by Cee Smith
“So, that’s it? Everything that happened up to this point was a mistake?”
I was having a hard time reining in my ire at this point. Had I been right before? Was this just a game to him?
“It wasn’t a mistake, more like…a slip in judgment. It won’t happen again. For both of our sakes, we need to keep this strictly professional.”
“Is that what you want or what has to be?”
“Dammit, Indigo.”
His eyes dimmed and it felt like the bright light that filtered in through the blinds had become clouded over with his darkening mood. I felt cold in the presence of his anger. “Why are you making this difficult? Does it matter? If you have nothing else to add to this meeting, I think you should leave before either of us says something else that will make things much more precarious.”
Precarious went out the door five fucking minutes ago, I thought to myself, but I scooped up the remnants of my pride splattered on the floor and stood with the little bit of dignity I had left. As hurt as I was, I didn’t break down in front of him. No, I waited until I was minutes behind the metal door of a bathroom stall before I let the tears trickle from my eyes. I didn’t let them ruin the little dab of blush I put on that morning, knowing that I would be meeting with Mr. Belford for our Friday meetings. Instead, I brushed my fingers beneath my eyelashes, scooping up the overflowing liquid. Were they tears of frustration, or were they tears of despair over watching a dream be crushed into fine bits of sand?
With a shitload of work I still had left to do, I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to finish any of it. Not after utterly humiliating myself. What was worse was I knew there was something there with Mr. Belford. I could tell by his outburst. I was sure anyone there could attest to the fact he never lost control. So there had to be a reason that he did with me. Right?
I ripped a thick wad of toilet paper from the roll, blew my nose, and chucked it in the toilet before I made my way to the mirror to salvage what was left of my face. It wasn’t too bad. My hair was a bit frizzy, and my mascara had a nice shadow on the edge of my bottom lashes—nothing a damp napkin couldn’t fix. I wish that was all I needed to fix the sinkhole Vett made of my heart.
Luckily, Marketing had a meeting that coincided with my meeting with Mr. Belford so when I returned to our office, there wasn’t anyone there to witness my pitiful escape. I gathered up my bag and notebook and walked along the wall closest to me to avoid drawing the eyes of anyone nearby.
As I burst through the lobby doors, the rain cloud that had followed me around upstairs finally let up, bathing me in much-needed sunshine. For the first time that week, it wasn’t humid out. I forewent the trek to the subway in lieu of some quality time alone at the park. I needed sunshine and fresh air and breezy trees to rejuvenate the epic failure from earlier.
After I shot an email to Ed telling him how to proceed with the designs, I sent another email to Mr. Belford, letting him know I’d left the office for the day, in case he needed anything. Though I suspected he’d spent the remainder of the day avoiding me, I didn’t want it to look like I’d bailed on my job. In reality, I wasn’t sure if I could quit just like that. Even if I wanted to quit, even though he said there wasn’t a chance of there ever being an “us,” I would have rather seen him every day knowing he could never be mine than spend another three months wondering what if. And that’s what sickened me, because either way I was screwed. I was the one putting myself in this predicament.
I think it was safe to say Mr. Belford wasn’t torn up about his decision…but I was.
Saturday, August 29th
“Come on, Indy.” Tea dragged out the sound of my name. Between the knocking and her whining, I knew if I didn’t answer the door she’d just drop down to the floor like a petulant child waiting for the first person to give her some attention. Unfortunately, I was the nearest person, so it would be my door she camped in front of until I succumbed.
I let her in before her fist rained another downpour against my door.
“Finally. I thought you were going to lock yourself inside for the rest of the weekend. You’ve been in here long enough.” She plopped down on the bed, like a little fairy ready to sweep away all of my worries. “Well, what gives?”
I returned to my spot at the secretary desk. The creases of the wood were filled with makeup—years of creams, powders, and oils my aunt let settle into the vanity. While Tea waited for my response, I picked at the blemishes on the desk.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” I hated the way I sounded downtrodden and all woe is me—at my age, it was so cliché. Which was why I was facing the rejection in the solitude of my room.
“This is obviously about Suit. What happened now?”
I gave her my most deadly “drop it” look. Only it fell on blind eyes, as Tea was busy tending to a manicure on its last leg. When I didn’t say anything else, she continued pushing. “Well, did you at least decide whether or not you wanted to say something to him?”
“Tea.”
“I’ll take your non-answer as an answer and assume that you did say something. What was his response? Was it a total shut down or an ‘I just want to be friends’ shut down?”
“Total. He apologized for leading me on, and said we can’t.”
“He said he ‘can’t’ or he ‘won’t’? Those are two different things.”
“Are they really though—if they both end in the same result?”
“Won’t means not a chance in hell. Can’t means he needs a little persuading.” She smiled, smitten with her own words of wisdom. “You can’t tell me that you don’t know how to persuade. I can name a few of your persuading features right off the top of my head. Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there, Indy. You’re giving him the upper hand. Take it back.”
“That’s a little hard to do at work.”
“Who says it has to be at work? Find out where he likes to hang out. This city isn’t that big. You could do a casual ‘Oh, it’s funny seeing you here’ run-in.”
