Rocked by Him (4 page)

I knew I should have taken the subway back home, but I wasn't in the mood to figure out where to get off. So I hailed a cab. The driver tried to talk to me, but I just stayed quiet.

By the time I got back to my building, I felt like crap. All that rum had gone straight to my head, but rather than washing away all the stuff that happened to me that day, it was all I could think about.

As I stepped into the brightly lit lobby of my building, the concierge gave me a look. I knew I probably didn't look that great, either. My hair was a mess. My clothes were wrinkled. But I didn't care. It wasn't like I had anyone waiting for me upstairs that I had to look pretty for.

"Good evening, miss," the concierge said.

"Yeah."

I walked over to the elevator, dreading the ride up. Dreading going into my empty apartment. At least while I was at work, dealing with Bud and throwing myself at my first assignment, I hadn't been thinking about Jerry.

The LED
screen showed the elevator descend to "1," followed by a ding. I stepped in as the door slid back, pushing the button for my floor.

Was there any booze left? Or had Jerry taken it all? It would be like him to come
back and steal it all away from me.

Then an arm shot into the shrinking gap of the closing door. The door halted, then began opening.

That guy I saw earlier, the one with the bitchy girl, came in. He held hands with another bar tramp with bleach blonde hair and a killer body. They crowded me into the corner as he kissed her, one hand flailing back to try and press the button for his floor.

I scrunched my nose. Her perfume was cloying in this small space, tickling the back of my throat.
So thick my eyes started watering.

I hated them. I hated him, I hated her. Just because they were able to enjoy themselves at that moment and I wasn't.

She ran her hand through his hair, messing it up. He didn't seem to care that much. His hands were busy messing up a few things, too.

The elevator dinged at his floor.

"Which way is your place?" she said, panting, trying to drag him out into the hall. They'd been kissing the whole time, so it was no wonder they were out of breath.

"Down this way, babe," he said, letting her pull him along.

The door started sliding closed behind him. I looked at his back, at that skull stitched onto the back of his jacket.

Then he looked over his shoulder at me. He smiled and winked, as though we were sharing some secret.

"Ass..." I said as the door closed fully and the elevator started climbing again.

But even as I said it, I don't think I really meant it. Aside from being a
manwhore, he hadn't really done anything mean to me. In fact, all he'd really done so far was notice me.

***

That hangover hung out with me for the entire next day. Also, it was my first day to start taking the subway to work.

All those flickering lights, that medley of beeps and announcements, the mix of music blaring from cell phones and iPods.
Not to mention the smells! Yeah, all that didn't help with the hangover either.

There were dark circles under my eyes that I tried to hide with an oil-based
concealer. I put so much makeup on that I might as well have had a layer of fondant over my cheeks.

When I finally did get into the office, the air conditioning felt too sharp against my skin. It was like the middle of winter in there. I walked as softly as I could, trying to avoid that jarring jolt at the back of my skull.

Each step, I promised myself that I would never drink again. Or at least, nowhere near that much that quickly.

And no more rum.
I swore that stuff was made by the devil himself.

The fluorescent light cut into my eyeballs, and I almost grabbed my sunglasses out of my purse. Luckily, I got to Lucinda's desk. I didn't know whether I should go straight to my cubicle or not, though I realized it was a gamble. I might have to see Bud again.

She looked up at me, then did a double take, her fingers jerking.

"Did he do something to you?" she said.

"What? No. I... I went out last night. Hey, do you mind if we talk quieter?"

"Sure," Lucinda said, lowering her voice so that it was just above the level of the office din. "I knew I shouldn't have left. It's just... He's..."

"I understand," I said.

We both glanced at the closed door to Bud's office. He roared with laughter in there at something, and I winced as his voice cut into my brain like a knife. I really, really hoped that I didn't have to go in there to get my assignment for the day.

"I don't suppose you have my work?"

Lucinda opened a drawer in her desk, flipping through various folders. She bit down on her lower lip as she squinted down, and I wondered if she needed glasses. Then I had an awful thought: what if Bud didn't let her wear them? He seemed like that sort of
‘60s misogynist prick, wanting a perfectly pretty secretary.

She pulled a folder out and handed it to me. It was almost twice as thick as the one from yesterday. And I still had a bit of that to get through.

Then, glancing over her shoulder first, she pulled out a small bottle of amber liquid. Jack Daniels; I could make out the remains of the black label. She kept it hidden by her desk, so that only we could see it.

"Some hair of the dog that bit you?" she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

I wanted to say yes, but I thought I could throw myself at my job better with a hangover than with a buzz.

"No thanks. But thank you, really. Maybe after work we could grab something?"

As I said it, I regretted it. All I wanted to do after this was go home, curl up in bed, and sleep through the entire night. Oh, and pump myself full of aspirin to get rid of that hangover.

"Sorry, got a date tonight.
Maybe some other time?" Lucinda said, sucking her breath in through her teeth and then glancing back to make sure Bud hadn’t heard.

Relieved, I agreed and then went to my cubicle to lose myself for another eight hours. Though, this time I told myself to actually get some lunch.

***

It felt like I'd only just sat down. I cradled my head with one hand, not caring how it messed up my hair, as I stared at the computer screen. The brightness was turned most of the way down, so that I had to squint just the barest amount to see the PowerPoint presentation opened on it.

