He makes a show of choosing the scotch and finally picks one with a gold label and a giant 25 on it. “I think you’ll really like this. Aged twenty-five years in oak casks. There’s a high plum note, but you’ll get a lot of chocolate and cinnamon at the back end.” He hands me the tumbler and I’m kind of excited to try the drink. The flavors sound so delicious and warm.
He holds up his glass. “To your promotion!”
I clink my glass against his and take a sip. And then I sputter and cough as I struggle to keep the liquid in my mouth. Oh, my God. Not only does it burn like hell, but I’m sure I look like a complete idiot.
Clyde slaps me on the back. “Not much of a scotch drinker, are you?”
I clear my throat and take a gulp from the glass of water he offers. “You made it sound more like a cupcake. I guess I was just surprised. But it’s good,” I say, and then deciding that’s not enough, I add, “Really, really yummy, actually.”
He laughs, a condescending type of laugh that makes the bad kind of goose bumps appear on my arms. “It’s all right. You’d probably prefer a cosmo.”
I want to tell him that actually, yes, I would prefer a cosmo, give him the finger and walk out, but I don’t want to overstep my bounds. Instead, I laugh and say, “Oh, well, I’m sure I can get used to this in time.”
“Don’t put yourself out, sugar.” He winks at me. I’m starting to get an odd, creepy feeling about this meeting. Especially when he slides onto the couch a little too close for my comfort. “So let’s talk about your new role here at Bell North.”
“Sure.” I sigh inwardly with relief. Maybe he’s just nestling in for a tête-à-tête regarding my new position. “I’m really excited about it. As you might know, I’ve been working my backside off for the last two years, and I’m just thrilled it’s finally paid off. I mean, I’ve been dreaming of this job for so long…”
I break off, and for good reason. He’s turned sideways on the sofa and he’s playing with a strand of my hair with his left hand. I’m fairly certain he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. “You’re a very attractive girl, Candace.”
Oh, boy. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” What the hell else do you say when your boss starts to hit on you?
“You know, I was little surprised you were so late this morning.” There’s disappointment in his tone now. “But I could probably forget about the whole thing, if…”
I’m going to be sick to my stomach. “If?” I prod, very much against my will.
“Well, that depends on you.” He leans in and plants his lips unexpectedly against mine, and I’m at once enveloped in the cloying smell of his cologne.
I’m so shocked that all I can do is sit there for a moment. But when he tries to engage in a rousing round of tonsil hockey with me, I put my hands to his chest and shove him off. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I jump from the sofa.
“I’m giving you an opportunity to help me forget about the fact you missed a very important meeting this morning.”
I stare at him, my breath caught in my throat, threatening to strangle me. All I can think about is whether or not this was how Celia worked her way to the top. She does love scotch, after all. Did Clyde cultivate that particular love? Ew. I’m struck with a serious case of the heebie-jeebies as I imagine Celia and Clyde in a compromising position. Damn my overactive imagination!
He’s starting toward me. I have to say something. I duck behind the sofa to put a little more distance between us. “Well, I’m happy to stay late,” I say, and then realize how that must sound. “Or come in early!” There. No one expects sexual favors early in the morning. Do they?
Clyde has a twinkle in his eye. The bastard is enjoying this game of cat and mouse, but this mouse is way too smart to let the disgusting, perverted cat catch her. “I had something else in mind, actually.”
“Oh, really?” I’m trying to sound innocent as I back out of the room as quickly as I can in four-inch Prada heels. “Well, maybe you can send it to me in a memo…or an email. Either one is fine. I just remembered Celia needed to see me in her office, like—” I look at my wrist, where I don’t wear a watch “—five minutes ago.” I reach the safety of the door and fling it open, inwardly rejoicing that I’ve almost made my escape. “Thanks for the drink!” I shout, and then I slam it on a not-too-happy-looking Clyde.
