by Cat Carmine
“Bullshit. I can’t trust you, Claire. I never should have trusted you.”
“You can’t trust me? That is bullshit, William. I have done nothing but defend you and respect you and —“ I cut off, almost choking on my words. I’m so infuriated right now, and I feel hot salty tears stinging my eyes.
“You want to talk about trust?” I force myself to continue. “How about the trust it took to let you do all those things to me? To tie me up? To cut my underwear right off of me? You think I let just anyone go near me with scissors sharp enough to skewer me? That’s called trust, William.”
He glares at me. He doesn’t say anything back, even though I want him to, just so I can continue to point out how ridiculous he’s being. I fold my arms.
William’s gaze has gone from steely to icebergy. He folds his arms in mirror of mine.
“You’re fired, Claire.”
“What?” Despite everything, his words come as a shock. Fired? I’ve expected to be fired a million times over the course of this job but not for something I didn’t even do. “But I didn’t…”
“I demand complete loyalty from my staff. I’m afraid I can no longer trust you.”
“You are a complete and utter asshole,” I spit back. “You wouldn’t know loyalty or trust if they were right in front of your face. In fact, you wouldn’t know any feeling at all unless it had a set of tits and climbed into your lap.” I am shaking with rage now. The smell of the sickening sweet coffee seeping into the carpet is starting to turn my stomach.
“You should go.” He steeples his fingers together. That was William. Always so in control. He hasn’t even flinched.
“Fine.” I can’t stop the tears that are streaming down my face now. I am sad and mad and scared and pissed all at once. And the irony is, William seems to feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
21
William
Strangely enough, vodka isn’t helping.
I order a fifth shot, just to be sure, and slam it back.
Nope, still nothing.
I’ve been distracted and uneasy all day. Thinking about Claire. About her betrayal. About how stupid I was to have trusted her. About how egregiously wrong I was to even think that maybe I was …
Well, that was all in the past now.
I’d have a new temporary secretary in tomorrow. I’d done the unthinkable and asked for a man this time. The thought made me slightly nauseous but it was better than making this same mistake yet again. I couldn’t afford to go through this again. Financially, yes — but emotionally, no.
Because as much as I hated to admit it, Claire had gotten to me. With those stupid big brown eyes and those perky fucking tits and that ass…oh, that ass. Slapping my hand against that curvy white ass had been the greatest thing I’d experienced in months. Years, maybe.
And it wasn’t even just her body or the sex. It was her stupid smile and the way she laughed at my jokes and the way she called me on my shit and the way she … yeah, the way she seemed to trust me.
It had been different with Lila. The sex had been good but the rest had been just tolerance. On both my part and hers, I realized now. I actually enjoyed Claire’s company, and she had seemed to enjoy mine.
But I guess she was just a better actress than I had given her credit for.
I look around the bar. It’s strangely empty — actually, I guess it’s not that strange considering it’s not even noon. There are a couple of sad sack guys sitting at the bar, and I have a moment of chagrin when I realize that now I am one of those sad sacks.
What’s gotten into me? William Godrich doesn’t pine over women. It’s not my MO.
The waitress comes by and I order another shot of vodka. Sixth time’s a charm, right?
When she brings it back to me, I notice her lingering beside the table.
“That suit looks too expensive for this place,” she says, twirling her finger through her hair.
I grunt as I down my shot.
She smirks. “Another?”
I shake my head. “Not just yet.”
She leans in close, making sure her ample cleavage is right in my face. “I know something that’ll make you feel better than booze.”
I grab her arm. “Be careful who you make that offer to, darling. You don’t know me. You don’t know how rough I like it.”
She holds my gaze. “I can handle it.”
I think about doing it. God help me, but I do. I think about taking her into the bathroom, throwing her up against the wall and taking her from behind. Maybe up the ass, just to show her how serious I am.
But when I look at her face, a bit rat-like and tired, all I see is Claire’s smooth pale skin, her pert lips, her perfect cheekbones. Her smile. I see the waitress’s dark hair pulled up into some messy round knot on top of her head, and I think of Claire’s gorgeous blonde tresses and how they would tumble down over both of us when she was on top of me.
I am so fucked.
I shake my head at the waitress, who looks disappointed.
“Just bring me another shot,” I tell her.
She nods, as if she’s not surprised or bothered by the fact that I rejected her offer. It makes me even more glad that I did.
After that next shot, I settle up and my bill and head out. I realize I’m absolutely ravenous — not to mention hammered — so I stop at a greasy fast food chain and get a burger and fries to help me sober up. I feel more than a little pathetic being in there at noon, among all the teenagers and the office workers on their lunch hours. Here I am in a five thousand dollar suit, drunk off my ass, and eating a burger with no less than three patties in it.
How the mighty have fallen.
By the time I get back to the office, I’ve sobered up enough to be at least presentable.
