Hot Water (9 page)

Then she said, “I’m not going to worry about you tonight. Do what you need to tonight.”

When I told Rhys that, he said that meant I had a free pass. I could fuck whoever I wanted. He said it would be therapeutic.

“Hello, darling,” she says, coming up close to me and giving me a peck on the cheek. She’s always done the same with Rhys, but this time she does not. She just looks at me, tentative. This is the first time the three of us have been together since I found out the news. But Andrea does not know the meaning of the word “awkward”. She introduces me to Rhys’s flavor of the week, whom I believe he said he met in the elevator. She has a big rack and giggles a lot, and to top it all off, her name is Peony. I give this relationship a week.

“Shall we be off?” Andrea says.

And so we go off, even though there about a thousand other places in the city I’d rather be. And all the time I’m thinking that my best friend and my best girl fucked, and that’s not the weird part. After all, they’re both attractive people. The weird part is, I’m supposed to be okay with it.

Cicily

On the train ride home, my mother peppers me with questions about my day. I make it through without letting anything slip about how I’d almost screwed her boss the day before. That would not have been a good topic of conversation.

I feel slightly positive about the other interns, though. While they’re all older and more worldly than I am, they seemed to like me. And who knows? Maybe they can teach me a thing or two about how to act so I won’t feel like a total dweeb among this sea of calm and controlled executives. So when she says, “See, it wasn’t so bad!” I agree with her, despite her smug smile of satisfaction. “Are you going to go back?”

“Do I have a choice?” I ask.

“No, but I wish you’d just admit that maybe you do have a little of me in you,” she says. “As much as you like to pretend that you’re all your father’s daughter, maybe there’s a part of you that actually
wants
to be someone.”

“Daddy is someone. He’s the East Coast surfing champion,” I point out.

“That was nearly twenty years ago,” she says, getting all huffy, the way she does whenever she talks about him. Whatever he did, or more likely, whatever he didn’t do, has obviously scarred her for life. “And you don’t just ride on one success, and think it will sustain you for the rest of your life. He had plenty of opportunities to parlay that championship into something more, something lasting. And instead, he frittered those opportunities away. The sponsorships, the surf shop . . . he wasted opportunities people would kill to have. I hope you see that, Cicily. This opportunity I’m giving you is one many people would kill for. And—“

“I know,” I say, stifling a yawn as I rummage in my purse for my phone. I’ve had enough of this lecture for the past two weeks.

But she doesn’t stop. “And I have faith that you can do a great job. Maybe even rise in the ranks, like I did. You can intern there every summer after college, and by then, they’d have to offer you a permanent position. You’d really love working at Williams. The pay, the benefits . . . they’re top notch.”

I feel vaguely nauseated at the prospect of making this permanent. It’s one thing just being an intern for Caden Williams, but if I were on the payroll of the guy I’d just spent the weekend fooling around with? That seems loads dirtier, like the subject of a bad Lifetime movie. “Maybe.”

“Maybe nothing. The future seems eons away, but trust me. You need to make smart decisions about it now.
Smart
ones.” She leans back in the chair and looks at the ceiling. “If you don’t believe me, ask your father.”

I exhale. “What does that mean?” But I know what that means. I’m immediately sorry I asked, because I know what’s coming.

“He didn’t plan for the future. He just did what felt good, right then. But that’ll get you in a lot of trouble, Cicily.”

“At least he made
some
decisions,” I mutter. “He didn’t just sit there, planning things, but never pulling the trigger.”

She knows I’m talking about our Disney trip. We were supposed to go there when I was seven, then eight. Then it was put off until I was ten. Then, indefinitely. We’ve never gone anywhere on vacation. We never had enough money, or something, namely her work, was always more important. She nods. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I sacrificed fun so that you could have a school wardrobe and a nicer bedroom. Sue me.”

This conversation is getting on my nerves. It’s always how dad took bad risks and nearly doomed us, and she’s the martyr for putting a roof over my head and doing what he couldn’t. I bury my face in my phone. I text Rainbow:

Me
: Guess who my boss is?

