by Claire Adams
“Thanks.”
“She’s a lovely girl.
“She is.”
“You always hire the good ones.”
“She’s a friend of Jonathan’s, actually.”
“Lucky guy.”
“Not that kind of friend. She’s my girlfriend, actually.” The words just came out; it wasn’t like I’d given them any thought at all. I think Billy was as surprised as I was, but I tried to keep my face expressionless.
“That so?” he said after a minute. “’Cause I could’ve sworn that just the other day when I was down at the office and I asked her, she said she wasn’t seeing anyone.”
“Times change.”
“Dating the employees. That didn’t work out so well with Annie now, did it?”
He had an amused expression on his face. The bastard was enjoying this immensely, and I hated him for it. But the last thing I wanted was to let him see that I was bothered by it.
“You know, my dad has a very strict policy against . . . fraternizing like that with employees,” Billy continued. “It’s not an official thing or anything, but everyone knows that you don’t shit in your own backyard. And it’s funny . . . Daisy and I talked for quite a while—she didn’t mention anything about the two of you.”
“We’re trying not to advertise it to the world.”
“Well. She suddenly had to take off, so quickly, in fact, I didn’t get to ask just what it was that had come up. But since you’re her boyfriend and everything, I’m sure you’ll find all that out. It’s not nice, though, you know. Keeping all the good women for yourself. You probably never shared your toys in the sandbox, either, did you?”
“See ya later, Billy,” I said. I was seeing way too much of Billy McAllister lately.
Chapter Twenty
Daisy
When Caroline and I were done at the Thai place, I headed home. I had turned the ringer off on my phone, but I had a few texts and missed calls from Ian.
Hey, the first one said. Just got down here, see that you’re gone. What are you up to?
I was tempted to text him back. Part of me wanted to. But another part of me didn’t want to because I didn’t just want to be another one of his secretaries that he slept with. I scrolled through and read the two other texts he sent, so focused on what I was doing that I almost ran straight into Noah. I didn’t realize it was him at first and started to apologize, but then I saw his face and stopped.
“Daisy, it’s me,” he said.
“I know who it is,” I snapped. “And I’m not in the mood for this. Now or ever again, actually. You need to leave me the fuck alone.” A tiny part of me felt bad for being so harsh, but I really felt like he was leaving me no choice.
“How can you say this?” he asked, looking crestfallen. I could feel my anger building, any guilt for using bad language vanishing.
“I can say this because that’s how it is. And sometimes you just have to accept things that you don’t agree with, or don’t want to, especially when it concerns another person who doesn’t happen to share those feelings!” I waved my phone at him. “And I have my phone out, and if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he said quietly. “You know I would never hurt you, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t know that,” I said. “Because we don’t actually know each other. And you’re stalking me. So that tells me that you’re a little mentally unbalanced. So how am I supposed to believe that you might not try to do something crazy and hurt me?”
“I know we don’t completely know each other yet. I’d like that to change.”
“Well, it’s not going to. I don’t know if this tactic has worked for you with other women, but it’s not going to work with me. I am not interested, Noah, okay? I really don’t know how else to say it.”
“This isn’t some tactic of mine,” he said. “I’m doing this because I feel a certain way toward you that I have never felt with anyone else before.”
I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as though I was a parent trying to explain something to a surly toddler. “Listen, Noah,” I said. “I want to tell you something.”
“Okay,” he said, perking up like he was expecting that I was about to confess my love for him. “I’m all ears.”
“Good,” I said. I stepped to the side so a group of three girls walking by could get past us. Noah didn’t even seem to notice them. “I got a smoothie with you because you asked; I thought you seemed like a nice guy. We didn’t hit it off. The connection just wasn’t there. I’m sorry, but there are plenty of other women out there in the world, trust me. One day, you might find someone who feels the same way about you that you do about her. Except that’s not going to happen if you dedicate all of your time and energy to following me around.”
He was shaking his head. “Why would I feel this way about you, then?” he asked. “Are you saying that I can’t trust my feelings?”
“Maybe. If your feelings are telling you that I’m the one, then yes, you can’t trust your feelings in this case. It happens. In fact, it just happened to me. I thought that I had met this guy that I had an amazing connection with, but it turned out, it was all in my head. Sound familiar? And yes, it sucks, and your feelings very well might be telling you something completely different, but if the person in question is telling you that they just don’t feel the same way, then you need to accept it. Okay?”
“You met someone?” he asked dumbly.
I stared at him. “Did you hear a word I just said? Yes, I met someone, but he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him! And that doesn’t mean I’m going to start skulking around outside his apartment building and following him around in the hopes that he’ll suddenly have a change of heart. In other words: the same thing that you need to do. This is the last time I’m going to say this, or acknowledge you. If you decide not to listen to me and I find you hanging around here again, I’m just going to walk right by you and not say a thing.” Even as I was talking, I knew what I was saying wasn’t getting through to him, but I didn’t know what else to do. He just had this look on his face like he was one hundred percent convinced that I would eventually change my mind.
