by Penny Wylder
The pit of my stomach warms up at the action, the heat spreads, and I feel it again. Something was in the air while we finished dinner. It’s strange, and I think she felt it too. I feel impossibly close to this girl even though we’ve known each other such a short time. I haven’t told anyone my history, not even Mike. But I wanted to tell her. I want to tell her more. I want to tell her absolutely everything about me.
I stop myself. Wow.
The air in the car grows close and I find it hard to breathe as the realization hits me like a freight train: my feelings for Vera are far deeper than I thought they were, and those feelings are far deeper than they have any right to be. The rest of the ride flies by as I grapple with whether or not I am falling for—screw it—I am falling for her. I’ve never felt anything this deep or this fast. I’ve never really gotten to know any woman well enough for it to even be a possibility.
What would Vera say?
She’d probably think you were crazy. That’s what. For sure, now is not the time to bring it up with everything on her mind about her dad and her career. Everything in me hopes that she gets the job. Not only would she be doing what she loved, but she could work with me. There is something warm at the thought of us working together. A hazy vision forms in my mind of all the things we could accomplish together with her brilliant designs and my practical skills.
I park down the block from her house, not wanting to alert her parents. They’ll find out eventually I imagine, but that’s her call until then. In the meantime I’ll push her boundaries as far as she’ll let me, but I’ll never cross them. I turn to her, and with our linked hands I lift the back of hers to my mouth and press a kiss to her skin. “You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, and I can see her blush in the dark. “Sorry I’ve been so quiet. I’m still anxious about how the interview went.”
“You’re going to get it,” I say. Please god, let her get it.
She laughs, but it has no heart. “It’s out of my hands, right?”
“That’s right.” I pull her close to me, wanting to feel her in my arms as much as possible in the small space. I kiss her, and it’s a whole new world. In this moment, the softness of her lips are the only thing in existence that I could ever want. I want her. I want all of her. She kisses me back, and when her tongue runs along my lips I feel my cock wake up. I pull away gently, and I place one final chaste kiss on her lips.
“Unless you want to ride me in this car,” I say, “we have to stop here.”
“That’s an idea,” she replies with a twinkle in her eye.
“As much as I”—and my cock—“love that idea, I think you need sleep tonight.”
There it is in the air again as she leans against me, kissing my lips, my jaw, my neck.
“James,” she says softly, and it sounds so much like a moan I have to force myself not to take her right here. “I like you, too.”
Before I can think of a reply, she gets out of the car and slams the door. I watch her walk away, putting the car back in drive after she waves from the gate. As I head home I can only think one thing: I’m still in so much trouble, but this is the kind of trouble I want.
13
Vera
When I wake up, I find I have an email from Rebecca asking me to call her at my earliest convenience. It’s only nine, and she sent the email a half-hour ago. Such fast news must be good, right? It has to be. I shake myself awake and grab my cell. I dial her number and wait for an answer. Butterflies are in my stomach. This is it. I can feel it tingling in my toes.
The receptionist. “The Harrison Foundation. How may I direct your call?”
“Good morning,” I say, “this is Vera Caldwell calling for Rebecca Harrison.”
“One moment, please.”
I wait on the edge of my seat as chirpy hold-music plays in my ear. It doesn’t even take a minute. “Rebecca Harrison.”
“Hello, Rebecca. It’s Vera Caldwell.”
“Vera,” she says, sounding happy, “I’m so glad you called.”
“My pleasure.”
She clears her throat, and my stomach tightens. “I have to say I am so sorry that you won’t be joining us, but your father explained the situation and I wanted to thank you personally for the donation. With that, I’ll be able to take on ten new charity homes.”
What? I don’t understand. She keeps talking.
“I do hope you’ll consult with us, though. Your low-income plans are exactly what we’re looking for here.”
There’s a sinking feeling in my gut and tears spring to my eyes. I do my best to keep them out of my voice. “Of course, I’d be happy to.”
My father called her.
My father bought her off and she was going to give me the job. The job I’ve been working my ass off for and dreaming about for half my life.
A fury nothing like I’ve ever known fills me, followed by a crushing sadness. Because that money my father donated? The Foundation needs that money. Those families need that money, need the houses those funds will build. Rebecca continues with her thankful speech, and I don’t know how much more I can listen to it, when I know she’s thanking me for my father’s betrayal.
“Just let me know if you need anything, Vera.”
An idea forms, the very least I can do with this situation. “Actually, I have a request.”
“Name it,” she says.
“You have a contractor—James London?”
“Oh yes!” Her voice lights up. “We love James.”
“He’s a good friend, and I know he does good work. The homes you choose to build with the donation—schedule permitting, of course—would you consider giving those contracts to him?”
She laughs, “That seems simple enough. We’re always happy to have him on board.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I hope that we’ll be speaking soon!” And she signs off.
