Love Bites

by Rachel K. Burke

  Just as I turned the corner, there he was. All six foot two inches of lying, cheating, married boss scum. Casually standing in his office doorway, scrolling through his Blackberry. It’s funny how quickly our perceptions of people can change. Last week, I would have drooled over his carved biceps, waited for his eyes to give my tight gray sweater a once-over. Now I just wondered if he was texting his wife another lie about where he was going to be later.

  Then came the moment I dreaded. I attempted to tip-toe quietly to my desk, but before I turned the corner, his gaze found me. Our eyes connected for a brief moment before I looked away and bolted to my seat. My heart was pounding. Sure, the thought of a dateless Vincent surrounded by a bunch of expensive plates had seemed amusing on Friday, while David and I clinked martini glasses together, but now, not so much. The fact that my job was on the line kind of sucked the humor out of it.

  I turned on my computer and waited impatiently for it to warm up, silently hoping I’d have some imperative email that would save me from him. An emergency intern meeting. A Monday-morning fire drill. Something.

  No such luck. I could feel him hovering over my desk, but I refused to look up. Instead, my eyes remained on the screen in front of me as I pretended it wasn’t completely blank. I practiced my best perplexed facial expression, the one I always used when trying to avoid someone. I narrowed my eyes, crinkled my eyebrows together, and tried to look really engrossed in something, like my computer was broken and I was desperately trying to find the solution. I hoped my expression would read, “Sorry Vincent, but I’m just so busy right now that I don’t have time to look up and see your disgusting married face. Oh, and by the way, how was that steak?”

  “Good morning, Justine.” Ugh. Even the sound of his voice made my skin crawl. I couldn’t believe that a few days ago, I’d found it sexy. Now it just slithered into the middle of the room like a snake.

  “Good morning, Vincent,” I said coldly. My eyes were still on the computer. Luckily, it had finally come to life and prompted me for my password, so I was able to avoid eye contact for another ten seconds as I slowly typed it in.

  He waited for me to look up. And waited. Finally, realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, I looked at him. He eyed me warily, a faint sneer on his face. It was as if he was saying, “Two can play at this game.”

  “May I see you in my office for a moment?” Ever so polite, that Vincent. Such proper manners.

  Without a word, I stood up and followed him to his office. Inside, everything was still in the same place as when I’d last seen it – leather couches propped against the back wall, giant glass windows overlooking the city – but it felt different. It didn’t feel like the warm place where we’d escaped every day, laughing over coffee while Vincent filled me in on office gossip. It felt cold. Dirty. Like a prison.

  “That was quite the stunt you pulled on Friday,” he said, shutting the door behind him. I watched as he crossed the office and took a seat at his desk, the sneer reappearing. “You know, if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just said so.”

  “Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” I asked sweetly.

  He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, looking as though he was unsure of how to respond. I took a deep breath, remembering David’s advice.

  “Listen,” I said. “Given the circumstances, I think we should just keep our relationship professional from now on.”

  “Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”

  I wanted to slap the shit-eating grin off his face. Clearly, he thought there was still a small chance of victory. That I’d had my fun, gotten my revenge, and we were even now. But there was no way I’d be able to resist his Italian charm forever. Someday, I’d reconsider. I’d cave.

  Luckily, the next chess move was mine.

  “You’re right,” I said ever-so-seductively, inching closer to him. I clasped my hands together and rested my elbows on my knees, allowing him a clear view of the cleavage lingering beneath my gray v-neck sweater. “That wouldn’t be much fun, would it?”

  He shook his head as the devilish look in his eyes grew.

  “But actually,” I said, pulling myself upright. I put on my best perplexed look again, pretending to consider my options. “I think a custody battle would be far less fun, though. Don’t you?”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I watched his eyes darken, and took that as my cue to exit.

  “I’ll see you at two o’clock to go over the new ad campaign,” I called to him. Then I shut the door behind me.

  For the rest of the day, all I could think about David. I wanted so badly to tell him about Vincent. I wanted to toast martinis with him in my kitchen and see his eyes light up and watch him laugh uncontrollably. I wanted him to curl up on my couch with me and remind me that there were a million non-Vincents in the world who would be lucky to have me.

  Basically, in a span of three days, I had become attached to the one guy in the world I shouldn’t be.

  I began typing on my computer, hoping to distract myself. Yes, I’d had a fun weekend with David, and yes, I wished we’d met under different circumstances, but we hadn’t. He belonged to my best friend and as much as he made me weak in the knees, I had to respect that. I couldn’t keep falling for the wrong guys. It was like an endless cycle of unavailable men that I had on rotation. Somewhere out there was a nice, single guy for me. I just had to keep swimming through the dating pool until I found him.

  I looked at the clock. It was almost five. I had one more task to finish up for the day and then I was free to go.

  Sphinx was looking to hire additional producers for their upcoming game, so our HR department had assigned me the task of posting the job advertisement on our company social media pages to get the word out. Just as I was posting the link, my desk phone rang.

