The Charade (11 page)

The part I hated the most came next. No cuddling. No moist pecks on the cheek. Simply stone cold sex. Slippery, steamy, and grinding, but stone cold nonetheless. How could he be so cut and dry with me?

“Now get back to work,” he said chuckling. “Boss’s orders.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, I said straightening my hair in the mirror. “
Lunch
tomorrow?”

He cleared his throat. “What about you not wanting me anymore?”

“Since when did you start following my lead?”

“I like a woman who’s decisive. A woman who knows what she wants.”

“Well, what if I don’t know? You’re not the easiest person to read Victor.”

Creases formed on his brow. “I think you need to get back to work.” He tilted his head towards the clock.

“This won’t happen again.”

“Fine.” I couldn’t figure out if he was upset or content with my demand. His face displayed no emotion. “I respect your space. I admire a woman who is focused on her career. I’ll stay out of your way. And if we do cross paths, I’ll pretend as if I you don’t exist.”

“Fuck off, sir,” I said streaming out his office. What reason did I have to believe him? Our time together had been built on sex, not trust. I prayed our secret remained in his office. If it got out, everybody would think I only got this job only because I fucked the owner. But how did I know it wasn’t the truth? I cursed myself for taking the job. I always thought of myself as someone with integrity. How could I criticize Chandra for what she did and not criticize myself? It left a sour taste in my mouth.

***

I sat in my car at lunch with the windows rolled up. I picked at the wilted lettuce in my Tupperware bowl. How could I eat at a time like this? Dirty. Ashamed. Disgusted. I could go back in there, suck it up and roll with the punches. Or I could start my car, drive home and never go back. Neither one of them were a wrong answer.

“Dammit Tasha!” I said beating the steering wheel with my fist. I walked back into the building and finished my shift.

The day would have been hellish if Tyson didn’t ask me to join him and a few other co-workers for drinks later. After pulling my leg, I obliged.

***

An invisible cloud of grease floated above us and the aroma of hickory smoked barbeque filled the air. The smell fried foods made my mouth water.  So much for the diet I wanted to go on. A strawberry margarita called my name.

Buddy’s was the typical sports bar. The walls were adorned with football and basketball jerseys. Tunes from the year’s top forty blared through the speakers. My ears were sure to be ringing tomorrow morning. It took me back to the two years I spent at Michigan State. Stumbling out of bars after watching the men’s basketball team dominate their opposition over two dollar ‘you-call-its’ and spicy chicken nacho’s. A lot of those drunken memories involved Tyson. And to think, here we were again, sitting in a sports bar sharing appetizers. The only thing different was we weren’t college students trying to party throughout the week with ten dollars to name.

Cynthia, Amanda and Shannon joined us, but they were the first to leave. They all had to tend to screaming children at home. They left a few singles for the tip and bid us adieu and just Tyson and I remained.

“The margaritas here are good but they…” he said.

“Will never be as good as Buster’s!” I said. My palm slapped his bicep. A sculptured piece of granite.

“Oh my god! Every Thursday night.” I stuffed another jalapeño popper in my mouth. “Nothing will ever beat those. One drink and you’d be lit like a Christmas tree.”

“Our heads were pounding the next morning in statistics class.”

“You strolled in class with your hoodie and sunglasses, thinking you were hot stuff.”

“I
was
hot stuff, what are you talking about?” He smiled. His charm never left. “I still
am
hot stuff.”

“What. Ever.”

“Let’s not forget you; coming to class with those SpongeBob pajama bottoms.”

“Those were comfortable.”

“I bet you still wear them.”

“I don’t!” He tilted his head at me, making me fess up. “Okay, I still do.” We burst into laughter. “They’re a little tight on me nowadays, but still comfy.”

“You always did look cute in them.”

Dead silence.

“Well…you seemed to have done well for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not the class clown you used to be.”

“I would hope not. It doesn’t really get you where you need to be unless you aspire to be a standup comedian.”

“This is true.”

“When you get to be a certain age, life begins to be about results.”

“Lord knows that’s what I need in my life.”

“I thought you’d be married by now. You always talked about your red and white house, planting chrysanthemums in the front lawn.”

“Wow, was I that corny?”

“A little. It was adorable.”

“It’s funny how things change. Life gets in the way of your dreams sometimes.”

“Exactly.” His voice deepened. “It’s also funny how two people could be a perfect match for each other, but nothing happens.” He sighed. “Life gets in the way I guess.”

“Some people just weren’t able to see what’s in front of them.” I swirled my tongue around my straw. My pupils were stapled to his gaze.

“I see now.”

The waitress came over disrupting the thickening silence between us. “You guys all set?” she said.

“Yeah, I think were good,” Tyson said.

“Great.” She put our bills down on the table. “I’ll take these us when you’re ready.” Tyson snatched them up before I could look.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I reached for my copy and he yanked them back.

“Not a chance. These are mine.”

“I can pay my own way.”

“I know that,” he said. He scribbled his John Hancock on the paper. “Besides, you remember how many times you let you let me use your meal card junior year? I need to pay back what I owe.”

“You’re right. I think you used it more than me.”

He tilted his head and smiled at me. “We should do this again some time. Just you and me.”

“I’d like that.” I’d like it more than he knew.

