by A. C. Meyer
I’m stuck at home all Sunday, cleaning my apartment and doing my laundry. I have never been so depressed that I didn’t want to go out or talk to people, but that is the case now. I’m confused, irritated, frustrated and a little sad. And I still have to go to work tomorrow and pretend like nothing has happened. I turn off my house phone and my cell phone. But it’s of no use. Around five p.m., the doorbell rings.
“Are you seriously going to stay home and not even talk to anyone the whole day?” Lais doesn’t even wait for me to open the door completely before she walks in, not even giving me a chance to talk.
“Yes. I’m tired,” I say, going back to the living room to wallow.
“If it’s any consolation, the jackass-you-know-who felt terrible after you left.”
“Terrible how?” Of course I’m interested.
“He looked awful. He drank so much we had to carry him home.”
“Humpf,” I grunt.
“Rodrigo was really surprised. He said Cadu doesn’t usually drink like that. And when we were driving him . . .” She stops, leaving me hanging on her every word.
“When you were driving him?” I ask, already feeling anxious.
“He was mumbling something like ‘that crazy, bold girl.’ I remember he also said, ‘she’s driving me crazy.’ I think you rocked his world.” She finishes and laughs.
“Jeez, that makes no sense at all,” I say.
“Yeah, he said it countless times. He kept slurring it over and over. I think you really drove him crazy. And what was that kiss, Mari? WOW! What was that?” I throw a pillow at her. “Ouch!”
“He’s the enemy, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just that it was so . . .”
“So?”
“So sexy, girl. Like a soap opera. I was shocked just looking at it. The whole party stopped to look. It was the hottest kiss I’ve ever seen. If he kisses like that, imagine . . .” I throw another pillow. “Ouch!”
“Don’t make me imagine things with the enemy. My confused thoughts are enough,” We both laugh.
“What are you going to do?”
“Act professional. Look for another job. Quit. Forget him.”
“Oh, Mari.”
“No ‘ohs,’ Lais. I want someone who wants me back. I don’t want to be just another affair. And he doesn’t see me like that. He’s definitely attracted to me, but he doesn’t want to build a relationship or anything. I’ll be a one-night stand and that will be all. And then, girl, I’m the one left crying for him.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Yes, I am. Now, let’s clean up this laundry, ’cause it’s the best thing we can do right now.” I throw a pile of clothes at her to fold. Lais moans in frustration.
Cadu
I had a horrible weekend.
After she left the party, I drank so much that I can’t remember how drunk I was. Her blondie friend called me a loser and said I was worth nothing but her pity, and I couldn’t even deny it. She was right!
On Sunday, things were still horrible. I spent the day in bed, my mouth tasting like shit. Rodrigo stops by in the evening to talk to me. He says he won’t get in the middle of it, because he likes Lais and Mari is her best friend, so he doesn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. I get him, I really do. But it surprises me that he’s willing to start a relationship with someone who’s so clearly different from him. When he explains it to me, it makes no sense and it makes me even more confused.
“Dude, I don’t know if I’m in love or some shit like that. You know I’m a practical guy and I don’t really believe in that kind of thing. But Lais is funny and clever. She’s one of the few women I’ve met who can talk about anything, who’s not frivolous. When I come home at night and I’m tired from work, I call her, and her laugh over the phone makes me happy. I tried not calling her for a few days and I missed her, you know? I’m tired of being alone. Being with her is better than being by myself.”
After a disastrous Sunday, I get to the office at seven a.m. Monday morning with a hell of a migraine. My door is closed and I keep the blinds down because the light is killing me. Then, she arrives. It’s probably around eight, and the silence is suddenly broken by a voice humming a song from afar. I’m quiet, lying on the couch in my office, listening to her voice so out of tune and wondering what’s going on with me. The door opens and she walks in.
She knew I was there, I have no idea how.
She’s carrying the coffee tray, like she does every day. It’s different today, though. Mari crosses the room, says good morning when she sees me, and places the cup on my desk. She looks gorgeous: a tight black dress that goes down to her knees, leaving her calves exposed. Man, I never thought a calf could be so sexy!
That damn dress shows off her body in a way I have never seen before and it makes me want to rip it off and feel her against me. It has short sleeves and when she turns around, I almost drool when I see the square neckline and low cleavage that makes her undeniably sexy.
Mari goes around the table and to the window, giving me a hell of a view of her back. She’s wearing a pair of really high heels, ones I have never seen her wear before. I’m mesmerized by the way her hips move when she suddenly opens the blinds, letting the light come inside.
“Ouch, Mariana! Why did you to that?” I complain. She leaves the window open and crosses the room, going toward her own office.
