The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series)

by Tami Anthony

  “I’m in here!” he yells from the bathroom. “I just got out of the shower!”

  “Baby, I had the best day ever with the girls!” I say as I walk toward the bathroom door. “I went to the spa, I shopped, I had lunch at this very posh French restaurant where they served snail. Can you believe it? Snail! People actually eat snails.”

  Victor opens the bathroom door with a towel around his waist. His Michelangelo physique is glistening with drops of water. I want to pull off the towel so badly and just have my way with him. He is so incredibly sexy!

  He pecks me on the cheek and rushes to the bedroom. “How was your day?” he asks me.

  A look of confusion runs across my face as I follow him. “I just told you how my day was,” I say.

  “Oh, I couldn’t hear you in the bathroom,” he says then kisses me quickly on the lips. “Say it again.”

  “It was great, my day,” I reply without the enthusiasm that I had before.

  “Oh,” he says as he removes the towel. “Great.” He dries off quickly and puts his boxer briefs on. I look at the clock and it’s only four in the afternoon.

  “You’re not getting ready for tonight, are you?” I ask. “I thought the reservation was for six.”

  “Yeah, but I have some business to take care of before we go to dinner.” He continues to dress himself and I just stand there, clueless. Business on a Saturday? Damn network. I’m convinced that Victor’s employer doesn’t want us to have a healthy relationship. Screw you, news network. Screw you.

  “Will you be back in time?” I ask. “I just want to know because I bought this new dress for tonight and I figured I could wear it … for you.”

  “I’ll be back,” he says as he ties his tie in the mirror. “In fact, why don’t you just meet me at the restaurant?”

  “OK, I can do that,” I reply. “But, I thought it was supposed to be a surprise?”

  “You know what? I’ll just arrange for my driver to pick you up around 5:30. Sound good?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Good.”

  “Did you pick up a movie for tonight? Remember, you said after dinner we’d watch a movie at home, cuddle up, and then … you know?” Does he even remember the plans he made with me?

  “No, I didn’t have time,” he says. “I’ve been busy with work all day. You know what they say: the news never sleeps.” I begin to pout and he notices. “Oh, Les, you don’t have to be that way. We’ll watch Wedding Crashers again.” Wedding Crashers … again? We’ve must have seen that movie about a gazillion times. It’s funny the first few times you see it, but after a while …

  Victor wraps his hands around my waist and looks me in the eyes. “Look, I will meet you at the restaurant, OK? Let me just finish this business up and then you’ll have the whole entire night with me.”

  “All right,” I say as I kiss him. A short kiss. Not like the kisses that I usually give him. He stumbles to put on his shoes as a car horn is blown from outside.

  “That’s my ride,” he says quickly. “Gotta go. I love you.” He pecks me on the cheek again, picks up his jacket, and rushes out the door.

  I sigh as I look out the window and see him get into the town car. It’s almost like we never see each other as much anymore. He’s always working, I’m always working, and then when we do see each other, all we do is have sex and sleep. This isn’t the type of relationship I want … is it? Is this a phase that all couples go through? Relax, I tell myself. Everything will be fine. I’ll have a great time tonight and everything will be wonderful. Everything will be wonderful …

  Chapter Four

  Gilt is his surprise, the restaurant that we went to on our first official date, and now for our two year anniversary. The difference this time: I’m the only one present for the date. I arrived at the restaurant at 5:55 on the dot and Victor was nowhere to be found. It’s 6:15 and he’s still nowhere to be found. Here I am decked out in my new beautiful black Valentino dress, sitting at a table at one of New York’s finest restaurants … and I’m alone. I’m beginning to think that this night is becoming a cruel joke and I’ve somehow missed the punch line. Ugh!

  “Excuse me, miss?” the waiter says to me. “Will your other party be arriving shortly?”

  “Yes,” I mumble, “if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “More wine, perhaps?” he asks me and I look at my already half-filled glass.

  I shrug. “Sure,” I answer. “Might as well, right?”

