In Love With My Personal Assistant(30)

She looked for it, and saw it slumped at her feet. After a moment, she  remembered Nicole. She remembered the plan seconds later. The foolproof  plan. The genius plan that would save her. If she ever saw Nicole again  within the next few months, she would kiss her toes and clean her feet  with her own bare hands. Jennifer pulled back.

"No," James moaned.

"I need to answer this," Jennifer said quickly, ignoring his whine. She  stooped and grabbed her purse, fishing for her phone quickly. She  answered without a thought and shoved the tech to her ear.

"Hey," she breathed with excitement.

"Ooohhh, it's so good to hear your voice. Especially since I've been trying to get ahold of you all day."

Dread filled Jennifer's chest. "This isn't Nicole," she said softly.

"No, Sweetie, it's me. Andrew."





Chapter Fifteen

Blessed Remorse





Jennifer stepped away from James like he was fire. She didn't care that  he called out to her or that her abruptness was beyond rude. She needed  space. Space and a breath. She was back in the hallway within a matter  of seconds, blouse still half-unbuttoned. James didn't readily follow  her. That was fate. She began to walk. She needed the elevator and after  a moment, she found her bearing. Andrew wasn't on the line anymore. She  hung up on him.

Once he said his name, her autonomic nervous system took over and fired  synapses with a ready response for her thumb to end the call ASAP. Or  maybe that was actually just her frantic response to suddenly being  confronted with the consequences of her actions.

Whatever the case, her body obliged and then her legs answered the call  to move and get her away. She figured she was several doors away from  James's room. Her blouse was still open, but she didn't care. The halls  were empty. She searched her purse for her room key and looked for the  floor she was on. Twelve. Room 1205.

Jennifer started to jog towards the elevator. It opened without  hesitation. The stars had aligned on her behalf. Inside, she reached for  the side panel and froze. The elevator shafts were located in a small  cubby in the middle of the floor.

She saw James just at the edge, rounding the corner. Their eyes met and  he headed towards her. He called her name, but without hesitation,  Jennifer quickly punched the 12th floor button. James called to her.

"Please wait-"

But she looked away. She was thankful that James wasn't pushy. He let  the doors close. In the final moments before they became flushed, she  looked up and caught a glimpse of his face.

That look-she had seen it before-then it was gone. She stared at a dull  reflection of herself in the chrome back panels of the elevator. This  elevator wasn't glass. She didn't care. She rather she didn't have to  look at herself then anyway.

In the small square, she was alone. Jennifer dropped to her knees and  buried her face into her hands. She needed to call Andrew back. As far  as she was concerned, she was guilty. Guilty as the maid caught in the  kitchen with the butcher knife. She was guilty!

Her mind raced with someone to call-someone to talk to. The only thought  that settled was Nicole. It couldn't have been but 20 minutes since her  friend had left them though. But maybe more? Had she missed Nicole's  call? If she hadn't, Jennifer remembered that Nicole said she was late  for her own date. Jennifer didn't even know who the guy was or how long  they had been together-that made her a terrible friend. A good friend  would have asked that stuff instead of trying to get help wading through  her man problems.

So she was a bad friend and apparently, a bad girlfriend. That's what  she was, right? Andrew called her all sorts of sweet pet names. Her  favorite had come to be Jessica, after Jessica Rabbit. She finally  looked that fictitious character up and decided it must have been a  compliment.

"Oh gosh," Jennifer breathed, her mind still racing. "I can't believe I  hung up on him," she was speaking aloud and didn't even care. She  covered her face with her palms and rubbed. Her body quaked. She  couldn't stop groaning and her breathing raced.

The elevator slowed. She still hadn't recovered by the time the doors  opened. There was a group of four standing there. The first, a woman,  gasped when she saw Jennifer.         

     



 

"Honey, are you okay?" She couldn't have been a New Yorker. She was probably just passing through.

