While she was in the middle of explaining her dreams of running a marathon, I heard her yawn and looked at my watch. Five o’clock.
“I guess we should call it a night...I didn’t realize it was getting so late.” I lay back on my bed. “You know, you can call me whenever I cross your mind too.”
“Well, if that ever happens I’ll do that. Goodbye, Jonathan.”
“Goodbye, Claire.”
I knew she wasn’t going to call me, so for the rest of the week I called her when I was done with all my meetings. I kept things simple and steered clear of asking any personal questions; I had the feeling she wouldn’t be too receptive to that.
When my plane landed back in San Francisco on Saturday afternoon, I sent her a text: “Michael Mina’s @ 8:00. 252 California St. Just in case you “don’t” know where that is. See you there.”
“Wait a minute,” Corey said, laughing. “What do you mean she stood you up?”
“I don’t think there’s any other way to say it. She. Stood. Me. Up.” I rolled my eyes.
“I thought you said she seemed mature.”
“She is, she’s just...” This doesn’t make any sense...
“Welp. Oh well. Do you want to go over the Sorrento account today? Their camera software is worth investing in and we could use the upgrade.”
“Later.” I sighed. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Bottom of what? Bottom of—Do you know you’re talking about a woman who has A) told you you’re way too young for her, B) admitted that she has two sixteen year old daughters—daughters, plural! And C) stood you up last night? Do you realize any of that?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense. We talked all week. She didn’t call or text me to let me know she wasn’t coming.”
“I think she’s trying to show you that she’s not interested in you. She probably thought standing you up would help you see that since you keep ignoring what she says.”
I didn’t believe that. I’d felt how she reacted to me on the dance floor on her birthday, seen the way she looked at me when we were out running, and heard the way her voice hitched whenever I called her on the phone.
I could admit that she was good at playing nonchalant and being a smart-mouth—and she’d definitely mastered the poker face, but she wasn’t pretending to act like she was affected by me.
“Whenever you want to focus on what’s really important, i.e. this Sorrento account, feel free to call me back.” Corey hung up.
“Sir?” My driver pulled over and turned his head around. “They’re not allowing cars to go any further.”
“Thanks, Greg.” I stepped out of the car and looked at all the activity that was surrounding the Oasis Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center.
There were the usual yellow and blue balloons, the white coated doctors greeting guests from the doors, and the “purity waterfall” which stood out front spewing red colored water; my mom had told me the red signified something, but I forgot what it was.
I’d spent yet another fifty thousand dollars for her to get treatment for her drug addiction, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time.
I walked inside and took a seat near the back of the auditorium, watching the same exact ceremony I’d seen eleven months ago.
I watched my mom smile as she took the completion certificate from the head doctor on stage, watched her recite the “Today Begins My New Life” poem, and watched her eyes light up with the same self-promises she’d made several times before.
At one point, the head doctor asked the audience to stand and recite the “Supporters Pledge,” but as I mouthed the familiar words, an image of Claire ran across my mind.
I wanted to know why the hell she’d stood me up, why the hell she didn’t even think to call and cancel. I thought about calling to ask her why, but I decided against it; I wasn’t the “call and ask” type.
All of sudden, I heard the “reformed” patients singing the final “Now My Life Begins” song and realized the ceremony was over.
“Thank you so much for coming, sweetheart!” My mom rushed over and gave me a hug. “I think this was it! I think I finally get it now!”
I hugged her back. “I hope so.”
“No Audrey? Where’s your girlfriend?”
“We broke up a long time ago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry...You’re not dating anyone else?”
“No.” Even if I was, I wouldn’t have told her. I didn’t need to open up to her right away, and I didn’t want to pretend like she was a real part of my life.
She looked saddened. “Well, whenever that day comes, can I meet her?”
Never... “Sure.”
“I meant what I said about changing, Jonathan. I want us to meet up at least once a week. I need you to help me stay on track for a while.”
“Good idea.” I tried to sound convinced. “Let’s get lunch before we get you into your new condo. I bought you one with two levels just like you asked.”
January 19, 2013
Dear Journal,
Today I learned that there is a distinct difference between “forgiveness” and “stupidity.”
Forgiveness is what happens when you can honestly move past something and let it go. Stupidity is what happens when you tell someone “I forgive you” (because it’s the “right thing” to do), but you secretly hope they drop dead right in front of you and tumble into the seventh circle of hell.
That said, I do not forgive Ryan Hayes for cheating on me with my former best friend. I probably never will and I’m perfectly okay with that.
I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how “forgiveness helps you sleep better at night,” because that’s not true. (My seven layer mattress is amazing)
Anyway, I received my evaluations from my associates this week and I waited until Friday to open them. Out of a possible five stars, my score is a 3.8. Now, normally this wouldn’t bother me, because stars are just stars and they don’t mean anything. But this year they were allowed to write anonymous comments with their ratings and I almost went out there and fired every single one of them.
