Hot Water (8 page)

“We’re going out to tea!” Joely pops out from behind the wall of my cubicle. “In honor of our new intern!”

“Tea?’ I ask, thinking,
How English
. Mouth full, I point to my turkey sandwich. “I don’t really have any money.”

She waves me off. “Oh, it’s my treat. Actually, Williams’ treat. They always let us take out the newbies for tea their first day. It’s a tradition. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the crew.”

We go to a little bar across the street, where there are three of the most runway-ready girls I’ve ever seen, waiting for me. They’re all decked out in professional black dresses—not suits, with high heels that must pinch like a mother. Their make-up is impeccable, their hair in flawless up-do’s despite the wind outside, and they positively exude indifference, much the way Caden had. I want to slink away, in my ugly old-lady clothes and boring, stick-straight blonde hair.

Joely introduces me to the girls—Violet, Jacinta, and Charlotte—and the one guy, Dax, who looks like a mini-executive. They all seem happy enough to meet me, shaking my hand with the tips of their manicured, bony fingers. Even Dax must get manicures, because his fingers are smooth and without a callous or hang nail in sight. Violet, with her chestnut hair and big, blue eyes, smiles at me like I’m a puppy, then drawls to Joely, as if I’m not even in the room, “Oh, she’s adorable. Just adorable.”

It’s obvious they all know I’m
The Young One
. Great. As if I wasn’t self-conscious enough. I’m sure that when I leave, they’ll be talking about how fashion-clueless I am.

When I sit down, I’m hit with an obnoxious wave of scent—their expensive perfumes are fighting against one another. “We already ordered,” Jacinta, the tall, Amazonian girl with golden hair, says when the waiter arrives. “What do you guys want?”

Joely urges me to go first so I scan the menu quickly and say, “Um, I’ll have a Fairy Godmother,” because it sounds cool, even though I really don’t drink tea. Joely gets a chamomile, and instantly I wish I’d gotten the same.

“So you just graduated high school?” Charlotte, the petite Asian girl asks.

I nod.

“And you’re going to college in the fall?”

“Yes. Rutgers.”

I expect them to know the school, but they all screw up their faces like they’ve never heard of it. Never heard of the biggest University in New Jersey? Okay. After that, they quickly lose interest in me and start checking their iPhones.

Our teas come. Joely’s is normal, but I made the mistake of ordering something stupidly ostentatious. It’s a steaming cup of water in a wine glass, and inside it is a closed flower bud, slowly opening. It looks strangely hideous, like demon spawn. We all just stare at it for a moment.

“Wow. That is one ugly fucking drink,” Jacinta says.

I blush. I know I’m not even going to try it. It might bite back.

They tear their eyes away from my drink and start talking about shopping. Charlotte has a birthday next week, and they have a heated argument about whether she should treat herself to a Coach or a Michael Kors purse. I like purses as much as the next person, but I have a better chance of getting struck by lightning than affording a Coach purse with my nonexistent salary. I start to zone a little.

“Really, the best birthday would be Las Vegas,” Charlotte says wistfully.

They all nod in agreement. Jacinta says, “When do they decide?”

“Not until next week,” Joely says. Then she turns and explains to me, “There’s a big trade show in Vegas in July. Three interns get to go to assist.”

“Oh. Cool,” I say, thinking it probably doesn’t apply to me. I’m so new, after all.

“Three of us have to hang back, of course, and man the ship,” she continues. “I’m one of them. I can’t go because of college classes.”

“I’ve volunteered every time it comes up. I’ve done everything short of sucking off Caden Williams,” Jacinta says.

My ears perk up at the mention of his name. Violet grins. “Why don’t you?”

“I have a better chance of getting with Channing Tatum,” Jacinta says, giving Dax a look. “
New York Daily
’s sexiest eligible bachelor for the past decade. Come on. Show of hands. Who around this table wouldn’t eagerly suck Caden Williams’ cock if he asked?”

I nearly choke.

Dax, annoyed, immediately throws his hand in the air. “Why do I have to hang around stupid chicks all day?”

But nobody else raises a hand. Jacinta pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Screw off, Dax. We make you look good, and you know it.”

Joely raises her hand. “If I didn’t have Matt, I’d be right with you all,” she explains to me that he’s her boyfriend of three years, and that they’re mere minutes from getting engaged.

