Rocked by Him (9 page)

After buying a stamp, I put the letter in the mail. From there, it was only a short walk home. I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it crept upwards, the machinery winching it up groaning. The stainless rail felt cool against my hands.

A smile tugged at my lips. I felt well and truly good. Work had gone well (by well, I mean no interruptions) and I'd given my parents a helping hand.

It was cathartic. Not having that little, acidic ball of anxiety in my stomach as a constant companion was a strange sensation.

Then the doors slid open and I propelled myself out into the hall. The aroma of pizza hit me and my mouth watered. Living in an apartment you got to know exactly what all your neighbors ate.

As I approached my door, I saw a slip of paper taped over the peep hole. I pulled it down at the same time as my hand slipped into my purse, feeling around for my keys. I guided the key into the lock, the gentle clicks of the tumblers barely audible.

The contents of the small note made me smile. As soon as I got inside with the door closed behind me, I pulled out my phone.

Drake had left me his cell number, along with a short message telling me that if I could resist the urge to text naughty photos of myself, he would return the favor.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't keep myself from giving Drake at least some of the credit for my good mood. Who knows, if he hadn't showed up, booze in hand, I might be packing, getting ready to head home right at this very moment.

Also, I couldn't hide from myself a touch of disappointment that he wouldn't be sending me any photos.

I sent Drake a few texts detailing a few hangout possibilities, but received no answers. That was slightly disheartening, but I put it down to him being otherwise occupied.

That thought brought up a sudden flare of hot jealousy through my chest that startled me. Kicking off my shoes, wriggling my toes a little and sighing at the relief freedom offered, I plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.

An episode of
30 Rock
was playing, but at first I couldn't focus on it.

Why should I care if Drake was with a girl right at that moment? It's not like we were going out, not like we were exclusive. I mean,
jeeze, we were hardly more than acquaintances still.

But the more my mind circled around the idea, the more that initial flare of jealous
y grew into a hot flame. It got worse when the images began flitting through my mind.

Drake, shirtless, rolling around in his bed with a girl.
Touching each other, enjoying each other. Being with each other...

Another heat began warming me at these nightmarish images, and I pushed back against that as well.

Lunging forward, I snatched the black plastic remote from the coffee table and jammed the ball of my thumb against the volume button. Quickly, Alec Baldwin's gravelly voice filled the room. It was so loud I knew that my neighbors would be banging against the walls, floor, and ceiling in a few moments to get me to turn it down.

But it worked; I got those damn images out of my head. Soon, I found myself laughing at the screen. Then I wondered what to eat for supper. In what seemed a flash, I found myself turning out the lights, pulling the curtains closed as I got ready for bed.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, feeling the mattress give slightly under my weight, my body anticipating the warmth of the blankets and the cushioning support of the pillow with relish, I realized that I hadn't really thought about Jerry at all. That made me smile.

It really had been a good day. Part of me still wondered how tight things were going to get when mom cashed that check. Another part kept
itself busy contemplating why Drake had yet to return my texts.

But I denied those parts any sort of controlling interest in my mood. If they got their way, I would be up all night tryin
g to solve those emotional Rubik’s cubes.

No, I told myself, a good day was a reward in and of itself. Who knew? Maybe this was the start of something wonderful.

At that moment, an image of Drake's stubbly faces appeared in my mind’s eye, and I permitted myself a few moments to wonder at that. The start of something wonderful? Yes, please.

I reached over and checked the time on my alarm, then snuggled deeper into the covers, rubbing one
foot against the sheet to generate some friction.

I really did miss having another warm body in there with me. I had almost forgotten how cold I got in bed.

Sleep grabbed hold of me some indeterminate, yet short, lapse of time later. My final thoughts were of a hope that today wasn't just some sort of hiccup, that it all really wasn't too good to be true.

***

Some of that contented feeling still lingered as I sat at my desk the following day, stuck on a slide talking about the thermal properties of the new plastic garden faucet taps.

I'd been there a good hour at least, and lunch seemed so far away. So, for the third time in as many minutes, I tugged my grey skirt back down to my knees. Then I checked my phone. The rubber-like slip cover on the device felt warm to the touch, thanks to my holding on to it the past fifteen minutes.

I got the thought in my head that Drake might reply faster if I held on to it. Or, rather, that I might respond to him with greater speed if I eliminated the time-consuming task of picking the phone up from its traditional spot beside my keyboard.

I'd sent him a "good morning" text before leaving for work that morning, and he didn't reply in kind. He also still hadn't given any thoughts to the ideas for get-togethers I'd sent him the previous day.

A real jerk move, if you ask me. I kept resisting the urge to text or call him until he finally answered. I didn't want to be "that girl." You know, the clingy, jealous one who needs to know exactly what her man is doing at all times.

Not that Drake was my man.

I kept thinking about how he probably had his phone off, or on silent, while he slept in, some beautiful, naked girl tangled in the blankets beside him, both of them still covered in a sheen of sweat from their earlier endeavors.

"Damn it, Jennifer!" I said under my breath. I couldn't deal with this right now; I had
work to do.

So, with a great effort of will, I set my warm, slightly sweaty phone down beside my keyboard. I even managed to keep my eyes on my monitor for a good fifteen seconds before glancing down at the cell to see if he'd texted.

Shaking my head at my behavior, I bumped the volume on my ringer up another notch and triple-checked to make sure it wasn't on silent.

