by Deanna Lee
“Sarah, I realize that you view me as an obstacle.”
“More like a temporary detour.”
Snippy little bitch.
I smiled and rested back fully in my chair. “I will be the Director of this gallery come August. Your future after that will be up to you and your ability to work. It won’t matter what Milton has told you or what he’s promised you.”
“You aren’t the Director yet.”
“Milton Storey is using you, Sarah. You and I both know it. He’s making every effort to push you into situations that will affect my ability to adhere to the Board’s wishes.”
“He’s a powerful man.”
“Of course he is. No man with the kind of money he has could be anything else in Boston. What you’ve failed to realize is that you mean nothing to him. The man married his money, and he isn’t going to leave his wife for you. When he retires in August, he’ll be in no position to further your career at Holman.”
I watched her as she lowered shaking hands into her lap. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You aren’t the first woman he’s used this way.”
“I’m not stupid, no matter what you or Ms. Tilwell might think. I am very capable of doing my job.”
“You wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise. Do you honestly think Milton protected you during that time? I have the authority to hire and fire directly from the Board.”
“I can take care of myself, and I don’t need or want your advice.”
“Ambition is a double-edged sword.” I spread my hands out on the blotter, palms flat, and took a deep breath. “And women who sleep their way to power do nothing to further the cause of equality and success for honest, hardworking women.”
She stood abruptly. “Are we done?”
“Yes.”
She stomped out and shut my door with a loud thump; there was yet another person in the office out to break my measly glass wall. Jane hopped right up and shot toward the lounge where Sarah had disappeared to. I was sure to get an earful later.
Two hostile confrontations in two days wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, but it only confirmed the thought that Sarah would have to be replaced after Milton was gone. I couldn’t afford to have anyone like her on staff. Though I sort of considered her a challenge, I had no room for challenges in the plans I had for Holman after August.
I rubbed my face and considered the conversation I’d been putting off since I’d reviewed my calendar. While I didn’t expect Shame to be confrontational about my having to skip a session with him, I did expect to have to make up for it. I wondered what sort of deal he’d wrangle out of me.
Picking up my phone, I dialed Shame’s number and started trying to figure out how to tell him that I had a date tonight and couldn’t sit around naked for him. He picked it up on the third ring. I said, “Hey, are you busy?”
“Not for you.”
I grimaced, his voice was so sexy and nice. It was going to totally suck if he didn’t react the way I expected. “I have a date tonight. One I made prior to my agreement to pose for you.”
“I see.” His tone had cooled considerably, which was irritating. Did the man think that I’d had no life before he walked into it?
“Canceling at this hour would be rude.”
“And if I were the man with the date I would be pissed.”
“You’re the man with the appointment.”
“Indeed, the man with the appointment.” He sighed. “It’s all good. But to make it up to me, you’ll have to come over first thing in the morning.”
“I usually clean my apartment on Saturdays.” Okay, a lie. A big, fat lie. I normally slept in on Saturdays and spent my day in my panties.
“Sacrifice the date or the dusting; it’s your choice, Mercy.”
“Fine. What time?” I pressed my lips together and frowned.
“How about eight?”
“Yeah.” Eight in the morning on a Saturday was meant for sleeping, and anyone who thought differently was crazy.
Disgruntled, I ended the call and looked at my calendar again. It hadn’t changed. The date wasn’t an exciting prospect, and I resented that. To be honest with myself, it hadn’t been exciting before Shamus Montgomery, either. I looked up at the door to my office as it swung open. Damn, that squeaky noise was annoying. Milton strolled in and sat down.
“Sarah will be completing the details on Lisa Millhouse’s show.”
I raised an eyebrow and then grinned. “Sounds interesting.”
He jumped a little, I guess surprised that I hadn’t exploded. “Do you have everything she’ll need?”
I pulled Lisa’s file free from my to-do stack and tossed it on the corner of the desk. “That should be everything.”
He snatched the folder and walked briskly out of my office. I watched him take the folder to Sarah. I wondered when the guilt would kick in. Nope, it wasn’t coming. I motioned Jane in and pursed my lips; it really wasn’t going to come. No guilt. Jane shut the door, and I shrugged.
“I’m going to hell,” I announced.
“What did you do?” Jane asked softly.
“Milton just gave Lisa’s show to Sarah, and I didn’t voice one single complaint.” Lisa was going to tear Sarah to shreds.
Jane’s mouth dropped open, and then she giggled. “Oh, that’s so damn evil.”
I watched Sarah Johnson walk stiffly to her desk. She’d been gone less than two hours. That was probably a record for Lisa. Sarah’s normally perfect hair was a little bit out of place, and several bright red splotches adorned her white linen suit. I glanced at Jane sitting at her desk and then turned in my chair so they wouldn’t all see me laughing like a loon. When I had myself contained, I turned back around and looked toward Sarah’s desk. Milton was standing there, listening to what I’m sure was a fantastically funny story. I was almost jealous. He looked furious.