“Is Caden who chooses who goes?” I ask.

Jacinta nods. “He’s the last word on everything. He’s senior partner in the firm and pretty much handles everything, because his dad has been going batshit lately. Have you
met
Caden Williams yet, sweetie?”

I wish I hadn’t. I wish I could just say “never met him” so that my face won’t flush, something I know happens whenever I even think of him. But Joely knows I’d just been in his office. I nod. “He’s . . . cute,” I mumble, feeling every bit eighteen. A silence ensues. Did I really call him
cute
? Men like Caden may be many things, but cute isn’t one of them. And is he really
 New York Daily
’s sexiest bachelor?

 “So Cicily,” Joely says. “What’s the dirt on you and that meeting? You said you’d met some of them before?”

I knew this would come up eventually, and I’d initially told myself that I’d just deny it all. Or just say that my mom had introduced me to them once, a few years back. End of story, nothing to see here. But looking at these oh-so-mature and worldly people, who seem to find their iPhones way more interesting than me, I quickly change my tune. “Oh, yeah,” I say with a nonchalant shrug. “I partied with Caden Williams and Rhys Bradley last weekend.”

They all look up from their phones. Jacinta says, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. They’re . . . nice.”
Cute? Nice?
My powers of description know no bounds.

“Nice like shit!” Jacinta cries. “Tell us more!”

They all stare at me expectantly. Of course they’d want details. I’m quickly wishing I’d kept my big mouth shut. Hadn’t I told Mr. Williams, my boss, the big guy, that I’d keep it between us? Shit. “There’s not much to tell. We just shared a limo,” I backpedal, doing damage control.

Jacinta grins wickedly. “Our little Miss Chase has a wild side, I see. But we’ll need more information than that. I can’t believe that you just rode around in a limo with those two, and that’s all.”

They all seem rapt. Joely points out, “They call Caden Williams the Iceman because he never shows a ripple. Last year, when the market crashed, all the executives were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and he didn’t seem fazed at all.”

That sounds about right. Despite the obvious shock of seeing me, he hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t created a scene. He was in complete control. Well, until my skirt fell . . . oh, God. That hadn’t really happened, had it? I shrug off the memory, which is making my face hotter than a fever. “It’s nothing really. It was a bunch of people, besides them. Can we please keep this quiet? I don’t like to gossip at work.”

“That’s very noble of you. Whore,” Jacinta mutters, with a teasing wink.

Dax says, “It wouldn’t be Monday if Jacinta wasn’t going around calling people she just met whores.”

Jacinta ignores them, and leans over the table toward me. “I suppose we will just need to pry it out of you. I know. If you and I end up going to Vegas, I will get you drunk, and you will spill all.”

Violet laughs. “Jacinta, she’s underage.”

“Fuck that,” Jacinta sighs. “The girl has the face of an angel and a big rack.” She stares directly at my chest. “You’re eighteen? Fuck. I’m jealous. What are you? Triple D?”

“Just a C,” I answer, feeling warm, wondering, do professional people talk about their bra size with people they just met? I slowly cross my arms over my chest.

Still, she continues sizing me up like something at the grocer’s she’s planning on buying. At least she does not squeeze me like a cantaloupe. “Look at those eyes, too. Big as a baby’s. She looks so innocent.”

Joely says, “That’s because she is innocent.”

“Anyway. She’s stacked. The clubs will welcome her with open arms. Age is inconsequential.”

Wait, what did she just say about me? Was that supposed to be a compliment? “Seriously,” I say, getting all red-faced. “There’s nothing to pry.
Nothing
happened.”

Joely comes to the rescue. “Jace. She isn’t even nineteen. If she says she just shared a limo with him, that’s all that happened. You guys have evil, evil minds, and I won’t have you tainting our little Cicily.” She puts a protective arm around me, and I know the red has risen up to my ears, because they’re burning. If only they knew some of the things
sweet little Cicily
had been doing last weekend.

They all start to nod, accepting Joely’s explanation. Then Jacinta mutters, “I don’t know. I was a slut when I was nineteen.”

“Shocker,” Dax quips.

Everyone, even Jacinta, laughs.

I’m grateful when Charlotte changes the subject. “Have you ever been to Las Vegas?” she asks me.

I’m too embarrassed to tell her that I’ve never really been anywhere outside of the tri-state area. “No. Have you?”

