I managed to track down the phone numbers I was missing, but I didn't place any calls, except to Doug to make sure he made it home. It turned out he'd made it to Kathy's house instead of his own. I would never sleep with him again-that much I knew. Doug had been with Kathy, and in my eyes, that made him spoilt goods. I didn't feel any jealousy. We weren't in a relationship, but even so, it didn't seem natural to me that I wouldn't resent Kathy for fucking Doug. It made me re-examine my choices, which only brought on more shame and frustration-two feelings I usually avoided. They manifested themselves when I slept at night, causing me a great deal of anxiety.
Luckily, I was very busy. I still worked late many nights, and on my free evenings I helped Stevie with wedding plans. The following Friday, I stayed until seven and as usual, Rick insisted on walking me to my car, as he always did. I grudgingly accepted, as I always did. It was our pattern, and like most patterns, it had become expected and comfortable, despite the shift in our relationship. We stepped into the elevator, immediately retreating to the opposite sides of the car in our normal manner. There was still insatiable electricity between us, regardless of the cool, polite exchanges we had.
The only variation from our typical pattern was that the elevator was going very slowly today. I wondered if it was my imagination, since being in such close proximity to Rick, made me hot and damp all over. However, when the elevator jolted mid-floors before coming to a complete stop, I knew it wasn't in my head. I gaped at him, blinking rapidly. We were stuck in the elevator! Rick took control of the situation and contacted facilities who contacted the elevator maintenance company. After several calls, Rick stared at me with some trepidation of his own.
"It will be at least an hour until the guy can get here."
The realisation caused me to lean against my corner of the elevator for support. This can't be happening, can it? The thought of an hour, alone with him, in a closed-off space sounded like an absurd exercise in self-control. The situation might have been comical if the intensity wasn't so palpable.
"You're kidding, right?" I asked him when I found my voice again.
"No, it's Friday night and the guy is coming out from Gurney," Rick replied, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.
"What are you doing?" Damn, my voice croaked.
"Getting comfortable, we'll be here for a while. Why don't we sit?" He sat in his corner of the carpeted elevator, grinning reassuringly, but I remained standing.
"I bet you're enjoying this. It's pretty convenient, don't you think?" I narrowed my eyes, letting the unspoken accusation hang in the air between us, which felt heavier with each passing second.
He cocked his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, let's see, we're stuck here alone for at least an hour on a Friday night, when no one is around to help us."
He shot straight up from his sitting position. "What? You think I devised this? You think I planned you would be ready to leave at seven, so I made the elevator stop working? To what end, Marley? To take advantage of you?" He sounded enraged.
I knew he wouldn't take advantage of me. Despite his past flirtations, I knew Rick would never hurt me … physically, but there was no denying how odd this was. "No, but it's a little too coincidental."
He laughed sarcastically, gesturing wildly. "You're right. I planned this whole thing. In fact, guess what? The company you think you work for? It's all a fraud perpetrated by yours truly. I created it, so we could have this intimate moment together. The city of Chicago? It doesn't exist. It's part of my master plan to fuck you, Marley." He'd said ‘fuck'. I should have been freaked out, but I found my perverted self completely titillated by the way the word rolled off his sexy lips.
Still, he was berating me and that only pissed me off. He held out his hands towards me, demanding an answer. I flinched at his words and slouched in my corner, but he was too outraged by my accusation to stop his tirade.
"Is that what you want to hear?" He looked up at the ceiling of the elevator, cupping his hands over his mouth like a megaphone. "Bill, Jim, if you can hear me, start the elevator, she's on to me. This one's too smart to fall for my Machiavellian plan."
I shrunk back trying to find my voice. It came out as a raspy shriek, "Shut up, shut up, shut up! I know I'm just a stupid blonde in a skirt to you, but shut the hell up, right now." I felt a lump rise to my throat, but I swallowed it back. I wilted down to the floor, splaying my legs in a zigzag underneath me. I was tired, starving and emotional. A sure-fire recipe for disaster. I whispered my only coherent thought, "Hell is other people."
I heard Rick shuffle over to me and he placed his hand on my shoulder. I didn't look at him, but when he spoke, his voice was remorseful and concerned. "Hey, I'm sorry, Marley. Please look at me. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I snapped, crossing my arms, refusing to look at him. "I'm just hungry. I skipped lunch." He had given me a ton of work today, and it was all I'd been able to do to finish, even with staying late.
"Why would you do that?" There was censure in his voice, as if he might go into a lecture. I didn't like it.
"Because, my boss is a big dick," I blurted, before my mind could even comprehend the words. I cringed at my stupidity, preparing myself for the rage he would bestow on me. Rage I most likely deserved at this point. Instead, I only heard laughter. It was a natural laugh, without any reproach or hostility.
I glanced up at him. He was holding out a Zesty bar over my shoulder. "If I give you this, do you promise not to throw it at me?" His eyes looked hopeful, but he smiled tightly. It seemed like a fake smile, one he donned to put me at ease. It worked.
I snatched the protein bar and opened it hungrily. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called you that."
He moved to the opposite side of the elevator again and sat down. "It's okay, I deserved it. Seriously, though, I don't want you to skip lunch anymore. If I'm giving you too much work, you need to communicate that to me. I mean it."
I nodded, nibbling on the Zesty bar. It tasted like heaven to me.
"Sartre?" Rick asked in a low, serious tone, after a few minutes of silence.
I gaped at him, unsure if I'd heard correctly.
"You quoted Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Hell is other people'. Don't worry, I don't take offence-I was giving you hell after all."
I had to admit it was a pretty awful thing to say to someone. Especially when that someone gave you a Zesty bar after you were so mean. "You've read No Exit?"
Rick nodded. "Yes, I took the prerequisite philosophy course in college. For the record, I think you're very smart. You're able to extrapolate data to make sound business decisions like no one I've ever seen. Besides that, how many girls can quote a French existentialist philosopher? Also, I don't know if your hair colour is qualified as blonde, but I do think it's beautiful. And, although you look good in anything, my day is a little brighter when you choose to wear a skirt. But trust me, Marley, I would never reward you for it."
His words should have been uncomfortable for me. Instead, they only relaxed the tension in my body. It felt like his admission was the release of deep secret and confirmed all my speculations. "So, you do notice the skirts."
"I have eyes, don't I?" Yes, glittering green orbs that exude sexuality.
I was shocked at how forthright he was being in that moment. The disguised innuendos and flirtatious advances were replaced with naked honesty. I wished I could be candid with him, but it wasn't possible … not for me.
"Thank you for clearing that up." I turned away from him, not sure what else to say. The air became heavier, permeated by our collective silence. Finally, I broke it. "I majored in philosophy."
"I know."
I looked at him perplexed. He smiled reassuringly as if he was accepting my change of subject.
"I read your résumé, remember?"
"Oh, yeah."
"What were you hoping to accomplish with a degree in philosophy?" he asked curiously, without reproach.
I chuckled. "I was hoping to find the meaning of life, but instead I just found the meaning of debt. Sallie Mae and I have a very close relationship. She writes to me once a month."
He laughed heartily, getting my joke about the nickname for the student loan agency. A joke, which no one else ever seemed to get. "Is that why you live at home?"
I tensed. It wasn't a secret that I lived at home-I'm sure any number of people could have told him that-but I wondered how he had obtained the information.
"That's none of your business." I bit down on my lip. I hadn't meant to sound so cold. I should have just nodded. The truth was, I paid my mother rent and paid my debts, but I could afford my own place.