Cougar Boss

by Kerry Belchambers

  The performance was in its original language, but there were English supertitles projected above the stage all throughout. I followed the storyline, which caught me off guard because it was actually very good.

  I could see why it was one of Mrs. Gallagher’s favorites. It was funny, it had depth, the characters were extremely talented, the setting was befitting of the timing the love story had taken place and the orchestra was magnificent. I enjoyed it so much, I almost didn’t notice how quickly time passed until the curtains were lowered and the lights came up, ending the first act.

  “That was incredible,” I said as I rose to my feet, applauding the first half of the show.

  “Yes, it was,” Mrs. Gallagher said.

  I looked at her beautiful face to find a soft serene expression I’d never seen before, once again reaffirming she was the most stunning creature that had ever graced my sight.

  “Let’s go get a drink while we stretch our legs,” she said.

  I nodded and followed out after her. We went to a table reserved for her and after taking a seat, a chilled bottle of red wine and two glasses were brought over.

  I realized James had been right. Mrs. Gallagher loved her operas. We didn’t have to wait in line. I cruised along everything like it was available at the snap of a finger. Both ushers and waiters recognized Mrs. Gallagher, offering her superior service.

  If I’d been there alone or with anyone else who wasn’t Mrs. Gallagher, I would’ve had a back seat at the auditorium. I would’ve either been lining up at the bathroom or at the bar like everyone else seemed to do, or I would’ve been waiting for the intermission to end while seated at the auditorium.

  At that rate, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn there were VIP bathrooms for people like her. Too bad I wasn’t pressed, so I wasn’t about to find out just yet, but maybe when the entire show was over.

  “Are you having a good time?”

  I found her looking at me at the question and nodded. “Yes, I am. Thank you for inviting me.”

  When I didn’t think about Jaime, I found myself having a good time. Whenever I thought of her, a wave of sadness would overcome me. I’d never been dumped before. It left me feeling crappy all over again.

  “Did you enjoy yourself at the art exhibition last night?” she asked.

  I thought about the intimate moments I’d shared with Jaime. “Yes, it was fun. I think what you do is awesome.”

  “Giving back is an important part of life.”

  “I agree, giving back is important.” I inwardly cursed myself. She must’ve thought I was sucking up to her.

  “That boy you were with, was he one of the artists?” she asked.

  “Rex? He’s my best friend and an artist too, but by the time he came to learn about the art exhibition, it was too late.”

  “You should’ve told me. I would’ve helped.”

  I raised my eyebrow in surprise. “You would’ve allowed his pieces into the exhibition?”

  “I was sponsoring the event so, yes.”

  “But Jaime said the application process had been closed.”

  “Ah yes, the process.” She chuckled, a cute pleasant noise that drove sensations I couldn’t identify through me. “The process is there to enforce the rules. The rules don’t apply to me.”

  I felt like someone had kicked me hard in the gut. Rex was going to kill me.

  “You care a lot about this… Rex,” she said.

  “He’s the closest thing to family I have in the city. He’s going to kill me when he finds out about this.”

  “You didn’t know. He’s going to understand.”

  She was right. I hadn’t been aware I could just ask to have his pieces in the art exhibition. He’d understand. It would hurt, but he’d understand.

  I looked at her and found a type of warmth in her eyes that instantly relaxed me. I smiled at her and took a sip of wine.

  “So where are you from, originally?” she asked.

  Her attention was still focused on me, which made it hard for me to concentrate. “Uh, St. Paul, Minnesota. I moved here for school.”

  “You’re far from home,” she said.

  Her voice was low, but audible and her posture was calm and controlled. I was having a rollercoaster of emotions going through me and trying hard to keep a straight face.

  “I am,” I said.

  “How long have you lived in New York?”

  “About four years now.”

  “You must miss your family.”

  “I do.”

  “You visit them often?”

  “Just a couple of times since I got to New York. It’s not easy because of school, work and sometimes lack of funds.”

  She nodded as though she understood and asked, “Do you have a big family?”

  “Just my parents and my older brother,” I said.

  I noticed people had started going back to the auditorium and took another sip from my glass, knowing we were about to head back in as well.

  “It must be hard for you being in the city all by yourself,” she said.

  “It was, initially, when I got here and making friends wasn’t easy. But I quickly got used to it.” I was pleased by the fact that we were actually having a conversation, and one that didn’t involve work.

  “We should head back,” she said.

  She got to her feet and I followed suit.

  “Did you like the painting?” she asked.

  The painting, wait, what? I halted in my step. She was the one who had gotten me the painting? It wasn’t Jaime? By the time it occurred to me to ask her these questions, she was already way ahead of me.

  I caught up with her back at our sitting area and scanned the auditorium to see people getting back to their seats. “You got me the painting?” I asked when I sat beside her.

  “Did you like it?” she asked, instead of answering my question.

  “Yeah, a lot, actually.” I started thinking about the questions I wanted to pose. “How did you—?”