I collapse against the door and his secretary, Susan, looks up at me curiously. He must not try to put the moves on her, because she seems completely oblivious to my situation. Of course, she’s also pushing seventy, so maybe that has something to do with it.
“Everything all right, Miss Cooper?” she asks.
Trying to play it off, I stand up straight and tug on my suit jacket. “Just fine, Susan. Is everything all right with you?”
She nods, and then shrugs. “Do you need to schedule a follow-up appointment with Mr. Markowitz?”
“Um, no. Thank you, Susan. I’ll just be on my way.” I nod and smile and then make my way to the elevator. It arrives after an interminably long wait, and I almost jump up and down with glee. But then I hear Clyde’s door open. I don’t dare look back, but I hear plain and clear when he says, “Get me Celia. Immediately.”
Ew. She’s either going to have to finish what Clyde tried to start with me…or they’re going to talk about giving me my walking papers. This is definitely not what I expected from my promotion. Very little seems to be going my way these days.
~*~
It’s five forty-five. My day ends in fifteen minutes. I’m a nervous wreck. Celia’s been upstairs most of the afternoon, and I’m so shaken up over the morning’s events and worried about what might happen, that I haven’t done an ounce of work all day.
I tap my fingers on my polished cherry wood desk. I click “refresh” on my inbox. I bounce my foot up and down so hard that it’s making the rest of my body shake.
I look at the clock, certain it must be six by now, but it’s not. It’s only five forty-seven. How could only two minutes have passed? This is the longest day ever.
Just thirteen more minutes and I’ll be out of here. Thirteen more excruciating minutes. That’s all.
My phone rings and I jump, knocking my glass of water over. It spreads across the desk toward my laptop and simultaneously drips off the edge, onto my Chanel suit and Prada shoes. Oh, God. What do I save first?
As I reach for my laptop, I glance at my phone to see who it is. Holly. Took her long enough. But I can’t answer now. These shoes can’t get wet.
I swivel my chair so my legs and feet are out of the line of fire, and grab some napkins out of the top desk drawer. I’ve just gotten the water under control when Celia pops her head into my office.
“Candace,” she says, all business-like. “We need to talk.” She walks in and right behind her is a guy I recognize from the HR department.
My stomach plummets. All the work I’ve put into this company and I’m about to get sacked for not giving the boss a blowjob.
“I’ve just had a talk with Clyde, and we feel, based on your performance, that…well, we’re letting you go.” She procures the pink slip and lays it on the desk. I’ve missed some spots of water and it bleeds through the piece of paper. “We’ve both signed. We just need your signature, as well. John will help you pack. I’m going to have security come up to escort you out.”
I can’t believe this. I can’t believe how detached Celia is. I thought we were friends. I thought she’d been pulling for me all this time. I might be getting myself into even deeper water than I’m willing to swim in, but I have to tell her about Clyde.
“Celia, this isn’t fair.” Yes, it sounds childish, but it’s really not fair. “No one ever told me about the meeting this morning, and…Look, I know this sounds far-fetched, but…” I look up. Celia is clenching her jaw so tight, I worry she’ll break all her teeth. I shift my gaze to John, the HR guy, and back to Celia. She probably doesn’t want me to say anything in front of him, but I think he’s just the person w
ho needs to hear. “Clyde hit on me this morning. He said he would overlook my lateness if I…did things.”
There’s silence. Silence riddled with envy. And now I understand completely. Celia’s never been pulling for me; she’s been trying to keep me away from Clyde. Somehow, she’s formed an attachment to the scumbag. But clearly the scumbag will do anything under forty with a decent set of tits. No wonder my promotion took so damn long.
My phone vibrates and both Celia and I look at it. It’s Holly again.
“Candace, whatever Clyde did or said, I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,” John puts in, trying to remain as diplomatic as he can. “You’re being let go because you failed to realize the importance of this morning’s meeting—”
“I didn’t even know there was a meeting!” I throw up my hands and let them smack loudly onto the desk.
