by Adams, S. C.
Too bad the one guy I want to see probably doesn’t want to see me again.
I still hate myself for making the prostitution comment. It never felt like that with him. Sean was so loving and gentle with me. I was terrified to lose my virginity, but he made me feel like I was at home in his apartment. He took control but still let me call the shots. He was absolutely perfect, and I’d ruined it.
Is Sean thinking of me now, too? It’s early in the day, so I imagine he’s sitting at his desk in his plush corner office. He’s on the phone with a client in China or some other foreign country, and he’s closing deals with his beautiful British accent.
It’s only been two days since I last heard the way my name falls off of his English tongue, but I can barely hear it anymore.
Will I ever hear it again?
In our two-week relationship, Sean and I never had a single fight until two days ago. It’s healthy for couples to have arguments, or so I’ve heard. Jenna and her boyfriends would usually scream at each other for hours before having rowdy make-up sex. Sometimes I think she picks the fights on purpose because she likes what comes after so much.
We’ll work this out, I tell myself. Sean will forgive me for my unkindness. I just have to get out of here first.
The problem is, I don’t think Sean can afford to wait for me. He’s almost twice my age. His biological clock is ticking. If he wants children, he’ll have to act soon. If he wants forever with anyone, it’ll have to start soon.
I thought we could be that for each other. I know I’m younger than him, but I adore him so much. We would make adorable children together! I would make sure they had his accent. Maybe we could even move to England for the kids to go to school!
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Sean and I haven’t spoken in days, and the last time we did, it was us yelling at each other. I have no reason to believe Sean and I will get back together if I’m released from my house of hell.
No matter how many times I remind myself of this, my heart doesn’t seem to get it. I sew a hem into the dress I designed yesterday, yet the only occasion I can think of to wear it is on my next date with Sean.
My parents have taken literally everything away from me. They’ve stolen my phone, my computer, my job, and my social life.
I won’t let them take Sean, too.
Whatever it takes, I’ll get him back. I have to.
I don’t think I can live without him.
22
Sean
I pace in front of Havisham’s, feeling like a fool for the second time in less than a month. I have every right to walk into this building! So why am I so nervous?
It’s been one week since the incident with Maggie. I’ve called her a few times, but she hasn’t answered. She doesn’t even read the texts I send. If Maggie doesn’t want to talk to me, I should move on.
Yet here I am, struggling to force myself back into Havisham’s in the hopes that she’s here. My next fitting wasn’t supposed to be until next week. My poor assistant, Greg, had to call the shop to fit me in on yet another rush order. This time, I came up with the excuse that I needed a new suit for a nonexistent trip to England next month. Since Greg manages my schedule, he knows I don’t have a meeting next week. He’s a great assistant because he made the appointment anyway.
My watch reads five minutes ‘til two, which means I’ve been standing outside this building for almost thirty minutes. My appointment is at two sharp. I have a meeting to get to at 3:30, so I need to be done here by then. If Maggie’s not in, or if she refuses to see me, then it won’t be hard to make the meeting. If she is here, I might need to reschedule my meeting. Our dressing room will be the perfect place for some hot make-up sex.
A gray-haired couple walk hand-in-hand from Havisham’s door. Roger waves them off, thanking them for their visit and promising to call when the man’s suit is ready. The squirrely man spots me before I have a chance to hide.
“Sean!” he says, though with his high-pitched voice, it sounds more like a scream. I should have brought my mother along to see how the man bows when he sees me. “I heard you were coming in. What are you doing outside?”
I hold up my phone as an excuse. “I just finished an important call and was about to head inside.”
Roger smiles at me so widely that I can see both rows of his teeth. “Excellent! Come on in, and I’ll get you taken care of. What do you need a suit for again?”
Coming here was a horrible mistake. If Roger hadn’t seen me, I could have escaped, but now, I’m trapped here with him. He won’t let me leave until I’ve made an expensive purchase. At this rate, I might spend my entire fortune on suits from this store.
“I have a business meeting in England next month,” I lie. “The clients are extremely important, so I need to look good when I sit down with them.”
He claps his hands together. I love coming to Havisham’s because of the quality of the suits and the fast turnaround time, but if Roger is going to continue working here, I might need to find somewhere else to come. He’s that annoying.
I might be more annoyed with him than usual because I don’t see Maggie anywhere. She’s a tailor, which means she generally stays in the back, but I’d hoped it would be easy this time around. Ideally, Maggie would have been the one to spot me, not Roger. She would have beckoned me into the building and dragged me to the dressing room for a repeat of that night we shared a week ago.
Instead, I got Roger.
“We have just the thing!” Roger trills, breaking me out of my Maggie-fueled daydream. This is good. If he finds me a suit, I’ll request that Maggie come up and do my measurements. That won’t be considered weird since she’s the one who measured me the last two times I came in.
I follow Roger to what I’ve come to realize is the expensive room so that he can show me his version of what I need. While we walk, my mind wanders to the day Maggie and I met.
