Living with Love (Lessons in Love) (7 page)

No one looked up as Alex walked past, each already too engrossed in their own tasks for the day.

Finally, Jeff stopped at an empty cubicle that was close to an office door that had his name on it in smart, gold lettering.

“This is where you will be
.” He gestured to the cubicle. There was a wooden desk and a high-end swivel chair, a Mac computer currently turned off, a cordless phone and a number of empty filing trays.

“Toilets, printing facilities,
and kitchen are all at the far end of that corridor.” He pointed back down towards where the receptionist desk was located.

Alex nodded, trying to take it all in.

“I imagine you already have a fair idea of what is expected of you here.” Jeff looked intently at Alex as she nodded. “Basically, I’m in here. I’m your line manager. I will assign you cases to assess.”

The cases
that Alex would be assessing were life insurance claims. Alex would be using her mathematical skills to assess what level of insurance they would require or what pay-out was necessary, depending upon the application. She had been told that all relevant training would be provided on the job.

“Okay.” Alex tried to sound enthused even though she was still terrified.

“Any questions, I’ll be right in here.” Jeff gestured towards his office and then disappeared into it, leaving Alex alone.

****

By Friday of her first week Alex had grasped a basic understanding of what was required of her and how the office worked. She’d quickly learnt that she needed to bring a mug and cup to work for drinks, which she purchased Monday evening and brought in Tuesday morning. With each passing day, a few more people introduced themselves to her. They were all a bit older than her, late twenties or early thirties. She’d yet to meet anyone else in the office the same age as her.

The actual work involved was the easy part. Dealing with numbers and statistics came so easily to Alex that she quickly picked up the skills needed for the job and was getting through assignments almost as quickly as Jeff could delegate them to her. It meant that each night she left work on time, never needing to stay late
, which earned her a few steely glares as she left the office promptly at half past four.

“So do you like it?” Ashley asked one evening during their Skype chat. Alex was ready for bed, wearing flannel pajamas
, as New York was already cooling, heading quickly towards a harsh winter, whereas Los Angeles was still bathed in sunlight. Ashley was phoning from beside her father’s pool, wearing a bright green bikini.

“Yeah, it’s an interesting job,” Alex said, pulling her duvet up over her and settling down.

“Sounds a bit number heavy to me,” Ashley stated. “Are you in bed already?” She scrutinized the image on the iPad in her hands.

“Yeah, it’s nine here,” Alex explained, knowing it was much earlier in the day where Ashley was.

“And you’re going to bed? The night is still so young!” Ashley cried, remembering the nights when they’d only just be leaving their sorority house at nine in the evening to head over to a party somewhere.

“I’ve got work early
.” Alex sighed. One thing she’d learnt about Jeff Masterson was that he liked to start and end his days early, and Alex was expected to be at the office when he was. So he enjoyed a bright and early start at Goldstone for 7 a.m., and Alex had to follow suit. Although it did mean she would be back in her apartment by five, the early mornings were starting to take their toll on her.

“How lame
.” Ashley frowned. “At least you’re enjoying it, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, do you want to watch an episode of
Revenge
together?”

“Sure.” Alex smiled. The great thing about the iPad was that they could watch things at the same time and still talk together; it was the next best thing to experiencing something side by side. The iPad had really been a lifeline for Alex. Even her mother had attempted to call her on it.

****

The following Monday morning Alex arrived at Goldstone just as the sun was rising. Looking every inch the professional
, she’d made time to pop in to Starbucks for a latte, desperately needing the injection of caffeine.

At such an early hour, the elevators were always relatively empty. There were a handful of other eager workers starting their day, and the cleaners from the night before were also clearing out at that time. Alex made a concerted effort to say hello to everyone she passed, even though half of them ignored her. She was determined to be friendly even if no one else was.

“Morning, Miss Heron,” Jeff greeted her as she settled down at her cubicle. She’d attempted to personalise it a little by placing a picture of her and Ashley up near her monitor. It was a picture taken back at Princeton, during a rave party where they both had neon paint streaked across their cheeks. The picture always brought a smile to Alex’s face as she remembered what a great night they’d had.

“Is it really morning? It was so dark when I left my apartment that I wasn’t sure,” Alex joked, feeling more comfortable with her manager and able to do so.

Jeff smiled and looked towards the windows, where the sun was now committed to its ascent up over the city. “Would you rather stay in bed and miss that?” he asked, looking out at the impressive sunrise.

“It is beautiful
,” Alex admitted.

Jeff placed a stack of papers on her desk, her assignments for the day, and then noticed the picture she’d put up. She looked at it for a moment and then smiled again.

“Your girlfriend looks nice,” he commented.

“Oh
.” Alex blushed and became flustered, realising his mistake. “No, that’s Ashley. She’s my best friend. We’re not like… together.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry
.” Jeff looked devastated by his mistake. “I just assumed, I mean these days people are free to be with whoever they want,” he said quickly, trying to pull himself out of the hole he’d made.

“It’s okay
.” Alex smiled sweetly at him.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” Jeff asked, trying to change tac
k and continuing to look embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Not at the moment
,” Alex admitted. “What about you?”

“Divorced,” Jeff explained simply, then added, “for the second time.”

“Oh.” Alex looked at him sadly, suddenly seeing the story of his failed marriages etched in the small lines around his eyes.