***

It was a usual Monday: men and women brainstorming ideas about writing copy, carrying tablets, and clipboards zoomed by as Bobbie took me on a tour of the building. It resembled a small campus. At least that’s the way it was intended. Intended by Victor. She said he wanted the environment of a community college where everyone knew each other. Ideas were welcomed from anyone: from the lowliest intern to the lady who ran the falafel stand in front of the building. She poured Jamaican roast blend into my Styrofoam cup as she told the story of the meager beginnings of the company. She offered me cream and sugar, but I declined.

We walked past the tiny workout facility. I rarely saw gyms in office buildings. Bobbie mentioned earlier in passing that Victor desired a company rooted in health and wellness. A sick employee can’t be a productive employee was one of his mantras. She said Victor poured his heart and soul in the agency. He could have easily purchased some obscure agency, fledgling on its last financial legs and make it a major player in the industry, but he chose otherwise. What originally started as a vanity project, it soon became his baby. He normally did business in computer software, but he wanted something more tangible and less binary.

He grew up as a young boy watching a lot of television. While the other kids minds wandered when the commercials came on, he was the only kid whose eyes stayed glued to the screen. He thought some commercials where better than the cartoons or sitcoms he watched. A forty five second clip had him dreaming about a toy for weeks on end. Those few seconds mesmerized him. She said those commercials he saw as a kid laid the ground work for the building I walked in.

Victor poured huge sums of money into the company. Those who were impressed by his achievements in the tech world doubted his acumen in the advertising world. He wanted to prove them wrong. Every last one of them. I asked her how did he go from mastering one field to going into another and knowing very little, if anything at all about it.

She said, “Victor, just read a lot of books.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Well, I was here from the beginning. He worked long hours. Longer than anyone I’ve ever seen. He practically lived in the office. His financial handlers said he devoted too much time and money into this pipedream. But he loved the challenge.” She stopped to gather her words. “Mr. St. James has a will that refuses to die.”

Money not being an issue, Bobbie said that profits weren’t much of a concern – a cutting edge service was what mattered most. His dedication to it bordered on insanity she said. “Everyone thought he was crazy; a billionaire who created this company out of thin air because some jerk at a poker game said his success in the tech industry was a fluke.” She held her hand out to show me the scope of the building. “You have to hand it the man. He humbled himself, rolled his sleeves up and went to work. When he sets his sights on something – he won’t stop until he seizes it.”

I knew the feeling all too well.

Bobbie and I shared an onion bagel in the break room as she continued to discuss the culture of success they cultivated over the years. I couldn’t help but finally understand why I and countless other women were attracted to men like Victor – men who have power. “They have an insatiable drive for achievement,” she said. “Settling doesn’t satisfy them. It’s mostly not about the money, it’s about the freedom to make their dreams a reality. The ability to dictate and control their environment. They really are what you could call alpha men.”

It was the truth. I felt helpless with him. As long as I was around him, I felt safe, protected.

I listened to Bobbie. I hoped I wasn’t staring at her, but I hung off her words. She believed in Stellar and Victor. He had a way of captivating people with is presence. She said she could see him running for office in a few decades. I hadn’t seen that side of him. The only side of him I saw was his sweaty body contorting on top of mine.

“He’s a very demanding man. Some may find him intimidating and oft-putting, but he only wants you to rise to the level of commitment he’s risen to.”

I would’ve used another word besides commitment to describe Victor, but I played along. “Hard work and dedication is virtue,” I said. “I think I’ll be a good fit for this company.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” She took another bite. “Mr. St. James is obviously fairly young. His sacrifice to see this company succeed severely caused a dent in his personal life; to the point where he really doesn’t have one.” She spread a dab of cream cheese on a slice. “I believe that’s admirable. Too bad today’s women – women who are his age – don’t see the virtue in that type of philosophy.

It was impossible to not be enthralled by Bobbie’s narrative of Victor. I imagined Victor speaking into a microphone to a crowd of thirsty, wide-eyed employees, mesmerized by his nouns and verbs; inspiring them to rev everybody up and increase profits. All one hundred of them, ready to follow his lead – almost cult like.

I rested my chin in between my thumb and finger, soaking in each description which came from Bobbie’s mouth. I only knew Victor sexually. I wanted to know more of this enigma called Victor.

***

“Wait a minute. So you mean to tell me the plan was to keep him out of your life, but you decide to work for the company he owns? Do I have this understood?” Chandra asked. I reluctantly nodded, bracing myself for the barrage of ridicule. “So, how’s that working out for you?” She muffled her laughter from wiping a towel on her face.

“It’s not funny,” I said, huffing and puffing.

“I don’t know much about him,” Chandra said pushing the button to increase the treadmill speed. “He’s a newbie to the whole scene. I don’t think he’s like the others.”

“He might as well be. It was only about sex between us.” Knowing what I know now, I’m surprised he hasn’t left a few hundred dollar bills on the nightstand for me.”

“And you’re complaining?”

“You’re crazy.”

“So do you like the new gig?”

“Tyson is my supervisor,” I said increasing the speed and incline on my treadmill. Sweat dribbled off my face. Chandra put her water bottle up to her lips and squeezed. The mere mention of Tyson caused her to spit her water on the treadmill screen. Her coughing turned to laughter. Several women close to us, pumping away on their ellipticals, looked at us to survey our conversation.

“Wait. Tyson? Tyson Glover?”

“Tyson. Glover.”

“You mean the one who was perfect for you, but you two for some odd reason never hooked up?”

“Well we did make out after the Kappa’s Halloween party. But I was too drunk and passed out in his bed. When I woke up the next morning, it just felt awkward. We never talked about it from that point on and I held my feelings for him inside.”

“I still never understood why. You two had crazy chemistry.”