  “Hi, Cheryl,” I said, looking down at the caller ID. Cheryl, our resident receptionist, was a curvy, cheery black woman who had worked at Sphinx for almost ten years.

  “Hi little Miss Thang,” she said cheerfully. This was the nickname she had given me. I had no idea why. Probably because I was the only female at Sphinx who didn’t wear sneakers. “Can you come out to the lobby?”

  Uh oh. I immediately envisioned Vincent waiting in the lobby for me, then escorting me to a vacant conference room with my termination papers.

  “Um, yeah,” I stammered. “Is everything okay?”

  “Girl, everything’s fine!” she yelled into the phone. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “You have a visitor.”

  A visitor? Shit. My next mental image was of Vincent’s wife adjusting her blonde curls and designer clothes in the lobby while she waited to attack the intern her husband was after. I had no idea what she really looked like, but I assumed a blonde trophy wife was fairly accurate.

  “What kind of visitor?” I whispered back.

  “Miss Thang, get your little butt out here and you’ll see!” Then she hung up.

  I finished posting the advertisements, shut my computer down, and grabbed my purse. I tried not to panic as I headed towards the lobby.

  But when I rounded the corner, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Standing in the middle of the lobby, wearing a black t-shirt, distressed jeans, and a mile-wide grin, was David. David, looking happy and carefree as usual. Just seeing him made me forget everything that had happened with Vincent, and my entire tedious workday altogether. He was like a breath of clean air.

  “David?” I asked, wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I was…”

  And as luck would have it, before he could finish his sentence, Vincent came strolling through the lobby. His smooth stride slowed as he looked back and forth from David to me, then back to David.

  “Hi, Vincent,” I said with fake enthusiasm. I watched David’s eyes widen, which was exactly why I’d done it. I knew he’d pick up on it.

  “So this is the infamous Vincent,” David exclaimed, turning to shake Vincent’s hand.
“David Whitman. Justine has told me so much about you.”

  The look Vincent gave him could’ve killed small children. He reached out and reluctantly shook David’s hand. “Justine has been a great help here,” said Mr. Professional. The tone in his voice was about as flat as his expression.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked again, turning back to David.

  “Just thought I’d show up and surprise my girl.”

  Without another word, Vincent disappeared into the hallway. David looked as though it took everything he had not to burst into hysterics.

  “Okay, seriously,” I said, lowering my voice. “What are you really doing here?”

  “Well, I was going to go home after work,” he said. “But then I started thinking about how much fun I had this weekend. And I remembered that one of my favorite restaurants is right down the street from here. So, I thought, if you don’t have plans tonight…”

  I grabbed his arm and led him towards the elevator. “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah?” He looked surprised that I’d agreed.

  Yes, you idiot, I thought to myself. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all damn day.

  “Bye, Cheryl!” I yelled over my shoulder.

  Cheryl gave me her “mom look” as I called it, where she peered over her glasses and shook her head knowingly.

  “Looks like somebody’s in love,” she called after me.

  Chapter 10

  Day number four of the job-hunt. I had submitted my résumé to at least ten different positions and had yet to hear back. So far every position I’d applied for was almost identical to my position at Sphinx. Digital media coordinators, social media managers, online marketing reps, they were all the same. Which was fine, because it was really the only relevant experience I had. The important thing was that I found a cool company similar to Sphinx in which a suit and an 8am arrival time were not required.

  I made sure to check the wording on each ad carefully before applying, looking for phrases like “young, hip company” or “fun start-up,” clear indicators of a potential fit. But the only position I’d really set my heart on was for a fashion company in the city. They were looking for “energetic new employees” who would fit into their “easygoing work culture” (their wording, obviously). I was already sold. But even more exciting was that they wanted this person to not only assist with the online marketing of their products, but also with the photography. According to the job description, this person would photograph various products from their fashion line, edit the photos, upload the photos to their website, and then market these new products via social media outlets and mailing lists.

  It was like someone had taken my marketing experience and my photography passion and blended them into one hybrid dream job designed specifically for me.

  Unfortunately, I had applied four days ago, but had yet to hear back. Hell, I hadn’t even heard back from any of the jobs that I didn’t want.

  It’s only been four days, I told myself. These things take time.

  Patience was not my strong suit.

  Just as I was about to start browsing career websites yet again, my cell phone rang. I looked down and saw my friend Jasmine’s number on the display. I hesitated for a minute, debating on whether or not to pick up.

  Jasmine was my former coworker at Sphinx. She worked in sales, thus the reason she and I became friends, since we were basically the only females in the sales and marketing departments. She first introduced herself to me at Sphinx’s monthly First Friday party, and my initial impression was that she was the most beautiful black woman I’d ever seen. She had dark flawless skin, giant almond-shaped eyes, and perfect high cheekbones. She mainly wore suits and heels, as most sales people do, and even though she normally kept her hair pulled back, she always looked stunning.

