Lust (9 page)

What had happened? Twenty-four hours of misery! Another
day like this and I would have to be committed. How could
everything go so wrong in the blink of an eye? Was life that
fucked up? I just can’t understand it.

Pat was gone, Kelly was gone, and the company was now
owned by a commanding and arrogant prick who I wanted to undeniably
fuck until my legs gave out and my vagina went numb!

I have always said that life’s a bitch, but this, this day made
it a fucking bitch!

Ring…ring…ring…ring. The display read: DEREK CELL.

Shit. One more fucked-up line to my day’s fucked-up list.

“Hello,” I blurted out with a sigh of exhaustion.

“Hi, babe. Sorry I didn’t call sooner. It’s been a long day.”

Yeah, you want to talk to me about a long day. I don’t fucking
think so!

“I was hoping to come by, but I called your house and you
weren’t home. So are you going home? Babe?”

Listening to his whining, I contemplated whether I had any
energy left, and I concluded it was now or never. “Derek, we
have to talk. I don’t want to get into an hour-long conversation,
and please don’t go any further after I speak. I’m going to need
you to accept what I say and move on. This—you and me—it’s
not working. You’re a good guy, great guy in fact, but not the
right guy. I’ve enjoyed our time together and really do wish you
lots of luck and love in your life, but I don’t want to string you
along, because I don’t have the same feelings for you and that is
not going to change. I have a lot going on right now and really
appreciate that this doesn’t get dramatic, OK?”

Silence.

“Derek?”

Click.

“Hello? Dial tone. Well, at least he listened and didn’t get
dramatic. God, I have to get my ass home.”

Stepping out of Penn Station the next morning, it was like I
had never left the city. It wasn’t late when I left the night before,
but the day leading up to the night was mentally, physically, and
emotionally exhausting. I was so eager to be back home, safe in
bed, that it cost me eighty dollars for a cab ride back to Long
Beach instead of taking the train. All I needed was to get from
Point A to Point B without any effort. I could barely recall the
cab ride; my thoughts were almost blank. I had spent the entire
day spinning in my mind that now, even with all the information
I did have, there was nothing.

Nothing but silence…and a scent.

I had ridden home holding my head up with my hand, and I
still smelled the scent of the Burberry cologne Mr. Mason was wearing.

It must have worn off on me as he shook my hand good-bye.

Hoooonk, hoooonk! “You need a cab, lady?” The typical
Manhattan cab driver yelled out as I stood in a daze.

But I wasn’t annoyed, not today. Today I was numb, in
mourning for all the sadness and loss from the day before.

“Yeah, thanks. Fifty-First and Park, please.”

From the backseat, I could hear my favorite radio station;
Z100 had to be the best thing in the morning, and at that moment
I felt like it had been years instead of days since I had
listened to the ZOO. As the radio personalities joked and giggled,
I found myself suddenly paying attention. The radio host
spoke loudly now: “It’s Tuesday morning, nine twenty a.m.,
and here’s your…”

Tuesday? Is it really Tuesday?

Ugh, there are way too many days before the weekend; there is way
too much time for bad things to happen until then. I had paid no attention
to or given any concern for the fact that I was supposed
to be in at 8:30. And it was 9:20 now, and there I sat, in a cab,
still ten minutes away from work. But, today it didn’t matter; I
couldn’t put a single thought or emotion together. I just hoped
to make it through the day, without Pat and Kelly and with the
new boss whom I disliked so deeply it made me sick.

My cell phone went off, and the screen registered a text
from an unknown number. I slid the screen lock to view the
text and found the day’s beginning:
Good morning. Pat gave me your cell.

Wanted to make sure you knew that I value you as an employee.

AM.

“Seven eighty, please,” the driver requested as he pulled
alongside the curb.

“Here you go,” I replied, handing him a bill and pushing
my phone into my purse. “Keep the change.”

“Miss, you gave me a twenty. You sure you don’t want
change?”

Feeling drained and worn, I put all my energy into a smile
at the cab driver. “No, keep the change. You gave me the first
fifteen minutes of peace in the last two days. Thank you. Enjoy
your day!” With a big smile, the cabbie drove away.

I remained where I stood, with my back to the glass building
that used to be a home away from home. I took deep
breaths as I remained still and silent, which, on any sidewalk
in Manhattan, is difficult to do. Why had he texted me? Was he
playing a game or afraid that he went too far last night? God, I wish
he had gone farther. How is it possible that the one man who makes my
body burst into an orgasm just at the thought of him has to go and take
over my company? Life is so not fair!

“Evvvvaaaa!”

Spinning around, I caught a glimpse of someone running
toward me. Focusing my thoughts, I realized it was Samantha.

She looked frantic, which meant the news had spread like wildfire
and everyone was freaking out.

“Eva…Eva! What. The. Fuck? I’ve been calling you nonstop
for an hour. Where have you been? I didn’t hear from you last
night; I didn’t hear from you this morning. You said you would
be in by eight thirty. And when you didn’t show, I thought…I
thought…Oh my God, I have never been so happy to see you.”

