Heartbreak for Hire

by Sonia Hartl

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I picked my words carefully. Margo had asked for my support without telling me what it would be for, and now that I knew, it was as though I’d stepped into a minefield, with only wrong moves ahead of me.

  “None of you like change. Emma, Charlotte, Brinkley, don’t you remember the fuss you three threw over the Cheaters department? You said it was too risky. The guy who hosted that show got stabbed. But then I reminded you, what is the ultimate humiliation for a man?”

  “Calling out his mom’s name during sex,” Allie said.

  “Getting a tramp stamp while drunk on spring break,” Emma said.

  “Having to order customized condoms in extra small,” Charlotte said.

  “Hearing Maury Povich say ‘you are the father’ on live TV,” I said.

  “Okay, none of those.” Margo’s lips thinned, the only sign she showed of her wavering patience. “The ultimate humiliation is being thrown over for another man.”

  “I think calling out his mom’s name is way worse,” Allie said.

  We nodded in agreement.

  “Listen.” Margo slammed her teacup down with a sharp clink. “I was right about Cheaters, and I’m right about hiring male Heartbreakers. They will earn less than you because they will work for you. After their training is complete, and if this venture becomes successful, on top of your regular commissions you’ll earn fifteen percent of their share as their direct managers. Congrats, ladies. You’re their bosses now.”

  For once, Emma didn’t have anything to say. Neither did Charlotte or Allie. I had a lot to say. Too much. But nothing I could vocalize. Although the new source of revenue would bring my gallery that much closer to fruition. If only I didn’t have to work with Mark. If I could get rid of him somehow and have another man take his place…

  I shook my head. Just because Margo held the dangling carrot didn’t mean we had to be her asses. We’d been sold on H4H because it was supposed to be a female-driven enterprise, a chance to heal old wounds while we doled out the revenge we couldn’t ever take for ourselves. And yeah, we got paid. But it hadn’t just been about the money for us. We’d bought into Margo’s empowerment spiel. All the way. If we trained men to break women’s hearts, what did that say about our mission?

  What did that say about us?

  Emma held up a finger. “And what if we still don’t like this?”

  “Then I’ll find someone to replace you.” Margo looked each of us in the eye to impress on us that she meant business. “Either way, the men are staying. You can get on board and reap the benefits, or you can get out of the way.”

  “Can we have a day to think all this over?” Charlotte asked.

  Margo waved a hand. “Sure thing. Take tomorrow off. Think things over. But I expect a response from you on Wednesday morning. The men will be here on Friday evening, and you all have new assignments. You’ll be able to bring them along to start their training.” We all murmured in unison that we’d have an answer by then, and stood as a unit. “Brinkley, can you stay a minute? The rest of you are free to leave.”

  Emma gave me a look to let me know she’d wait for me. The four of us had things to discuss, and we had to do it somewhere else. Preferably a place that served alcohol. I couldn’t be the only one who needed a drink.

  As soon as the door closed again, Margo turned her piercing gaze to me. “You weren’t as vocal as I expected. That’s not like you. How are you feeling about this change?”

  “I don’t know.” I still didn’t fully understand how Mark had gone from adjunct-in-anthropology to apprentice-in-heartbreak, but his career was the least of my worries. I had to do what I’d been doing best for the last two years: look out for myself. “I need to think it over.”

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” She slid a delicate plate of cookies over to me.

  I stared down at my knotted fingers. “No.”

  Not only did I fear losing my job, but I also feared losing face. Margo was more a mother to me than my own in ways I’d been hungry for two years ago, and I didn’t ever want her to look at me like I was a disappointment. I never wanted to be anyone’s disappointment again.

  “Okay then. We’ll circle back to that later.” Margo sat back. “I appreciate your not leaping down my throat right away. I know this is going to be a hard adjustment, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say your well-being is always my first priority.”

  “Why men though?” I asked. “Why couldn’t you just hire more women? You’ve always told us men are the enemy, and now this?”

  Margo gave me a sad smile. “Every company has to find new ways to grow or it will flounder and sink. Our old business model can’t survive. It’s not punchy enough. But I promise, this environment will still be safe. These are your employees as much as they are mine, and you might find you have more in common with the men than you think.”

  “It feels wrong. Maybe because it’s all wrong.” I didn’t want to voice it, but that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. We did well by women, I believed that with every fiber of my being, but at what expense? Mark hadn’t been so bad, but it was the first night I’d stepped out of character and taken off my blinders. What if others hadn’t been terrible either, and I just couldn’t see it? I feared I’d become so jaded that I could no longer see the bigger picture.

  “No.” Margo reached out for my hand across her desk. She’d always given her approval without question. No matter what I did or felt, she was always on my side. For that alone, I owed her everything. “We’re not wrong. Remember your clients, the ones who have been so grateful for our services. Remember how Aiden made you feel so powerless? Remember how weak you were when I approached you in that restaurant?”

  Every time she brought up what Aiden had done to me, old memories threatened to choke me. The time I’d rented a cabin on Lake Michigan for our anniversary brought a fresh wave of shame to my mind, like a slimy coating that never quite washed away.

