite. My grandpa tried something similar to get our dad away from our mother. Da told him to sling a hook too, though in slightly less dramatic terms.”
“Go,” she said and pointed towards the door. “Get out of here.”
I stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Sorry?”
“You gave up a million dollars for her, you idiot. Why are you here hanging out with me? Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but come on, we both know there is someone else you would rather be with. Go now and talk to her, break into her office if you have to. Tell her what you told me, and if she doesn’t want to run away with you right then and there, she is no longer the Darcy Matthews I know.”
Thoroughly encouraged by Maggie’s true words, I set off on foot in search of Darcy’s office. I’d only ever been there once before but found it without much trouble, the black glass monolith reaching into the clear California sky. I’d considered taking a taxi or an Uber but didn’t want to take the time to wait. I knew I had to see her as soon as possible.
On the way there, I passed a street vendor selling bouquets of roses. It couldn’t hurt, so I bought a dozen for the same price as dinner for three at my favorite restaurant at home before charging ahead.
I didn’t look my best in a pair of cargo shorts and a polo shirt. That and I hadn’t shaved in a few days, but with studious use of a pocket comb, I managed to make myself look more preppy than casual and strolled through the mighty doors into the den of dragons.
“I’m here to see Darcy Matthews,” I informed the desk guard.
A signature later, I was through the metal detector and on my way to the elevators. A bored security guard was one thing. A canny receptionist could be quite another. The first hurdle cleared. I didn’t let myself get complacent, knowing my greatest challenge was yet to come.
“May I help you?” asked the front desk receptionist.
“Yes, I’m looking for a Darcy Matthews,” I s
aid, pretending to read the name off the card I’d attached on the way up.
“Top floor,” she said with obvious distaste. “You’ll have to leave the flowers at the desk. We don’t allow delivery people on the main floor.”
“Thank you very much.”
Back on the elevator, I went up to the floor where the senior partners kept their offices. I could almost smell the money in the air. I repeated the same performance for the main desk receptionist there, but she was a lot more astute than her colleagues.
“Bullsnot,” she said.
“Sorry?” I asked, slipping back into my Irish accent.
“Your shirt is wrong. Close but not quite. I’ve also never seen a delivery guy in cargo pants. Good try, though. Strictly speaking, I should call security and have you removed, and possibly the police for charges of fraud, but you are clearly a man in love. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tried such a stunt. You caught me in a good mood, though. So, I’ll tell you where to find her.”
Armed with directions from the receptionist, who I was very relieved to find as something of a romantic, I looked for the office number, figuring that was where Darcy was most likely to be. I continued with the ruse of a delivery guy for the benefit of the employees with sub-Sherlock Holmes levels of deductive reasoning.
The sound was unmistakable. Fabric rubbing together, buttons ripping, heavy breathing, all surprisingly audible through the thick wooden door. Awful scenarios danced through my head. All of them involving Darcy fucking her boss. My common sense telling me to walk away and leave it. However, there was another voice—that of my conscience, which told my common sense to shut the fuck up and get into that office before it was too late. I burst in, prepared for the worst.
It was even worse than that. Darcy stood, battered and disheveled, her pants open and her blouse torn asunder, trying to put and keep the large oak desk between her and her boss, who was stalking her like a predator, looking for any angle of attack.