“It’s your responsibility to know what’s going on around here,” Celia says. “And your little detour to Bergdorf’s yesterday doesn’t help your cause.” She blinks a few times and flattens her lips into a straight line. “I’ll call security. Goodbye, Candace.”
She leaves. I’m feeling numb and confused as I gather my few personal belongings with John standing by watching. Arthur from security arrives, complete with pitying look.
“Sorry about this, Miss Cooper,” he says as he takes me by the arm.
“Not your fault, Arthur. But thank you.”
Once I’m out on the street, I’m not exactly sure what to do. Now that I’m unemployed, it seems frivolous to take a cab back to my apartment. I decide I’ll walk instead and call Holly on the way. It’ll be good for me, especially since I haven’t been to the gym in...God, I have no idea when I last went to the gym.
Which reminds me of my overpriced gym membership. My insanely expensive apartment. My designer fashion addiction. It hits me all at once what I will have to give up now that I’ve been canned. This crap day is only getting worse.
“Hello?” Holly picks up after the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say.
“Oh…hey.” She sounds kind of moody, and I can’t blame her. What I did was really awful, running out without saying goodbye. “Did you get my message?”
“Um, no. I just saw that you called.” I know I should tell her about my job and all that’s happened, but I’m reluctant. I’m not ready to toss all my eggs into the bakery basket, yet. Which seems ridiculous, since it’s currently my only option.
“Listen…” She lets out a big sigh as if what’s she’s about to tell me is painful to admit. “I know it’s not your responsibility or anything, but I just want you to know Mom and Dad cancelled their trip. They’re going to stay here and run the bakery. I’m still moving back to help them, though. And Colin will stay on, too. But Mom is the only one who can bake, so…”
My stomach clenches and my heart constricts. I wish they had waited a couple more days to cancel. It’s only Tuesday, after all. It hasn’t even been seventy-two hours since I left Connecticut and ruined everyone’s lives.
“Candy?”
I shake myself of the daze I’m in and realize I’ve stopped walking. I’m standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk as people elbow me and smack me with their bags as they try to get by. “Yeah, I’m here,” I say as I walk again. “Look, it’s been pretty crazy today and—”
“Yeah, I know.” Holly sounds resigned. “I’ll let you go, I just wanted you to know—”
“No, you don’t understand, Hol.” I brace myself to deliver the news. “I’ve been fired.”
There’s a pause, and then, “What?” She sounds indignant. “How dare they! Didn’t they just give you a promotion? And now they’re sacking you?”
It’s nice my sister is so supportive, but wasn’t she just berating me for making Mom and Dad cancel their trip? “It’s a long story. But look, I’m rethinking the bakery thing now.”
“Rethinking? Does that mean you want to do it?” There’s hope in Holly’s voice.
“It’s going to be a big change for me,” I say.
“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever run a bakery myself,” she counters.
“I mean, I don’t know the first thing about baking.”
“Mom will teach you. I’m sure you can do it, Candy.”
“You have to redecorate the house if we’re going to live there.”
“I’ve already started picking out paint colors.”
I chuckle and then take a deep breath. “All right, I’m in.”
“Really?” Holly sounds the slightest bit skeptical. “Are you sure this time? You know, you really let us down before.”
“Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I had a crystal ball so I could have seen what a sleezebag my boss would turn out to be.”
Crystal ball. I can hardly believe my meeting with Madame Antoinette was only a couple weeks ago—it feels like it’s been a year. But my mind shifts clearly to our conversation. A career change will find you baking. I hear those words over and over in my head, but I can’t quite believe them. I can’t believe she predicted this. Madame Antoinette is never wrong.
Oh, my God.
Holly is talking but I have no idea what she’s saying. I can only think about the fact that what’s happened, what I’m about to do, is truly meant to be. If it wasn’t my destiny, Madame Antoinette would not have been able to see it. Right? In my muddled brain it’s all making sense, and it lights a fire underneath my Prada-clad feet.