Throwing her arms around me, she was out of breath, surely
from running like a maniac, but she was shivering. I felt the
concern in Samantha’s heart.

Letting go but still close up, Samantha’s affect went from
concerned to utterly pissed. “You bitch! I thought you had been
fired, or dead or something. Don’t ever do that to me, do you
hear me?”

“Samantha, I really am sorry, but I could in no way come
in here or even speak to anyone, and that includes you, without
putting my thoughts and emotions in check. I was an utter
mess, and honestly, it would have only snowballed and gotten
worse. But, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you in the dark. I
wasn’t thinking. How are you? How is everyone?”

Samantha looked at me, seeking protection. “Scared. We’re
all just scared. But now, with you here, I know it will be OK.

Come on, let’s go clean up the crap, together!”

“Listen, I just have to fill you in quick. Mr. Mason…our
new boss…” Samantha nodded, as she had known the name but
not the face yet. “Well, it just so happens that Mr. Mason—oh
God! Mr. Mason is the hot piece of ass that I landed on at the
bar Saturday night. The same guy I propositioned to fuck his
brains out.” Samantha’s mouth nearly hit the ground in shock.

“I know, Sam. This shit only seems to happen to me. Look,
we’ll talk more later. I just have to catch up on some work.”

The energy it would have taken for me to fake a smile
would have cleaned out my reserves, and regardless, Samantha
would have called me out on it.

Arm in arm, we walked into the building, through security
and into the elevators, pressed the button that read fiftyeight,
and stepped back. We proceeded as we did every morning,
together, for the last seven years. But today it was just not
the same. And only God knew what every other day after today
would be like. I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst.

“Eva? Get that look off your face. You have no idea how relieved
everyone is that we still have you! They care for you and
trust you that much, and it should come as no surprise. Now,
snap out of it, and lead us all out of this darkness and sorrow.

Be the boss we’ve always admired. Time to flip that switch and
put these people at ease.”

Samantha always knows what to say, and she never spoke
anything that she didn’t truly feel or believe. Well, at least not
to me.

I stood uneasy with my hand on the lock to my office, and
I knew Samantha was on the money. I knew what I had to do,
and I needed to do it fast.

Opening the door slightly, it all clicked. Ms. Chase was in
the office and ready to gain control. With the door now ajar,
I gave my orders. “You are right. Send an e-mail to the team:
staff meeting at eleven sharp. Please cc me and cc Mr. Mason. I
doubt he will care, but invite him anyway. I’m going to have to
play nice whether I like it—”

Walking fully into the office, I stopped dead in my tracks,
and the only noise was the oooohhhh shit that went off in my
head.

“Ms. Chase. Good morning, and thank you for finally gracing
us with your presence. Did you want to finish that conversation
before I continue or…”

Fuck. Mr. Mason. In my office, sitting in my chair, behind
my desk, listening to me talking trash about him!

“Good. I take your silence as the answer. I figure the ‘oh
shit’ expression that you have on your face means that you
would never feel comfortable enough to say these things to my
face, and, though that’s your prerogative, I need you to know
that I want you to—I need you to—be honest with me.”

He was pissed as he suddenly stopped speaking. He placed
his palms on his knees, pushed his body up off the chair, and
walked toward me. Thank God the door was still open. It
wasn’t that I felt threatened, I just didn’t think he would openly
scream while the door was open and let the rest of the staff
get a good glimpse of their new boss!

As I finished the thought, I realized that while I was staring
at the floor, Mr. Mason had walked behind me, and click.

Fuck. He had closed the office door, and now we were in the
office alone!

This can’t be good.

I stood motionless with my back toward him. And—
there—I could feel it once again, his eyes staring through me
from behind. I could feel his gaze starting from the top of my
head to the very tip of my Louboutins. He was trying to play
me, instill fear…intimidate me.

No. I won’t let him do this to me. I have been around much more
intimidating men and never lost my composure. And now, no, no, no! I
can’t. I won’t. Why is he even getting to me? Why am I having trouble
being who I have always been? I am not weak; I am a strong, intelligent
business woman. I can do this.

The thoughts died out as I turned around to face him, only
to almost fall back on my own ass. When I turned, I found
myself no more than five or six inches away from his chest. I am
only five foot two—five foot sixish with the right heels on—
but he still had a foot on me.

Gasping, he reached out and with both his hands grabbed
me by my arms. He had stopped me from falling. He had also,
for a moment, stopped my breathing.

“Thank you, I’m fine.” I pulled away from his hold. What
seemed like an hour was only a few minutes, but I felt affected.

Pull it together, now!

Adjusting my suit jacket, I took a few steps back and sat
on the white terry cloth accent chair that had at one time been
a comforting seat for me. Now, it was just uncomfortable, or
maybe it wasn’t the chair. No, it was him; he was making
me uncomfortable. As the many thoughts, though incomplete
and most irrational, swirled in my head, I noticed that Mr.

Mason pulled the other accent chair closer to where I was and
sat down.