  “I have finals coming up—how could you be so stupid?”

  I’d presented the key and accompanying note to him in a gift-wrapped box, while I wore nothing but scraps of lace under a short robe. I’d tried so hard to be a fantasy for him that the only fantasy I ended up creating was the belief that he’d ever loved me. He’d scorned my gift and given me the silent treatment until I was on my hands and knees begging him to forgive me, when I knew—I knew—I’d done nothing wrong. Still, I’d begged, because I couldn’t stand the stony silence and disapproving glares.

  “I have finals coming up—how could you be so stupid?”

  Margo waved a hand in front of my face. “Brinkley. You in there?”

  “Yes, sorry.” I straightened my spine and folded my hands neatly in my lap, willing them to stop shaking. Aiden was gone. He no longer had the power to hurt me.

  “There now.” Margo’s comforting tone soothed the last of my frayed edges. “I’ll have no more talk about what we do being wrong. Not when it’s been so integral in empowering women, and in allowing you and the girls to take back what had been stolen from you.”

  She was right. Of course she was right. I put those thoughts of guilt and shame away. We only hurt men who truly deserved it. I still didn’t approve of Margo’s latest business idea, but it was clear I wouldn’t get through to her, so I’d have to see what the other girls wanted to do about it. “What made you want to hire the men in the first place?”

  “Ah.” Margo picked up her tea, but her cup didn’t quite mask the smugness in her expression, which left me feeling even more uneasy. “That came to me in an interesting way. Not one I’ll be sharing today though. You’ve already had enough to process.”

  On that cryptic note, I made my exit.

  Emma pounced on me as soon as I shut the door. “What did she say? Did she try to justify her choices? What do you think of the management kickback? Do you think she only offered that to placate us?”

  “Slow down.” I laughed. “We need to get out of he
re and get a drink first.”

  “Please. We’re five steps ahead of you. Allie and Charlotte are reserving us a table at the Reading Lounge as we speak.” She gave me an evil grin. “I believe you’re familiar with it?”

  “You’re going to regret that joke,” I muttered.

  * * *

  Emma got us an Uber, which we skipped so we could walk when I told her Mark was the Mark from ladyhead-gate. She raged in her own Emma way, which included finding a shallow grave for him next to Aiden, but she also worried. Running into him at Northwestern had been unpleasant. Working with him in the same office would be a nightmare.

  “Didn’t Margo do a background check on these guys?” Emma asked. “Wouldn’t she know Mark was a target?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could explain the situation to her.” Emma hopped over what looked like a puddle of vomit on the sidewalk. “I bet she’d dismiss him right away.”

  “And risk both my job and getting the same scathing judgment from Margo that I already get from you?” I couldn’t. Even when she made me incredibly angry, I cared about Margo’s opinion. I’d come to rely on it. “No, thanks. For better or worse, I’m stuck with him.”

  “Maybe he’ll leave on his own now that he’s seen you?”

  I could only hope.

  Half an hour later, Emma and I crowded into a booth at the Reading Lounge. Around the corner from where Mark had lifted me against the wall and worked his body against mine. Just being in here brought every second of that night to the forefront of my mind, including my humiliating escape. I’d never eat coleslaw again for as long as I lived.

  “Classy joint. Sorry.” Emma winced.

  “Told you you’d regret that joke.” I waved over the waitress, the same one from my night with Mark. Her eyes lit with surprise, but she didn’t say anything. I’d tip her generously again for her discretion.

  As soon as the waitress returned with a round of vodka cranberries, Allie raised her glass, clicking it against ours. “To not giving a fuck about the promotion.”

  “To taking down those bastards anyway,” Emma said.

  “So, we’re in agreement?” Charlotte asked. “We don’t want men at H4H?”

  “They don’t belong. The extra money isn’t worth this.” I gave myself a single second to think longingly of my gallery. Still so far beyond my reach, but getting closer every week. “Ethically, we can’t stand by it. Our company has always been women-only. It’s why women have felt comfortable hiring us.”

  Everyone agreed. Though we didn’t consider ourselves moral by any standards, we cared about women. We wanted to help our clients. In the world at large, men still had the upper hand, and in our own twisted way, we considered what we did an evening of the odds.

  “What are we going to do though?” Charlotte asked. “I can’t afford to lose this job, and Margo said she’d get rid of us if we don’t get on board.”

  “Simple. We murder them,” Emma said. “The fish in Lake Michigan will make quick work of their bloated bodies.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Anyone else?”

  “We ditch them.” Allie shook back her strawberry-blond hair. “Tell them to show up at locations across town from where we actually are. We can’t train them if they don’t show up. And Margo can make her threats, but she can’t fire all of us.”

  “I like it,” Charlotte said.

  “I like it too,” I said.

  We traded rants back and forth as the drinks flowed, and the more we drank, the more worked up we got. Margo couldn’t bring men into H4H. We had to protect what we’d helped her build. Six hours and countless vodka cranberries later, I could no longer feel my face, but I felt confident in our plan. Or as confident as one could feel when the room tilted.

  “I love ooo,” Emma slurred. “My Ooooober is here, but I can’t leave yet. Not until you know how mush I wuv ooo.”