He looked toward my office and hurried across the bull pen. I sincerely wished my wall wasn’t glass at times like this. He threw open the door and then slammed it shut. “Lisa Millhouse shot Sarah with a paint gun.”
“Yes, I noticed Lisa has changed colors. The first six times I went to see Lisa I got blue. On the seventh try, I’d managed to find a dress the same color as her paint. She was so amused she let me come in.” Inclining my head, I met his gaze. “I told you, Milton, that Lisa Millhouse is intolerant of strangers. You chose to ignore my advice, and you sent an inexperienced buyer out to harass an established client. You can be certain the Board will be informed of this.”
“You mentioned none of this this morning.”
“Frankly, I am tired of repeating myself.” I leaned back in my chair. “I’ve told you repeatedly that Sarah is not ready to operate on her own with artists. Beyond that, you’ve ignored my opinion on the matter of the Millhouse account for weeks. If your recent act has damaged that account, you can be assured that the Board will know about it.”
“The damn woman is ridiculous!” he shouted and then glared at me as if it were really my fault.
“Lisa Millhouse does not ask much of anyone. She expects privacy, and she gets it. I know that Sarah was given several verbal warnings before Lisa took aim because that’s what happened with me. Lisa is a talented and passionate artist that Holman is honored to represent.”
He glared at me and then left. Sarah was at her desk, being comforted by one of her friends, and Jane was bouncing in her seat. As soon as Milton was gone, she jumped up and hurried into my office. She shut the door and leaned against it. “I’m about to burst.”
“I know. That used to be a lovely suit.”
Jane bit down on her lip. “You’re killing me. Want to take an early lunch?”
I pulled my purse from my desk and stood. “Yeah, let’s go find something bad for us.”
“The waiter has a nice ass.”
I glimpsed from my menu to the ass in question and then back to Jane. “Yes, he does.”
Jane closed her menu a
nd watched the waiter while I considered my choices. The same waiter came around and took our orders. Once that was finished, I looked at Jane. I knew she had something on her mind, and wondered what it was.
“Go ahead.”
Jane flushed and started mutilating the cover to her straw. “Can this be a friend-to-friend discussion instead of a boss-to-assistant discussion?”
“Yes, of course. Is something wrong?”
“No.” Jane shook her head quickly and dropped the disgraced paper in front of her. She looked at it for a moment. “I want your job when you’re promoted in August. I think I deserve it more than anyone else at Holman’s.”
For a minute, I was silent. It had been my hope that she would be afraid to bring the matter up, which I suppose makes me a horrible person. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being disappointed if it didn’t go through. “I agree and plan to propose that very thing to the Board in August.”
Jane released her breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to be disappointed if the Board disagreed with me.” I looked up and met her eye. She shook her head and smiled. “I’m serious.”
“I know.” Jane sighed. “That’s so sweet, Mercy.”
I rolled my eyes and swished my straw around in my glass. “Too bad you messed it up.” I grinned and glanced around the café we’d chosen for lunch. “You know, those paint pellets hurt when they hit. I can’t believe she took three before she ran.”
Jane laughed. “I heard her say that if you could win Lisa Millhouse over, she knew she could.”
“Perhaps if Lisa liked women,” I responded dryly and then leaned back in my chair. “Milton thinks with his dick. It’s just too bad that attitude doesn’t follow into his taste in artists.”
“That’s why he’s being replaced.” Jane shrugged. “We saw it coming. The Board wants to make money, and Mr. Storey insists on presenting a very traditional gallery. That just doesn’t sell in today’s market. The fact is that money is sexy, and people like to buy sexy and expensive things with it.”
“Sarah Johnson has a lot of potential. I hate to see it wasted because of Milton.”
“You’ve tried with her.”
I frowned. “Not like I should’ve. I dismissed her practically from day one as his eye candy. If she didn’t have such a great education I would’ve fired her already. And also, to be perfectly honest, I figured that Milton would be easier to manage if I kept her around.
Jane nodded after a moment. “Okay, but what about her attitude?”
“Well, I was quite full of myself at twenty-five.”
“Yeah.” Jane grinned and sat back in her chair. “Me, too.”
The cute-ass guy returned with our food and refilled our drinks. We both watched him walk away before getting to our food. We ate mostly in silence; I suppose both of us were caught up in our own thoughts. Then rather unexpectedly, Jane stopped eating and cleared her throat. I barely had time to look around before Shamus Montgomery pulled out a chair and sat down at our table.
“Shame.” I set my fork down. I fought the urge to lean closer. The man smelled like heaven.
He looked between us. “Hello, ladies. I just stopped by to get some takeout.”
Jane offered him a smile. “Mercy tells me she’s enjoying working with you.”
I glared at her. I had said no such thing. “Actually, Jane was just telling me that she would love to pose for you.”
Jane blushed. As far as I knew, she was one of the most modest women on earth. She had quit going to the gym because changing clothes in public freaked her out. I almost felt bad for saying what I did.
Shame looked over her face, then reached out and tilted her chin a little. “You have a strong face, Jane.”