Little did Tea know, I’d already started scouting him out long before her suggestion. What she was saying made sense, and the more I listened to her the more I started running through our conversation at work during Friday’s meeting. He never said he wasn’t attracted to me. In fact, he made it seem like he was struggling with his attraction to me. Which was a start—it let me know that I wasn’t swimming out in this ocean alone. Perhaps I was going about things the wrong way. Maybe I needed to remind him of the Indy he met on the train.
Tea sat on the bed watching me in silence. It felt like she was following my waterfall of thoughts, watching as they collected into a basin that displayed the whole picture. I was already halfway there, wasn’t I? I knew his schedule…
Mondays and Fridays: He exited Astor and went to his apartment in the Village.
Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays: He exited 33rd.
I wasn’t quite sure where he went on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, but it wouldn’t be hard to find out. He didn’t seem too observant of his surroundings that one time I followed him, and besides, the purpose was to see him outside of work. So if he spotted me, that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?
“And you don’t think I’d come across desperate?”
“Only if you’re obvious. You need to play this cool. Act like you’re on to the next guy and couldn’t be concerned about him or what he has going on.” She buffed her nails across a shirt that read “je ne sais quoi your face,” sprinkles of nail polish falling with every swipe of her fingers.
I nodded my head along while I mentally plotted out how to stealthily track Vett through the city. I can do this. Who knows? I might see a side of New York I haven’t experienced in the four years I’ve kept my nose to the ground and my head in books—only looking up for artistic inspiration.
“I can do this,” I said more to myself than Tea.
“That’s the fucking spirit! I’ve made up my mind. I don’t care muc
h for sad Indy. She’s a bit of a drag.”
“Well, I guess you should be thanking your lucky stars you didn’t get stuck with a roomie that was a manic depressive.”
Her eyes flashed white as she crossed herself.
“You look possessed.”
“There’s a nice bottle of tequila in the kitchen I hear goes great with exorcisms.”
“Then you better get in there and start pouring the holy water.”
“That’s my girl.”
Tea leapt up from the bed, becoming a blur of peach as she dashed from the room, making her way back to the kitchen. I heard glasses tinkering before the search engine even completed.
I might have spent the last three months doing half-assed searches for a man I hardly knew, but I had a mission now; I was throwing myself into this wholeheartedly.
Somewhere between my third and fourth tequila shot, I formulated a plan to better disguise myself. Tea came up with the idea of me slipping from work early and changing into some super spy outfit—something that appeased our drunken sensibilities. I agreed that I needed to leave early and change into something that didn’t remind him of the girl that reported to him.
Tuesday, September 1st
Tuesday after work, I slipped from the office at ten till five to dash across the street to the cafe I sometimes frequented for lunch. My purse, large enough to fit a bowling ball, held a slinky top that dipped low between my breasts and a pair of jeans that hugged me just the way I liked.
If the blinds to his office were opened, as they usually were, I would’ve been able to see when Mr. Belford left work, and so began phase two of seducing Mr. Belford.
He stepped out from beneath the awning overhanging the door, and light rays danced across his suit, taking the color from black to a deep navy and his dusky blonde hair to a brilliant gold. Mr. Belford paused just outside the office doors—peering straight into the café I was sitting in. For those thirty seconds my heart leapt with the knowledge that maybe Mr. Belford wasn’t the creature of habit I suspected he was. Especially if he decided to make an impromptu stop at the café before heading to the station. After a few more seconds, his large hands moved to his neck, the thick fingers adjusting his already perfect tie before striding down street.
I watched him. How that suit and his movements made his legs look long and muscular, the clenching of his hand as his briefcase swung with momentum, the rippling of his hair in the uptake of wind. I lost myself in the image of this man and nearly forgot I was supposed to be following him.
The table wobbled as I fled the café to follow him down the street. On the opposite sidewalk, I mimicked his movements from fifty paces back. My body thrummed with excitement, knowing that I was one step closer to unraveling the mystery of Vett. Since that day on the train when he exited 33rd Street, I wondered where he went. He left work every day like he was punching a clock—unusual behavior for an executive. Maybe he has scheduled appointments or kids. Or maybe his kids have scheduled appointments? Still contemplating the reasons for his schedule, I watched him descend the staircase to the subway station.
From the other side of the train, I kept him within my sights. It wasn’t too hard to do considering the people nearest him seemed to be caught in his orbit too. At least I knew I wasn’t the only one, but that still didn’t keep my hackles from rising upon seeing some not-so-subtle brushes from a flirty blonde impressed by her own rack. A very primal voice sparked inside me—something I hadn’t recognized up to that point.
Mine. A guttural voice inside me sought to breathe the word into truth, making Mr. Belford little more than an object to possess. My possession.
He exited on 33rd Street with me hot on his heels—just a couple blocks from the Empire State Building. I was shocked to find Mr. Belford spent an excessive amount of time in an area overwhelmed by tourists. Behind the bespoke suits and crystalline armor Mr. Belford was full of surprises.
