by Coco Miller
I nod. “Sure, that’s not an issue. I’ve got a pair of designer jeans and shirts,” I laugh, “and a ripped up coral dress which cost close to five hundred dollars but only lasted one night.”
“Actually, I have a surprise for you.”
Then he hands me a bag from the same store that he bought the dress which he couldn’t wait to rip off of me. How the heck did he manage all this? We’ve spent all weekend in bed, or in the shower, and making the odd visit to the kitchen. I guess that’s what it’s like to be rich. He has staff, people that could do whatever he requested by the touch of a button. That’s all it took for him to get things done and it makes me both envious and upset.
Upset because I don’t want him doing these kinds of things for me.
Upset because I want to be with him to do this.
Upset because this is...over.
“Okay, so it’s not the black dress, but you did have your eye on this red one originally.”
I shake my head. “Nicholas, I can’t, and how did you manage to do this? Did you tell one of your staff to go in the shop and find the sexy red number?”
He laughs. “You can accept it and not exactly. I remembered the sales assistant’s name, Harper, and it didn’t take long for it to click about which couple we were, which is the beauty of shopping at some of these stores. Anyway, I took up your whole weekend, and I feel as if I need to give you something in return.”
Like a payment.
Like Julia Roberts.
Like a whore.
“I didn’t have anything else planned, and I enjoyed myself,” I say curtly. “It’s not as if I did it for money.”
“Why do you always get so defensive?”
I shake my head, crossing my arms. “No, I don’t.”
He laughs. “Yes, you do and you’re doing it again. I can afford to get you things, and I wanted to do it. Just say that you appreciate it and move on. Why do you take it as a bad thing? Have I offended you in some way?”
“Nicholas, I have no job to go to. It just feels silly having designer clothes when I’ll have nowhere to wear them.”
I’m glad this came up naturally. I wanted to ask him about work, but it wasn’t the reason that I stayed for the weekend. I just didn’t know how to ask him if he could get me a job or even hire me in a different department. Especially now that I’ve slept with him.
He takes a sip of his coffee. “I could speak to a few departments or even friends and find you something permanent if you like?”
I jump up.
“You’re kidding me? That would be so helpful, Nicholas. Thank you. I was hoping that you’d say something like that.”
I wrap my arms around him. Having the dress and even the clothes is nice, but to be able to support myself and get out of my living situation would be even better.
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
He holds me for a minute, stopping me from moving back to my seat. I hate the idea of confessing it all to him. It feels as if it’s my burden, never to be shared.
“I didn’t want you to think that I only stayed here for that. I wanted to be with you…”
He lifts my chin to meet his eyes.
“If you need help, then you should never be ashamed for asking for it. A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.”
“You knew I was a temporary employee. Is it not obvious that I needed help?”
“You made it sound like that you had it all under control when you obviously didn’t. Next time ask so there’s no room for doubt.”
“Oh and the great Nicholas Pope’s always asks for help?”
I raise an eyebrow thinking that he has no idea what it’s like to be in constant need. I could ask the world for something, but it doesn’t mean that I deserve it.
He nods his head. “At times if I’ve needed help…. sure. There’s no shame in it. I used to count on my dad all the time until he passed away and even now sometimes I ask my sister for help.”
I take in his words, thinking that I’ve never had the luxury of asking anyone for help and that’s the reason that I’m used to doing things alone.
“Like how to get rid of ex girlfriends?”
I laugh as I think about Roberta and the crazy way she was acting at her party. Nicholas found out afterwards that the reason for the party was to celebrate them getting back together. Him turning up at the party with another woman on his arm ruined her whole plan. I guess the charade worked.
“Keisha?”
“Yes?”
Then we're interrupted by the housekeeper, who thought that he’d gone to work already.
“Mr. Pope, you’re never still here at this time. Especially on a Monday.”
She raises her voice at the last point, while she’s looking at me, as if she’s automatically blaming me for her boss being late to the office.
“Okay, Martha. Don’t worry, I’m going to the office now.”
He winks at me as if he’s oblivious to the world we both live in. “Sometimes she acts like my mother or something. You hardly touched your breakfast, are you sure that you’re not hungry?”
I shake my head as I look at the pineapple, grapefruit, slices of bacon, croissants and everything else that I can’t afford to eat, but are neatly displayed on dishes in front of me. Nicholas commented on me being hungry when I put them on my plate. I was at the time, but then the realization that I need to go back to the place that I call home entered my mind and it killed my hunger.
I don’t want to go back there. I want to stay, but I know I can’t ask him that. It just wouldn’t be right, and I’m sure he doesn’t even want me to stay. This isn’t real. This was an act. Am I being naive? Am I acting like a clingy little girl begging the man who made her orgasm a few times to fall in love with her? Well, I’m sure he’s a man of his word. He’ll find a job for me, that I’m sure about.
“I’m not hungry anymore. It’s okay.”
He stares at me for a beat too long, studying me with his harsh stare. Like he doesn’t believe me. And it’s okay, because I don’t believe me either.