“I’m married to my job these days,” Jeff said, looking back at the sunrise.

Alex wasn’t sure how to respond, so she switched on her computer and began logging in to the company system.

“This job can suck you in and consume you,” Jeff continued gravely. “But lately, with you helping me, I’ve had more time. Heck, I might even manage to get a life and find the third Mrs. Masterson!”

“Good luck with that.” Alex laughed.

“Now get to work,” Jeff said teasingly, heading into his office.

In the quiet of the early morning, Alex liked to drink her latte and eat the bagel she’d hurriedly prepared at her apartment. It always felt like the calm before the storm. Soon all the other workers would flood in, the phones would start ringing, and the office air would be full of endless chatter and noise. But for now it was quiet, and she liked it like that. Alex worked best when she could tune out the rest of the world and concentrate simply on the task at hand. As such, Jeff permitted her to listen to music while she worked after she explained that it helped. It prevented her from getting distracted and dragged into idle conversations.

And so part of her morning ritual involved getting out her iPad, putting it on charge and selecting the most recent playlist Ashley had sent her
, and putting in her headphones. Ashley was always sending Alex music. Her playlists were usually a mixture of songs they’d loved at Princeton and new music she’d heard out in Los Angeles, which she insisted Alex would love. She was usually right.

Whenever she listened to music, Alex would always briefly think of Oscar. He was always so passionate about what music he liked
; she had no doubt that he’d have loved to send her a playlist to listen to at work. She’d considered calling him again, to check in on how he was doing, but simply hadn’t had the time. She was always so tired after work. She’d make dinner; call her mom and then Skype with Ashley. Once she even fell asleep mid-conversation with one of them.

The weekend offered some precious spare time
, but Alex was still adjusting to city life, stocking up on food and getting her laundry done on those days. But she vowed to call Oscar at some point. He was never far from her thoughts, and she wanted to know how he was doing.

****

As the end of the month approached, Alex’s days at the office grew longer. She found herself working twelve-hour days, entering and leaving the office under the cover of darkness. She wanted to complain, to protest the sudden increase in workload, but no one else seemed to mind. And since everyone else was managing to work more, Alex didn’t want to be singled out as the one who couldn’t hack it. She put her head down, put her headphones in, and tried to get through the stack of work she had.

“It gets intense at the end of each month,” Jeff told her apologetically one evening. It was already quarter past seven
, and Alex still had three more assignments to complete before she could leave. She was sadly aware that she’d missed her scheduled call with Ashley for the fifth night in a row.

“It’s certainly busier,” Alex agreed, trying not to sound resentful.

“There’s just more deadlines to meet, that’s all,” Jeff said, leaning against her cubicle, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. “I’m impressed with how you’ve managed,” he complimented her.

“That makes two of us,” Alex replied drolly. “I’m beginning to forget what sleep feels like.”

“It’ll be better next week, I promise.” Jeff laughed. “You should be proud of yourself; most new recruits flake out after their first end of the month.”

“Well, I like it here,” Alex admitted, which she did. She enjoyed the tasks of the job
, dealing with numbers and being left to work under her own initiative. It suited her.

“Good,
’cause you’re doing great. Keep this up until your three-month probation ends, and there could be a raise in it for you.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Let you get a decent apartment and get out of that crap hole you’re staying in.”

“Who says I live in a crap hole?” Alex asked, indignant.

“Your zip code,” Jeff explained matter-of-factly. “That’s not a nice neighborhood for a girl on her own to be in.”

“I manage.”

“Still, I’d feel better sleeping at night if you could afford to live somewhere nicer. Sure your dad would too.” With those parting paternal words, Jeff sauntered off back into his own office.

Normally, a comment about her father would push through Alex’s chest like a bullet, ripping out the other side and leaving her inconsolable with pain. But today, it merely pinched, like a bee sting. She shook it off and reminded herself that Jeff didn’t know about her situation or personal history
, and why should he? To him, she was just another employee, and it felt good to be judged by the same standard as everyone else, not to be given allowances because of what she’d lost.

But thoughts of her father had now surfaced
, and as Alex finally left the office and entered the subway station at eight, she was distracted. With her headphones in, she let her mind drift back to memories of her late father, wondering what he’d make of her now, a Princeton graduate working in New York City?

She imagined that he’d be proud of her. She could picture him telling strangers about his daughter, unable to conceal his pride. He’d have a bumper sticker declaring that his daughter was a Princeton
graduate. He would keep tabs on all the college games, updating Alex on them even long after she left the college. She sighed sadly at the potential of what could have been and, stepping off the subway at her stop, did not notice the hooded figure that followed just a few steps behind.

It was about a ten-minute walk to her apartment building,
and Alex usually hurried when it was dark, but today she wasn’t as mindful, walking at a steady yet slow pace, still mulling over how different her life may, or may not, have been had her father survived that fateful day.

The cold metal barrel suddenly pressing against the back of her head made her stop dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. Discreetly she reached into her pocket and silenced her music.

“Give me the bag,” a hostile voice demanded, thick with the guttural Brooklyn accent. Alex’s Chanel bag rested on her shoulder. She was clutching it tightly with one hand, a part of her desperately not wanting to relinquish it. She moved to turn around, but the gun was pressed harder to her head, leaving a mark upon her scalp.

“I don’t want no trouble, just give me the bag,” the assailant explained in his angry, harassed tone.