  Jasmine and I immediately became friends and she loved inviting me to her business happy hours because she could expense it on the company’s dime. Two girls + free drinks = win-win. Ironically, we were friends for a good six months or so before I found out she was thirty-six. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

  Jasmine was one of the people I missed the most when I left LA. I had purposely limited my contact with her after leaving, because I didn’t want to be reminded of anything that had to do with that time in my life. Jasmine loved to gossip. I knew she’d want to talk about Vincent, and I knew she’d ask about David. If I was going to move forward with my life, the last thing I wanted was to start digging up the very memories I’d been trying to bury.

  As I held the phone in my hand, I remembered Renee scolding me for not opening up about my feelings. Would it really make me feel better? If I admitted aloud how lost and hopeless I felt? I really didn’t want to dump my problems on anyone else, but as I looked down at the phone in my hand, I knew that if there was one person in the world who would never judge me, it was Jasmine.

  “Hey Jas,” I said.

  “I’ve left you two messages.” She was trying to sound mad. I could tell by the sound of her voice. But I knew her too well. I pictured her holding her cell, lips pursed, trying her hardest to keep a straight face.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just… been keeping to myself lately.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t fly out to Boston to find you. You know how salespeople are. Nothing stops us.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Seriously, though, are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Just adjusting, that’s all.”

  “Okay, well we don’t have to talk about him.” She pronounced the reference to David as though he was diseased. “But I do have two things I wanted to share with you.”

  During every phone conversation, Jasmine always listed the number of subjects to cover. I assumed this was because she talked so much it was easy to get sidetracked.

  “But before I get into it, let me ask you a question,” she continued. “When you say you’re adjusting, what does that mean? Do you have a new job? New apartment? New boyfriend?”

  “Not exactly. But I’m shopping around.”

  “For?”

  I considered. “All three, actually.”

  “So, technically, you have nothing keeping you there.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Well, we had a meeting today about a new event-management position that’s opening up, and Jeff brought up your name.”

  Wow. Jeff Landry was Sphinx’s CEO, and although I had spoken to him many times, I would never picture him nominating me for a job. I was surprised he even remembered who I was.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Why me?”

  “I don’t know. He just said that he thought you’d be great for it, and he asked if any of us had talked to you.” She cleared her throat. “Which I hadn’t, because…”

  “I know. I’ve been avoiding everyone. I’m a terrible friend.”

  “Oh, no you’re not,” she said, sounding genuinely sad. “You’re just going through a hard time. Trust me, we’ve all been there.”

  This was exactly why Jasmine was a good salesperson. She made you feel bad about something, then when you felt bad, she pretended she didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I imagined this worked the same way with sales. She made you want to buy something, and then when you decided to buy it, she pretended she had nothing to do with it and it was all your idea.

  Truthfully, the reason I didn’t want to unleash my problems on her was because, after Renee left LA, Jasmine was the only close friend I had. When David got sick of hearing about how I missed Renee, I leaned on Jasmine. When David and I were on the outs, I went to Jasmine.

  In short, Jasmine had already endured a lifetime of crisis-solving, and if I added any more problems to her plate, I should start paying her by the hour.

  I will say, throughout everything, Jasmine never once complained or seemed irritated. She was a truly good listener. In most conversations, the other person pretends to listen, but really, they’re already thinking of a respons
e to revert the conversation back to them. Not Jasmine. She listened with genuine interest, never interrupted, and always offered great advice.

  Advice that, of course, I never took. Because, let’s be honest, no one asking for advice is ever really looking for advice. They’re just looking for an excuse to talk about themselves and their problems. In the end, everyone ends up doing whatever they want anyway.

  But I digress.

  “Jas, I appreciate the heads-up,” I said. “But after everything that happened with Vincent, there’s no way I could ever work at Sphinx again.”

  “Which is why I said I had two things to tell you.”

  Oooh. I could always gauge the gossip level by the tone of Jasmine’s voice. The lower the voice, the juicier the dirt.

  “Vincent was fired,” she whispered into the phone.

  “What?” I was almost positive I’d heard her incorrectly. “He was fired?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re kidding.” Vincent had worked at Sphinx forever. Probably close to a decade.

  “It gets better.” She paused, no doubt for effect. I was on the edge of my seat. “He was fired because he got caught sleeping with the receptionist.”

  “Cheryl?” I shrieked.

  “Oh, God no!” Jasmine burst out laughing. “Cheryl’s on medical leave, so they hired a temp to fill in. Her name’s Sarah. Young blonde girl.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know all the details, but apparently the affair went sour, and by the end, everyone in the office knew.”

  “Ha!” The thought of Vincent’s terminated ass being escorted out of the building was a visual in itself.

  “Oh, it gets better.”

  God, I missed Jasmine.

  “So, after word got out,” she continued. “Another girl from the legal department admitted that he tried sleeping with her when she started working here, too. I think that’s when they decided to fire him.”

  “Good thing I wasn’t there,” I said. “We could’ve gone all Tiger Woods on his ass.”