“Good morning. I did it because it’s dark in here and you have a meeting in half an hour, so you have to look respectful. You can’t show up looking like Edward Cullen,” she says, without even looking at me twice.
“I have a migraine. And who the hell is Edward Cullen?” I say, putting a hand over my eyes. In less than two minutes, she’s back, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. I feel her coming toward me and when I look up, I see her standing in front of me, two Advil’s in one of my hands and a glass of water in the other.
“Take them both and then drink your coffee. And please, do something about that beard, because you look like you’ve been drinking the whole weekend. This meeting is important,” she explains, then leaves again. This time, she slams the door, and I look like a fool holding the medicine and the water, wondering who that woman is and what she did to my sweet assistant.
I join the first meeting of the morning with the shareholders. He looks awful. Though I want him to suffer horribly from his headache, my professional side is constantly worried when he’s not feeling well. Knowing that he’s not focused on what the people around him are saying, I make an effort not to miss any important information. At some point, while one of the shareholders is talking, I see him massaging his temples, a clear sign that his head still hurts. I pity him and end up pouring him some coffee to see if it helps. No sugar, because I’m not that nice.
Seconds later, while I’m typing some data, an e-mail shows up in my inbox.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: Coffee
Mariana,
Have you seriously given me coffee with no sugar? Even though you know I hate it? What kind of assistant does such an evil thing to an ill person?
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: Coffee
Carlos Eduardo,
Yes. Do you want sugar? Get up and get it. It’s right there in front of you. I’m not your nurse, I’m your assistant. And a good one at that.
Mariana
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: Coffee
I must agree to that. You look beautiful today.
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Coffee
Thank you. You shouldn’t be paying attention to me, but to the meeting.
<
br /> From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Coffee
It was the first thing I noticed when you came in. This dress does wonders for you. Will you have lunch with me?
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Coffee
Thank you, but no, thank you. I have an appointment during lunch today.
From: Carlos E. Moraes
To: Mariana Costa
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Coffee
Appointment? What appointment?
From: Mariana Costa
To: Carlos E. Moraes
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Coffee
From what I remember of my contract, what I do on lunch hours has nothing to do with you. You, as my employer, have no right whatsoever to ask what I do. So what I do and who I do it with during my lunch hour is none of your business.
And pay attention to the meeting because the old man right next to you just asked you a question.
The meeting is over just before lunchtime, and when Cadu leaves with the investors, I take the chance to grab my purse and go. I have a job interview to be a diplomat’s assistant in a building in Ipanema, following the tip a friend from the van had given me. His brother works for the French consulate and mentioned the available position, and said that they were short on good candidates because it was necessary to have experience in dealing with businessmen, speak English fluently, and preferentially speak another language, among some other demands. All qualities of which I possess.
I stay in the waiting room for a very short time, and then a tall man with very white hair calls me.
“Mariana?”
“Yes, how do you do?” I get up and greet him with a smile and a handshake.
“I’m Pierre. Please, mademoiselle, come on in. Antônio sent me your résumé. It’s excellent,” he says once we’re settled.
We talk about my experience and the work I do at Be Magazine, as well as my educational background. He asks me why I want to find another job and I say that I’ve been working at Be for three years and it’s time to find new challenges. I probably shouldn’t mention that I fell in love with my boss, or that he’s a jackass.
Then he talks about the position, what would be expected of me, and the salary, which is a little higher than my current one. The benefits are as good as the ones I have now. After talking for almost an hour, both in English and in French, the interview is over and he tells me he’ll be in touch, even if I’m not chosen for the job.
We say goodbye and I run back to Be without getting a chance to grab a bite. I get some chips from the vending machine on the second floor and eat them on my way upstairs so Carlos Eduardo won’t see me and start questioning why I haven’t had lunch.
I get to my floor and as I’m heading to my office, I hear someone calling my name.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mariana.” Miguel smiles at me, and I smile politely back.
“The one who looks like a . . .” Roberta, who’s an assistant to one of the editors, says. She laughs and makes fun of me.
I turn toward her, school my features as if I’m reprimanding an insolent toddler, and say, “You’re so childish.” She laughs even more.
“And I don’t know why you still work here. Have you looked in the mirror this morning? You don’t even fit in with this company.” She looks down on me, making me feel awful.
“Wow, wow!” Miguel tries to intervene, but when I look at him, I realize he’s been trying to hold back the same teasing smile as Roberta’s. I look from one to the other and turn around to leave.
“Oh! Mariana!” she calls out and I turn around again. “You shouldn’t wear outfits like this, you know? It makes you look fat,” she says, her hands pointing at my hips. I turn around and walk to my office, too consumed with their hostility to be able to react.