Bow
: Donald Trump

Me
: Nope. Angry Guy

Bow
: WTF??????????? REALLY??? WILD!

Bow
: And you thought you wouldn’t like corporate life

Me
: I hate it

Bow
: At least he has better hair than Donald Trump? :)

Me
: You’re fired

I sit and stare out the window as we go into a tunnel that’s gotten a facelift by someone named Chico. By the time I get home, it will almost be time for bed. And then, tomorrow, I’ll have to wake up at the crack of ass and do the same thing over again.

“Corporate life is for suckers,” I mutter out the window.

But that doesn’t stop me from thinking of Caden Williams again. How can he like being a hamster on a wheel, like that? Doesn’t he ever wish he could just let his hair down and relax? I think of him kneeling in front of me, his hands around my waist, fumbling to set my skirt right. He hadn’t apologized, and he’d collected himself in mere seconds, but I suppose that’s as close to embarrassment as guys like him get. Their feathers don’t get ruffled easily.

Then I start to wonder just what would get him hot and bothered, and then I realize that I’m blushing, and smiling like a goofy kid.

Then I look over at my mother.

What the hell am I doing? I am eighteen. Hell, if I ever made it to the point where I found out exactly what got him hot and bothered, I’d be in hot water up to my eyeballs.

But it sure would be interesting.

I wipe the smile off my face before my mother notices, and we exit at the Metuchen station.

Caden

Andrea does everything just right. She does not eat too much, she does not overreact, she does not under or overdress for occasions. She does everything perfectly, which is why people are constantly complimenting and fawning over her. “Andrea, you look stunning.” “Andrea, this party you’ve planned is the best I’ve ever been to.” “Andrea, you’ve outdone yourself once again.” I can’t think of a time when she’s done anything wrong. In many ways, she’s like the female version of my brother, Cam.

Maybe that’s why this
thing
is getting to me. She doesn’t do wrong. It’s almost physically impossible for her.

We still fuck every night. She’s good like that, our libidos match. When we first met, there were the standard-issue, first-time-fuck fireworks, but together, we were able to keep them going. I liked that even after a year, she was always as ready as I was. I liked that she doesn’t care for drama, doesn’t create any of her own. I liked that she’s efficient and smart about things. Our first night together, she brought her own condoms. But most of all, I liked that she knows what she wants.

She always knows what she wants.

Lying in bed at night, watching the moonlight scrape the ceiling, I can’t get that out of my head. I hold her in my arms, listening to her soft sounds and feeling her breath on my chest.

I wonder how she allowed herself to get drunk. I’ve never seen her drunk. In fact, she hates it when I drink too much.

I wonder if she liked the way he felt inside her. I wondered if she came. If she screamed out his name.

I wonder if, had I been a real man like Cam and proposed earlier, she would have even looked.

And I wonder if they’d really only done it once. After I learned the truth, I replayed every time I saw her and Rhys together, every conversation we’ve had that involved him. Rhys always kept his distance from her, out of respect for me. Whenever they talked, it was always about impersonal things, the weather, the latest movies. At least, that’s what they talked about when I was around. A couple of times, she’d say things that made me wonder. At a party, she’d know his favorite drink. Or she’d remark on his haircut, when I didn’t even notice it. But I never thought . . . I never thought anything, because Andrea didn’t do shit like that.

She’d said it was a mistake, and it was over.

But that is not like Andrea. She doesn’t make mistakes.

And she always knows exactly what she wants.

Chapter Ten

Cicily

The following day, I’m organizing files and waiting for Dax to come back with my order from the bake shop downstairs, when someone massages my shoulder. I turn around. It’s Rhys, the Sex Master.

I groan inwardly as he runs his eyes over my body. This time I’m wearing the black dress I’d worn for my grandmother’s funeral a few years ago. It’s too tight so it clings to all my curves. I thought I’d feel better in it than in clothes that I had to hike up with safety pins, but now I’m even more self-conscious. I’m already making a mental note to find some way to scrape together cash to get new clothes when he says, “Wow. You have a fucking hot body. Not like I didn’t know that.”