Their comments went something like this: “Miss Gracen is an okay director, but she would be better if she weren’t so stuck up.” “Miss Gracen should trust us with more work.” “Miss Gracen should stop trashing so many of our concepts and send them up to the board.” “She dresses nice but she doesn’t know much about advertising.” “Miss Gracen needs to realize that most of us went to Ivy-league colleges and are more than capable of coming up with great campaign slogans. (Didn’t she go to the University of Pittsburgh? Isn’t that a public school?)”
You know what? I’m not even going to address their dumbass remarks. I just...
“The new sPhone blue. We make Crayola jealous.”
Enough said.
This can’t be my life,
Claire
Chapter 7
Claire
I called in sick to work on Monday. I didn’t want to deal with Jonathan asking me any questions about me standing him up for our date, and I didn’t feel like sitting through another useless brainstorming session.
All I wanted to do was relax.
I dimmed the lights in my bathroom and lit all my favorite candles—vanilla, honeysuckle, and amber. I tossed a few Eucalyptus salts into the tub and turned on the water, squeezing generous dollops of cherry bubble bath underneath the running faucet.
I’d always felt that bubble baths were the best therapy in the world. Hot water and soapy beads had a way of helping me escape to another life—a life where I could sail to anywhere I wanted, a life where I worked because I wanted to, not because I had to.
I stepped into the tub and slid under the suds, letting the warm water lull me into my special place.
Don’t think about work...Don’t think about work...
I pulled my favorite purple vibrator from the side panel and sighed. I hit the “on” button, prepared to put him to work, but the door
bell suddenly rang.
Ugh! Why now?
I figured my next door neighbor had received my mail by accident again and wanted to “personally return it” as opposed to simply sticking it in my mailbox. My neighbors were so syrupy sweet sometimes it made me sick.
I waited to see if she would go away, if she wouldn’t notice that my car was parked right out front, but the doorbell rang again.
Damnit...
I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself. Blowing out all of the candles, I put my hair into a high messy ponytail. “I’m coming Mrs. Hamilton! Give me one second!” I rushed downstairs.
I opened the door and saw Jonathan standing there, looking completely irresistible. He was dressed in another perfectly fitted suit—dark gray with an opened collared white shirt, and his stunning blue eyes shifted from my face to my towel; it seemed like he was slowly undressing me.
“Umm hello?” I closed the door halfway and peeked around it. “Why are you here?”
“Hi.” He grinned. “You called in sick today.”
“Okay. And? Do you make house visits every time an employee calls off work?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh. Well, I am. Thanks for stopping by. Have a great—”
“I actually need you to sign off on your team’s designs before they can be presented this afternoon.” He held a briefcase up. “Every director has to pick a top option.”
Oh my god, I forgot all about that...Why didn’t I remember that the meeting with the advisors was today?
“Are you going to let me in so you can see them, Miss Gracen?” He smirked.
“Give me a minute.” I shut the door in his face.
I rushed upstairs to my room and put on a pair of sweats and a baggy T-shirt. I threw my robe on over it and caught a glance of myself in the mirror.
I look absolutely terrible right now...
I took my time walking down the steps and opened the door. “You sure this isn’t about me standing you up Saturday?”
He smiled and walked past me. “Of course not. This is business, not personal. Do you have a table you can lay these out on?”
I showed him past my unfinished hallway and ushered him into my rustic themed kitchen; I was glad I’d cleaned up this morning.
He set the suitcase on the table and looked around. His eyes met mine and I turned away.
“This is very nice.” He ran his fingers across the hanging bronze light fixture. “Who designed this room for you?”
“I did.” I sat down and opened the briefcase. “I did the paint, the crown molding, everything. It took me two months to get the flooring right. I had to buy it in installments.”
“I’m impressed.”
I pulled out the first few markups and sighed. I was now convinced that I needed to find a way to quit his company in two years, not five. My associates didn’t know shit about marketing. Actually, they didn’t know shit about anything.
None of their ad submissions were as terrible as the ‘the cotton field’ one, but they were still lackluster. There were even misspelled words on some of them.
How hard is it to hit ‘spellcheck’?
“You don’t look too happy.” Jonathan sat in the chair next to me.
“I’m not. My daughters could’ve designed these in ten minutes and done a much better job.”
“Tell them we’re hiring.”
I rolled my eyes. “They hear me complaining about my job every day. I doubt they’d be interested...I guess I’ll go with this one though. It’s simple, modern, and it gets the point across. We can have the art division spice it up if the chairs approve.” I placed the best poster on top and placed the stack back into the briefcase.
I stood up and clasped my hands together. “Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Statham. You can go now.”
“Is that coffee?” He pointed to my coffeemaker. “Can I have a cup before I leave?”
“Don’t you need to get back to work?”
He looked at his watch. “It’s eleven o’ clock. The meeting isn’t until three.”