I left him standing there and hurried into the apartment building, glancing over my shoulder as I shut the door. He was watching me, his hands in the big front pocket of his sweatshirt. Why was he always wearing a sweatshirt? It was the middle of summer. Maybe he had something in the sweatshirt, like a knife, and he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab me and hold the knife up to my throat and keep it there until I promised I would be his girlfriend. Such an idea should’ve been laughable, but the more he persisted with this, the crazier he seemed. And what would I do if that happened? What would I have done right now if he had rushed up behind me as I was opening the door and pulled the knife he most certainly had hidden in his sweatshirt out and told me I had to do exactly as he said, or he was going to plunge it into my heart? I would’ve been completely helpless to do anything, I realized, because I had no clue what to do in a situation like that, other than run away screaming.
I didn’t want to be completely helpless though. I wasn’t going to rush out and buy a gun or anything, but maybe some sort of self-defense class would be a good idea.
Once I was inside my apartment with the door locked and the deadbolt on, I went over to the window and peeked out. No one was there, just a guy walking by talking on his phone. Where did Noah go? Had he gone home? Or had he slipped out of sight somewhere, but was still close by? He had only been a nuisance until now, but I was suddenly overcome with the idea that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t stop this.
The next morning, I woke up and made coffee. I looked out the window again as I drank my first cup, watching people exiting their apartment buildings, heading to work, cars driving past, two girls out for a morning run. Noah wasn’t anywhere in sight, though I knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there lurki
ng somewhere. There was still that part of me that hoped against hope he’d just lose interest, find some other girl to stalk.
I went over and sat down on the couch and opened my laptop to check Facebook and Instagram quickly before I started to get ready for work. I’d deleted my original accounts after this whole thing with Noah started, but opened another using my middle name in place of my last name. So instead of Daisy Conklin I showed up as Daisy Mae. I had about a third as many friends on here as I did on my original accounts, but I actually liked that better.
I scrolled through my feed on Facebook, and then there it was, people I may know: Ian Roubideaux.
I’d looked at his page before and had decided not to friend him; and, so far this morning, I’d been doing a decent job of not thinking about him, but now here he was, right there on my computer screen. I clicked on his page and scrolled through some of his pictures, of which there weren’t a ton. He was very photogenic and just seeing his face made my whole body ache.
I forced myself to stop looking at his page after I finished my cup of coffee. I needed to get ready for work, and I also needed to get myself ready to face a day with Ian. It seemed so strange that you could go from being beyond excited to get to see someone to actually dreading it with every fiber of your being.
When I got to the office about an hour later, he wasn’t there yet, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d be out all day. It was just Jonathan, stirring sugar packets into his coffee. Jonathan was easy to talk to, like Billy.
“Hey, you,” he said. “How’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately, which is funny since we work in the same office!”
He laughed, and I laughed too, wondering why, if I was going to get involved with a guy that I worked with, it wasn’t Jonathan. He was so nice; I could tell that the first day I met him at the gym. Just one of those really nice guys who you could tell of your problems to and he’d listen—really listen—and probably be able to offer some pretty good advice.
“I’ve been okay,” I said. “Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Oh yeah? What’s up?” he asked, looking at me attentively.
“Well, since this is a security company and all, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for a good self-defense class. For someone like me, who’s a total beginner and doesn’t have any experience with that sort of thing at all.”
He smiled. “It’s funny you should ask that, because as a matter of fact, I have taught self-defense classes before. I did it mostly in college, but all the employees here have mandatory self-defense training they have to complete. I don’t teach that class, but it’s something I’m still pretty knowledgeable on. I’d be more than happy to give you some pointers if you’d like. Or you know, I think they also offer a class at the gym. Wasn’t there a flyer hanging up for it in the lobby? I can’t remember.”
“It’s been a while since I was last at the gym,” I said. “I don’t remember seeing it, though. And . . . if you wouldn’t mind showing me, that would be great. I’d probably just end up embarrassing myself if it was in a group setting.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Nah. I doubt that very much.”
“Well, thanks for saying that.”
“Just let me know when a good time for you is, and I’ll teach you everything I know.” He looked at me closely “You sure everything’s okay? You sound a little down.”
“I just . . .” I let my voice trail off. It wasn’t going to change anything to talk to Jonathan about all of this, I knew it—if anything, it might make him look down on me for getting involved with a boss—but I suddenly found the words spilling out of me before I could do anything to stop it.
“It’s Ian,” I said. “I thought that he had these feelings for me, but I was obviously so, so wrong about it. And I feel like such an idiot now. I only found out because I was waiting for him at Failte and he ended up having to do something first, so he was late, and Billy McAllister was there, and he started telling me about the other admin that worked here . . . Annie? And how Ian was involved with her . . .”