I had a few pieces of paper spread out across my desk, all of them bullet points, talking points, buzzwords about the thermal properties of a new type of plastic. I had to have the presentation done by today, since Bud needed to give it to prospective clients tomorrow.

If I skipped lunch, I thought I would have just enough time.

Then the phone rang. I swore under my breath as I grabbed the receiver. I needed to figure out how to turn the volume down on it,

"Jennifer Snow," I said.

"Sweetie! Why don't you just come on over to my office. I got something I need to run by you," Bud said, the bluster in his voice muffled only slightly by the phone.

I looked at the clock on my monitor. I really needed all the time I had. But he was my boss.

"I'll be right over."

I walked over to his office, shooting Lucinda a questioning look. She shrugged.
That instantly made my bad feeling worse. If it was company business, wouldn't Bud's secretary know about it?

Shouldn't she have been the one to call m
e to his office?

Bud headed me off at the pass. Just as I was about to tell Lucinda that I needed a washroom break, he opened the door.

His face was like a swollen red tomato, the whites of his teeth like a line of mold across the flesh as he smiled at me.

"Sweetie!
Come right on in," he said, stepping back so that I could move past him.

Before he shut the door, he said, "Hold my calls, sugar. I'll let you know when we're through in here."

"Yes, Mr. Lough—"

He shut the door, cutting her off. It felt like he'd just cut off my only chance at escape.

"Take a seat," he said.

Since the only chair in his office was behind his desk, I knew he meant to hop up on his desk like he enjoyed doing.

"I'm good standing."

"Have it your way, sweetie," Bud said.

Sweetie? Why did he like calling me that so much? Did he think I was some little girl? Was he going to ask me to put some pigtails in my hair for tomorrow?

The hot knife twisting in the back of my skull started going faster. I could feel the blood vessel in my forehead doing its best to pop out of my skin.

I was hungover, dumped, and in a terrible mood. I didn't deserve any of this!

"Mr. Loughery..."

"Bud!" he broke in, leaning against his desk and clasping his fat fingers over his stomach as he smiled at me.

"Bud... I don't mean to be 'that girl,' but could you please stop calling me 'sweetie?' My name is Jennifer.
Or Miss Snow."

Bud held his hands up in mock surrender. God, he really must've thought I was a little girl.

"You got it, Jennifer. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday."

Was he going to apologize? For a second there, I felt almost happy. Perhaps the world wasn't such an awful place after all.

"It's okay, Bud. We all have urges..." I began.

"I just wanted to know if you thought it over. You
know, my offer? It... still stands."

He put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb into the flesh just below my clavicle. It was an insistent rub. A hungry rub.

A revolting rub.

Before I could think, I slapped his hand off me. His eyebrows shot up as I jumped back.

"You don't have to be mean about it, sweetie."

"Mean? Mean! Mr. Loughery, this is sexual assault!" I said through clenched teeth. The strength of his grip left a lingering ache in my shoulder.

His phone buzzed. Bud leaned over his desk to push the intercom button.

"Yes, Lucinda?"

"Is everything all right, Mr. Loughery? I thought I heard shouting."

"Everything is fine, sugar. You just keep on holding my calls. Got it?"

He let go of the button before Lucinda could reply.

"Well?" he asked, turning back to me.

I never understood in movies and books when a character talks about their mouth dropping open out of shock. That just wasn't how people acted. Or so I thought.

My mouth did drop open then.

"No," I said.

"Are
ya sure?"

"Never.
Not in a million years."

Bud sighed. It was a long-suffering,
exasperated sigh. A sigh that made me actually feel like I was five, and that I'd just done something to displease a grown-up. I really, really hated this guy.

"Well, that's unfortunate. I have a call to make, so why don't you get back to work on that presentation?
Oh, and here's a bunch of new material I need you to look over and add in. Got it, sweetie?" Bud said, sliding a folder across his desk towards me.

I picked it up and leafed through it. My stomach dropped. This was going to take at least another two hours to go through! I wouldn't be able to get out of her until seven or eight, at the earliest.

"There a problem?" Bud said. He started drumming his fingers on the polished desktop, leaving little, oily prints behind.

I couldn't deal with that right then. It felt like evil little critters were behind my eyeballs, trying to push them out of my face.

"No," I said.

He motioned to the door and I left. It took the last of my willpower to avoid slamming the door behind me,

I thought about asking Lucinda for a nip from that bottle, but she was busy on the phone. Hefting the new folder in my hands, I went back to my cubicle and sat down feeling dirty, violated somehow.

It was going to be a long night. Though, I thought again, there really wasn't anything waiting for me at my apartment, was there?

So, with mixed feelings, I went to work.

As on my first day, everyone emptied out of the office at five like the place was burning up around them. Someone even started turning out all the lights before I stood and yelled out a "Wait!"

It was quarter to nine, the warm light of the sun replaced by the harsh artificial light of the city, by the time I stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was still pretty busy, Madison Ave. still choked with yellow taxis and pedestrians clogging the sidewalks.

At least the subway wasn't quite as busy as before. The bright light down there hurt my eyes. I knew I'd been staring at that computer screen too long. It was like someone was holding a pair of lights right behind my eyeballs.

My shoes also seemed to be having a contest over which could pinch my toes the most. I reached down to take them off when the train pulled into my station.