by Cynthia Dane
“Eric…” Brooke shoved her hand into her hair. “You can’t be dating an intern. You know that, right? It’s a legal nightmare waiting to happen. Not to mention how it looks…”
“I know how it looks. We’ll figure it out soon enough.”
She wasn’t going to let it go, huh? “You need to figure it out now. If Ms. Chen wants to keep dating you even after everything she’s found out…”
“What does that mean?” I didn’t need this. Not now. Not when I was the happiest and most optimistic I had been in years. “You make it sound like I’m impossible to get along with or something.” I dared to antagonizing my personal assistant, the woman I once swore to marry. “Cut the jealousy. I know you’re upset that I’ve moved on.”
Brooke sat back with a start, a breath shooting from her throat. “Excuse me? I am not jealous. Do you think I don’t want you to be happy, or something? Please give me way more credit than that, Erica.”
“I give you all the credit that you’re due.”
“You’re acting like a kid.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you getting hurt or disappointed, okay?”
“Would you let me have this? For all I know, you might get your wish and Natalie will walk out that door tomorrow after having signed a stack of NDAs that say she’ll never mention a word of this to anyone on pain of financial death. And I’ll go back to having dates with escorts every weekend.”
Silence befell us after I hissed my words. Papers smacked against my desk as I signed them. Brooke pursed her lips and rubbed her fingers together. “That’s not what I want for you.”
“Then what do you want?”
She leveled her gaze on me. I suppose there was heart in that heat she packed behind her eyes, but at the time, I only saw malice and disbelief. “There’s no way to tell right now what you might get with someone like Natalie.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I’ll get back to you once Sherman finishes his thorough background checks.”
“We’ve already done more than one check on her.” Hell, just to get hired into my main office, you have to survive a gamut of background checks.
“You’ve checked her. Now he’s checking her family. Her father’s an unknown figure, you know? Some Taiwanese banker few people know anything about.”
I failed to see how that was relevant. Natalie hadn’t said much about her family, other than she grew up and lived with her white mother even though she couldn’t pass for white if her life hinged upon it. Her father was Taiwanese but had left the country when she was a baby. During one of our conversations, I had brought up that I knew her father was the vice president of a Taipei-based bank, and Natalie was unfazed. What reason did I have to believe she hid anything about her family from me?
“What’s really going on, Brooke?”
She sighed. “Nothing. I promise I’m not out to…” Brooke shook her head. A part of me was heartbroken to see her so visibly defeated by what continued to conspire between us. “Forget it. My job is to look out for some of your best interests. That’s all.”
“So you care as my… friend.”
“And as the woman who technically corrals the interns around here, yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s a huge mess for me to clean up if it gets out that you’re fucking an intern.”
“Hopefully it ends up more serious than simple fucking.”
“With you, Eric,” she said with another sigh, “there is no simple fucking.”
That was the naughtiest our conversations had gone in a long while.
“Anyway.” Brooke opened her tablet. “We need to go over your appointments for the rest of the day. Let’s start with that afternoon meeting with Sam Garrett right after lunch.”
Lunch was a magical word, and I didn’t listen to much else she said after that. My whole morning was a blissful blur where I constantly relived moments from the day before. Not just the sex Natalie and I enjoyed before she had to go home. The whole date, from how delightfully she looked, to the conversations we had in the library while she shared bits and pieces of her life. Dare I hope that she and I could have a real life together soon? She wouldn’t be my intern for much longer the rate this was going. I didn’t know what I would do to keep her by my side, keep her happy, and keep the legalities from getting in the way of our romance.
I could worry about those things later. At that moment, I only wanted to think about Natalie.
“Could you please send in Natalie before she jets off to lunch?” I asked Brooke on her way out of my office at noon. “Thanks.”
She might have rolled her eyes. Not sure.
All I know is that five minutes later, the prettiest person to ever wear a ponytail entered my office with a relieved smile.
I was leaning against my desk, hoping she enjoyed the casual view I gave her. Yet I couldn’t help but grin when she approached me.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Certainly.” Decorum. That’s what I needed. Cancel the goofy grin and act like a damned man. Or woman. I couldn’t decide which was better. “I wanted to get another look at this hairstyle of yours.”
“It’s a ponytail.”
Did Natalie think I didn’t know what a ponytail was? “Never seen you wear one before.”
She shrugged. “Felt like it today.”
Something about her demeanor threw me off. “What is it? Something bothering you?”
“I’m…” Natalie regathered her bearings with a simple breath and a clutch of her hands. “Really confused right now. I’m sorry.”
“Because I’m not the same person I was yesterday.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Would this make it better?”
I did something I never dared. Not just because it was terrible propriety, but because it threatened to emasculate me in the eyes of the people I had to convince the most.
I hopped on my desk and crossed my legs. My shoulders slouched. I unclenched my jaw and didn’t worry about what tone I used.
I felt… naked.
“This is so weird. I’ve never sat like this in this room before.”
“When was the first time you sat in this room?” Natalie finally came to me, albeit she kept her hands – and lips – to herself.