I sit on my bed, utterly unable to move. I’m at war with myself, wanting to destroy something and at the same time wanting to crawl into my bed and hide for days. Then a resolve forms. No. No hiding.
I pull on clothes, not bothering with makeup. I don’t have time for it. My anger won’t wait for it. I go across the house to my father’s office and throw open the door. I push it so hard I hear it slam against the wall with a very satisfying crack. My father is at his drafting table and I’m gratified by seeing his pen snag across the paper in his surprise.
“How much did it cost you?” I ask.
He finds his blotter and starts to work on the mistake I just made him make. “What are you talking about?” He isn’t even looking at me.
My voice is loud and I hear it echo as I shout—I don’t care, let everyone hear— “Bullshit! You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Harrison Foundation. How much did it take you to buy them off? How much did you lose to make sure they were fine with you withdrawing me from the position?”
He looks up mildly. “Two million. I figured you would appreciate it.”
“Appreciate it?” I seethe. “Why would I appreciate you sabotaging my career? I’ve dreamed of doing this kind of work since…” I trail off as my voice breaks with emotion.
He just rolls his eyes. My father, the great Timothy Caldwell, rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Vera. You know you’re blowing this entirely out of proportion.”
I take a deep breath, desperately trying to keep from screaming at him. “I’m not being dramatic. You bought someone off—”
“I made a donation,” he interjects.
“You bought someone off to force me to work for you.”
He looks at me for a moment. “I suppose you can put it like that, if you insist. Though I’m doing it for your own good.”
“If you were going to do this, going to force my hand,” my fingers squeeze into fists and I desperately want to hit something, “then why make that deal with me at all? What was the point of the past three months of me looking for a job?”
The mistake o
n his plan fixed, my father puts his drafting tools away and fully turns to face me. “I wanted you to see just how hard it would be for you if you were on your own. I wanted you to appreciate the fact that I am handing you a career and a legacy on a platter. Most people would be grateful for the opportunity, Vera. I’ve worked hard to make sure you have a place in my company, and so you will accept it with grace. Understand me: this tantrum you’re throwing will be the last time you will be allowed to behave this way.”
“Tantrum,” I say, a sudden and deadly cold flowing through my body. “Confronting you about this thing you did and standing up for myself is not a tantrum.”
We stare at each other, and everything clicks with a horrifying certainty. Every rejection that I’ve received from my interviews referenced my father; my no-longer-future employers keep asking me to give him their best. I thought it was because he was famous. I’m realizing it’s because he paid them off.
Every single interview I’ve had has been sabotaged by him.
“You paid all of them off,” I say, my voice taut.
He nods, as if there’s nothing wrong with it. “I consider it an investment in the future of my company. We both know that your place is with me at the firm.”
My mouth is dry. “Did you ever mean for me to find out?”
“Does it matter?” He shrugs. “It’s the same result. Don’t worry, I made a point of giving the money to the charitable divisions of all the companies. I figured that if you found out, the money would help you let go and get this charity kick out of your system.”
“This charity kick is what I want to do. Not that you’ve cared to listen to that for the past four years I was working on my degree.”
“And when you’re my age and well established, if you still feel that burning need,” he scoffs, “feel free. It will be your company by then. For now, you’re twenty-two, my daughter, you live in my house, I paid for your education, and you’re going to work for me.”
I grit my teeth. “You can’t make me do this. You can’t force me.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I say, straightening. “There are other options. Other places I can go.”
My father leans back in his chair with an infuriating smile. “Where, exactly, would you go? To whatever slum your poor boyfriend lives in?” My mouth falls open and he grimaces. “You thought I didn’t know that you’ve been slumming it with one of the caretakers? Letting him fuck you all over our property? You can be sure he’ll never work for us again.”
So this is speechlessness. My father doesn’t stop speaking.
“And what would you do instead?” he asks. “The entire architecture community knows that I want you to work for me. No one will want to get on my bad side by hiring you now, and you’re trained for nothing else. You start on Monday. See you at nine sharp.”
He gets up from behind his desk and comes around it, stopping in front of me. “I suggest you take this weekend to think very carefully about your future, Vera. Because if you’re not in my office on Monday morning, don’t bother coming back to this house.”
I gape at him, unable to combat the fact that he’s ignoring everything but his own logic. He’s going to disown me if I disobey. I can’t believe this is happening. I turn and storm out of the office, brushing past my mother who is watching from the door. There’s a look of shock on her face, and I hear her voice mixing with my father’s as I sprint down the stairs.
I go outside, unable to be in the house for a single second longer. I go to my garden, my refuge, and I scream at the top of my lungs. It feels so good that I do it again, louder, and then I collapse onto the bench.
I’ve always used this garden as a refuge, as a safe haven. There is no other place that I would even think to go. Except for the fact that it doesn’t feel the same, and this isn’t where I want to be—the shock that I want to be with James comes just as strongly as the desire to be in his arms. I don’t question it. I can’t. Instead I run out of the garden and toward the back of the property. He was working on the hedges, I remember. There are so many that’s probably what he’s still doing.
