“Thursday,” whispered Angela brokenly. “Two – two days ago I – I saw him with someone else. He was meeting her for lunch and when I saw him kiss her, that’s when -”
“When you really lost it.” Lauren shook her head. “I’m sorry, honey, sorry that you had to see that. Do you think he intended for you to see him?”
“N-nno.” Angela sank down onto the bed, heedless of the fact that there weren’t any sheets on it. “He didn’t know I saw him. I’d, uh, been hoping to run into him so I was hanging out at a coffee shop near his office when he walked out of the building.”
“Christ.” Lauren ran a hand over her face, suddenly feeling in dire need of more coffee. Or some tequila. “So you were basically stalking this guy is what you’re saying.”
The towel wrapped around Angela’s head began to slip off. “I guess a little,” she admitted in a small voice. “I just wanted to see him, that’s all. I don’t think I would have had the nerve to actually go up to him. But I guess this proves you should be careful what you wish for, doesn’t it?”
Lauren sat down on the bed next to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. “More often than not, yes. So you saw him with his new bimbo and went off the deep end. Does that about cover it?”
Angela’s long, wet hair fell about her face as she gave a little nod. “More or less. That’s when I knew – when I realized it’s over. Really and truly over. He’s not coming back to me and I have no idea how to go on from here.”
She curled herself up into a fetal position as she began sobbing again, and Lauren rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Oh, this is so not how I wanted to spend my down time,” she grumbled as she went in search of coffee making supplies. “I should have waited until I was home before checking my messages. Sometimes I think I should just stamp a big ole S on my forehead for Sucker.”
She unearthed some crumpled paper filters and found a package of ground coffee in the fridge. The pot had almost finished brewing when Angela dashed into the bathroom, a hand over her mouth, and a decidedly green cast to her features.
“Aw, fuck,” groaned Lauren. “And I really, really didn’t figure on holding anyone’s head over the toilet this weekend. Someone in this apartment is going to owe me big time.”
***
Lauren ended up staying for four days, bossing Angela around the entire time and refusing to let her feel sorry for herself. Between the two of them order was restored to the apartment, starting with the discarded sacks of clothing. They went through them again, pulling out suits and other items that Nick had hated but that were perfectly all right for the office. This time Lauren carted the actual giveaways directly to Goodwill, not allowing Angela the opportunity to re-stash the bags in the basement. At some point Lauren had rummaged through the extensive wardrobe Nick had bought, emitting a low whistle when she’d realized just how much there really was. She’d offered to get rid of the whole lot, but Angela had stubbornly refused to let go of anything just yet, even though all of it was at least a size too big after her sudden weight loss.
“I’ll, um, go through everything soon,” she’d promised. “When I’m in a better frame of mind to deal with it.”
Lauren had scoffed. “Oh, bullshit. You’ll hang on to every single thing. Just like you sleep with that stupid T-shirt of his like it’s a damned security blanket or something. I’d be burning it in effigy if it was up to me. After I’d sliced a couple of dozen holes in it first.”
“Don’t,” Angela had warned. “I know it’s unhealthy but I’m not ready yet.”
In the time she’d hung around, Lauren had forced Angela to eat, shower, go for long walks, and go out to the movies. By the time Lauren headed home to Big Sur, Angela felt marginally calmer and more in control, even though she was always freezing now and never felt hunger pangs. Lauren had made her promise to keep in close touch, vowing to return and move in if she didn’t hear from her at least three times a week.
“I don’t care if it’s a phone call or a text or an email,” Lauren had stated. “No matter where I happen to be, I always have access to my messages. So don’t make me try and track you down while I’m in Borneo or Kenya because my office manager gets pissy if I rack up too many roaming charges.”
“Okay, I promise.” Angela had given her a fierce good-by hug. “And – thanks. For everything. I’d probably be sleeping in a pool of my own vomit right about now if you hadn’t badgered Mr. Musante to let you in.”