I stopped talking, because Jonathan was getting a really weird look on his face. It was hard to read; some cross between utter confusion and abject horror.
“Wait . . .” he said. “What?”
“Did you not know about Annie?” I asked.
“Yeah, I knew about—” He stopped. “No. I didn’t realize that Ian had a relationship like that with her. I guess that explains why he fired her.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m the sort of person who sleeps around with her boss,” I said, even though that’s exactly what I was. “It was a mistake. He just seemed so . . . interested in me, and I’ve never had a guy like that show any interest in me before. Aside from my crazy stalker, I don’t think any guy has ever really had an interest in me at all.”
“That’s not true,” Jonathan said, a pained expression on his face. He looked really caught off-guard that Ian had been sleeping with Annie, and I felt bad that I’d been the one to break the news to him. “Have you . . . slept with Ian, too?”
“Yes,” I said. “I didn’t realize that was his M.O.; sleeping with his secretaries. I’m not going to do it again, though. Really, I should just quit and get another job, but I had no luck after I got fired from the salon, until you got me this interview. And I know that you probably played a big role in me getting hired, so I appreciate it, and I don’t want to do anything else to mess that up.”
“Of course not,” he said. He took a deep breath, his shoulders going almost all the way up to his ears before he exhaled loudly and they relaxed again.
“And listen . . . maybe you don’t have to mention to Ian that I told you any of this. I’d just like to forget all about it. I’m going to focus on my job, and I’ll probably start looking for work somewhere else, but in the meantime . . .”
Jonathan’s expression was still hard to read. I wondered if he thought Annie had been fired for a different reason, or if he was now looking down on me because he knew that I had slept with Ian, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ian
I’d been sleeping like shit ever since Annie told me her news, plagued by these dreams where I was being chased around by an infant the size of Godzilla. I didn’t stand a chance against the thing. At work, I tried to just go about my day like nothing was amiss, but I knew I was giving off some pretty tense vibes; everyone else could sense it, too. I told Daisy I was sorry I had been so late the other night to meet up with her, but that I’d sent a few texts once I got down there. She nodded but didn’t really say anything about getting the texts or why she hadn’t bothered to respond. Another day that sort of thing might have annoyed the hell out of me, but I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to really be fazed by it. As the day wore on, though, I noticed that Daisy was steering clear of me, and Jonathan couldn’t seem to wait to get out of my office after he came in to talk about Martin’s upcoming boat extravaganza. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The mirror reflected back a tired-looking face that needed a shave. Or a good stiff drink.
Daisy was quick to rush off right at five o’clock, barely even saying goodbye, saying something about having to go meet up with that friend of hers, Caroline. Hanging out with Daisy was probably the one thing that might have had a chance at improving my mood, but I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be around me right now; I didn’t even want to be around me. I’d leave here and go for a run—obliteration of thoughts through exercise seemed to be the only hope I had now for a good night’s sleep.
But I’d kept catching Jonathan throwing me these weird looks all day, and I knew he was wondering what the hell was going on with me. Normally, I wouldn’t be one to share my problems like some teenage girl, but I hadn’t told anyone yet and maybe talking about it would help.
“You’re not going to fucking believe this,” I said to him as I came out of my office. “I’m not looking for symp
athy or anything, but I’m telling you because I want you to hear it from me, not her.”
“Sure,” Jonathan said. “What’s up?”
“Annie’s pregnant.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Is it yours?”
“No, it’s some other guy’s, but I thought we could pool our resources and throw her a baby shower . . .Of course it’s mine. Well, that’s what she’s saying, anyway. That’s not a surprise to you, is it, Jonathan? You knew, right?” We hadn’t talked about it by the water cooler or anything, but I’d always assumed that Jonathan had known that I was banging Annie; it wasn’t the sort of thing that she would be quiet about.
“Of course I knew,” he said. “Anyone walking into this office could tell that. So she’s pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“And she’s keeping it?”
“I tried to convince her otherwise, but . . .”
“You tried to convince her to get an abortion?” he asked skeptically.
“I don’t think she’s really ready to be a mother, to be completely honest. I sure as hell am not interested in being a father. Nor am I interested in getting together with her, as I’m sure she was initially hoping. Pregnancy is not a cure-all for any relationship woes, and we weren’t even in a relationship.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll say. Well . . . what are you going to do?”
“Pay child support, I guess. Be involved when I can. But if she thinks that we’re going to be going to the playground together and holding hands while we push Junior on the swing, she’s got another thing coming to her.”
“Is she going to take you to court? For child support?”
I stared at him. “Why would she do that?”
“Sometimes that’s how it happens. Some people want to get everything drawn up legally, so there’s no gray areas. Court can be expensive.”
“I’m aware.”
“My cousin went through something similar. They were married though. Dan, remember him?”
