Broken (22 page)

Chapter 43

Nick

I got to work on Monday, after making sure that Ava got home ok from my loft. I didn’t make the same mistake that I did with Penelope and Amber that one time, as I made sure that I got up early enough to get Ava a cab. And, no, I didn’t get Charlie to take her home.

Scotty was still the only woman who was special enough for Charlie.

I waited, with bated breath, for 10 AM, so that I could see Scotty. Spending the weekend with Ava didn’t make me want to see Scotty less. It made me want to see her more.

She arrived right at 10, seeing me first thing. She sat down across from me, and I had a different reaction upon seeing her than usual. I didn’t get hard, but I felt a little…melty. That’s the best way to describe it. Like I was a pool of jello.

I had never, ever, had that
reaction with any other woman before.

“Hi, Scotty,” I said with a smile. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine, Nick,” she said, also smiling. “I actually wanted to talk with you about the meeting you guys had on Friday.”

I started to tell her about what had happened, but George soon appeared at my door. “Nick, I’ve had an emergency with my wife. She was in an accident.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Is she ok?”

“Yeah, but she’s in the hospital and pretty scared. I had a meeting set up with some of my residential clients. Could you fill in?”

“Sure,” I said, and then looked at Scotty. “Let’s table this discussion, ok?”

“Of course,” she said. “Uh, you can find me later at my usual place.”

The meeting with George’s clients, unfortunately, went on all morning. I was actually able to discuss their design ideas with them intelligently, as I knew George’s style by then and knew quite a bit about neo-classicism, having designed a number of buildings in that very genre myself.

Later on that morning, I heard stories about Shane going out with Scotty. Not from Scotty herself, but from another intern who happened to see the two of them out together at a film festival on
Saturday night. That intern started talking to other interns, and the story filtered to me on that Monday afternoon.

Actually, it didn’t filter to me. I just overheard some of them talking about it when I went to see Scotty to take her to lunch.

“That’s what I heard,” John, a young intern from NYIT was saying to Robin, who was an intern from Columbia. “Shane had his arm around Scotty at the movie theatre.”

“I had no idea that they were even going out. When did that get started?” Robin asked.

“Who knows? I thought the girl was asexual myself. I heard that she doesn’t date, at all. Weird. She’s so cute, too.”

“Yeah, she is. But those clothes she wears. God, talk about out-dated,” Robin said, with a giggle.

“Out-dated, maybe, but she sure does those garments justice.”

“Men,” Robin said. “Even you educated ones are all about the rack. And I don’t mean the clothing rack.”

I felt my ire rising, hearing them talk about Scotty that way. But, them insulting Scotty about the clothes that she wore took a backseat to my instant hatred of Shane. Suddenly, I was the one who wanted to do the railroading.

Scotty was going out with him? To say that I was jealous was understating the matter. Scotty would go out with him, but not me?

I shook my head, and retreated back into my office. Scotty apparently was fine having Shane take her out. So, I was more confused than ever. Perhaps she was blowing me off because she just wasn’t into me after all. Maybe she just concocted that entire story because she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

On the one hand, I still was in love with that girl. On the other hand, I was angry to think that she possibly lied to me about why she didn’t want to get involved.
Why couldn’t she just come right out and tell me that she wasn’t interested?
Instead, she came up with this wild story of her being raped by her foster father.

I was starting to have doubts, and was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t to be trusted after all.

I found myself wishing, again, that I had Ryan’s gift for reading people and intuition. I had no problem bedding women over the course of my life, but reading them was something that I always had difficulty doing. I was as obtuse as anybody when it came to that.

Part of the reason why I never could read women before was because I really didn’t want to. I didn’t care. Now, for the first time, I really did care, and it was making very anxious.

While I sat at my desk, stewing, I got a phone call.

“O’Hara,” I said. It was somewhat unusual that I would get a phone call on my private line. Usually the secretary puts the calls through. But this call came in direct.

“Hello,” said a familiar voice. “This is Jack. Scotty’s roommate.”

I brightened up a tad. “Hey, Jack. How are you doing?”

“Great. I just wanted to say a belated thank you for putting in a good word for me with your friend. Don’t tell Scotty yet, because I want this to be a surprise, but I got a part in his next play. And I owe it all to you.”

“Don’t mention it. You got it through your own talent. I just got you the audition. You did the rest.”

“Be modest all you want. But you’ve helped me a shit-ton, so I’m very grateful to you.”

“Well, ok, then. You’re welcome.” Then I asked him “so, how was your Thanksgiving?”

“Great, great. Scotty and me just did the usual. Played games, saw lights. We had a chicken because we couldn’t afford a turkey. How about you?”

I felt my heart sinking.
She even lied to me about that
. I was distracted as I answered him. “Yes, uh, yes. What was the question again?”

“Just wanted to know how your holiday was.”

“Uh, great. Great. Great. Well, anyhow, thanks for calling. And congrats. I have to get back to work.”

Then I hung up. I put my head in my hands and tried to fight back tears. Me, crying. Over some woman.
What is this world coming to?

Just then, Scotty showed up in my office. She tentatively approached the desk, her coat and hat in her hands. “Hey, Nick,” she said. “Uh, I can finally take you to lunch today. I mean, I can’t afford much, but we can go and get a sandwich or something. My treat.”

I looked at her, then got up and shut the door.

“Ms. James, have a seat,” I said, motioning to the chair on the other side of my desk.

She looked at me quizzically, then sat down.