She shakes her head, and we share a smile. I can already tell that I like her. She’s more reserved than the others, more . . . my speed.

“I have. I’ve been to two bachelorette parties in Vegas. It is one big fucking party,” Jacinta sighs. “And the shopping is out of this world, too.”

Joely says, “Don’t let Elena hear you say that, or she’ll make sure you don’t go.
This is not a vacation. It is a work function.
”

My ears prick up at the mention of my mom’s name. Joely does a pretty good impersonation of her. They all turn to look at me, and then Joely clears her throat, embarrassed. But I smile. “Hey, I grew up with her. I know what a hard-assed bitch she can be.”

They all laugh. And for the first time today, I relax. I think I’ve made some friends.

Caden

“So that was a nice surprise, eh, Cade?” Rhys says when while we’re waiting in the lobby for our dates to arrive in the limo. It’s another benefit, this one for Lymphoma. I attend at least one a week, and while for me, they all blend together, this is the type of thing Andrea lives for. It’s not that she really cares about Lymphoma, or any of the other causes. She lives for wearing new gowns, socializing, putting on airs. My mother was the same way. Those things are important, when you’re a Williams.

Unfortunately, I’d made plans to go to this one with Rhys and his slut of the week. And there is no more uncomfortable feeling than going on a double date with your fiancé, and a guy who knows what your fiancé’s cunt feels like.

 I shrug in answer to his question. Surprise is not something we show. It indicates uncertainty. Which we do not accept in my line of business.

“She is one hot piece,” he says. “You going to hit that again before you get yourself down the aisle?”

I shake my head. He knows I’m not. He knows that I don’t shit where I eat. It ended the second I found out she was an intern.

And I know what he’s thinking. He’ll make his move on her this week. He can wear even the most pristine and innocent of girls down. She’ll probably wrap her legs around him and once again he’ll rejoice in fact that there’s nothing I can have, that he can’t. It’s been that way all our lives. Awards, Harvard, promotions, girls. He’ll rub my face in the fact that he earned these things, while I only got them because I’m a Williams. Life as a Williams is so fucking easy, he thinks. I just coast.

Right
.

Andrea and the slut arrive. Andrea is truly stunning, with her strawberry blonde hair and statuesque, dancer’s body wrapped in a short red dress. She turns heads, and mine was no exception. She’d gone to Vassar, and is one of the top image consultants in the United States. She got that way by knowing exactly what to do and how to act in any situation. She is well-prepared for all of life’s little emergencies. Even if the world were ending, her smile would not change. She does not ripple, does not ever lose control.

Yes, she is a Williams, through and through.

Even last Saturday, when I confronted her, she was completely composed. Rhys and I had been drinking all day, because we’d been out on the golf course. We went into the club and were just reminiscing about some of the wild things we’d done during college. We’d pretty much done it all, usually when we were fucked up . . . but that was then. Then he said that last year, right after my dad’s stroke and a few days before I’d proposed to Andrea, he’d come over to our apartment. He came over all the time because he lived only a few blocks over, and this time, I’d been in Vegas for the annual conference, so they thought they’d watch movies together. She was pissed because we’d been dating for a year and I’d kept putting off the marriage talk. They ended up getting drunk and fucking on my bed. I spent the whole time listening to his entire bullshit story, not showing a care, stamping out all that rage swelling inside me before it could bubble over.

Rage is a negative emotion.

In my head, I tried to come up with some way to twist it, make it positive. But how do you make
that
positive?
At least my fiancée and best friend don’t hate each other
?

When I got home, I calmly asked Andrea if it was true. She said, just as placidly, that yes, it was, but “we’ve come so far since then.” She proceeded to apologize and apologize until I just wanted to forget about it.

She knew, everyone knew, that I couldn’t just walk out. I couldn’t just tell her and Rhys to go to hell. Rhys is like a brother. Well, I can’t say that because he’s no match for Cam. But he knows me better than I know myself. Hell, I know him so well I should have suspected some shit like this. And Andrea, well . . . she was the one. The one that fit into the life I was trying to build for myself, like a glove. Not to mention, the papers would have a field day with this. I couldn’t just end it. So I sat there, for the longest time, trying to make myself okay with it, while Karl and my groomsmen were sitting downstairs in the limo, waiting for me.