Lord. What a thing to ask me when all I wanted to do was revel in her presence. “When I was nineteen. One week after my father died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” My fingers uncurled from the edge of my desk. “My life didn’t begin until that day.”
A wistfulness never before touching my office came to it that day. Natalie hid a sheepish smile by lowering her chin and biting her bottom lip, and I ached to hear what sweet thing she wished to say. “Maybe mine also didn’t begin until I walked into this office.”
“Now, Natalie…” How grand was that to hear? I didn’t care if she were full of shit when she said that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me in this office, which had once belonged to my father. A man I struggled every day to purge from my memory. “There’s no need to fellate my ego like that. I can do it quite well on my own.”
“You can fellate your own ego?”
We laughed over my word choices and how strange they were depending on how I presented myself. Natalie’s laughter was decadent, like the thick, flavorful frosting on a red velvet cake. I wanted her to taste what I thought of then.
So, I kissed her.
Never, in the history of our relationship, has Natalie’s body ever not been welcomed in my arms. She was a short and petite woman, but I wasn’t that much taller than her. Brooke could tower over me if I wore flats and she wore heels. Natalie nestled into my hold as easily as if we had been molded for one another. Her kisses were as deep and passionate as mine. Perhaps she was the one who initiated the kiss after all.
That was one of my last chances to see her before going back to work. Meetings would dominate my afternoon. I was due to have dinner with someone I had to
cancel on the week before. Knowing my luck, I would be working, even at home, until late at night. My heart broke a little telling Natalie I wouldn’t see her again until the next day.
I smoothed her hair and kissed her one last time before letting her go. I told myself it wouldn’t be the last time I touched her that week, let alone for the rest of my life.
Chapter 35
ERICA
Sam Garrett arrived for his appointment around three-thirty, a whole fifteen minutes early. Since his name makes up half the title of my family’s enterprise, Ms. Cho personally entered my office to ask about him in lieu of using the intercom.
I was surprised that Brooke hadn’t intercepted him on my behalf. Usually, when she’s at her desk in the main office and a big name walks through the door, she drops everything to escort them into my office. Sometimes, she hangs around to take notes or act as my lovely intermediary. Other times, she gives me space to deal with ornery guests who don’t take kindly to women “meddling” with business.
Is it any wonder I’m so protective of my real identity?
Mr. Garrett was an unknown entity, however. I had only met him sparingly through my life, and the last I heard, he was retired to the countryside with few trips made to the city. A representative came by once a month to go over the earnings and to ask pithy personal questions, but for the most part, my silent partner had nothing to do with the running and maintenance of my family’s company. I could only imagine what he wanted with me out of nowhere.
“Where’s Ms. Pentecost?” I asked my receptionist on her way out the door.
She shrugged and shot me a frosty look from her exceptional makeup palette. “Don’t know,” she glibly said.
Three minutes later, Mr. Garrett came into my office, alone.
Which was… a feat, I must admit upon reflection. My first impression of Mr. Garrett was that he was older and frailer than I ever anticipated, particularly when I compared him to pictures my father once kept and the man I somewhat recalled meeting before. But we all age, don’t we? Sam must have been in his late seventies. While some men can be as spry as their twenties well into their eighties, others like Mr. Garrett were not as blessed. He looked as if he had about five years left, tops. If he took care of himself, that was.
While his steps took time reaching my desk – and this was after I got up to assist him – and his hand clutched the top of a hand-carved cane, his eyes were bright and conveyed that he was perfectly capable of understanding what those around him said. Which accounted for the lack of an assistant. But it didn’t make me feel much more comfortable as I sat down in my seat and carefully checked that my necktie was straight even though I had never put my jacket back on that day. I would look at least a little professional in front of the man who saved my family’s business once upon a time.
“Mr. Garrett.” I cleared my throat. There were few people in this world I wanted to convey an air of masculinity to more than Sam Garrett, since I had no idea whether he knew about me. He had been around my family since the time of my brother’s death, but lots of other people had been kept in the dark over the years. For all I knew, Sam was the very traditional and conservative type who would not take kindly to women like me running the show, let alone playing dress up to do so. “It’s an honor to have you back at the offices of Mann-Garrett after so long. My apologies for needing to reschedule last week. I fell ill.”
His bright blue eyes looked me up and down. A shake of the head later, he said, “Utterly amazing. I had seen the pictures, but…”
Something clogged the bottom of my throat. I swallowed it, hoping that my instincts which screamed HE KNOWS did not interfere with my ability to talk shop. “What can I do for you, Mr. Garrett?”
Sam stared at my Patek Philippe wristwatch, which adorned the bonier of my two wrists. I could hide a lot about my body, but I couldn’t inflate the size of my dainty, ladylike wrists. I wore the slimmest watch the masculine watchmaker produced, but it still dwarfed my wrist, making me wish I wore my jacket to cover it up.
“I’ve seen a lot of things in my time on Earth,” the old man said with a sigh, “but I’ve never seen a female look so much like a man.”