I know now it was her first day working at Havisham’s. That explains her curiosity. She was peeking through the black curtain that separates the store from the work area, and when our eyes met, I’d felt something. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but I’ve got a pretty good understanding now. I felt it again the other night when I was emptying my load inside of her. It wasn’t just lust; it was something more, something deeper.
I’m afraid to say it out loud.
After that split second we shared, I asked Roger to send out his youngest tailor in the hopes that the girl I saw would be the one to help me. It was just my luck that Maggie had walked into the dressing room looking crazy hot and crazy nervous. I knew I had to have her right then, and I did. I would give anything to have her again.
I’m not looking for just one more night with Maggie, though. I’m looking for a lot more than that. I think, for the first time ever, I’m looking for forever.
What a terrifying thought that is.
“We just got this new style in, Sean, and I think you’ll love it!” Roger says, once again interrupting my thoughts. Can’t this guy take a hint and realize I don’t need him showing me around all the time? I’ve shopped here enough times to be allowed to search for what I want without a chauffeur. The guy means well, but he’s too much for me right now.
Of course, I can’t say anything because he looks like the fragile type. Roger would probably cry if I sent him on his way.
The guy looks so hopeful as he holds up a suit for me to consider. It almost looks like denim fabric, but it’s not. The color is washed but brilliant. It’s light blue without being the color of a baby boy’s nursery. Underneath the jacket is a vest that buttons like an overcoat rather than down the middle. I like the way the brown, wood-toned buttons look against the blue fabric. The suit buttons match the ones on the vest, completing the look.
I can see myself wearing this with a patterned shirt, maybe some kind of zig zags or stripes. The shirt would have to have a solid white collar, though. I don’t do patterned collars. I’d finish it off with a striped tie, mayb
e red and blue. There’s no need for a pocket square or any special lining. For the most part, the suit screams for itself.
I love it. There is something good to be said for having someone else do the shopping for you. I likely wouldn’t have picked up this ensemble for fear it was a pair of jeans someone tossed on a hanger and put on the floor. Roger may be annoying, obnoxious, and overly ambitious when it comes to his upper-class customers, but he certainly knows how to shop.
“I think I should try it on,” I tell the man, eliciting an even brighter smile than before.
“Of course! After you, Sean!”
Roger follows me to the private dressing area, and I quickly change into the full suit. It doesn’t look as good with the plain, sea-foam green, button-up shirt I had on with my gray suit, but I can imagine what the whole thing will look like with the proper under attire.
“Wow, sir, that suit was made for you!” Roger exclaims. The sleeves are too long and the pants are a bit baggy, so clearly it wasn’t actually made for me. Roger does have a point, though. I feel like this suit is tailored to my personality, though not yet tailored to my body.
I take in my full body in the mirror. “You chose well, Roger. Thank you for your help.”
“It was entirely my pleasure, sir. I think this was our fastest visit yet!”
He’s right. It normally takes two or three tries to find exactly what I’m looking for. Maybe Roger is getting to know me a little too well. Or, more likely, he got lucky on the first try this time around. I’m sure we’ll be back to our usual run-around the next time I come by.
“You’re going to make a splash at your meeting next month,” Roger continues. “I don’t think they have anything like this in England!”
England is much more fashion forward than we are here, even compared to New York. There are likely businessmen walking around in this fabric already. I decide against telling him this, considering I’m not going to England next month anyway. I don’t know when I’ll wear the suit, only that I’ll make sure to find an occasion. It’s not an office kind of outfit. I need to wear the suit for a special occasion. I’ll have Greg search my calendar to find the perfect event.
“Shall we get things sized for you, Sean?”
This is my moment! “Yes,” I tell him. “Can you have Maggie do it? She’s really done such a great job these last few visits. You should be glad to have hired her.”
Roger’s face reddens. “Maggie is no longer employed with us,” he informs me.
“Excuse me? Did you fire her?”
“We didn’t have to,” he says. “She quit. She called less than a week ago and said it wasn’t working out and that she would be returning to her parents’ store instead. The girl didn’t give notice or anything, just up and quit without returning! Her things are still on her desk in the back. I haven’t had time yet to hire her replacement…”
My head spins. “I thought she loved this job. Why would she quit?”
“Beats me. She left me high and dry, though. I thought I’d hired a professional when I took her on. Clearly, I thought wrong.”
That doesn’t make any sense. Maggie really did love this job. It was her gateway to being a fashion designer, like she has always dreamed of! Did she quit because of me? That’s possible. Maybe she thought the only way to avoid me for good was to quit working at Havisham’s.
I hope that’s not the case. If she’s so desperate to get away from me, I could have taken my business elsewhere or ensured I never had her as my tailor. Instead, she up and quits!
“I will tell you this,” Roger adds. “She sounded a bit strange on the phone. I would have thought it was a prank, but she hasn’t shown up to work at all this week, so I guess it was real.”
Before I can ask what Roger means by Maggie sounding strange, an older tailor arrives to get my measurements. I do love this suit, so I obey her every command until I’m sized and ready to go.