I stand at the main door of the office space I shared with Claire. I stare at her desk. HR has already come in and cleared out all her stuff, so the desk is as empty as it was the day Godrich and Associates first moved into this building.
And yet now the space is haunted.
I can still see Claire sitting there, twirling around in her chair as she thought something through. I can see the yellow tulips she always kept on the side of her desk.
And of course, I can still see the dark stain from the coffees I’d tossed on the floor earlier today.
The smell of old coffee is so rancid that I want to puke. I march into my office and pick up the phone to call Facilities.
“Why is that carpet still here?” I bark into the floor as soon as someone answers.
“I’m sorry?”
“This is William Godrich,” I say slowly, as if she’s stupid. “The carpet in my office is covered in coffee and I would like to know why it wasn’t removed yet and who I need to fire.”
“Eep! We’ll have it gone right away, sir,” she squeaks.
Sir. Even the word makes me think of Claire. Of her sweet innocent mouth wrapped around my cock, obeying my every command.
“Get it done,” I growl, before I slam down the phone.
I thought that would make me feel better, but much like the vodka, it does little to chase away this ache in the pit of my stomach.
The phone rings then and I pick it up immediately.
“What?” I snarl, thinking it’s the girl from facilities calling with some excuse.
“Will! Hey. James here.”
“James.” It takes me a second to switch gears. “Hello.”
“Everything okay, man? You sound … stressed.”
I wave my hand dismissively even though I realize he can’t see me. “I’m fine.”
“Well, prepare to be even better. I just heard from a reliable source that Kurtz, Marsden and Park is dropping the suit. It sounds like it’s dead in the water. They don’t really have cause. The merger paperwork gave you full rights to get rid of duplicate positions and everyone you let go had at least one equivalent in your existing company structure.”
“Oh.”
“Will? Come on, that’s great news.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks James. Listen, did you ever hear anything about Claire? Claire Hearst?”
“Oh yeah, I asked around about her. She’d never spoken to them. The case was all under this Kelly Diamante gal. But I guess it was mostly just her — they didn’t have nearly as much additional support as they were making it out to be. I think it was all smoke and mirrors, probably just to try to scare you.” He laughs. “Guess they didn’t realize who they were messing with.”
“Yeah, that’s great.” I am still sorting through all those words, trying to get at the sweet acorn in the middle of them which is that, as far as James knew, Claire was not involved in this. She had never spoken to the law firm. So she could have been telling the truth about the business card.
I drum my fingers on the desk.
I don’t like being wrong. It’s a new feeling for me, and one I’m not fond of.
Then again, just because she hadn’t actually gone to meet with anyone at Kurtz, Marsden and Park didn’t mean she hadn’t lied. She’d known about the lawsuit and not said anything.
And there’d been that time I’d seen her coming out of HR.
Even if she wasn’t involved in Kelly’s suit, she could still very well be preparing to mount a case against me on her own. Lodging a complaint with HR would be the logical first step towards that.
I know what I have to do.
I stride out of my office and down the hall towards HR. I don’t bother calling because I want to see Tom in person when I ask him this question.
I show myself into HR — the admin girl at the front looks up to greet me but blanches when she realizes who I am.
“I’m here to see Tom,” I tell her and she just nods, mutely, and waves me in.
Tom’s door is partially closed but I open it without knocking.
“Mr. Godrich! Always a pleasure!” He stands up from behind his desk, plastering a smile on his face. He may say it’s a pleasure but I can see plain as day that it’s anything but. I’m not exactly his favorite person.
“Claire Hearst,” I bark.
Tom rifles through some papers on his desk, pretending he’s looking for something. I can see his mind turning. Then he looks up. His face is pale.
“Your new secretary.”
“My old secretary. I fired her yesterday.”
“Oh dear. Another one down…”
“She was here the other day. In your office”
He adjusts his glasses. For once he meets my gaze. “Yes. She was. But you know the topic of our conversation is confidential.”
“You know that I’m the person who signs your checks right? In fact, I’m the person who signs the checks for everybody in this department.” I flick my gaze out the door of his office meaningfully. His admin girl outside catches me looking and glances quickly away.
Tom hastily goes to close his office door.
“Mr. Godrich, you are putting me in a very uncomfortable position.”
“You’re uncomfortable? You should see how I feel right now. I have a right to know if someone has taken issue with my conduct in the office. I want to know what you talked about.”
He adjusts his glasses, and I notice a look of surprise cross his face. “Your conduct? Oh no, sir, quite the opposite. I thought you had things … under control. Ms. Hearst was here to discuss a relationship she was having with someone at the company. She felt it was getting serious and wanted my advice on when and how to disclose the relationship.”
I swallow. My throat feels like it’s filled with cigarette ashes. I cough and then thump myself against the chest to try to catch my breath. A thousand thoughts are rushing through my mind right now, but they all revolve around one central idea:
I’m a fucking idiot.