I’m right. In the back corner, I find him. The shears are in his hands and he looks so at ease that I start to cry before I even reach him. He sees me coming toward him and has the good sense to drop the shears to the ground before I jump into his arms. He crushes me in his embrace, and I’m sobbing because now I can and someone else will hold me. Tears are pouring out of me because it’s not fair. His voice is in my ear asking me what happened and if I’m alright, asking me what’s wrong.
Somehow I find my voice and tell him. I tell him everything about how my father ruined my chances for this job, and every other job I’ve applied to this summer. That he knows about us. That I never thought he’d do this to me. That he’s going to disown me if I don’t obey.
James doesn’t say anything, instead holding me against him. When I’ve finished, he releases me long enough to take off his thick gloves and drop them on the ground. Then he scoops me up in his arms and starts walking.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home. To my home.”
I put my hand on his chest and try to get down, but he’s not having it. “What about the work? What about Mike?”
James snorts, “The property is immaculate, and I’m sure the hedges can survive another couple of days before Mike comes back. And if your father sees me and tells me to stay, I’m going to tell him that it’s going to cost him two million dollars.”
I laugh through my tears and let James carry me away.
14
Vera
James barely gives me time to grab my things. He’s almost more eager to be out of the house than I am, but I’m not going to spend this weekend in my pajamas either. I throw my small suitcase on the bed and gather what I need: underwear, jeans, a few t-shirts, contingency clothes, my toiletries, laptop and phone. I look around, and even though I’m only grabbing things for the weekend, there’s nothing I really want to take with me. It all just seems like stuff. My now-old room is filled with meaningless stuff.
I zip up the suitcase and hand it to James, at the last second grabbing my portfolio. Then we’re out of the house and into his car and I feel like I can breathe again. I open the window and close my eyes. The noise of the wind and traffic, the feeling of the air on my face, it all distracts me from rethinking everything. The breeze steals me away from reliving my father’s words over and over again. Or at least I try to pretend that they’re not popping into my head every other second that passes.
There’s a brush of skin on the back of my hand as James gently takes it in his. He doesn’t say anything, but even that small gesture is enough for me. He’s taking me home. To his home.
I ignore the way my stomach drops into a nervous free fall. I know it shouldn’t feel like such a big thing. Plenty of people who date see each other’s houses right from the start. But still, it feels like a big thing. I feel my pulse rise, and I get more nervous about this. Do I want it to be a big thing? Is it possible for something to grow between two people so quickly? I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s possible—it happened—how, I’m not sure…it was just supposed to be sex…
I squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back. The warm feeling returns to the pit of my stomach, and I’m very grateful that he’s more than just sex. I’m not sure how long it is that we drive, or even where we’re going. I keep my eyes closed and try to relax. I’m not very successful, but the movement of the road is soothing.
When the car finally comes to a stop I blink open my eyes, squinting against the sun. We’re in the driveway of a beautiful two-story house. It has a classic design, but it’s painted a pale gray with crisp white trim that lends it a modern edge. A beautiful oak tree stands in the front yard, tall and full-canopied. It’s a testament to how long this house has been here. I remember its history, how James inherited it from his benefactor.
James grabs my suitcase from the back and
takes my hand again, leading me inside. The interior is also cool and pale, with very current style lines that make me think he’s remodeled it. James disappears down the hall with my suitcase, and I wander after him.
I see the way he put his living room together so it’s light and open. It feels so inviting that I sit down on the couch while looking around. He has a minimalist eye for detail that I find really appealing. Not the first thing I would have guessed, but now that I know him a little better it makes sense. He lived with so little for so long that he only keeps the things that are really important to him.
I hear James walk in behind me through an open archway into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water for me, and I take it.
“Thanks.” Once I start to drink, I can’t stop. I didn’t even realize that I was thirsty.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, taking the empty glass from me.
I take a deep breath and release it. “I really don’t know. I still feel a bit blindsided, to be honest. And so naïve. And just…sad.”
“That makes sense. You’re not naïve, though, Vera. Far from it.”
He sits down beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. My body relaxes and a sudden wave of exhaustion flows through me. “Is it normal that I feel so tired? It’s barely noon.”
He nods. “It’s normal after a shock. I think you can definitely count what you discovered this morning as a shock.”
“Yeah.”
“Here.” He pulls me to my feet. “I have just the thing to relax you and take your mind off things.”
I open my mouth, and he beats me to it.
“Not sex.” He’s grinning as he leads me into a spacious master bedroom. “That comes later.”
A laugh spills out of me in spite of myself. “And what are we doing now?”
“I’m going to give you a massage.” He pulls down the blankets on the bed. “I think you’ve earned it. I just have one request.”