Breaking away from the crowd, Mr. Belford turned down a side street lined with large brick buildings with no more than street numbers to mark their location. He made a sharp left where a couple stood talking on the corner. I slowed my steps, creating more distance so as not to draw any more attention to myself and the fact I was following this man all over Murray Hill. From the edge of the street he’d turned down, I watched him enter a brown-bricked building. If not for the guard manning outside, I would have thought it was abandoned. The bear of a man nodded his head in recognition of Vett before Vett disappeared inside.
What could possibly need a guard on this side of town? There was nothing remarkable about the building. Maybe it was an exhibit that hadn’t yet opened to the public? Although, I couldn’t imagine they would have outdoor security for that. Whatever it was, I was assured he wasn’t going there for any kind of appointment, at least none that involved children.
After only a few minutes of camping outside to see if anyone else followed him in, a couple showed up, lingering just outside the entrance to the building. They stopped to chat with the security guard, and I listened to see if I could ascertain anything from their voices drifting down the street.
They seemed to be pretty well dressed, though not in an I-just-got-off-work kind of way. The woman wore a leather skirt that hit her mid-thigh and a hunter green blouse, baring the tops of her breasts. The man looked equally as sharp, with black slacks and a green and white pinstriped shirt, matching his wife’s outfit. The conversation over, the man ushered them in with a level of excitement that piqued my interest enough to draw me closer.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself for a casual walk-by. A tremble rolled across my limbs like shifting plate tectonics, and I shook my arms to release the building nerves. With slow measured steps, I neared the building, looking up and down the alley, while avoiding the attention of the man with the healthy belly and just-sprouted russet hair standing guard outside.
Just as I was about to pass him, I looked up. Our eyes met and I placated a smile before fixing my eyes on the address posted beyond where he stood. 315. Refocusing my attention back on the sidewalk, I made it to the end of the block without looking back.
Escaping his line of sight, I hooked a left and stopped against the brick wall, pulling out my phone to look up the address. According to my search, the building was mostly rented out to private parties. I scrolled through a list of previous events and a series of categorized photos appeared. Within a couple clicks I found myself on another website for a club called “Socialize.” It looked like any ordinary nightclub website, but it didn’t make sense. Did Mr. Belford really leave work early to go to a nightclub? I scanned every line, hoping for something to stick out.
My eyes caught on the words, “Single Men Welcome on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights. Single Ladies and Couples welcome every night.” I’d never been to a club that wanted couples only or had designated days in which men weren’t welcome. Thirsty for more information, I searched the dress code. It wasn’t until I clicked on “Membership Fees” that the puzzle pieces started to fit together. Socialize listed itself as an “off-premise club”—something that sounded clandestine and secretive.
I quickly typed in “off-premise club” and watched as my screen became flooded with sex clubs. Looking up to ensure no one was watching me, I clicked on the Wikipedia page outlining what the term meant.
Off-Premise clubs are ones that allow for couples to meet and often dance or socialize but have no areas or rooms where any sexual activity can occur.
With the way he frequented the place you would think it was a crack house and he was looking to score. If sex is his intent for visiting this place, he must be insatiable.
Clicking back on Socialize’s website, I realized I didn’t have on the appropriate attire to make my way inside. Even if I did, I wasn’t mentally prepared to run into Vett—at least not in a place like that. It was so far out of my element, it would be like an alien landing on Earth for the first time.
Wednesday, September 2nd
Wednesday, I didn’t need to follow Mr. Belford to know exactly where he’d be an hour later—giving me enough time to run home, freshen up, and change into something that was sure to draw more than just his eye. A bit more heavy-handed with the eyeliner, I played up the curved sloping of my eyes and the arch of my eyebrows. A dab of blush, a blot of lip gloss, and some hasty finger-combing later, I made a mad dash back to the subway and the club I’d spent the better part of the prior night investigating.
I texted Tea. She’d know just what to say to take my mind off of the maelstrom of thoughts, throwing me off-center.
Do you think it’s weird I’m showing up alone?
Ahh. Do you need your security blanket?
No. You don’t think I’m a fraud for showing up there? Maybe they’ll be able to tell I’m not one of them.
Chill out. No one’s going to start yelling “stranger danger” the moment you walk in. If anyone asks just say you found the website and you were just curious.
I’m just curious. Just curious. I repeated the words in my head in time to the clicking of my heels as I followed the steps leading me to the brown-bricked building with the hefty bouncer outside. When I was around the corner of the building, I stopped and adjusted my dress, pulling the bottom to cover a little more than my ass cheeks. The dress said enough without adding indecent exposure to its list of attributes.
“ID.”
A different man stood outside, guarding the door—this one wasn’t so chatty. Pulling my ID from my purse, I handed it to him with a smile I hoped conveyed warm and friendly and not how I really felt, which was nervous and terrified. He looked at the card with the eye of someone threading a needle, flipping it over before his eyes found mine again. I must have passed his inspection because he handed me back my ID and wished me a good night.
I knew it was a sort of mingles club and there was no actual sex that happened on site, but I still wasn’t quite sure what to expect. No amount of online research could mentally prepare me for what I was about to do—seek out Vett on his turf.