Such shattering silence had the power to break my windows and steal the breath right out of my chest. So. He knew. How long had he known? My whole life? Probably. He must have been one of the few men my father confided to.
“Even the way you tap your pen against the desk is impeccable. Just like your father.”
I dropped the pen I didn’t know I held. My whole mouth tasted like poison. My nostrils closed up the more they flared. This man had compared me to my father, and I had no idea how to take that.
For years, I had done everything I could to make myself into a man. Any man… but my father.
“If I didn’t play such a big part,” Sam continued, eyes locked on my photo of myself and my brother, “I would think you really were Eric.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Garrett?” I kicked myself forward, arms crossing on top of my desk and lips no longer as dry as they had been two seconds before. Maybe this man was at a certain age that I could distract him with my (masculine) wiles. “I just spoke with your assistant at the end of last month. She seemed satisfied with how much money you had made over the past quarter, so I doubt you’re checking in to see how the bottom line is going.”
He continued to shake his head, his white handlebar mustache trembling on his upper lip. “I had to see you for myself, son.” He chuckled. “See? I was prepared for anything when I came here, but I wasn’t prepared for being blinded by your image.”
I visibly tensed. That was one thing I could not control.
“I know, son. I know everything. I was there when you were a little kid no higher than my shin.”
Well! In that case, what did I care if he saw my baggy watch on my tiny wrist or caught a hint of a girlish smile on my face when I said, “I was there too, Mr. Garrett. For every little thing.”
“Jesus!” He gripped the edge of my desk, and for a split second, I worried that he might be having a heart attack. Already. “How do you do that?”
“A whole lifetime’s worth of practice.”
Were those tears in his eyes? No way. Not an old, rugged individual such as himself! Sam Garrett was one of the original venture capitalists of the ‘80s. Back when a changing of the guard meant embracing the first IBM computers and including a woman in a pantsuit on the board of anything – but the directors. Right when I was born.
“That pretty blonde lady out there,” Sam said. “Was she your fiancée? I couldn’t believe it. You went that far down the rabbit hole I proposed.”
I eschewed his speaking of Brooke and instead focused on, “What rabbit hole did you propose, Mr. Garrett?”
“Son…” His look of disbelief could have been for me, or it could have been for what I implied. “I’m the one who suggested to your father that he raise you as his son after he lost his only one.”
Somehow, I had expected that.
“I hadn’t seriously meant it, of course.” Sam’s hand traveled down his face, pulling against his aged wrinkles and pushing against the brown spots speckling his cheeks. “That would have been absurd.”
“Well,” I said, my eyes catching a glint of sunshine on my wristwatch, “you are now a part of utter absurdity, Mr. Garrett. What you see is what you get.”
I didn’t know where to go with this. I thought my silent partner had come in to discuss business, maybe tell me his intentions for when his health ultimately declined. There were measures in place to ensure a steady cashflow in both directions should something unfortunately happen to him, but he may have wanted to speak face to face while he still had the chance.
I had no idea he came to make amends. To me.
“He actually did it, huh?”
“What? Raise me as his son?” My hands folded upon my desk. What was it like looking at me? Did I frighten him? Was it because I rocked his views of the world? Or beca
use he took personal responsibility for me being like this?
He must have known that I was not merely a woman in a suit. There is a reason I use the word “façade” when I speak of how I cloak myself. It’s not a costume. I am not in drag. I do not have the option of switching between genders without great pains to my brain and seriously questioning my state of mind. Humans were not meant to do what I do. Perhaps if it had been my conscious choice… just because I was an adult at thirty years old, did not mean I could simply live as I pleased. The damage had been done. Sam Garrett looked upon a broken soul that no longer knew what it was.
It. The only pronoun that has truly felt like home.
Take my soul, take my heart, take my mind and make me devoid of anything human. I am not a person. I am a vessel through which my company functions and the people around me stay paid. I am the living, breathing machine of capitalism in its peak form.
It was all I had ever known. When you know nothing else, you don’t know how to escape. You’re not even sure you want to escape.
“I’m dying,” Sam blurted. “Cancer.”
My posture relaxed. A genuine expression of my empathy going out to him. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Garrett.”
He nodded, although I’m not sure he ascertained what I said. “I only have a few months left. Maybe more, if I keep eating vegan, or so my doctor says. Trying to get my affairs in order… well, my financial affairs are okay here, I believe. But I wanted to…” He licked his lips, as if he needed his whole mouth properly lubed before he fucked me over. “I wanted to see you. How you were… holding up as the leader of this company.”
“I’m doing quite well, thank you.”
“So I see. I’ve heard you’re like your father in that regard. He, uh… he trained you well.”
“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for regarding my father, it was his dedication to preparing me for the day I took over this company.” That included making sure the world saw me as his son. Sometimes I was holed away at my family’s ranch for months or years at a time, forbidden from seeing the outside world until a stage of puberty ended or I stopped acting out like a girl. The last time I was sent to summer camp, as I called it, was when I snuck out of the house wearing a dress and took a joyride with my girlfriend of the time.