  The lights slowly dimmed, indicating the second act was about to start. I didn’t get a chance to ask any of my questions because the performance started shortly after and I had to wait for it to end.

  I was distracted throughout the beginning of the second act. I had so many questions. How had Mrs. Gallagher known to get me that particular painting? Why had she gotten it for me?

  Was she responsible for Jaime ending things with me? No, no, I was getting ahead of myself. Why would she care about what happened between me and Jaime? What I did outside of work was of no concern to her. She couldn’t have been responsible for Jaime’s decision to cut ties with me.

  As far as I was concerned, she wasn’t even aware I’d been dating Jaime. Maybe she’d asked Jaime which painting I’d liked best and gotten it for me as a reward for a job well done. I shook my head, clearly, I was overthinking this.

  A reaction from the audience drew my attention back to the opera. I used my opera glasses and a few minutes later, the gripping performance had all my attention.

  I was shocked when during a couple of scenes toward the end, the main characters costume design matched the Moroccan attire I’d signed for in Marrakech. What had it been called, djellaba and kaftans?

  Chapter Ten

  “I know I already said this but thank you for inviting me to the opera. It seems to have drawn a greater reaction from me than I expected.” I felt so stupid.

  The ending of the opera performance had been so emotional I’d somehow ended up in tears. The most embarrassing part was that Mrs. Gallagher had seen it and had offered me her handkerchief. I felt like an idiot and just wanted to go home and live out the experience as the most humiliating moment of my life.

  Mrs. Gallagher probably thought I was a cry baby who got overly emotional and to make it worse, I had apologized a couple of times and now, I was thanking her again.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  I wasn’t even sure I was overreacting. I still couldn’t tell wha
t she was thinking, which was infuriating. How could she make me question myself? I was sober. I knew exactly what was going on, so why was I second guessing myself? I needed to save face.

  “Yes,” I said.

  We were in the limousine and James was driving away from the opera house. Much as the opera had affected me, I had to admit, attending had definitely been the right call. It was top of the list of my best experiences in New York. Well, a first of its kind.

  James took us to an awesome restaurant. I was too distracted by my thoughts to think straight so I didn’t get a chance to find out the name of the place. Plus being in the company of one of the most exquisite women I’d ever had the chance to be around, made it much easier to stay distracted.

  Mrs. Gallagher wasn’t just anyone. She was my boss. She was a heartbeat, actively pounding in me. If deactivated, my whole life would stop. I’d have no choice but to go back to St. Paul. Everything would be over.

  I’d have to defer further on my classes until I had enough money to pay off my fees and by the time I graduated, it would probably be too late to get anywhere I’d planned to be at that stage in my life.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked after we were seated.

  James hadn’t asked where to go next after we’d gotten back in the limousine so when he dropped us off at a restaurant, and we were taken to a table, I assumed it wasn’t a coincidence.

  “Not as often as I’d like,” Mrs. Gallagher said.

  A waiter brought us a bottle of wine and two glasses, which he made sure Mrs. Gallagher approved of, and handed us each a menu after telling us the specials. He poured the wine into our glasses and left us alone to scan through the menus.

  My mind trailed back to the opera and the costume design the actors had been wearing toward the end of the show. Had Mrs. Gallagher sent me all the way to Morocco to pick out a couple of outfits for her favorite opera show? Was there any institution she did not support? It must’ve meant a lot for the cast and crew of the show to have her support.

  The waiter came back a short while later and took our orders then left.

  “I liked the costumes the performers wore toward the end of the show,” I said.

  Mrs. Gallagher looked at me. “You recognized them,” she stated.

  “They were very distinct.”

  “They don’t usually use those kinds of costumes, but they needed something unique to add a foreign flare to the show.”

  “It was very nice.”

  “Did you enjoy the performance?”

  Had she not seen my reaction when the show ended? Of course, I had enjoyed the performance. “Yes, it was amazing.”

  “You’re not quite what I pegged you for,” she said.

  Curiously, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  She studied me for a moment, which for some reason I found amusing, then said, “Let’s just say you surprised me.”

  Well, that wasn’t saying much but I was going to take it as a good thing. “You seem to constantly surprise me too,” I said.

  I wished she’d stop being so evasive and just talk to me. Would there ever come a time when she’d open up to me and let me see her for who she truly was? Or would I always be on the other side constantly trying to figure her out?

  “Why were you so sad earlier?”

  Her question pulled me from my musings. “Sad?”

  “Yes, you seemed distressed.”

  Her statement was unexpectedly soft and gentle and she seemed genuinely curious but I doubted it was concern I read on her lovely features.

  I couldn’t tell her about Jaime. Much as I wished I had someone to talk to, I couldn’t bring myself to open up to her. This was the kind of thing I would talk to Rex about; definitely not my boss.

  Jaime breaking up with me had hit me hard and I was still struggling to understand it. Maybe in a day or two, it would stop being a fresh wound and I would somehow try and leave it behind me but at that moment, it still bothered me every time I thought about it.

