Trusting Jay(2)

“Ugh, let's go,” I sighed.

“Well, very nice to meet you Abbie, I'll see you around.”

“Uh, sure” I said, disconcerted he'd used my name.

The second we were out the door Sam started probing me.

“Who was he?”

“Just some guy.”

“Just some absurdly hot guy! Why were you talking to him?”

“He was talking to me.”

“Oh my god, he was trying to pick you up! At nine in the morning! In a coffee shop!”

“I doubt it, he was fixing his coffee.”

“Come on Abbie, how long does it take to fix a coffee? And when was the last time you talked to a stranger in the morning zombie rush of a coffee shop? Never!”

“Oh well, we've left now, I'll never see him again.”

Was he really trying to pick me up, or was he a crazy stalker? After all, I had noticed him standing around long before my coffee was ready. The hurt of Matt ensured I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but I couldn’t ignore the longing between my legs much longer. It had been so long since I’d been with a man.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about sleeping with someone else, or someone else seeing me naked. I didn't have the confidence in my body or myself that I’d had when I met Matt at a fit twenty two.



As we entered the office my blood pressure shot up at the imminent interaction with Calvin.

Drive and hard work had gotten me where I was. After college I started work at Hamilton's in the accounts payable department and did my CPA in my spare time. After various positions with Hamilton’s, a headhunter approached me about a job at Force McAllister, an Analyst role. It was just as my relationship with Matt ended. With perfect timing, the extra salary was what allowed me to kick Matt out. Before that I would’t have been able to swing the mortgage on my condo without his contribution in rent. Though realistically, even with the pay bump I still can’t afford the mortgage.

Unfortunately my boss left two months after I started and Calvin replaced him. Calvin the nightmare. Calvin the something to prove. Calvin who was “full of ideas on how things could improve” and who “really wanted to make his mark on things.” His style of management was to criticize and complain and as a result Sam and I hated him.

Sam has been in the job for three years, long enough to look elsewhere. But I’m stuck here until I put in some time in the role. That is, unless Calvin fires me in the meantime. He’s working on it, I know he is. He has hated me from the second he laid eyes on me. No matter what I do, he gives me the lowest marks in my monthly performance reviews. Nothing I do is good enough, though he’s eager enough to steal my ideas and claim them as his own. I suspect his real reason is he’s threatened by me. Like at any time he will be found out as the incompetent boob he is, and I’ll be the person who exposes him.

“Ladies, good of you to come in to work today,” Calvin said in his attempt at a stern voice.

We were used to being treated like school girls by him and it took a lot of effort to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Abbie, I need the Weeksend report by 11 o'clock.”

“Don't worry, I'm on it.”

“I mean it Abbie. You need to get it done now. And make sure your work isn’t sloppy, like it usually is.”

I turned my head away before he could see the rage in my face. My work was not sloppy. Ever.

How was this guy married? Did he treat his wife the same dickish way? My mind wandered, envisioning what it would be like to have him pumping away on top of me. Surely there was no way he'd be in for some foreplay, it'd all be about getting the business done, efficiently and oblivious to his wife's lack of enjoyment. I hope he did it with the lights off, for her sake. That pasty dough boy body could only be worse naked.

The rest of the day was mundane, and I looked at the clock in the corner of my computer screen more than I looked at my spreadsheet.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sam said, smacking her laptop lid shut.





2





We walked down the street, wading through the crowds of workers fleeing their offices. It was the same every Friday evening, I met up with my best friend Jenny and always tried to drag Sam out to join us.

Sam held the glass door open for me, and I stepped into the dimly lit bar, already loud with chatter. Later the work crowd would thin out and the music got turned up. If we lasted until then, we danced — usually making fools of ourselves but not caring. Or at least Jenny and I didn’t care. I suspect this is the real reason Sam always ducked out early.

Tonight after most people had left, including Sam, a cute blond guy came up to our table.

“Hi, I’m Duncan,” he said, extending his hand to me.