I took my seat across from her, feeling more and
more angry just looking at her.
Putting on her innocent act, and lying to me.
To what? Spare my feelings? She’s going to play head games with me, the man who invented head games?
She has no idea who she is dealing with…

I took a deep breath. “Ms. James, I’m very sorry, but I’m not going to be able to take you to lunch anymore. I feel that I’ve been far too generous with you, and you clearly don’t appreciate it. So, you’re going to be on your own.”

She sat there, looking at me, her mouth open. I saw tears forming in her eyes. Crocodile tears no doubt. Her roommate might be the one who’s now on Broadway, but Scotty was clearly the one who deserved a Tony Award for acting.

“I, I, don’t understand.” She put her head down, and her hands started shaking. “What did I do wrong?”

I rebuffed her question. “And another thing. You’re on your own around here from now on. You’re going to sink or swim just like the rest of the interns, without any help from me. I’m goddamned tired of sticking my neck out for you while you play your innocent act. You can play your games with somebody else. From now on, you won’t be getting any more social invitations from me. You’re my intern, I’m your boss. That’s it. I hope that I make myself clear.”

She continued just to stare at me, and now tears were streaming down her cheeks. I made no move to give her a Kleenex, so she took my box of tissues off of my desk and brought out a couple of Kleenexes and blew her nose. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I don’t know why you are suddenly acting like this.”

I stood up. She wasn’t going to continue with her act. I wouldn’t let her. “Well, I have work to do. Please leave.” And then I sat down.

She continued to sit there, apparently in shock. She shook her head. “Nick, I, I, I, I, don’t understand. Please tell me what I did wrong.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand English anymore. Shall I tell you in Spanish or French what I want?”

She shook her head. “No. No. I’ll leave, since that’s what you want.” Her head was down, and her entire body was drooping, like Olive Oyle. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Out. Now.”

At that, her eyes got wide again, and she reluctantly got up and headed towards my office door.

“Oh, and Ms. James?”

She turned around and looked at me, her eyes red and filled with tears. “Yes, Nick?”

“It’s Mr. O’Hara from now on. Please address me as such. It’s time for you to show me a little respect.”

She said nothing, just nodded. I could hear her sob a little as she opened the door and let herself out.

Then, as soon as she left, I was needing my Kleenex myself.

Because I cried like I hadn’t cried since I was a small child.

Truth be told, that was the main reason why I forced her to leave my office in such a hurry.

I didn’t want her to see me cry.

Chapter 44

Scotty

I have to find a private place to cry. I cannot cry at my cubicle. Everybody will see me.
Fortunately, it was lunch-time, so I made my way out of the office, my head down, my Kleenex in my hand.

“Scotty,” Robin, another intern said. “What are you doing for lunch?”

I just shook my head, and walked faster. If I turned around and talked to her, she would instantly know that I had been crying. Then she would want to know why, and I would have to lie to her about it. I didn’t even know what I would say if she did ask.

Robin was the biggest gossip and the nosiest person I had met at the firm. If she got wind of anything involving Nick and me, that would be all she wrote.

“Scotty, wait. Where are you going?”

I walked faster, until I hit the door of the office suite and hurried down the stairs. I wasn’t going to wait for the elevator, especially since I saw a crowd of people waiting for it, most of whom worked at the firm.

I walked down the 70 flights of stairs, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed loudly, hoping that nobody would be joining me in the stairwell. Sometimes people take the stairs, if they’re trying to lose weight, but I felt safe, knowing that nobody would be crazy enough to take the stairs from the 70
th
floor. So, I was able to bawl as much as I could. I felt my entire body wracking with sobs, and I felt sick to my stomach.

It took me about 20 minutes, but I finally reached the bottom floor. I walked through the lobby, ignoring the guard who greeted me by name, and got out into the street. I was soon lost in the lunchtime crowd of people, who were bustling to different restaurants.

I had no idea where I could go where I would be sure not to see somebody from the firm. I couldn’t go home. Home was too far away, and would take too long. I was determined that I would not miss any work, so taking the rest of the afternoon off was out of the question.

I finally decided just to find an alleyway and sit next to the dumpster, so that people off the street wouldn’t be able to see me. And then I bawled. I bawled for the next half hour, and then it was time to head back up to work.

I got back to my cubicle, grateful that I had an entire roster of projects that were assigned to me from various partners, none of them Portia. That meant that I didn’t have to actually see any of the partners. I put my head down, and worked through the tears that were constantly threatening throughout the day.

You have to concentrate on these projects. Get through this day, then go home and take a nice hot bath and have a glass of wine. Get a movie on Netflix, and try to forget about Nick’s cruelty.

I took a deep breath.
I got this.
I had been through far, far worse than this in my life. It was but a bump in the road. Yes, I finally found a guy who I was willing to slowly learn to trust, despite my misgivings about him, and his evident proclivity for women. Now that kernel of hope that I could be a normal girl with a normal boyfriend, and maybe, one day, a normal husband, was gone.

So, it was time to refocus and recommit to the one thing in life that I could control. That was my architectural career. Everything that happened to me in my professional life was within my own power. There were no random things that could happen that could throw me off, like a fickle man. Yes, a life devoted entirely to work would be a lonely one, and maybe even heartbreaking. But there was not the potential to send me reeling, like Nick just did.

Five o’clock finally came, and I dashed out the door and towards the subway. I managed to get through the day without a single person trying to talk to me about anything, so I felt lucky. Because I was not in the sociable mood.

When I got home, I opened up a bottle of wine and got in the tub. I sucked down the wine straight from the bottle, and cried for hours. I ended up getting out of the tub some three hours later, water-logged, exhausted and completely drunk.

Then got in my jammies and cried myself to sleep.