  “I’ll be right back,” the waiter says and rushes off. I pull out my cell phone and call Victor. No answer. I call again … still no answer, just voicemail. I decide to leave a message.

  “Hey, baby,” I say. “It’s me. It’s about 6:20 now and I’m waiting at the restaurant for you. Please call me back and tell me where you are. Bye.” I hang up the phone as the waiter pours me more wine. I know what the waiter is thinking. He knows that I’ve been stood up. I’m humiliated in my own right. I should just make the most of it all. “OK, so I don’t think that my other party is showing up so I’ll be dining alone tonight,” I say to him as he keeps a straight face. “Tell me what your specials are and why men are such assholes.” He smiles.

  “Our specials tonight are the Hamachi Sashimi prepared with a preserved lemon yogurt, za’atar, and crispy cous cous; then we have our Dorade Royale which is prepared with saffron, shellfish, gnocchi, and baby squash,” he informs me, “and as far as why men are such assholes, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out myself.”

  “Oh … OH.” Now I get it. “You’re gay?”

  “The gayest.” He continues to grin. “So, I’m guessing that you were supposed to have a date tonight?”

  I flash him my ring finger. “My fiancé. This was supposed to be our two year anniversary date, and to celebrate Valentine’s Day … which also happens to be my birthday.”

  “God, don’t you hate that? Being stood up, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “It kind of sucks, I suppose.”

  “It’s like you’ve been slapped in the face and robbed of your Prada heels, which are stunning by the way.”

  “Yeah, it kinda feels that way.” I’ve moved on from sipping my wine to taking big gulps. “Men suck.”

  “Yeah, I know. I would convert to the whole straight lifestyle thing, but I like cock so much.” He giggles.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Me too … so I think I’ll have the Dorade Royale ... and if you could just leave that wine bottle here that would be great.” He places the wine on the table and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Anything for the broken-hearted … and happy birthday,” he says as he walks away, leaving me yet again, alone.

  After having a fantastic dinner all by myself, I take a cab by myself, to my home—our home, Victor’s and my home. I assume that I will be alone and that he hasn’t made it there yet, but of course I’m wrong. I open the door and I’m greeted with a bouquet of roses and a fiancé with a very guilty conscience.

  “Leslee, I am so sorry,” he pleads and I ignore him. I throw my purse on the kitchen counter, hang up my coat in the closet, and I walk into our bedroom, Victor following me the entire time. “Leslee, won’t you talk to me?” He grabs my arm and I pull away. I glare at him.

  “I can’t believe that you would do this to me,” I say angrily. “How dare you stand me up like that?”

  “Leslee, I had to meet with some people for work,” he says. “I couldn’t leave.”

  “Doesn’t our relationship mean anything to you?” I ask. “Don’t I mean anything to you?”

  “Yes, Leslee. I’m sorry. Can’t I just make it up to you?”

  I smirk. “Make it up to me? You’re asking if you can just make it up to me?” I take off my shoes and throw them in the closet, almost hitting Victor in the process. “I had dinner by myself! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?! Everyone in that restaurant was staring at me, feeling sorry for me because they all knew that I was stood up. EVERYONE!” I yell an
d I can feel my face getting hot. “It would’ve been nice if you actually called to tell me that you weren’t showing up so I could spare myself the embarrassment of even going to that restaurant.”

  “I was in the middle of a meeting,” he explains as I roll my eyes. “I can’t just pick up the phone in the middle of a meeting.”

  “You know, I could’ve gone out with my friends tonight and I turned them down because of you. I’m always turning them down because of you and this is the thanks that I get?” I shake my head. “I bought this dress because of you. I bought these earrings because of you. I do everything because of you and it’s like you don’t even care.”

  “Leslee, you know that’s not true. I do care.” He tries to hug me, but I back away. “Leslee, please. Don’t be this way.” I shake my head, trying to hold back tears.

  “I just want to be alone for the rest of the night. Just go,” I say to him softly.