Why was I acting like this? It was really, really too soon after getting dumped for me to feel like this. I needed to concentrate on my own life, on being with myself for once.

But Drake's handsome face refused to leave my thoughts. It took only a moment's idle daydreaming to see his features swim up from my subconscious, only a few moments for my thoughts to stray to wondering what getting kissed by him might feel like.

Forcing my senses back to the present, I skimmed a few lines on the printout of a product description and then typed a few words into the slide describing how the new taps resisted heat and cold better than the old metal ones. The keys tapped beneath my fingers, and I found myself acutely aware of exactly how much pressure each stroke took to make a character appear on the screen.

Looking down to check my finger placement on the keyboard, I saw my phone again. My eyes refused to unlock from it.

Maybe he'd texted while I was typing...? The clacking of the keys could get really loud...

My willpower crumbled and I checked the phone again. Nothing.

This time, I went so far as I to bring up his entry in my contact list. My right thumb hovered over the green phone icon, ready to call him so that I might demand to know what game he thought he was playing.

And so my morning went, creeping with a sort of inexorable slowness towards lunch. All this frustration compounded inside me, slowly suffocating that sense of contentment and happiness, replacing it with irritation and helplessness.

It even crept over into my slide show. I created a slide dedicated to all the downsides and negatives I could find in this new wonder product. I even smiled smugly as I thought of Bud getting to this slide in his presen
tation and trying to justify it, since I doubted he went through to vet them first.

My fingertips pounded harder in the keys. The sound reminded me of hail pattering off a car's roof.

The air conditioning chose that moment to kick on, and I winced when the cold air touched me. Goosebumps broke out over my shoulders, leaving me with that unpleasant sensation of being uncomfortable in my own skin.

Then the phone rang. Its electronic tone jolted me, and I stared at it before my brain recognized the reason for the noise.

Picking up the receiver, I said, "Yes?" with a bit more venom than I intended.

"Jennifer?
Mr Loughery wants to see you in his office right away," Lucinda said.

She didn't deserve that tone of voice, I knew. I wanted to apologize, but only managed an "Okay," before hanging the receiver up.

I stood up, wondering if this was the universe getting even with me for having one good day. Fate had accidentally deposited some good will into my account, and was now trying to collect, telling me that it hadn't been mine to spend in the first place.

A couple people glanced back at me from their cubicles as I wended my way over to Bud's office. I offered sheepish smiles. Just how loud had I been typing, anyway? Had I been saying anything? Giving voice to my frustrations?

Lucinda glanced up at me as I came up alongside her desk.

"Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that..."

"Don't worry about it. Mr Loughery wants to see you right away," she replied.

It had been a bit since he'd seen me. I wondered what he wanted, and put the question to Lucinda.

The phone rang when she opened her mouth to answer, then offered a shrug instead.

"
Mr Loughery? Yes, she's right here, sir. I'll send her in. Thank-"

He cut her off. She looked at the receiver,
then we both shared an eye roll as she hung up.

"Better go in," she said.

"Want to go out for lunch?" I said, slipping past her desk and reaching for the door latch. It was almost noon, and hunger was just starting to sink its teeth into my stomach. Lucinda nodded. That made me feel good. I didn't want to get on her bad side. We could be friends, I knew. Having a friend at work would be really good. Especially one who could relate to having a crappy boss like Bud.

My fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the latch when I heard the chirp of my phone. Other people had that default noise for their texts, too, but I doubted anyone else had their volume up this high at work. My
heart rate picked up, and I wanted to run back to my cubicle right then. It had to be Drake. No one else had any reason to message me.

But Lucinda looked over her shoulder at me, and Bud probably saw me at his door. I couldn't go back. Not until Bud said his piece, at least.

So, wanting to get this over with quickly, I went into his office and stood in front of his too-big polished desk.

"Yes,
Mr Loughery?" I said.

Bud spun around in his chair to face me. He smiled. "Jenny! How
ya been, sweetie? Haven't talked in a couple days. All's well?"

I clasped my hands in front of my hips and squeezed my fingers. I could feel, as well as see, his eyes travel over my body. They displayed a naked appreciation, and a hunger that made my own appetite go sour.

Just get through it, I told myself. Drake's text is waiting.

"If you mean the slide show on the new garden hose taps? It's going well, yeah. I'll have it ready for you by the end of the day." Now that Drake had replied to me, I knew that I could spend the rest of my work hours getting that damn presentation done.

Unless he says something bad, I thought. A cold feeling swirled at the small of my back.

"Good, good! Glad to hear it. Why... Why don't you tell me about it a bit more before you go?" Bud said.

Then he pushed back from his desk a bit. He patted his thighs.

It took me a second to see what he wanted. I balked, my mouth dropping open. He doesn't actually want me to sit on his lap, does he? I thought.

Then he rubbed his thighs again, giving the fat things that stretched out his slacks a good slap.

Oh, God! He does!

"Just come on over and have a seat! Tell me all about it!"

Instead, I took a step back. Bile pushed up my throat, my appetite completely gone. I wished I had a thick winter coat on right then, one that went all the way down to my feet and had a big, fur lined hood I could pull tight to hide my face. I didn't want him looking at me.

"You can't be serious..." I said.

"The more you keep
resistin', the more I like ya, dear. Now come on around the desk and tell Uncle Bud what he wants ta hear..."