I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) (15 page)

Lunchtime

I’m
eating my lunch alone outside on a shaded bench so that I can call people to
confirm, make and/or break appointments for The Bitch. Phone to my ear, I take
a huge sip of my smoothie and tell the show coordinator at Michael Kors, “She
wants to see the show, but the seat you gave her last season was unacceptable.
We can do better, yes?”

“It was?
I’m so sorry Jess. Sure, we can fix that. Where would she like to sit?” I hear
the key taps on his computer, through the phone.

Knowing
I’m going to be fired soon, I’m blasé about everything I’m doing now. Why care?
I take a bite of my salad and munch, “One seat over.”

“I’m
sorry?”

I chew,
unfazed, and repeat, “One seat over.” She’s insane. I know this. Soon I will be
free.

“Oh…
uh…Okay. One seat to the left or the right?” He’s playing it smart, not voicing
aloud that this request is beyond ludicrous. We have to play dumb, even to each
other. You don’t dare gossip because you never know who’s playing what side,
nor do you know who your boss will be, next year. But none of this matters,
because I won’t be here much longer. I feel a pang in my chest and ignore it.

“To the
right.”

“Oh. The
only problem is Maggie Von Turle has the seat on the right, and she’s had it
for the past three seasons.”

“I know,”
I say, with meaning.

 
“Ohhhhhhh,” he breathes, and now we
both
now know why The Bitch wants that
seat. There is a major pause on the other end, which I take advantage of by
consuming more of my salad and looking at the crowd around me, from the privacy
of my Prada sunglasses. They were a gift, to get me to butter up my boss about
something I can’t remember anymore. I’ll miss gifts like these.

“Is there
no way of changing her mind?” he asks, hoping.

I answer
with a simple, “Nope.”

He sighs.
“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re
the best,” and we hang up.

I don’t
remember a salad ever tasting this good. Every day for years, I’ve been afraid
of getting fired. And now? Now that I know I will be? The suspense is gone. At
some point today, I will get my pink slip. I could just go home now, if I
wanted to. I tried to call Amber and Nicole to reason it out with, but both
aren’t answering. Without my buoys in the ocean to help me process this, I’ve
decided on my own,
fuck it
. I’ve been
wanting out, anyway! I’m about to get what I want. Yay me.

Why am I
still making calls and working?

As I
reach for my smoothie (also way more delicious than a normal day smoothie) I
see the unexpected face of Chris, from my yoga class. One hand in his jeans
pocket, the other holding an army-green computer case by its thick handle, he
strolls through the crowd of unnaturals, looking natural. We spot each other at
the same time; only he looks more surprised than I feel. My body’s in shock and
incapable of surprise. Nothing can get through this layer of
what the fuck is wrong with my life
. I
slurp on my smoothie and wave.

His
smile, relaxed and warm, grows as he walks to where I’m sitting. “Hey!”

“Hey.
Chris, right?”

“Yeah.
Jessica.”
 

“Yep.
That’s me.” I slurp and try to suck up whatever is hiding along the bottom edge
of my cup. Best. Noisiest smoothie. Ever.

“You
okay?” he asks, with a smile.

“I’m
great. I’m about to be fired.” (Slurp.)

“Ah. Mind
if I join you?” He doesn’t wait for the answer. As he sits down, watching me
frantically attempt to scrape invisible remains of strawberry banana goodness,
he reaches out and takes my cup, lid and straw. It’s done with such compassion
and patience that I don’t fight it. I let him take it. I look at him, take my
bottom lip between my teeth, and chew. We sit there looking at each other like
this, underneath this tree surrounded by fashion and skyscrapers… and all of a
sudden I want to cry. He nods and says gently, “Yeah. I hear you. Why are you
going to get fired?”

Without
hesitation I say, “There’s a girl who wants my job. She’s got some dirt on me
and she’s going to use it to have me fired. I’ve been working this job for four
years, and she’s going to take it away from me in one day. She told me so, to
my face! And that’s fine, you know, because The Bitch is… such a… bitch! I
don’t want this stupid job, anyway. Let her take my job! She can have it. You
know?” I am instantly grateful he’s not laughing.

“What is
your job?”

“I’m the
executive assistant to the fashion editor at my magazine,” I say simply.

“You said
‘your’ magazine,” he points out.

“I’ve
given my life to it for four years now. The first year I didn’t even get paid.
I was just a minion!”

He nods
thoughtfully and leans back. “What do you like about it?”

“What do
I like about it? I love fashion. I love the ways it makes women feel, to wear
something made with high-quality materials or – if they can’t afford the
original – a high-quality knock-off. Like these shades, for example.
They’re Prada, and I adore them. I used to
only
buy the cheapies, because I’d scratch or break or lose them, so why buy the
expensive ones, right? But these? I have had them for over a year. Not one
scratch on them. I’ve never lost them once. And I don’t lose or scratch them
because I
care
about them. And I
care
about them because they make me
feel beautiful and sexy. What we do is we show art so that women can pick and
choose what style makes them feel beautiful. We – people – are all
packages waiting to be wrapped every day – like Christmas! Since we’re
all going to die, why not wrap your present beautifully?” I gasp for breath and
look at the empty cup on the bench next to him, wishing I had something to
drink. Man, I’m so thirsty!

He unzips
and reaches into his computer bag and asks, “What do you hate about it?” He
pulls out a water bottle and hands it to me.

“Oh,
thank you!” I unscrew the lid and drink until my body says it can’t drink
anymore. There’s only a little left, and I hang onto it, clutching it with both
hands like a child might. “What was the question? I’m sorry. That tasted so
good.”

He
smiles. His teeth are nice. I cross my left leg over my right and slouch a bit,
allowing myself to release some of this crazy energy I’ve got going on.
Breathe
, Jess.