  I patted her cheeks and slurred something back. Wow, the room was really spinning now. I slung my purse over my head like a necklace. I might’ve called it a cowbell and made mooing sounds. That part was fuzzy.

  My feet dragged up the sidewalk, and I’d never been more grateful I’d chosen to wear one-inch ankle boots instead of five-inch heels. I had three blocks to walk until I made it to my apartment. Then I could land face-first in Winnie’s fluff and pass out. Maybe she’d harvest my eyeballs while I slept. Then I’d never have to see Mark or the way his features twisted in disgust when he looked at me again.

  I leaned against a building and tilted my head toward the sky. Two blocks to go. Everything that wasn’t numb tingled. I really wanted to make out with someone. Anyone would do. I’d reached that portion of the liquored-up phase. The street looked vaguely familiar, but not in the way it should look familiar when I was only two blocks from my apartment. I weaved in front of the building as I squinted at the number.

  Of course.

  Not only had I gone the wrong way, but I’d ended up in front of Mark’s apartment. My drunk ass needed an intervention. But, since I was here, and I still really wanted to make out with someone, why not make out with Mark? That seemed like a grand idea in my vodka cranberry–addled brain.

  No. Bad, Brinkley. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. How dare he look at me today like I was full of shit? He was the one who’d pretended to care so much about teaching.

  He wasn’t going to show up at my work and judge me. I’d tell him exactly where he could stick that look. I took the stairs, barely hanging on to the railing as I used it to propel me around corners. I looked for the cheap shoes I’d kicked off when I ran from him, but someone must’ve swept them away. I stood in front of his door, full of righteous indignation and ready to rage. Or make out. I’d be lying if I said I’d completely taken that off the table.

  One way or the other, we were going to have this out. If only his door would stop moving so I could knock. I ended up rapping my knuckles against the wall. Good enough.

  Heavy footfalls sounded from the other side, and he opened the door. All of his faces held a mix of annoyance and surprise.

  “You have, like, three heads right now.” I weaved in front of him. “As soon as I find out which is the real one, I’m either going to punch you or kiss you, so hold still.”

  It was the last thing I remembered.

  CHAPTER 10

  I peeled an eyelid open and had instant regret. Sun streamed in through the window like a laser beam determined to punish me for my night of debauchery. The room was too bright. It made everything hurt. I must’ve stumbled into my apartment and crashed on the couch. Groaning, I pulled the blanket up to my chin. It was soft and smelled lightly of rain and moonlight. Not like my blanket…

  I sat up, gripping my head as the room spun and my stomach churned.

  This wasn’t my apartment.

  Everything in the room was white. White walls, white couches, white end tables. I looked down. Oh God. Even the T-shirt I wore, which definitely wasn’t mine, was white. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. I was either dead and in some kind of void before my spirit moved on, or I was about to be and was in the apartment of a serial killer.

  The only spot of color was a potted plant with waxy leaves perched on the white coffee table.

  “Hello, little friend.” I pinched one of the leaves and shook it in greeting. “Are you going to be joining me in the afterlife?”

  I always knew I’d be spending eternity with a plant.

  “You’re not dead yet,” a familiar voice said. “Though I’m betting you feel like it.”

  I whipped my head up, then cringed when the sudden movement sent the room spinning again. Mark stood before me with a cup of coffee in his hand and an amused smirk on his face. His feet and chest were bare, and holy shit. Even though my head throbbed and my teeth had a fuzzy peach-skin texture, a slow lick of lust rolled through my core. I’d felt his hard body through his shirt, but my best fantasies hadn’t done him justice.

  My gaz
e skimmed his broad chest, well-defined arms, and the ridges in his stomach muscles. I pressed my lips together, and he cocked an eyebrow. Smug bastard. And damn him for having a reason to be. Plaid sleep pants hung low on his hips, highlighting those perfect V-muscles that tapered down below his drawstrings. I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of his—

  “Penis funnel.” I clamped a hand over my mouth. Those words were not supposed to leave my brain.

  He choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “Penis what?”

  “You know.” I covered my eyes as I gestured toward his waist. “Those muscles. The V. It’s like a funnel leading to your…” Argh. I peeked at him between my fingers. “Anyway, it would be really awesome and helpful if you put on a shirt right now.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” He set his coffee on the counter behind him and prowled toward me. “This is my apartment. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

  I looked around the stark white living room. “You’re not going to murder me?”

  A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Not today.”

  “Cool.” This wasn’t at all awkward. I still had no idea how I’d gotten here, but I’d worry about that later. For now, I just wanted to go home and drown my head in a vat of bleach. “If I could have my clothes back, I’ll be on my way.”

  “I washed your dress last night. It’s in the bathroom.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You can change in there.”

  “Why did you wash—?” Nope. I would not admit that the details of last night had escaped me. “That was nice of you.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want my apartment to smell like vomit. I had to wash it after you threw up all over yourself. That was after you yelled at me and called me a liar, then tried to kiss me. In case you can’t remember.”

  My cheeks burned. I’d thought running into Aiden while I was covered in garbage would be my worst humiliation. This morning had just told that night to hold its beer. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”