Ugh, my bath is getting cold...
I walked over to the cabinet and pulled out two mugs, making us both a cup. I didn’t bother asking him how he liked his; I made it just like mine and handed it to him without sitting down.
“Thank you,” he said as he took a slow sip. “How was your weekend?”
“You said this was a business visit. I don’t think that question—”
“The first part was business. Now it’s personal.” He glared at me. “How. Was. Your. Weekend?” He set the coffee down.
So he is mad about being stood up...
“It was um, great. How was yours?”
“Yours was great? That sounds really interesting. What all did you do?” He narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back in his chair.
Try to look away from him, try to look away from him...
“I went for a long run with two of my friends and caught up on some work.”
“Hmmm. You know, I was having a pretty good weekend too. I was spending my nights talking to an extremely beautiful woman. I believe I talked to her every night and we made an arrangement... But then she stood me up on Saturday, so my weekend ended quite terribly.”
“Oh really?” I cleared my throat. “Well, that stuff happens sometimes. It’s all a part of life, young man. Live a little more and then—”
“I’m not sure what I should be more upset about—the fact that you keep insulting me by using my age against me, or the fact that I sat in an empty restaurant waiting for you for two hours.”
He waited two hours?
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I just—”
“The last time I was stood up for a date was...” He stood up and walked over to me. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been stood up on a date. It’s such a juvenile thing to do, don’t you think?”
“Yes. It’s quite juvenile. I can’t imagine why someone would ever do that.”
“Hmmm.” He reached down and removed the elastic band from my ponytail, letting my hair fall to my shoulders. “You have no idea why a beautiful woman would stand me up for a date?”
“Maybe there’s a lack of chemistry?” I nearly stuttered.
“No, she and I have plenty of chemistry...”
“Could it be that you two have nothing in common?”
He ran his fingers through my hair. “We talked for quite a while last week...I think we have more than enough in common.”
I shrugged. “Maybe she’s just not that into you then.”
“Oh, she’s definitely into me.” He smirked. “She just won’t admit it for some reason.”
“Well, if it were me, I would just give up and pursue someone else. She did stand you up.”
He tilted my chin with his fingertips so that I was looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not going to give up. She is. And I don’t want to pursue anyone else.”
We stood gazing into each other’s eyes and I realized that I needed to get him out of my house and get back to my bubble bath.
I should use him for inspiration...
“Look, I was in the middle of something very important before you came over, so if you could leave right now so I can get back to it, that would be great. Maybe we can talk about what happened over the weekend at work tomorrow? For the record, I really am sorry I stood you up. I had every intention of being there but—”
He silenced me with a kiss and I kissed him back with a passion I’d never felt before. He reached down and untied my robe, pushing it off my shoulders and onto the floor.
Smiling, he assaulted my mouth with his tongue again, using his hands to tug at the drawstring on my pants.
All of sudden, I felt a vibrating sound going off in my pocket. Before I could reach down and shut it off, he reached into my pants and pulled out my favorite purple friend.
He examined it for a few seconds, blinking
. Then he held it front of my face and smirked. “Is this what I was interrupting?”
It’s been four years....Four. Long. Years...
“Claire?” He cupped my chin and held my face so I wouldn’t be able to turn away. “Is this what you were doing?”
“I...” I swallowed. Then I went for it. “What if it was?”
A slow, sexy smile spread across his lips. “Then I think I should finish what you started.” He sealed his mouth over mine again and pressed me against the island, making it hard for me to breathe.
I’d never been kissed like he was kissing me; it felt like I was having sex—with my mouth. He was controlling my tongue with his, molding his perfectly full lips to mine, and biting down on my tongue whenever I tried to catch a breath.
I felt him yanking my pants down, not being gentle about it at all. As soon as they hit the floor, he snatched his mouth away from mine and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it across the room.
“Come here,” he said as he lifted me on top of the counter. He pushed me onto my back, causing my cookbooks and folders to fall to the floor.
Leaning over me, he fisted his hands in my hair, kissing me again and again. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he quickly stepped back to unbuckle his pants and pull out a condom.
I gasped and sat up, panting as he un-wrapped it. “You always come prepared to sleep with employees when they call off sick?” I looked down below his waist and my eyes widened as far as they could go; his dick was twice the size of my ex-husband’s.
Oh god...
A hint of a smile played on his lips. “Do you always use your sick days to stay at home and play with yourself?”
My cheeks burned bright red and I was about to reply, but he grabbed me by my hips and pulled me closer.
Lowering his voice, he looked directly into my eyes. “Wrap your legs around me so I can fuck you.”
I went stiff. My conscience started to warn me about this—something about how it wasn’t a good idea to sleep with my boss, my much younger boss, but I ignored it.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and tried not to scream as he slowly entered me, as he stretched me way past my limit, filling me in places that I didn’t even know existed.
Mid Life Love Page 10