“Okay, let’s go then. The driver’s waiting and I need to get to my meeting in about twenty minutes.”
I nod my head. “Sure.”
I grab the bags and wave to the housekeeper. That’s when my reality comes crashing down on me. The fantasy is over. I am no longer Nicholas Pope’s fiancee. I am Keisha. A small town transplant, a loner, unemployed, and no longer a virgin.
I clutch onto my bags as I sit in the back of the limo. If I get really desperate I’ll have to sell them, because if I don’t get a job soon, I have no idea how I’m going to even eat.
Nicholas gets to the office and gives me a kiss on the cheek. He’s been on his phone with a sense of purpose during the entire ride. Work. He’s important. Making phone calls. Making deals, whereas I just gave him my virginity and in a heartbeat, I’ve gone from being the most important person in his life to completely unimportant.
He’s holding his phone and mouthing the words, “I’ll call you.”
I nod my head thinking that I’m hoping that he’s a man of his word. Until his driver blurts out, “Where to, miss?”
I give him the address and as I do, he hesitates as he rolls up the partition and says, “I hope you don’t think this is out of line for me to say, but I’ve worked for Mr. Pope for ten years and I have to say this to you. You don’t look like the other women that he’s used to being around. When he says that he’ll call you…” He clears his throat and part of me knows exactly what he’s going to say, but I prepare myself for the punchline anyway. “Don’t wait up expecting that phone call.”
I nod my head. “I thought that was the case.”
Who says I should wait by the phone everyday waiting on him anyway? Even though we did have the most perfect weekend together, and I wish more than anything he would call me, I’m not a naive little girl who expects him to call.
“I just thought that I’d warn you.” He changes the tone in his vo
ice and says, “Don’t worry I’ll get you home in about fifteen minutes.”
I shake my head, holding onto my bags tighter. “Take your time. There’s no rush. You can make it an hour if you like.”
He shrugs, his eyes softening with kindness. “I’ve got no jobs until two. So, I can give you a little tour if you like.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll just drive around. It’ll be a silent one. You won't even know I'm in the limo. Apart from the fact that I'll be driving.” He laughs nervously, when he doesn't have a reaction from me. He rolls up the partition. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, and I sense that he knows that as he continues to drive around the city. l hug the bags, thinking this will be the first and last time that I have nice things. I can’t work in the city, I don’t have any experience in any domain in the city, and there’s no way I can go back home.
No, I’ll never go back there.
So, I sit in the back of the limo, while the driver takes me on a tour, and I push back the tears. I try not to cry as he drives me through street after street. My mind turns into a haze of incomplete thoughts. What am I going to do with myself? Where should I go from here? I don’t want to go back home, but I have nowhere else to go. And no one to ask for help. I’d never ask Nicholas again. No, I’ll have to be a big girl and remember nothing in life is ever free. You have to work for it.
I hug the bag again, knowing I can’t keep these things. I’m going to have to sell them just to make ends meet and that thought saddens me even more.
When the sun sets, and the driver looks at me through the rearview, I give him my address.
The address I no longer want.
The address I wish I no longer had, but do.
Time to face reality, the carriage has turned back into a pumpkin.
The driver is nice when he drops me off, offering to take my bag upstairs, but I wave off his kindness.
“I’ll be ok,” I say.
And then I start the long trek upstairs to the one place I don’t want to go...reality.
13
Nicholas
My life has been turned completely upside down this week. I came to the office on Monday expecting to do one thing and ended up doing the complete opposite all because of one woman, Roberta.
She has a way of making my life a living hell, just by breathing the same air I breathe. It’s as if it’s her life mission to punish me, by trying to sabotage my business and clients. I'm dying to get out of here, after a very long and eventful week, no thanks to Roberta.
“Mr. Pope, don’t forget to give the agency a reference,” Joanne reminds me as I’m about to walk out. I’ve been here nearly until ten every single night, and it’s Friday, and I sure as hell am not doing that tonight.
“What reference?”
“Remember, the temp. The one that was working here while I was recovering from the surgery on my ankle.”
I point. “The same ankle that you’re applying ice to right now?”
She asks, “How do you know?”
I shake my head thinking that Joanne may be the oldest and best secretary that I’ve ever had, but at times she seems to have a habit of thinking that the obvious is far from obvious.
“Never mind.” I throw my head back as I remember one of the things that I was supposed to do and I never got around to doing–getting Keisha a job.
“Great, so if they want a reference that means they’ve found her something?”
She turns and puts her glasses back on as she reads the screen. She has a way of squinting her eyes, which always makes me feel as if there’s no point in her wearing her glasses. Joanne’s good at her job, but I would never expect her to do anything in a hurry, which is why I was surprised when she said that she injured her ankle running. I couldn’t imagine her running for anything, and she’s been working for me for over seven years.
“I don’t think so. They wanted a reference, so that they can put us on their advertising campaigns. You know how it is. Hey, we worked with this client and that client said that we were fantastic.”
