A reedy voice suddenly joined the conversation and I looked to my left to see William looking utterly mad in his gray shirt, like a handsome demon. He sneered at Luke, who looked like he smelled something foul.
Oh, God.
"William, so nice of you to join us."
"You all can relax, I was just joking around." His voice suddenly matured and the sneer dropped from his face. "Seriously, Luke. Congrats. I can't wait to begin the campaign. It's going to be great."
Luke hesitated before he took Will's hand, which he shook with a slight frown on his face. William, apparently at ease, looked at me and smiled warmly.
"There you are! I was wondering if I'd get my jacket back."
"Oh, sorry," I mumbled as I slipped it from my shoulders.
He helped me take it off and when I looked at him, he winked.
Wipe that fucking smirk off your face.
Luke wore an uncertain smile. "You know each other?"
"I'm taking her out to dinner tomorrow night," Will said matter-of-factly.
All of them gaped at me.
Did I hear that correctly? "What?" I stammered.
The background music sounded like it was too low. Our small circle ignored the party to stare at Will and me. He ignored the bemused looks around him and addressed me with a scorching look. Blood careened through my veins.
"Bring your portfolio. I want to see your work."
"No," I muttered. I didn't want to see the disappointment on his face. My cheeks were like embers and I walked away with Jessica close on my heels. Oh, crap.
I stopped near a table with a row of glasses and I took one, frowning as Jessica cornered me, looking excited.
"He asked you out on a date?"
"Yeah, but I'm not going. He's a bit strange." I looked back at the group. William and Luke were exchanging words and Luke looked uncharacteristically serious. I couldn't imagine what they were talking about.
I just don't want to be hurt again.
And he looked like just the man who would do such a thing.
I tried to forget about the man I met on the way home, but he kept popping up in my head. I couldn't get over how weird the whole thing was-how he looked drunk but wasn't, and his wildly inappropriate behavior. He has issues.
There was something about him that made me intensely curious. What kind of rich guy goes to a party looking like he had just been mugged? There was something refreshing about his open honesty, even if it was rude as hell.
As I dove into bed, yawning, I decided that the party hadn't been so bad. It had been worth it just to meet the strange man who asked me out minutes after insulting me.
No way, buddy.
Then why couldn't I stop thinking about him
Chapter 2
I went to work on Monday, my mind churning with the bizarre encounter at Luke's party. It was one of the weirdest conversations I ever had with a stranger. Briefly, it interrupted my obsessive, self-pitying thoughts and gave me something new to stew over. I walked to my cubicle and caught a faint tinge of cologne and suddenly Will's fingers were stroking my face, making me hot all over.
"Just stop it," I muttered to myself.
"Stop what?"
My coworker, Janine leaned out of her cubicle and my cheeks purpled.
"Oh, I was just talking to myself. One of those days."
I grimaced at her and she returned the smile reluctantly.
My gaze returned to the email from my boss requesting a meeting at three. My heart pounded. What does she want to talk about? I had a feeling that I knew what it was going to be about. Lately, my job performance wasn't at its best. She sent my designs back multiple times, telling me that they lacked inspiration. They were too simple. She's probably going to talk to me about it.
The last year killed my creativity. It wasn't that I had to be happy to be creative, but it was hard to think about art after cutting out a major part of my life. I was physically and emotionally drained all the time.
Oh, poor you, I imagined my Mom saying. Poor baby. Shut up and work.
I made the finishing touches on my tablet and sent the graphic to her, hoping that she would find it acceptable. Two fifty-five. Might as well start walking over there. I turned my monitor off and noticed in the black screen how pale and sickly I looked. My limbs shook as I stood up and walked towards her office. I kept imagining her leaning over the desk, screaming at me. I wonder what this is about. There was someone already in her office; I could see their bodies behind the frosted glass.
The door flung open and Mark, one of my colleagues, sped out of her office without a backwards glance. I closed my hands to relieve some of the coldness and opened my boss' door.
Mary waved me in from behind her desk, looking uncharacteristically serious. Uh-oh. Does she hate my last design?
"Hello, Natalie. Have a seat."
I sat down on the seat painfully. It was like being called to the principal's office. Jessica and I were sent there once for throwing a boy's jacket into the mud in middle school. Jessica and I debated whether we would be sent to juvenile hall while we waited outside his office. I never forgot how horrified I felt. The same uneasy feeling coursed through my veins.
"Natalie, as you know the aquarium has been experiencing declining profits and our department's budget has been cut. I'm really sorry, but we're going to have to let you go."
What? My insides froze as "let you go" wormed through my brain. She's firing me. "Why me? I've been here way longer than Carrie and Janine."
"Frankly, you've lost your edge. You're frequently late and you don't pay attention in meetings. I can't use anything you send me anymore. I will not fight for you if your designs are poor, no matter how many years you've been here. I'm sorry."
She was indifferent to my emotions. I couldn't find the words-my world was falling apart. My voice stumbled in an attempt to desperately salvage my first ever job.
"I'm sorry, Miranda. It's the stress over losing Ben. I'm still not over him. Please give me another chance!"
Her face creased. "Natalie, it's almost been a year. I quite understand that break-ups are painful, but it shouldn't have affected your job like this. I'm sorry. I would keep you, but we just don't have the budget."
First my relationship and now my career. How did everything fall apart so neatly? Miranda was immune to my tears-I was just another casualty of the failing economy, a lackluster employee who finally was cut loose.
Ignoring her outstretched hand, I turned around and bolted from her office like a coward. What else was there to do but empty out my desk and go home? I didn't want to face my coworkers and hear their sympathies. I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of tequila.
Don't be stupid. Your designs are good. You'll find another job, easily.
But I turned down an interview at Apple six months ago. Cringing, stinking fear always kept me from advancing my career. I was convinced that I was never good enough. It's only a matter of time before I fuck up, just like today.
"Natalie? What are you doing?"
A photo of Ben and I sat on my desk, its metallic frame grinning. Fuck you. It's all your fault. I hurled it into the trashcan. My arm swept all of the unnecessary crap on my desk into the trash. Was there anything I should salvage? I shoved my coffee mug in my purse.
"Natalie!"
Janine poked her head around my cubicle and I dissolved into tears when I saw the concern on her face. "I was laid off."
"Oh my gosh. Natalie, I'm so sorry."
I waved it off and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The box of tissues was buried deep in the trash. Another surge of violent heat seared through my veins. I was so sick of tissues, so sick of crying all the time.
"You'll find something else."
She placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, which I ignored. I ripped open my drawers and crammed the files I wanted to keep into my already overfilled purse.
"We should go out for a drink or something."
I shook my head. I didn't think I could handle dozens of people saying how very sorry they were, and how they were sure I would find something else. Not today.
"Sorry, Janine. I just want to get out of here."
Maybe there was a bit too much bitterness in my voice. Ugly thoughts swam in my head as I gazed back at her. I had seniority over Janine, but that didn't matter.
Her eyes shined with nauseating pity.
"You'll come back, won't you?"
Shouldering my purse, I shrugged at her and walked out of the office. I slammed the elevator button as I thought what I should do.
Telling my best friend what happened was my first instinct, but I knew it would give me little comfort to have her look into my eyes with the same pitying expression I used to give her. It was embarrassing.
Poor Natalie. You have so many problems. Supportive, middle class upbringing. Zero student loans or credit card debt. Christ, I would never measure up to her. The problem with having a best friend like her was that we could never see eye to eye. How could Jessica ever sympathize with someone like me? Knowing about her shitty childhood made me feel like I didn't have a right to be unhappy.