Entry-Level Mistress (11 page)

My eyes widened. Daniel was hosting a birthday party for his old teacher. Eden must have been some sort of amazing mentor for him or why on earth would they still be in touch after this long? Aside from a few exceptions, the majority of my own professors were people my friends had ridiculed as ones who couldn’t do and therefore taught. That sort of condescension was exactly what Julian had been criticizing when he asked if I was a purist. It was a stunning moment of realization for me, the lesson so simple but so profound.

“Daniel’s one of the good ones,” Julian said, and I looked at him quickly, startled by the out-of-the-blue comment.

“Why are you telling me that?”

“Because you’re Emily Anderson.”

Anger surged up inside me. Yet at the same time I realized how odd this was, how twisted. Here in Daniel’s home, with Daniel’s friend—who clearly knew the story—I was the enemy. Which was utterly ridiculous, at least thus far, because what had I ever done except be the victim of Daniel’s actions? “Maybe I’m one of the good ones, too.”

Julian’s smile thinned. Perhaps on the surface he’d accept me, but he had some other test, some other criteria and I hadn’t yet passed. “Maybe you are.”

I looked away, found Daniel leading the others toward us. A collection of academic types—this I could handle. Flashing that smile, I pushed everything else aside. Unless I planned to run, unless I planned to end it all here and now, I had no other choice.

It was easy to forget Julian but not so easy to deny to reality of his words. In almost every way, Daniel clearly
was
“one of the good ones.” Intelligent, charming, generous. I would have added honest to the list if the niggling knowledge about the past weren’t there. As the days passed, and another weekend was spent like the one before, it almost felt like we had a real relationship and I recognized the pressing need to bind things. He’d introduced me to his friends. He’d met Leanna. There was the urge to bring him deeper into my world as well, although I wasn’t entirely certain that would work or if I even wanted to share him, share the time I had with him.

I liked that we hid away together in his apartment on Charles Street. For three weeks I’d blown off the invitations from friends to movies, barbecues, and camping trips. I liked as well that the office had become our private playground.

But then Tatiana’s goading words would come back to me.

It was Wednesday, lunchtime. He’d ordered in Chinese and after our usual passionately intense encounter, I had spent the last fifteen minutes snacking on wontons and flipping through a magazine while he finished up some work. And deciding if I would test our relationship the way I’d tested it the first day
I’d
texted him to meet on the thirtieth floor.

The comfortable quiet of the office was yet another way it felt as if we were in a real relationship.

“I have a party to go to tonight,” I said, waiting for his slight vocalization and the connection of his eyes as confirmation that I should continue. “I designed the cover for this band’s new album. They’re having their CD release party at Electrified.” I shrugged, glancing at him out of the corners of my eyes. I was unaccountably nervous as I tried to imagine Daniel in his sartorial elegance hanging out with that crowd. Maybe if they were famous performers, or classical musicians or something, but the young up-and-comers? The ones who were trying hard and had something to prove? The ones who still smoked weed and experimented and … well, maybe that was part of the model, international socialite scene too, although I had the sense their drugs of choice were a little more powdery.

But he’d turned back to his desk, was flipping through papers. I wiped my hands and stood. Walked over to his desk.

“Would you like to come?”

“What?” He looked up as if he hadn’t heard any of what I’d said. As if after he’d slipped from my body he’d turned completely back to work, forgotten I was even there. Before I said another word, his attention was back on the folder.

Despite speaking evenly and clearly, I wasn’t entirely able to keep the irritation out of my voice. The petulant part of me wanted attention. Was frustrated at coming in second to a stack of papers. And yet, it was daytime and we were at work and as much as it felt like a real relationship, it likely wasn’t. “I said, I wouldn’t be coming over tonight because I have a party but that you are welcome to join me.”

“Why don’t you come by after your party?” he suggested. “I’ll need to work late anyway. I want to give this kid a decision tomorrow.”

Despite my disappointment, despite my frustration, I was curious. “What kid?”

He looked up again, studied me as if he were weighing something carefully in his mind. In the growing silence I realized that he was wondering how much he could trust me. Realized that whatever he was working on could be so secret that no one, not even Lance or any of Daniel’s other top-level staff, knew anything about it. Why share that information with the daughter of the man he hated most in the world? Especially when Daniel had to know I resented him for hurting my father.

I did still resent him, didn’t I?

I perched on the edge of his table, waiting for him to make up his mind. Stared at my hands in my lap, studiously avoiding any look at the file still open in front of him. When he did finally speak, his words came abruptly, low and measured. I focused on his face, on his eyes.

“My assistant, Janine. Her nephew is a student at MIT. Has a revolutionary idea for making space travel more affordable and manageable. It’s the sort of thing NASA and the space industry should be jumping on but thanks to Janine I have a chance to beat everyone out. With the right offer. The kid’s not naive. He knows what he has.”

I felt petty for being irritated about the release party. It was a big thing for that band but what Daniel was talking about—

“If it’s this amazing, why haven’t you made an offer yet?”

He leaned back in his chair, templed his hands against his mouth. He was staring at me, or rather through me but in my general direction. I’d seen him like that before, deep in thought. Then his gaze snapped to me.

“The reason Marketing is floundering right now?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. I could only nod in agreement. “The reason you have your numerous meetings and nothing ever seems to get done is that your department is the communication wing of the company. We can’t go through a redesign when there is no new vision, no new direction.”

“And you’re not sure what direction you want to go.”

He nodded.

“I get involved in the space industry, it’s a whole different beast. New suppliers, new factories, new competitors. And what about the old operations? If I keep them, Hartmann Enterprises will expand. Can Hartmann Enterprises expand? Do I want to devote myself to doing that? Or do I want to sell?”

