Undersold(28)

“Fine, just feeling a little sick. No big deal.”

“Let me know if you need anything. I got a pharmacy in my desk,” she said and laughed. I believed her.

“Thanks Linda, maybe I’ll take you up on that later.” I gave her a little wave, and rolled back to my side of the divider, head spinning.

Did he really take his vacation early? Is that the trip we were supposed to go on together, or does he just need some space? I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t heard from him yet, and the night was spent anxiously staring at my phone. I couldn’t take it anymore, not after this rumor, so I typed him a message. I didn’t care if I was being pathetic by reaching out to him first, or if I was breaking into his space. I needed to hear from him, no matter what.

Sorry again about yesterday. Missed you last night. Sorry you’re not at work. I agonized over how lame and pathetic it seemed, but sent it anyway. It was true, and I selfishly hoped he was feeling under the weather, maybe had caught the office cold. That was better than the alternative.

The day flew by and I kept checking my phone. No response from Shane, nothing. I was beginning to worry, but I couldn’t let it get to me. I knew he needed space and would get in contact with me when he was ready. Maybe this was a good thing, in the long run. Maybe he’d decide that his privacy issues weren’t worth losing me over. But I knew that wasn’t going to be the case. And I had nobody to talk with about it. This man was one long well of complicated mysteries.

The next week was a blur of emotions and disappointment. Day after day, I expected Shane to appear at work, or at least to send me a message, but each day I was disappointed. Not even Linda’s weird gossip could raise my spirits. My desk started to feel like a prison, and every part of the office reminded me of him. My apartment was my only refuge, but that too had parts of him lodged in its corners: a shirt he left over, a note he wrote, a toothbrush. I wanted to burn his things, or at least throw them away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I still held out hope that he’d come back.

Late Friday night, missing him completely, I logged onto the paparazzi tech blogs and looked for any mention of him I could find. Back before we met, I used to read these blogs to find information about the industry I desperately wanted to be a part of. Back then, these seemed like treasure troves of ideas and information about people I wanted to meet. Now, it all seemed sick and twisted. Didn’t they realize these were regular people trying to make a living? These days, if you were rich and successful and young, people wanted to know about your life, and would pay for the details. It was hard, but I went back as far as a few weeks, and couldn’t find anything.

Realizing I was in a bad place, and desperate for something good, I called Darcy, who was surprisingly home on a Friday night.

“What up kiddo?” She answered on the second ring.

“Hi Darc. What are you up to?”

Short pause. “Oh not much. Binging on some Netflix, hitting the wine hard, living a glamorous life. How about you?”

I didn’t know how to approach this. Should I tell her how upset I am? I couldn’t risk her asking why, and having to lie about it.

“Any chance you can come for a visit tomorrow?”

“Hmmm. Tomorrow? I can probably manage that. Why, desperate for some party times?”

I laughed. Party times? “Yeah, exactly. Let’s go out, have some party times.”

“Oh, no, don’t say that. Sounds terrible coming from you.”

I laughed again. Darcy always made me feel better.

“Alright Darc, I’m excited to see you.”

“I’m excited too, you big weirdo. See you tomorrow.”





16.


“Oh shit, this is my jam!” Darcy yelled over the music, and started to dance to the beat, drink held up high in the air.

It was Saturday night, and Darcy had come down from New York earlier that afternoon. I thought she knew that I was upset about something, but she didn’t mention it directly. She was pretty good about not asking, although I could tell she was intensely curious. I hadn’t heard from Shane all week, not a single word, and I couldn’t even tell her that he existed. I was broken up inside, twisted with doubt and confusion, but I had to keep it all a secret.

I kept going over and over the past week in my head, despite the pounding bass and packed-in people. I knew he wasn’t coming into the office, but I had no idea where he was, and I couldn’t help but worry. By Thursday, I was beyond myself with doubt. Nobody seemed to know about the incident in Shane’s office, which meant Janice was being discreet. I guessed Shane talked to her, and she agreed to keep it a secret. I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated that, but I couldn’t bring myself to even mention it. Better to pretend like she never saw me down on my knees, post-blowjob, tugging up the boss’s pants.