  “Leslee …” he says and I turn the other way. “OK, I’ll leave you alone. I know you’re angry, but just know that there are a million women in the city that would kill to be with me.” Did he just really say that to me? REALLY?!

  “No woman in her right mind would want to be treated this way by her fiancé … for VALENTINE’S DAY!” I scream as I pick up a perfume bottle and throw it towards his head. He ducks as it shatters against the wall and little pieces of glass fall to the floor. I begin to breathe heavily as Victor looks at the glass on the floor with his mouth open in surprise. He looks at me.

  “You’re crazy,” he says and I nod my head.

  “You haven’t seen crazy yet!” I yell. “Get OUT!”

  “Fine,” Victor replies and with that, he leaves the room slamming the door behind him. I just sit there, alone. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to end the night with us being mad at each other, but I have every reason to be angry. HE STOOD ME UP! I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves and open the bedroom door.

  “Victor?” I call out. No answer. I walk into the living room and he’s not there. Not only is my fiancé missing, but his coat is, too. He left. He left after just a stupid argument and to be fair, it was all his fault. If he just called me to say he couldn’t make it then I wouldn’t be as pissed as I am now. Stupid men. Meeting or not, he still should’ve called or showed up to dinner for that matter.

  “This night sucks,” I say aloud knowing that no one but myself can hear me. I notice a small piece of paper on the floor. I pick it up and unfold it not knowing what it is. The name ‘Tanya’ is written in the middle of the paper with a phone number beneath it. Tanya?! I ask myself. Who the hell is Tanya and why is her number written on here? Maybe she’s just a co worker of Victor’s or maybe …

  No, I won’t believe it. My mind must be playing tricks on me because Victor would never cheat on me. We’re engaged! I crumple up the piece of paper and plop down on the couch. I can’t believe it and I won’t believe it. Tanya is just a co worker or a friend and Victor is just an anchor man. I sigh. This night really does suck. Victor is my very FAITHFUL fiancé, I tell myself. I can consider climbing out of the window and heaving myself onto the pavement, but what good will that do? All because I find some woman’s phone number on my living room floor? I couldn’t do that while wearing a Valentino dress. It’d be against my religion or something.

  I pick up the cordless phone from the end table and nervously uncrumble the paper. Should I do this? I ask myself. Calling a random woman on the phone is crazy, but in this situation it’s the smart thing to do. I’m supposed to be getting married to this man, and if what I think may be true, well then I need to know. My future is at stake here! I sigh as I begin to dial the phone number and listen as it rings.

  “Hello?” a woman answers on the other end.

  “Hi,” I blurt out not knowing what else to say.

  “Who is this?”

  I smirk. “I think the better question is ‘who are you and why does my fiancé have your phone number?’”

  Chapter Five

  “Good morning, Leslee!” the secretary exclaims as I walk through the lobby of my firm. She greets me with a smile. “How was your weekend?”

  Shitty. I think to myself. “Just great,” I say solemnly as I walk toward my office. She swiftly walks after me with papers in her hand.

  “Wait a second,” she says as she jumps in front of me and smiles. “These are from Mr. Thomas.” She hands me the papers and I roll my eyes. It’s Monday morning. How can anyone be so incredibly happy on a Monday morning? It’s like she’s taken way too many happy pills … or I am still in a bad mood from the Saturday night fiasco, and the fact that Victor and I are on non-speaking terms doesn’t help the situation at all.

  “What are these?” I ask, looking down at the papers.

  “Well, these are a few client files that Mr. Thomas wanted you to look over, some deposition notes and a memo for your interview today.”

  “Interview?” I ask. I’m so out of it that I have no clue what she’s talking about.

  “Your interview … for the senior paralegal position, remember?”

  How in the world could I forget? “Oh, yes. That’s right! Interview!” I force a smile. “That is today, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and Mr. Thomas will be conducting the interview himself.”

  “With Maya from Human Resources?” I ask.

  “No,” she says. “Just him. Good luck!”

  “Thanks,” I reply through gritted teeth. Why does this interview have to be today? I’m having a bad day, the continuation of a bad weekend. And I’m not even wearing my most presentable outfit. How come he couldn’t just schedule it for tomorrow?