Lauren had wrinkled her nose at the mental image. “Eww. Really gross visual there, Angie. But I’m glad I was here, glad you drunk dialed me when you did. And I’m always here, understand? Even if I’m half a world away I’ll always be there for you. You might have forgotten that fact over the past year but it was always true.”
Angela had felt tears begin to well up in her eyes until Lauren had given a firm shake of her head.
“Uh, uh. No way are you going to cry again. I swear I don’t understand why you aren’t completely dehydrated by now considering how much you’ve cried over the past four days. So stop it,” she’d ordered sternly. “Nobody is worth that much grief. Nobody.”
And as the next couple of weeks passed, Angela tried – really tried – to remind herself of that fact. She attempted to throw herself back into her job, even going so far as to make cold calls to a list of prospective clients.
She started calling her parents again on the weekends, and was surprised when Rita scolded her for making them worry when they hadn’t heard from her for over a month. And when she broke down crying over the phone, her mother had been uncharacteristically sympathetic.
“It’s that man you were seeing, isn’t it?” she’d asked baldly. But there had been no scorn or condemnation in her voice for once. “What’s the matter? He didn’t hit you or anything, did he?”
Through her tears, Angela had wondered wildly why everyone seemed to think Nick had been physically abusive to her.
“No, Mom,” she’d sniffled. “He would never do that. And we’re not seeing each other anymore. It’s been over for more than a month.”
“Good.” Rita’s voice had been firm, non-nonsense. “He wasn’t good for you, Angela, wasn’t the right man. What kind of man doesn’t want to meet a girl’s family, lets her go to her cousin’s wedding all alone? I hope you got rid of those things he bought you or gave them back to him. And I hope you have enough sense not to take him back if he calls you again.”
“He won’t be calling again, Mom,” she’d murmured brokenly.
It was as though saying those words out loud to her mother had made her realize once and for all just how true they were. Nick had quickly and thoroughly locked her out of his life, and had very obviously forgotten all about her with the same sort of arrogant ease that he sailed through life with.
She’d had another good, long cry after that conversation with her mother, and then, despite her half-hearted vows to Lauren, had made a trip to the liquor store. But she did force herself to keep the drinking under control, limiting herself to just enough shots to dull the pain and enable her to fall asleep.
She couldn’t, however, drink at work and thereby block out the hurt and misery she felt each time she overheard the renewed gossip about Nick. During the long months they’d been together, the gossip mill had pretty much ground to a halt, the overall conjecture having been that Nick finally had a steady girlfriend, though her identity had always remained a mystery. But once it had passed the four or five month mark in their relationship, any talk about Nick and his unknown amour had pretty much dried up.
Until now, that is. Apparently he was back on the market in a big way, if the gossip could all be believed, and Angela felt like another piece of her heart was being crushed each time someone shared a new tidbit of information about him.
“There was a picture of him in the newspaper the other day at some charity auction, and he had this gorgeous blonde with him. I think the paper said she was a model or an actress.”
&
nbsp; “Manning is definitely back to his old ways from the sound of it. He was seen with three different women in one week. And I’m guessing each one was hotter than the last.”
“I saw him at that cocktail party at the Four Seasons – you know, the one to celebrate the engagement of two of his staff members. He had a redhead with him and it sure looked to me like they couldn’t wait to go have a private party of their own.”
Each time she was forced to hear about yet another new woman Nick had been seen out with, the pain was more than she could handle. She took to keeping her office door closed, to shunning contact with the worst of the gossips, and to leaving the room the moment she heard his name mentioned.
But it was when she saw him again in person – at one of those mandatory, all-hands-on-deck meetings, the very same kind where they’d first connected – that Angela began to realize she needed to start her life over. And that, unfortunately, included finding a new job.
She’d known he’d be at the meeting, of course, given that the firm’s top market analyst would be speaking. In one of the limited number of conversations she and Nick had had about business, he’d spoken highly of this particular analyst, calling him one of the few people in the financial industry who knew what the hell he was talking about.