22
Claire
“And they lived happily ever after…”
I roll my eyes at the television. “Can we please watch something else? Something less sappy? And with more, I don’t know, beheadings?”
Vanessa throws a piece of popcorn at me. “Stop being morbid. Romantic movies are the best medicine for a break-up … or a, whatever this is.”
“I think vodka might be a better medicine.”
“That’s why we’ve got these!” April holds up her disturbingly pink cocktail creation and takes a big gulp.
My roommates had had the idea that what I needed tonight was a girl’s night to get me to stop thinking about William. Despite all my eye-rolling, I was actually grateful for their support. It was better than the “I told you so’s” that I deserved. Because they had told me. Many times. And I had chosen to ignore them. I had even chosen to ignore my own gut, the part of me that kept saying that falling for your boss was a huge mistake.
Seeing how filled with rage he was the other day, how he immediately assumed I had betrayed him … it made me realize that he had never seen me as more than a plaything. He was like a child whose favorite toy had been broken: petulant and completely unwilling to listen to reason. How had I ever considered having an actual relationship with this man?
I shake my head and take a big drink of my cocktail. I grimace. It tastes as pink as it looks.
I grab the remote out of Vanessa’s hand. “I get to pick the next movie. Please be advised that it will contain copious amounts of murder and mayhem.”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “You do know you’re better off without him, right?”
I don’t say anything.
“Right? Claire?”
I nod.
“Say it,” Vanessa barks. “So I know you mean it.”
“I’m better off without him.”
“Good girl. Now you can put on all the murder and mayhem you want.”
The next morning I wake up with a hangover that is as vibrant as last night’s drinks. I force myself to get out of bed anyway though — I really can’t afford to waste any more time before I start looking for a new job. April and Vanessa have been polite about it so far, but I know they’re not interested in covering for me again. I can’t say I blame them.
Luckily I’ve managed to accumulate a small bit of savings during my time at Godrich and Associates. William — Mr. Godrich — was actually paying me quite generously so I was able to pay off my debts and sock away a couple grand. That won’t last me more than a month or two in this city though, so I have to get cracking.
I grab my laptop and head to the closest coffee shop. I can’t even think about my usual moccaccino this morning, so I just get a regular coffee and an extra greasy breakfast sandwich.
I go online and start sifting through job postings. Admin this, office that. Everything looks boring as sin. I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed the challenge of having a boss like William.
Or the challenge of having a man like William.
I shake my head. That was over now, and the sooner I could embrace it, the better. Probably getting a boring admin job — one with zero interpersonal drama — would be good for me.
I start firing off my resume to every single posting that I seem even remotely qualified for. On a whim I even apply to a few that I’m demonstrably not qualified for, but that look interesting. Manager of a small art gallery, merchandiser for a independent jewellery store, events coordinator at a multi-million dollar non-profit.
By the time I leave the coffee shop, I’m feeling marginally better. I must have sent off at least fifty resumes today. Now all I have to do is sit around and wait for someone to bite. At this rate, I should have a new job within a couple of weeks.
A week later, I’m feeling slightly less enthusiastic about my prospects. I haven’t gotten even a single nibble on any of the resumes I sent out, not even the ones where I’m totally overqualified.
I also haven’t heard a peep from William. Not that I thought I would but … I guess a part of me had hoped that he would come around. Not that I would necessarily forgive him even if he did, mind you.
But it would be nice to have the option.
>
I check my phone so many times I’m practically starting to get tennis elbow. When it finally actually rings, I’m so startled I almost drop it.
It turns out to be someone calling me for an interview. I eagerly set it up for the next day, even though it’s for one of the most boring jobs I applied for, doing call routing for a collection agency. But at this point I’ll take a job scraping gum off of park benches if it’ll get me out of the house and put money in my bank account.
The hiring manager turns out to be a plump balding man in his mid-forties named Sandy who asks me a few questions but doesn’t bother listening to my answers and doesn’t write anything down. I get the distinct feeling they’re only even interviewing me to fill a quota, and that they already have someone in mind for the job.
I still manage to bullshit my way through all of his questions until he glances down at my resume.
“Godrich and Associates,” he says. “That’s supposed to be a cushy place to work. Why’d you leave?” He squints closer at my resume. “And after only a couple of months?”
“It’s sort of a long story…” I try to wave him on to something else, but he’s staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer.
Great. Now he takes an actual interest in me.
“Well, basically, my boss thought I was going to sue him.”
His eyes widen.
“Oh, I wasn’t,” I hastily assure him. “It’s only because I was sleeping with him. I wouldn’t sue you. Or him.”
Now his chin drops. “You were sleeping with him?”
Oh God. This is not going well.
“It wasn’t like that,” I try to explain. “I was in love with him.”
Abort, abort.
Sandy snaps his mouth closed. Then he snaps my file folder closed.
“Thank you very much for coming in, Ms. Hearst. We’ll, uh, be in touch.”