  I sit down at my desk and take a deep breath. I look around and all I see are pictures of Victor and me at the zoo, the Empire State Building, the Bahamas, and then there’s one photo from my college days at Temple University. I pick it up and stare at it. Damn, I miss those days. College. Probably the best years of my life when it was just me, my best friend Karen, her boyfriend and now fiancé, Russ, and my best guy friend in the whole entire world, Eric. It was four years of just us, partying, being young, living the college life. I wish I could just go back to that. I wish I could just be careless again and it was OK to make mistakes. I wish I were a college kid. Now I’m stuck in a life that I’m not even sure that I want anymore. I didn’t even tell my college friends about my engagement yet.

  “Morning, hussy,” Minnie says as she walks into the office. I don’t say anything. “What picture are you staring at now?” she asks then smirks. “Let me guess. It’s the one where you and Victor are visiting some cheesy tourist attraction with cheesy smiles on your cheesy faces?”

  “No, it’s actually a picture of when I was in college,” I reply, still staring at the photo.

  “Let me see,” Minnie says as she snatches the picture out of my hand. “There’s you with your Freshman Fifteen …” She laughs and I’m not amused.

  “Wow, that’s funny,” I reply sarcastically. I sit at my desk and begin to rummage through my papers.

  “And who are these two gentlemen?” she asks referring to Russ and Eric.

  “Just some college friends, that’s all.”

  “Where were you in the picture?”

  “We were climbing up the Art Museum steps in Philadelphia,” I say, frustrated. “Do you need to hear my whole life story?!” I snatch the picture away from her and put it back on my desk.

  “What’s up with you today?” she asks and I just shake my head.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Just had a bad weekend.”

  “Oh, because usually I’m the miserable one and you’re the happy one,” she says to me, which is true. “Maybe the universe has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Maybe.” I stop fiddling with my paperwork and my body just pauses. “Minnie,” I start, “are you even a tad bit upset that you weren’t considered for the senior paralegal position, yet I am?”

  She thinks for
a second. “I can’t say that I was completely happy, but then again Amy doesn’t like me nor do I like her. I wasn’t surprised about you being recommended for the position, but Chloe Curano? It doesn’t make any sense. Chloe is always fucking up depositions. Not only that, but she’s such a fuckin’—”

  “Skank?” I say.

  “Twatwaffle?”

  “Whore?”

  “Slut!” Minnie says. “Chloe is such a slut.”

  I nod my head. “I know, right? A mousy-looking, diseased-infested slut.” We both laugh. “I don’t know how good my chances actually are considering--“

  “Chloe’s legs are always open like a Jersey diner.”

  “Yes,” I say. This is awkward; a truly awkward day. Minnie and I are never on the same page about anything, but today it’s like it’s fate or something. She’s thinking the exact same things that I’m thinking. Maybe we’ve become friends. Of course, she’s not like my other friends. She’s no Angelina or Thai or Jay for that matter, but it seems that she means well. I think Minnie is beginning to rub off on me.

  I sigh. “Who am I kidding? Why should I even interview for the position?” I say aloud. “I won’t get the job.”

  “Leslee, what are you saying?” Minnie asks. “You mean you’re not even going to try?”

  “I don’t know. Should I?”

  Minnie gets up from her desk and walks over to me. “You should. I mean, why not? You’re Leslee Robinson, paralegal! This is the day you’ve been waiting for, the day that could elaborate your career. Can’t you just picture yourself sitting at your new executive desk, feet up, wearing one of those fashionable Donna Karan business suits and those Manolos that you are always prancing around in, smoking on one of those fancy cigars that the men of this office lavish on when they’re celebrating some sort of victory? Can’t you just see it now? Successful, powerful, Leslee Robinson, senior paralegal of one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City.” I picture it. I picture it all, the fancy suit, the hot stilettos, my executive desk … my own office with a view. I begin to nod my head and get my confidence back.