“What do
you hate about it?” he repeats.

“My boss.
She’s awful. I call her The Bitch for a very good reason.”

He nods
and looks away, thinking. “Would you ever want to run the magazine?”

“The
whole magazine? No! No way. My department maybe, but never the whole thing.”

He smiles
and looks back to me. “Her job, then? Do you think you could do it better?”

“Are you
kidding me? I would make it a nice place to work, for one. People are scared
shitless of her. It doesn’t have to be that way. I don’t know why some people
feel it’s necessary to bully their staff into working harder. It doesn’t work!
You create apathy, not loyalty or drive. Look at me. I’m hardly ever at work on
time. I take longer lunches. I…” Before I divulge my activities with James, I
stop.

“Would
you be happy in her job?” He offers, as if maybe I hadn’t thought about it. You
know what? I haven’t. Not until right now.

“I don’t
know…”

“You
don’t have to answer. I’m just offering things to chew on. It’s going to be
okay, Jess.” He reaches out and takes my hand, pressing his thumb lightly onto
the top of it. For some reason, it doesn’t seem weird for him to have done
that, for us to be sitting like this. The anxiety in my stomach begins to ebb.

Things to
chew on, is an understatement. I am deep in thought over what he’s asked, but
I’m not frantic anymore. Exhale.
It’s
going to be okay.
It feels so good to hear those words.
 
“Okay. I’ll give it some thought. Thank
you.” I take my hand away so I can unscrew the cap and finish off the water. As
I drink, I meet James’ glare as he unexpectedly walks up. From the look on his
face, he saw Chris holding my hand.

“Hey,” is
the only thing he says. He stands there looking from me to Chris. What else can
he say? I’m not his girlfriend. I’m his hidden whatever-the-fuck.

“Hey.” I
answer. No more water left.

Chris
stands and holds out his hand. “Chris. I’m a friend of Jessica’s.”

James has
no choice but to shake it. “James. I work with Jess.”

Chris
nods and seems to understand what’s going on. “Ah. Well, I have to go. I was on
the way to a meeting, anyway. Jess? It was good running into you.”

Looking
up to him, I smile and nod, “You too, Chris. Thank you. You really helped.”

“Good.
I’ll throw these away for you.” He gathers my cup and empty plastic salad bowl
as he picks up his computer case.

“Oh! You
don’t have to do that!” I argue. James looks irritated, but says nothing.

“It’s not
a big deal,” Chris smiles.

I realize
I don’t know where
he
works. “What do
you do, Chris? I’m sorry. We were so busy talking about my job, that I…”

“I’m an
architect. It’s no big deal. I’ll see you at yoga. Nice to meet you, James.”

They nod
to each other. As soon as Chris is safely out of earshot, I scan around us for
The Bitch. She could be hiding behind a tree, is where my mind goes. Fear is a
habit. I turn to James. “Yes?”

“Yoga,
huh? So when you came to my place, you were doing yoga with
that
guy?”

“Are we
seriously going to have this conversation right now?”

“Yeah.”

I stare
at him. “He’s a guy in my class, James. This is the first conversation I’ve
ever had with him.”

“You were
holding hands, Jess.”

“He took
my hand to console me. It barely even registered.”

“That
makes no sense. This makes you nervous… you and me, I mean.”

What do I
have to lose? “Yeah. It does. Very.”

He shakes
his head, still standing above me. I feel like I’m being ganged up on by him,
by Brittany, by this whole situation. Is it supposed to be this hard? I can see
he’s confused, too. This is a big mess we’ve gotten ourselves into. Neither of
us says anything. I roll my eyes and look over at a hopping bird who’d love to
know if bread came with my salad. We both aren’t getting what we want.

“Shit,”
says James, angry and defeated.

I look
back, surprised. “What?”

“She’s
just spotted us and is heading this way.”

Fear
grips me, but I adopt an apathetic expression, as if I couldn’t be less
interested in what James has to say. The opposite is true. Regretting I have to
do this, I look at my phone and dismiss him with a wave of my hand.

“I’m not
okay with this,” he whispers.

I whisper
back, trying not to move my lips, “And I am?”

My
attention is glued to my phone as he storms off. With each angry footstep he
takes, my head clears. I become very calm inside of my heart. I know something
now and it feels as if I’ve always known it.
I don’t want to lose my job.

I hear
her
footsteps getting louder, and wait
for the attack. This is the first time where she’s snuck up on me that I knew
she was coming. Huh. Should I fake jump when she speaks?

“Jessica!
What the fuck is going on?!”

I real
jump.

The Bitch
has a phone dangling in each hand – a Samsung
and
an iPhone – and her gorgeous Birkin bag is hanging from
her shoulder. She’s got on a different pair of D&G shades than the ones she
wore yesterday, plus she is rocking a gorgeous Donna Karen suit that probably
cost more than two months rent of my little shoebox. None of that is nearly as
impressive as the fact that her perpetual ponytail… is gone! Gone! Her hair is
hanging very long and very, very straight. She looks
fantastic.

“Wow,” I
blurt out.

Taken
aback momentarily, she asks, “What?”

I check
her out, head to toe, in disbelief “You look amazing.”

“Don’t
change the subject!” she hisses, talons back out.

“Oh! What
was the question?”

“Why were
you and James talking about?”

Think,
Jess, think! My gut screams,
I don’t want
to lose this job.
“Have you talked to Brittany?”

“Who is
Brittany?!” she yells. People look over. Neither of us cares.

“Oh, uh…”
So she doesn’t know. Brittany hasn’t told her. That’s right. The meeting with
James’ boss is tomorrow. She’s planning her attack. I still have a chance!

“Spit it
out!”

“Brittany
has the hots for James.” I can’t believe I just said that!