Knowing that she’d be seeing Nick, she had actually taken care with her appearance for the first time in weeks – making sure her hair was clean and falling in the long, loose style he preferred; applying enough makeup to conceal the pallor of her skin and the near-permanent dark circles under her eyes; digging out one of the dresses he’d bought her – a slim fitting sheath of dark green that wasn’t quite as loose on her as most of her other things. Quite intentionally, she’d also worn one of the choker necklaces he’d given her, as though to send him the silent message that he could still own her if he desired, that all he had to do was crook a finger and she’d come running to him at full speed.
But the only thing Nick did when he happened to glance her way at the meeting was to look right past her as though she wasn’t even there. Angela stood there in stunned disbelief that after all they had shared, all the months she’d spent devoting herself to him, that he could ignore her so completely. Especially since the mere sight of him was making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt since that awful night when he’d all but dumped her on the sidewalk. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, how sexy and powerful he looked in his black pinstriped suit, and she longed to rush over to him, fling herself into his arms, and beg him to come back to her.
It was then, when she realized how low she’d sunk, how desperate and pathetic she’d become, that she quietly made her decision.
***
Lloyd Raskin stared at her in shocked disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say, Angela. I would have never in a hundred years expected this. Are you – I mean, I thought you were happy here. You’ve certainly been one of the most successful young brokers we’ve ever had. Is it about money? I can’t increase your payout until you’ve been here two full years but -”
“It’s not the money,” she assured him quietly. “I know I get paid fairly, no complaints there. And I am – have been – happy here.”
He shook his head. “Then why the hell are you leaving? Let’s talk this through, okay? See if we can’t find a way to convince you to stay. Unless,” he added in a stern voice, “you’ve already got another job. Is that it, Angela? You got recruited away from us with the lure of a big bonus? If that’s the case -”
“No. That’s not it either,” she confirmed. “It’s – well, it’s personal, Lloyd. There’s some stuff I’m working through right now, and being here makes it impossible to get past it.”
Lloyd frowned. “Personal, huh? Well, I know that no one is harassing you, because you’re too strong a person to take that kind of crap. So it’s got to be a man. And tell me if I’m wrong, but I believe that man is none other than Nick Manning.”
Angela’s jaw dropped open in alarm, but she could tell from the expression on her manager’s face that there was no point in denying it. She looked down at her lap, wringing her hands in agitation. “No,” she whispered. “You’re not wrong.”
“Damn it,” Lloyd cursed angrily. “I should have known. Some of those accounts that came your way – I knew they’d asked for Nick first but that they didn’t meet his criteria. I should have put two and two together then. But I convinced myself that he was just doing what you’d claimed – helping out a fellow Stanford alum.”
“I never asked him for help,” she declared defensively. “When we were together we rarely even discussed business. And I’ve brought in plenty of my own accounts.”
“I know that,” Lloyd replied firmly. “No one would ever accuse you of not working your ass off, Angela. You deserved those accounts. Especially since it seems that Nick’s done a real number on you.”
She glanced up at him in alarm. “What does that mean?”
“No offense, but you look like hell these days,” Lloyd told her bluntly. “Like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. You’re a bundle of nerves and I’m betting you haven’t eaten a decent meal since he broke up with you.”
Angela gave a little shrug. “You’re assuming he’s the one who broke things off.”
Lloyd hooted. “Yeah, and rightly so. Women don’t say no to guys like Nick Manning. Ever. And if you’d been the one to end it, you wouldn’t be looking like a ghost right now. Or be resigning from a job you’re damned good at. Tell me what I can do to convince you to stay.”
“Nothing.” Her voice was barely audible. “I just can’t handle it any longer, Lloyd, being in the same office as Nick. Not that I actually see him all that often, but, well, the gossip is flying around fast and furiously since he’s been back on the dating scene. I try to block it out but it isn’t always possible. And knowing that he’s in the same building, so close and yet I can’t see him. It’s just – too hard.”