  “Something…unexpected happened today.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I nervously ran my palm over the nape of my neck, wondering how I would even start. Mrs. Gallagher didn’t care about me or my problems. She was probably just being nice and trying to make conversation.

  “No, not really.”

  I was glad when the waiter brought over our meal because it gave me room to think about a change of subject. I remembered the painting and the questions that had harassed me at the knowledge that she was the one who had gotten it for me.

  After setting the food on the table, I stared at Mrs. Gallagher’s salad—which had been served in very little potion—then stared at the lobster on my plate.

  I couldn’t help wondering if that was all she was going to eat.

  I took a look at my plate and the sheer size of my lobster left me a little chagrined. It was like the chef had taken the biggest in the bunch and made it for me. It looked like a meal for a small village. I liked food, but there was no way I could finish all that.

  The waiter filled two glasses of water, and then refilled the wine glasses and when everything was all set, he smiled at us both and said, “Bon appétit.”

  I nodded, trying not to let my embarrassment show. Lobsters normally came in big sizes, and even though the one on my plate looked like a mutant, I decided to go along with it and eat what I could. It didn’t even seem like Mrs. Gallagher cared.

  I used my cutlery well and stole a glance at Mrs. Gallagher.

  I had never seen her eat before but she was as graceful in it as she was in everything else. I couldn’t help wonder how she would eat a burger. Would she use a knife and folk? The thought of it was funny.

  Her mouth had probably never known the delicious taste of a beef burger. With her perfectly youthful figure, she had most likely never eaten junk food in her entire life.

  I doubted she was as uptight as she appeared, though. In the few weeks I’d known her, I could tell there was more to her than met the eye. She was absolutely amazing.

  I closed my eyes at the first bite to savor the moment. Last time I’d had lobster, had been back home in St. Paul. Everything about my mom, my dad, my house, my bedroom, it was somehow brought back through that single taste.

  When I opened my eyes, I found Mrs. Gallagher staring at me and I blushed. She had a hint of a smile on her lips.

  “Is it good?” she asked.

  The lobster was incredible. “It is,” I said with a little nod.

  My mind trailed back to the painting. I kept getting distracted. “Can I ask you something?”

  She nodded.

  “Why did you get me that painting?”

  “I thought you’d like it,” she said.

  “I do, I like it, but how did you know to get me that particular painting?”

  She looked directly at me and I nervously bit my lower lip.

  “Ms. Bryce was kind enough to suggest it,” she said.

  She was being so nonchalant about it I thought I was overreacting. Then it occurred to me to find out if she’d known anything about me and Jaime.

  “Did she mention anything to you?”

  “Who?”

  “Jai—. Ms. Bryce,” I said.

  “Was there something she was supposed to mention?” she asked.

  I cursed myself, knowing I’d screwed up because I hadn’t asked the questions in a carefully articulated manner.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked.

  She’d gotten the upper hand of the conversation, so I shook my head and took a bite of the lobster.

  “You did a good job, Olivia. Give yourself a break.”

  I was glad she thought my questions and reaction was due to some insecurity regarding my job or some deep-rooted fear of failure, otherwise I didn’t know how I would’ve managed to get myself out of that one.

  Still, I didn’t know how I felt about her getting me that painting. The only thing it would do was
remind me of Jaime and I wasn’t so sure I wanted that.

  She should have gotten me the rare red diamond instead. At least that was extremely valuable. I would never have to work another day in my life.

  “I need to talk to you about something, Olivia,” she said with a hint of seriousness.

  My hands trembled and I let go of my cutlery and slowly but steadily hid them under the table. I couldn’t contain my sudden nervousness. I knew she’d had a reason for inviting me out.

  Was this it? Had I finally reached the end of the line? Was she going to fire me? Had I violated some invisible rules I hadn’t been aware of?

  “You have worked for me for a few weeks now and I feel we should talk about something that is of great importance to me,” she said.

  I nodded.

  “As you’re already aware, my family leads a very private life and now that you work for me, you’re bound to be exposed to some things that I shouldn’t have to tell you are private.

  “Your discretion is highly valued and under no circumstance must you ever reveal anything about me or my family to the media or the public.”

  “I would never do that,” I said.

  “Good, I hope you don’t mind signing a confidentiality agreement,” she said.

  I shook my head. “No, not at all.” I was a little relieved by the request.

  It wasn’t shocking or surprising at all. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a reporter approached me to get some dirt on the family. The Gallaghers led a private life and only showed the world what they wanted to see.

  If there were ever any scandals, I was sure they had people who cleaned up after them and did damage control before any of it wound up in the news.

  “That’s all,” she said.

  Steadily now, I reached for my cutlery and resumed eating my meal. I wondered if I’d somehow managed to get Mrs. Gallagher to trust me.

  “The trip to Africa was amazing,” I said, feeling more at ease now.

  She raised her perfectly trimmed eyebrow and her eyes smiled at me. “You enjoyed yourself?”