Roberta started working at Be the same time I did. We were up for the same position, to be the assistant to the Managing Editor of the magazine, but Carlos Eduardo ended up needing an assistant as well. I was chosen and she never “forgave me” for that. She’s beautiful, tall and blond, with green eyes and a model’s body. But eventually, my experience was more important than her looks.
I head to my office and thank God when I see that Big Boss’s office door is closed. I check the clock. I’m very late and now I’m also upset. I start working, and I don’t even feel like opening my Messenger to talk to Lais. My life is a complete mess and I don’t know what to do.
An hour and a half later, Cadu leaves the room with two men in suits and follows them to the door. When he gets back, he doesn’t miss the chance to provoke me.
“That was a late appointment, Mariana.”
He leans against my desk and I have to catch my breath. He looks beautiful. He’s shaved and he’s wearing a gray suit with a dark red tie. He smiles and those damn dimples show up.
“I thought you’d be here for the meeting,” he says, and puts his hands on the edge of the desk, inclining his body. His eyes lock on mine and make me feel weak. “Will you have dinner with me?” His voice is but a whisper, and it mesmerizes me. How am I supposed to resist something like that, gosh?
“What?” It’s unbelievable. He dumped me a week ago, and now he’s asking me out?
“Dinner. It’s that meal we have at night,” he explains and laughs, without looking away.
I’m quiet, not knowing what to say. Though I want to say yes, I’m really, really scared.
“Please?” he insists, and I feel intimidated.
“I’m sorry.” I lower my eyes. Then I look at him again. “I can’t.”
“Why, Mari?” he asks quietly, and I wish I could tell him everything I’m thinking.
“Because you’re my boss, Carlos Eduardo. And with everything that’s happened . . .” I get up, thinking of going to the kitchen to avoid him, but his reaction takes me by surprise. He holds my hand and pushes me to the wall, pressing his body against mine.
“I want you,” he says, his face to my neck. His breathing is uneven like my own, and his voice is husky. “You’re driving me crazy, Mari.” That’s when the telephone in his office rings, snapping me back to reality.
“I can’t,” I say, pushing him so he’ll let me go. “You don’t know what you want. First, you wanted me. You went to all the trouble of taking me to your house, and you really made me think that something special had happened between us. Then you thought better and gave up. And I respect that. We work together, it’s complicated. But now you want me again. And what will happen when you get tired of me? Or when some more interesting woman shows up and you choose her instead?”
He steps back and I go to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the room.
Cadu
That Monday was the day everything changed. After our short meeting in her office, I realized it’s time to step back. So that I can prepare myself to start again, of course! Yes, I know I might be wrong and she may not be what she appears to be. But after that kiss at Michelle’s party, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and do everything it takes to have Mari exactly where I want her: hopefully, under me.
I go home and decide to outline a strategy to get her back. I’m obviously going to need help from my allies.
“Cadu, are you sure? Because Lais will kill you and me if you hurt Mari,” Rodrigo says, and I get why he’s hesitant to help me. Lais can be quite frightening.
“I’m sure, but I need to think about this first. I tried today, but she pushed me away. She said we need to keep things between us professional.”
“Professional? Hm . . .” We’re quiet, both of us thinking, and then he jumps. “I know! Here’s what you need to do . . .” We lean over the table, making plans to conquer the enemy troops.
Tuesday is
calm. I treat Mari like I did before we kissed and I have to control myself not to laugh when I see her looking suspiciously at me. On Wednesday, she looks beautiful, wearing a light pink dress, beige high heels and her hair down, just the way I like it. She’s perfect, and it’s time for the games to begin.
In the middle of the morning, I call her office and do my best not to sound anxious.
“Yes?” She picks up and I try not to laugh.
“Mariana, I’ll need you today.”
“Yes?” I hear her opening her notebook and turning the pages as if she was looking for available space to take notes.
“I have to take a big advertiser for dinner tonight . . .”
“Do you need me to book a table? Do you know where you’re going?” she asks, competent as always.
“Yes, book a table for three tonight, at eight. And I’ll need you to tag along to take notes.”
“Me?” She’s surprised, and I smile widely.
“Yes, I’m sorry to let you know on such short notice, but he’s just confirmed it,” I say, and cross my fingers. “I hope it doesn’t get in the way of any plans of yours.” I try to sound concerned.
“Oh . . . no, it’s ok. Any restaurant in particular?”
“No. Somewhere quiet. Maybe in a hotel? Some place where we’re not interrupted all the time and that’s nearby. Maybe try Gero in Ipanema.”