I stare at him. Caden has rules about mixing business and pleasure, but I get the feeling from the way he is looking at me that Rhys doesn’t share them. “This is a place of business,” I remind him.

“Right. And I need you,” he says, suddenly turning professional. “Come with me.”

I follow him past his very own busty secretary --I get the feeling they give all the administrative assistants typing tests and bra fittings before they get the job-- and into an office that’s about the same size as Caden’s. I can tell Sex Master is pretty important to Williams. Great.

“Take a seat,” he says, closing the door behind me.

Warily, I do.

He sits back down in his executive chair and puts his hands behind his head as a pillow. “Hey. So I was really surprised to see you again.”

I already feel my face blushing. “Tell me about it.”

“Look. I know your mom works here and what you were doing Saturday night probably isn’t something you want shared with her. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. As far as I’m concerned, I never met you before yesterday.”

He grins. Terrific.
So why is he bringing it up
? I think.

“All right.”

He stretches, comfortable behind his enormous desk. “I’m Executive Vice President of Accounts. So as you can probably tell, I’m not doing too badly for myself at Williams. Caden Williams and I have known each other since preschool, and I’d like to think of myself as Bernard Williams’ second son. Third in line in the Williams chain of command.”

He pauses, as if waiting for applause. I nod and raise my eyebrows to show him I’m impressed.

 “So . . . I just want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all. You can ask me. I can make things happen for you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?” he asks again, which makes me think my first reply was not groveling enough.

 “Okay. Thank you so much, Mr. Bradley,” I say.

He continues to stare at me, and I can’t shake the feeling I’m being undressed with his eyes.

 “You . . . needed me for something?” I ask.

“Right. You know, Caden Williams and I are best buddies,” he continues, his voice turning more serious.

I nod. All this talk about how “connected” he is, frankly, is boring me. I’m happy that he seems to like me, because I’m sure it will make my life a lot easier. Who knows, maybe he’ll put a good word in for me, and I’ll get chosen to go to Vegas. Still, he’s egotistical and obnoxious and I’m already making plans to keep my distance as much as possible. “You guys . . . went to school together?”

He stands up and sits on the edge of his desk so he can tower over me. “Yes we did. Williams has always had it easy. He grew up in money, and his place at Williams has always been assured. Me . . . I worked my way through school. Clawed my way through Harvard. And I’m only here because the Williams clan knows that I’m the best at what I do.

“Still, we’re buddies. We were roommates at Harvard. We share a lot of things. And he tells me a lot of secrets,” Rhys says, his eyes boring into mine. He pauses for a moment, raising his eyebrows, and suddenly I freeze.

What had Caden said? “He told you . . . what?” I ask, confused.

“He said you were an amazing fuck,” he says. “One of the best he’s had. And Caden’s always been one to spread himself around, so that’s saying a lot.”

I suck in a breath. “No. . .” I start.

He comes behind me and rubs the back of my neck. I cringe at his touch. When I meet his eyes, he smiles at me. “Look. Don’t worry. I meant what I said. I never met you before yesterday. Your secret is safe with me.”

#

By the time I get back to my cubicle, I’m shaking.

Dax is standing there with a paper bag and mocha latte for me. He sets them down next to me. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says. “What’s the problem?”

Violet pokes her head around the cubicle. “Did I just see you come out of Rhys Bradley’s office?”

Jacinta, Charlotte and Joely all pop their heads up, too. They crowd into my space, and Joely hands me a tissue as the first tears spring over my eyes. “What did he say to you?”

Jacinta says, “He said asshole things, of course. He’s a total asshole.”

Violet punches her arm. “You’d still do him.”

“Well, yeah,” Jacinta admits. “He’s a hot asshole.”

Charlotte rubs my shoulder. I can still feel the touch of Rhys’s hands on my neck, so I flinch. “What did he want with you, Cicily? He usually just looks at interns like we’re shit.”