I understood suddenly just what crossroads he was at. At thirty-one and successful, with his partners retiring around him, Daniel knew he could do the same. Would I ever be so successful that I’d have to make a choice like this? A decision where other people’s jobs were at stake?

“Are there any other choices?”

“Like what?” He seemed interested, curious, and the attention encouraged me.

“Like selling and not starting a new company?”

He laughed, and the mirth reached his eyes. I couldn’t help admiring him physically, and wishing, despite the seriousness of our conversation, that I could curl up in his lap. Or maybe it was that the intensity of it was turning me on again. His brain was as hot as his body.

“You think I’d be happy living an idle life, visiting friends on their yachts?”

I laughed. No way. Daniel Hartmann worked hard and played hard.

But I was devil’s advocate here.

“Are there any other investment possibilities? Why take such a huge leap into another industry?”

He nodded again, but as he looked away the excitement seemed to dim from his face and I knew then the decision had been made, even if he hadn’t realized it yet.

“He’s a lucky kid,” I said, feeling a little bit of the surge of energy that Daniel must get planning his new direction.

Daniel’s eyes flickered up to mine. “He’s only a year younger than you.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to do with that, how to reassure us that what we were doing together was OK. But as much as he kept reminding us of the disparity, age wasn’t the problem at all. Maybe nothing was.

There was so much that was right between us—at this moment, in this summer—as if fate had concocted the past just to make
us
happen. I slanted my smile at him, sliding off from my perch on his table. He watched me approach, a different sort of interest awakening in his gaze.

“Yes, Daniel, you are definitely a cradle robber.”

•  •  •

Electrified was a dark pit of a club in the basement of an Irish bar. As I made my way down the winding staircase, splattered glow-in-the-dark paint decorated the walls and gave some sense of what the club would be like on any other night.

However, someone had decided to lay some art direction on the place as well as a video installation. Organic, mushroom-like shapes pulsed on the walls, and colorful, furry, eight-by-ten cloth backdrops broke up the space as if they were trying to bring a raver vibe to the live music scene. To make instant multi-platform art. But to me, the room felt like a gallery rather than a music venue, and it squashed the energy I’d always liked about the band’s music. Additionally, it had nothing to do with the album cover, so there was no brand continuity.

There was also a graffiti wall, outfitted with cans of spray paint, which took away from the focus that should be on the stage. It made sense for maybe an outdoor summer music festival or something like that, but not this small venue.

The design had all the hallmarks of something Craig, my ex-boyfriend, would concoct. Our relationship had fizzled for more than one reason, not least because he had jumped off the LSD deep end. I hoped the mushroom visuals were just for the opening band and that he had something with more visual interest for the main act.

I scanned the room for him but he wasn’t by the laptop at the rear of the room where a girl I vaguely recognized was sitting. He would be somewhere about, and when he knew I was here, there would be the usual taunting. I was suddenly very glad that Daniel couldn’t make it.

“Did you know Craig was part of this?”

“Is he going by Lucid Visuals now?” Leanna asked pointing to the name in small print on the flyer under the band’s name.

I laughed. “Um … I guess we’ll find out.”

I slipped earplugs in because the opening act wasn’t worth killing my hearing over and the main band wouldn’t be on for another half hour. In the meantime, Leanna and I mingled, talking loudly over the music. It was strange to see people I knew from school, from that social scene. Everyone wanted to know why I’d been M.I.A.

“Emily sold out,” Leanna said mischievously. “She’s working for the man now.”

I opened my mouth to protest but when Sasha exclaimed, “But what about Barrows!” and Dorit stared at me in horror, I assumed a resigned expression and nodded.

“I did. And really, I don’t know what I was doing all these years. Designing posters and murals is no way to finance a wardrobe.”

“This? From the girl who had purple streaks at graduation?”

“It’s so sad, Emmy,” Dorit said. “You and Craig were like, the art school power couple. Him, flashy and cool, and you, the studious art nerd.”

“Art nerd!” I laughed incredulously at this description. I shot a glance at Leanna, who merely shrugged.

“Look at Craig, pursuing his dream while you’re being a corporate hack.”

I followed Sasha’s pointed finger and did look at Craig, who was adjusting a screen on the far side of the room. I’d never thought of our relationship the way Dorit did. When it had ended just before spring break, I hadn’t looked back.

“I’m working a summer job,” I admitted with a resigned sigh. “I’m still going to Barrows in August.” Just like that everyone was impressed and happy again.

“I love what you did with their CD cover, Emmy. So brilliant.”

I tuned them out. They might be happy but I thought about how Julian had denigrated the closed-mindedness of pretentious college kids. The closed-mindedness of everyone, really. I’d been enjoying my work at Hartmann Enterprises. I’d been enjoying the entire experience.

Suddenly I wished Daniel were there because my worlds felt too diverged.
I
felt too diverged.

“I’m going to go scrawl something on the wall.” I gestured to the graffiti area and walked off. A moment later Leanna was next to me, shaking her head even as she laughed.

“Ok, are you PMS-ing or something?”

“No, I’m
epiphanizing
.”

“Ah, that’s OK then,” Leanna said, laughing, “You can share your wisdom later, after you’ve tagged Craig’s installation.”

I laughed, picked up the can of red spray paint, and shook the thing idly. I wasn’t skilled at graffiti, by any stretch, but I drew on my best calligraphy and started a stylized version of “Emily was here”.

I stepped back, watched Leanna shake a can and let loose on the screen. Not such a bad idea on Craig’s part after all. I moved my hips to the drummer’s beat, finally relaxing into the night. My old clothes, my old scene, but a newer Emily.