“We’ll have this ready for you before your trip, sir,” Roger assures me. I feel bad that he’s going to rush my order for a nonexistent business meeting. “And we’ll see you next week for your final fitting for the wedding tux!”
I thank him for all of his help and start toward the door, but a beep from my phone stops me.
The display shows one unread text, so I open it up. The message came from an unknown number, and all it says is, Maggie is in trouble. You have to help her.
I read the message over and over again, trying to make sense of it. Maggie is in trouble? What kind of trouble?
I don’t have a chance to ask the mysterious sender. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and break into a sprint.
If Maggie really is in trouble, I’m going to help her.
That’s what you do for the people you love.
23
Sean
The location of Maggie’s apartment is ingrained in my brain. It takes me ten minutes to run there from Havisham’s, and when I arrive, I’m drenched in sweat. I wish I’d worn something lighter. Had I known I would be running a mile, I would have dressed appropriately.
The entire way here, people stared at me like I was crazy. It’s not like you don’t see people running through the city streets on a daily basis! I’m way too anxious about that text to worry about what these people think, though.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should be worried about the meeting I’m about to miss, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in my life, I’ve found something more important to me than work. I can’t wait to tell Maggie! That is, if she’ll ever speak to me again. Hopefully, coming to rescue her will help me plead my case.
I’m pretty sure Maggie’s parents are at their dry cleaners. According to Maggie, they spend every day from nine to five there. Sometimes, they end up staying later, depending on how many orders they receive. My watch reads just before three. I have two hours before there’s even a chance that Maggie’s parents will arrive home. Even so, I have to work fast. If something really is wrong, I bet it has to do with her parents. That means they might decide to check up on her throughout the day.
I know in my heart that Maggie is up in her apartment. I can’t explain it, but it’s like I can feel her calling out to me.
There’s a directory outside the door. I search until I find Maggie’s last name and hit the button, but no one answers. Good, that means my assumption is right; Maggie’s parents aren’t up there.
Unluckily for me, the door to the building is locked. I can’t wait for someone to come and let me in. I don’t have that kind of time!
The building is flanked by another tall apartment complex and an alleyway. I jog down the alley and spot the fire escape. This is perfect! Maggie’s apartment is seven floors up. I’m making an educated guess that the fourth window down belongs to 7D, Maggie’s apartment.
I drag down the fire escape ladder and climb it as quickly as possible. At least after that first one, the rest are steep staircases rather than ladders. I break into a run, taking the stairs two at a time. What are six flights of stairs after running ten miles? My personal trainer will be thrilled. He’s constantly telling me to add more cardio into my daily life.
By the time I get to Maggie’s floor, my shirt is completely soaked through. I’d tossed off my suit jacket by the third flight of stairs and let it float down to the pavement, hoping it would make my ascent easier. It didn’t work, and that jacket is expensive. I’ll have to go back for it when this is all said and done. Hopefully, it doesn’t get taken by a homeless person or some rowdy teens before I make it back.
Finally, I run into some luck because the window to what I’m really hoping is Maggie’s apartment is already open a couple of inches. I take a quick glance around to make sure no one sees me. I don’t need the cops showing up and arresting me for breaking and entering. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I open the window all of the way and break through the screen, climbing into the eclectic apartment.
A photo hanging on the wall lets me know
I’m in the right place. Maggie described her furniture to me that night in my apartment, so even without the photo, I would be able to recognize the place. Her parents really do like some crazy stuff. Where do you even find a couch that looks like it was made with fabric that’s been sewn together from other couches?
I can’t get distracted by the furniture right now, though. I have a damsel to save. “Maggie?” I call out. I wait, but there’s only silence in return.
There’s another set of stairs inside the apartment. Seriously, didn’t I already hike up, like, a million stairs? How can there be more?
I sprint up to the second floor of Maggie’s apartment. There are only three doors up here, and one is wide open. Inside that room, there’s a cheap desk, two filing cabinets, and a plush office chair. That chair probably cost more than the rest of the furniture in the entire apartment combined. Unless, of course, Maggie’s parents found it on the side of the road. A lot of offices throw out furniture, so the second option wouldn’t surprise me much.
“Maggie?” I try again. The first door I try to open is locked. I drop to the floor and peek underneath. There’s only darkness behind this door.
Finally, I head for the last door up here. If Maggie isn’t in there, I don’t know what to do!
“Maggie,” I yell through the thick wood. “Maggie? Are you in there?”
I try the knob, but it’s locked too. This time, when I check under the door, I’m greeted by a stream of artificial light.
“Maggie! Open the door!” I practically scream. I add a few hard bangs to get my message across.
“Who is it?” a tiny voice responds. “Sean? Is that you?”
I lower my tone. “Maggie, it’s me. Open the door, please.”
A soft sob echoes down the hall. “I can’t; it’s locked. I can’t leave this room.”
Oh my God, the text wasn’t lying. Maggie really does need my help!