“Hey, listen. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be there by the end of the week. I just have to take care of a few things here first. And for God’s sake, tell them to rebook their cruise!”
Seven
Okay, so I know I seemed all gung-ho for this, but now that I’m trying to pack up my apartment, I’m having second (okay, fourth) thoughts. It is no easy feat to pack a 1,500 square foot apartment all by yourself. I’ve only moved three times in my life. Once from my parents’ home to my college dorm, but that was easy. I had very little to bring with me since furniture was provided, and Mom and Dad drove down all my clothes and personal belongings. The second time was into my first apartment. I still didn’t have much to move then; again just clothes and stuff. I bought all the furniture once I’d moved in and had it delivered. And the last time was when I moved here, to my modern palace in Chelsea. Of course, by that time, I was making oodles of money, so I hired packers and movers, and I tossed all my old, crappy furniture and hired Holly to decorate the place for me.
Now I’m acutely aware of the downgrade in salary, so I’m not willing to hire anyone to do this job. A huge chunk of my savings will be going to pay for the buyout of my apartment, since my building won’t allow me to sublet. How about that? I give them three years of on-time payments and immaculate living, and they won’t let me sublet for the last three months of my rent. I could probably fight it, but I just don’t have time. Not with all the packing I have to do.
I look around the apartment. Where to begin? I have five boxes set up, ready to receive my books, kitchenware, clothes and other random items, when my phone rings. I should be annoyed at the interruption, but I’m actually quite relieved. It’ll give me more time to come up with a game plan.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Hey, Hol!”
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Um, packing,” I say, as if she should have known that. “Why?”
“Great! We’re on our way with the truck. Is everything almost all boxed up?”
I stare at the empty boxes. “Yup! But I already rented a truck for Friday.”
“Candy, you couldn’t possibly move all that stuff by yourself. Besides, we need your furniture for Mom and Dad’s.”
“What? Why my furniture?”
“We’ve both just taken major pay cuts. And Mom and Dad’s house is three times the size of our apartments. We have to use our own furniture to do the redesign. Come on, don’t be selfish.”
“I’m not being selfish.”
“This is it, this is it.” Hol
ly’s voice becomes distant as she talks to the person in the truck with her.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Sorry…hang on a sec, Candy.”
I look around and assess the apartment while she gives directions to the person who I assume is driving. It’s fine. I have at least two hours before they’ll be here. That should be plenty of time to get most of it done.
“Okay, you there?
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“We’re just getting on the West Side Highway, so we’ll see you in a minute!”
What? “Wait,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “You’re here already?”
“Yeah…gotta go. I need to help Colin navigate the traffic.”
Colin? “Wait, Holly—”
The phone beeps three times. She hung up on me. Crap.
I start throwing things into boxes with very little care to cohesiveness. Plates are thrown in with makeup. Hair products with books. I’m just trying to make the place look…emptier. By the time my doorman alerts me to my “visitors” I’ve filled all five boxes, and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. All I needed was a little kick in the pants.
There’s a knock at the door followed by Colin’s impersonation of a tough guy from Brooklyn. “Movers!”
I giggle at his horrible accent—clearly he hasn’t spent a lot of time in Brooklyn—and open the door. He and Holly are standing there, arms around each other’s waists, beaming at me. Holly is decked out in what she thinks are “grubbies,” but I know the cargo pants and t-shirt cost her no less than a combined $400. Colin, on the other hand, must have raided the sale rack at Walmart. Still, he looks incredibly hot with his tight white v-neck t-shirt and dark wash jeans.
Holly is holding out a box of Dunkin Donut Munchkins and Colin has a box o’ coffee. “We brought nourishment.”
“I didn’t know donuts were considered nourishing,” I say, but neither one is paying attention to me now. They’ve walked past me into the apartment and are staring dumbfounded at the five boxes sitting in the middle of the living room.
The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy) Page 9
