I turn on my side and look at him. His mouth is slack as he sleeps.
Dave and I had been going out for a week before he kissed me, three months before we made love. He said he didn’t want to rush me, that he knew I wasn’t that kind of girl. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hadn’t waited half that time with the men before him. My first had been when I was twenty. I had been so desperate to get rid of my virginity, I hadn’t cared that he smelled of cigarettes, that he spoke in clichés, that he barely looked at me as he forced his way in. My second lover had been a smart, tall, beautiful lacrosse player wth roaming hands and a roving eye. The pain of the breakup had been sharp but fleeting. There had been plenty of Kleenex left in the box once I was done crying.
But Dave is different. He respects me. He thinks I’m precious. He honors me with outdated romantic notions.
And to top it all off he helped me get the job I wanted.
Dave has given me so much, it makes sense that he’ll be my first forever, the first thing in my life that will be more than a stage.
That constancy has value, right? Certainly more value than the illicit secrets that weave themselves into my dreams at night. I can never make love to Robert again. Never. I will force him out of my life.
Now if I could only force him out of my head.
* * *
IT’S ONLY 7:00 A.M. and I’m handing Dave his lunch and a travel mug full of a deep-bodied coffee before his unusually early conference call. He’s surprised, I’ve never made him lunch to take to the office before. It’s a Norman Rockwell kind of move, which is good. I need to incorporate a little Norman Rockwell morality into my life.
He kisses me on the forehead and I feel the completeness of his affection. As I watch him leave, I feel something else, too, something that springs from deep within me. I want it to be love.
But it feels a lot like obligation.
I was in Dave’s debt before, what with the job and his frequent kindnesses. But now that I’ve betrayed him, I owe him so much more, more than gifts or favors. I owe him happiness.
Almost an hour later, while I’m dressing for work, my phone rings and Robert’s assistant’s number pops up.
No, that’s wrong. It’s Mr. Dade again. I have to find a way to turn him back into a stranger.
“Miss Fitzgerald?” Sonya’s inquisitive voice melts through the phone. “Sorry to call so early.”
“It’s fine.” I sit on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but a matching bra and panties with the phone pressed to my ear. I feel exposed, which is silly. Sonya can’t see me. But she does know things about me that others don’t and I’m reminded of this when she tells me in a tone that is a little too intimate that Mr. Dade is requesting a meeting away from his office.
“13900 Tahiti Way, in Marina Del Rey,” she says. There’s something about this address that thrills her. I can tell by the way she whispers the numbers.
“What’s there?” I keep my own tone flat, emotionless. I want to wipe her memory away. . . . Has she imagined me with him? Has she imagined me with her? Did I call out when Robert let his fingers slide over my clit, when he kissed my neck, my breasts? . . .
Did she hear me when I lost control?
“Oh, I just figured you two had already worked out the details. . . . I didn’t ask specifically which part of the marina. . . . I mean, it’s not my business.”
And with that comment I know that she heard everything, imagined everything; to her I’m not just an associate of Mr. Dade’s. I’m the woman he fucked on his desk and it doesn’t matter what tone I use, what outfits I wear . . . she’ll always know me for my indiscretions.
I hate her for it.
I hang up the phone without another word. But then nothing else needed to be said. He knows I’ll come. It’s my job, my addiction, my temptation . . . it doesn’t really matter if it’s lust, ambition, or just plain ol’ curiosity that’ll get me there.
All that matters is that he knows I’ll come.
A trickle of foreboding works its way down my spine. I know where my place is now. It’s with Dave. I had my last hoorah with Robert Dade.
I’ll go to the meeting for the sake of ambition and in spite of the lust, which I will have to repress. I’ll go to the meeting to say good-bye.
I select a Theory suit, not as provocative as the clothes I wore the day he last saw me but significantly more stylish than my regular garb. I pair it with a satin blouse that could pass as menswear if it wasn’t for the fabric. He will not shake me.
Or if he does, he won’t see it.
It’s not until I’m in the car, plugging the address into the navigation, that Sonya’s words come back to me. The marina?