“Here.” He handed her a wad of tissues as she started crying. “I won’t even ask how badly that bastard hurt you. Nick’s a great guy in a lot of ways – one of the best football players of his generation, a hugely successful broker, a very generous benefactor to several charities. But he’s also a number one asshole most of the time. Damn him to hell,” cursed Lloyd. “What was he thinking of anyway? You’re too young for a shark like him, and he had no business messing with you.”
“I’m – I’m sorry,” sobbed Angela. “I should have never gotten involved with him. I’d heard all the gossip, knew he wasn’t a forever kind of guy. But I couldn’t help myself. The first time we met – it was like touching live flame.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” consoled Lloyd. “If Nick wants something he goes after it with no holds barred. You never had a chance, kid. That’s why I blame him for all of this. He should have left you the hell alone.” He picked up her letter of resignation again and sighed. “So, no chance I can talk you out of this?”
“No. I need to move on and make a clean break. This is the only way that’s going to happen.”
“You realize you won’t be able to take any of your accounts with you, right?” asked Lloyd. “Standard industry rules, except maybe for some family accounts or if the clients insist on following you.”
Angela nodded. “I know. It doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like I honestly earned most of those accounts anyway. I’m prepared to start over – in every way.”
“Hell of a waste,” said Lloyd in disgust. “Christ, I wish I had the guts to march into Manning’s office right now and give him a piece of my mind. Or punch him.”
“No!” Angela protested. “Lloyd, please. You can’t say a word. He can’t ever know that I told you about us. He – I promised him.”
Lloyd’s gaze narrowed. “I’d say he can shove those promises up his arrogant ass. But don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him about you. I may be a manager here but Manning’s got a hell of a lot more power. And I happen to like my job.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. And please don’t say anything about my leaving,” she begged. “The last thing I need is for everyone to start asking me why. Or, God forbid, to throw me a going-away party. I just – want to leave quietly.”
Lloyd nodded. “Agreed. Do you have any idea of where you’re going, what you’re going to do next?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I’ve got some money saved so there’s no huge rush. I’d like to stay in the brokerage business, of course, but I’d consider banking, venture capital, financial planning.”
He hesitated. “I might have an idea. I had lunch with an old buddy who works at Morton Sterling now. Although, you might hate my guts within a week just for suggesting this.”
Angela smiled at him. “I can’t imagine doing that. I’d be grateful for a referral.”
Lloyd grimaced. “Hold onto that thought until you’ve met Barbara Lowenstein for the first time. There’s a reason why her nickname is the She-Wolf of Wall Street.”
Chapter Thirteen
Four Months Later
“Close the door behind you. The last thing I need is for any of those nosy bastards out there to overhear us. And, Jesus, hurry it up, will you? I swear for someone as skinny as you are you sure as hell move at a snail’s pace at times.”
Angela shut the door to her boss’s office as instructed and took a seat at one of the chairs facing Barbara’s desk. The chair, she noted without surprise, was practically the only surface in the entire office not covered with untidy stacks of papers, file folders, magazines, and binders. Barbara’s desk was unquestionably the messiest area, with empty food containers and wrappers and half-full cups of coffee joining the piles of papers.
And Barbara herself was a mess, though Angela knew her tough as nails boss didn’t give a rat’s ass about her appearance and never had. At sixty one years old, Barbara Lowenstein had been a stockbroker for more than thirty-five years, and had had to fight and claw her way up the ladder of success in what she’d often referred to as the “good old boys club”. There had been very few female brokers when she’d been hired at Morton Sterling over three decades ago, and certainly no successful ones. Barbara prided herself on being the one who’d not only broken the mold but shattered it in the process. Aspiring young brokers of both genders looked up to her with awe, and many had tried over the years to cultivate her as a mentor. But Barbara had neither the time nor the patience to share her considerable expertise with any of them, and she’d developed a well- earned reputation as a scary, temperamental old witch.
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