"I can't find my room," Jennifer lied as she stood. She tried to lean  against the wall of the elevator but stumbled. The woman gasped again.  Jennifer realized her blouse was still open.

"Guys, we can't leave her here," a woman stated.

"Help her get to her room," a male suggested.

"What's your room number?" The first woman spoke, she cradled Jennifer  around her back, but Jennifer avoided her eyes. She figured she must  have looked blackout drunk, but she didn't care. Her eyes hurt along  with her heart and her head was suddenly pounding in between her  eardrums.

"Do you have a room key? Where's that?"

"I think that's it in her hand," the male spoke again.

She heard a bit of whispering and then looked down at her room key.  Someone was looking over her shoulder because they called out the room  number just moments later.

"One floor down," the first woman commented. "We'll help you get there." And the strangers did.

When the elevator stopped a second time, the woman ushered Jennifer down  the hall despite her claims that she felt much better. She tried to  explain that her head hurt, but the woman just smiled and nodded. She  was older with soft wrinkles on her forehead and smile lines that  creased as she listened to Jennifer's excuses.

At her door, they saw her through and told her to lock it afterwards.  They pulled it shut and Jennifer stood alone in darkness with her  thoughts. She found a light switch near the door and the entire suite  lit up. It was beautiful-probably the best hotel room she had stayed in  since working with James.

Jennifer sighed and realized her cheeks were moist. At some point, she  had started crying. Her phone began to ring again, but it was a  different tone. She fished it from her purse and stared at the screen.  It took a while for the numbers and words to morph into focus, but when  it did, it read: Nicole Dacius. She let out a cry and laugh at the same  time and answered the phone.

"Where are you?" Nicole asked in a firm voice.

"My room," Jennifer whimpered.

"What's wrong?" The firmness was gone. "Is he with you? Tell him to get out now!"

"I'm by myself," Jennifer gulped.

"What's wrong then?" Nicole paused. "Did he kiss you again?"

Jennifer sniffed. "Kind of but I could have stopped him and didn't."

"Sweetie, why didn't you leave with me? You should have left with me,"  Nicole pleaded. Jennifer felt the hot tears on her face. She was  definitely crying now and nothing was going to stop her.

"What is wrong with me?" Jennifer whined into the receiver. She didn't  hear anything on the other line. She tried to stim back her sniveling to  hear anything that Nicole might say, but she only heard silence.  Jennifer checked the phone. The call was still live.

"Nicole? Nikki?"

"I'm here, Sweetie," she responded promptly, but then fell silent again.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know why I didn't leave, or why I even thought I could match his tit for tat-"

"You were never good at those games," Nicole muttered.

Jennifer paused. "What'd you say?"

"I said you never good at those games."

Games.

That's what this was-that's what all of it was. A big game.

And she just lost.

"Sounds like you need to put some distance between you and James. Sure, he's hot, but he's bad news."

"Yeah," Jennifer murmured. She composed herself enough to crawl to the  bed and throw herself across the king sized duvet. If it had swallowed  her body, she wouldn't have cared one iota. As it were, it only nibbled  at her skin and caressed her sweetly, calling her to fall asleep.  Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed. Her mind and thoughts swam like one  with the ocean. She rolled onto her back and kept them closed.

"So who's your lover boy?" She asked, her voice sluggish.

"Call me back when you're sober and I'll tell you all about him."

"I am sober," Jennifer whined. Nicole only laughed.

"I gotta go, Babe, but do me a favor. Don't answer your door until  you've slept and it's tomorrow and the sun is out. Do you understand?  You're too weak to say no. Just don't even go there." Jennifer nodded.

"Say it out loud, Jenn. I can't see you," Nicole suddenly barked. The sound jolted Jennifer from her sleeplike trance.

"I won't open the door," Jennifer stammered.         

     



 

"Don't answer the door. Especially if they say ‘Room service.'"

"Not even for room service?"

"Did you ask for room service?"

"I guess not," Jennifer mumbled.