“Oh, one of those things. So, has she found something?”
She takes off her glasses and glares at me. “Did you like my replacement?”
I shake my head and think that I need to get younger staff. All my current staff puts my mom to shame. They act as if they have to take care of me.
Not good.
But then there’s a reason for that. I didn’t want to be one of those bosses that fell into temptation with their staff. I wanted to be surrounded by people who I respected and had the maturity level to deal with certain situations. Bottom line–I wanted staff that I wasn’t tempted to fuck every other day.
“Joanne, see you on Monday.”
She waves. “Yes, and if you like, I can give you her number.”
I wouldn’t even think about falling for that trick. While I may have lost any bit of common sense I had while I was inside of Keisha’s warm, tight pussy, I have now since woken the hell up. Reality is a bitch, and that’s what I have to deal with, not indulging in some fantasy with a sweet girl who is thirteen years my junior. She deserves better.
Right now I have to deal with hurricane Roberta. She’s out to get me and it doesn’t help that we’re in the same field. She’s definitely going out of her way to bring me down. Old rivals and all the competitive tricks in the books. She irritates me and part of me feels as if I’ve sold myself to the devil just by allowing her into my life. Like a bad smell, that no amount of air freshener gets rid off.
As I head down in the elevator, the only thing on my mind is what I can do to get rid of her? I thought maybe just making her think that I’m with Keisha would have done it, but that just made her out to get me. Like it made things ten times worse. I should have known better.
Fuck.
I’ve never had a thorn in my side until now, and I don’t know how to get it out. As soon as I get to the car and take off my red tie there’s only one thing on my mind. My happy place.
“Roger?”
“Yes, sir?” he asks as he takes off his hat. I wonder if he knows what’s on my mind.
“Do you remember where you took Keisha when you dropped her off the other day?”
He smiles a knowing grin as he opens the door. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I glance at him as he takes my briefcase and then puts it in the trunk, which I find a bit weird. Anyway, I let him take the lead, because it’s clear that he has something on his mind.
As he starts to drive I take off my jacket and pour myself a bourbon. I don’t know how I’m going to get rid of all the rumors and heat that Roberta’s put on me at the moment. She fucking does my head in. I don’t know what to do anymore as far as she’s concerned, and I feel like crap that since Monday I haven’t even been in touch with Keisha. She must think I took her to bed, stole her virginity, and then moved on.
I am a dick.
She certainly deserves better.
Maybe hanging around with the older generation isn’t such a good idea. I’m getting pretty sentimental in my old age.
Fuck, it’s like we’ve gone from Midtown to the crappiest part of Uptown Manhattan in a matter of seconds. I watch through the window as I drink my bourbon thinking that maybe Roger’s confused. Why would Keisha live all the way up here? Besides if she did, then how the hell was she getting into the office so fucking early in the morning?
“Roger, are you sure?”
He doesn’t need me to prompt him as he says, “As clear as night and day.”
“Fuck,” I blurt out as he parks and I see the building which looks as if it’s the fucking Annie orphanage. Nothing about this place looks right. From the dozens of people moving in and out of it, to the fact that Keisha acted as if she was living somewhere decent. Not here. Not in the bottom of the pits.
Shit, sometimes I’m so fucking blind. This is why she didn’t want to go home and was looking at the price tags of the dresses. Not because I was buying them,
but because she was accustomed to checking the price of everything.
“Roger, how will I know which one she’s in?”
He buzzes back. “Floor eight. Room eight-sixty.”
Fuck, there’s a room eighty-six? I decide to fill another glass of bourbon, take it to the head, and then head up there. As I shut the limo door, I wonder if I should have brought some safety measures with me. Like the gun that I keep in the trunk.
How does Keisha survive?
She must be frightened all of the time. She’s a small town girl. She didn’t grow up having to navigate her way through hard parts of the city and the people in it. When I reach the front door there’s an eviction notice or a condemned notice of some sort. I don’t settle my eyes on it long enough as I open it and step through. The smell of mold and wet dogs filters through my nose, and I almost want to turn back around.
Elevator out of service. I laugh at the irony of it. The whole fucking building looks as if it’s out of service, but people still live here. Guilt washes completely over me at the realization that I didn’t even bother checking on Keisha this week. I feel like a grade-A jerk, but I know that from this moment onwards, that I intend to make everything right.
I will fix this.
14
Keisha
Another dead-end day going to the employment agency and searching for a job. I’ve been in every diner this side of town. I tried a few gas stations, but no one is hiring. The economy is so bad right now for poor little girls who never went to college. Another regret, but when I left home, I never looked back. And now this city wants to spit me up and throw me out, but I have other plans. I won’t give up even if no one has anything unless you’ve got experience.
I already feel guilty for selling the designer jeans Nicholas bought me, but I did it out of necessity. I’ve been doing things that I’m not necessarily proud of ever since I came here. It’s time to make a change. It’s time to become a better person. A person who thinks for the future not just for the right now.