When he released her, she sucked in air and dropped both hands into her lap. “Thank you.”
He turned to me. “You shouldn’t pick on her, Mercy.”
I laughed, and Jane let out a breath, realizing that he wasn’t going to pursue her as a model. I responded, “She gets what she gives.”
Shame stood and looked toward the cashier. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mercy.”
Jane waited until he’d left the café before speaking. “Yep, he’ll see all of you tomorrow.”
I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of chicken savagely. “It doesn’t matter, it’s like I’m not even real when I’m sitting in that chair.”
“That sounds like a complaint.”
It wasn’t necessarily a complaint, but a part of me was hurt that he hadn’t made a more serious play for me. Did I want to be in Shamus’s bed? The answer was yes, of course. Not only did I want it, I expected it. Lust was turning deep circles in my body, heating at the mere thought of him. Realizing that I hadn’t responded to Jane, I shrugged and focused on my food.
I closed my door on Jerry and shut my eyes tightly. The man had actually thought that he was going to get invited in. Dinner had been dignified and very boring. How he thought such an event would translate into sex on the first date was beyond me.
In fact, as I turned and locked my door, I tried to remember the last time I’d actually ended up in bed with a man on a first date. Probably some time in college, when sex had been on my mind more often than not. Sex had always been something of a staple in my life. At least, until I’d been attacked.
That reminded me that I had homework to do for my therapist. Disgruntled, I checked my watch and sighed when I realized it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. If that wasn’t a sign that the date had been bad, I don’t know what was.
I walked to my answering machine and found the message light blinking. Ignoring it was tempting, but cowardly. I can’t stand to be a coward. I pushed the “play” button with a jab of my finger and glared at the machine.
“Hey, I hope your date wasn’t a snorefest.” Jane sighed. “You know I hate this thing. Anyways, give me a call when you get back from Montgomery’s tomorrow, and I expect some serious details.”
I laughed and hit the “delete” button, then waited for the next message. It was a hang-up, which I erased. Changing my number was a damned pain in the ass. I hated having to do it, and this time I would have to change my cell phone number as well.
In my bedroom, I sat down at my desk and opened up my e-mail program. Maybe e-mailing my homework would be easier than having to discuss it in therapy. I opened a new e-mail message, hammered out my thoughts quickly, and hit “send.” Since it was cowardly, I sat there for a few minutes after I’d done it, trying to decide what Lesley’s response would be. I didn’t have a session with her until Tuesday so I figured I was safe for the time being.
I stood and went into my closet to find something more comfortable to wear. I’d managed to pull a T-shirt on when the phone started to ring. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants, I went out in my bedroom and picked up the phone beside my bed.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”
I frowned and sat down on the bed. “Lisa.”
“You pissed about the paint gun?”
I laughed softly. “No. I sort of expected it.”
She sighed in my ear, and then I heard her breath catch. “This is going to sound crazy.”
“I’ve come to expect the unexpected from you.”
“I need you to come out here.”
I frowned. As far as I could remember, she’d never invited me to her house. In fact, I normally had to press her several times for appointments, a task that I sort of viewed as entertainment.
“Are you all right?”
“No. I’m not.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” My grip tightened on the phone. “Can I bring anything?”
“No,” she whispered.
The drive out to her farm house felt like a hundred years. When I turned down her driveway, dread pooled in my stomach. Every light in the sixty-year-old house was on. I threw my car in park and exited quickly. The front door was standing wide open, and when I came to it I realize
d that Lisa was sitting on her couch, with a gun across her lap.
Something told me that it wasn’t her paint gun.
“Lisa.”
She jerked and set aside the gun. “Mercy.”
I went inside. To settle myself I took my time closing and locking the door. “What is wrong?”
She picked up a bottle of vodka that I hadn’t noticed and took a healthy swig. “That son of a bitch ex-husband of mine.”
I went to the couch, picked up the gun, and with ignorant if careful hands, moved it to the other side of the room and put it on a desk. “I often hear that about ex-husbands. I’m glad I don’t have one.”
“He called me,” she whispered as if a part of her couldn’t actually believed it had happened.
“The bastard.”
“Exactly!” She hugged her bottle to her chest.
“So how long have you been drinking?”
“About two minutes.”
“So, you aren’t wasted?”
“Oh, Mercy.” She sighed. “I’m wasted in so many ways. I’m wasted with regret and anger that I gave that man so much of my life. I’m wasted with desperation—that desperation I’ve carried in me since he hit me the first time.”
“Your marriage has been over for years.”
“My marriage was over that day. That day, today.”
“What?” I turned and looked at her with a frown. “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
She held up the bottle of vodka, which was nearly full, and then took a deep swallow. “Today is the ten-year anniversary of the death of my self-respect and my marriage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Today is the anniversary of the first time my husband hit me. The first time I let him get away with it.”
I reached out and took the bottle. The vodka was sharp and smooth on my tongue. “Okay, this day officially sucks.”
“I’d always said that a woman who stays with a man that would hit her is pathetic. I promised myself I wouldn’t be that woman.”
