Seven Years of Bad Luck (13 page)

I returned to the bathroom and got into the shower. I got myself all cleaned up and got dressed in the outfit I had laid out the night before. I stepped into the deep plum purple sheath dress and successfully zipped it myself. The dress had a nice scoop neck but did not plunge low enough to reveal cleavage. The darted seams and delicate belted waist of the dress was very flattering for my curvy figure. I slipped on camel colored pumps to match the thin belt around my waist and checked the whole outfit in my full length mirror.

Okay. Not too shabby, Kat.

I gave myself a nod of approval, then I applied a fair amount of makeup to combat the fatigue that had created bags beneath my eyes. I did nothing with my hair other than semi dry it into a thick, damp mass and pull it up into a slick bun.

Good. Professional looking. Now, off to conquer the world.

I snickered inwardly at my absurd private banter.
Good thing no one can hear your thoughts, Kat. Otherwise, you would already be committed into some ‘special’ hospital for being mental. Said Hospital comes with cushy accommodations including room service, plush padded walls, very modern minimalist décor, oh, and last but not least… a free jacket! Talking to yourself in the third person tends to make folks question a person’s mental stability. Oh, well. Note to self: Self, keep insane third person chatting under wraps.

I rummaged through our little kitchen in search of my favorite travel mug and came up empty handed. There were still a few boxes lingering around waiting to be unpacked, and I was sure that with my having zero luck with everything in life, my mug was likely buried near the bottom of a box.

No time for this crap, Kat! Awesome. Cheap disposable coffee cup it is.

I searched the kitchen yet again for one of the disposable cups Cheyenne had bought and found the cup, but there was not a lidded one in sight. So like any reasonably intelligent person, I decided to wing it, sans coffee cup lid.

Seriously Kat, what’s the worst that could happen? Work. Go. Now.

I stood in the doorway of our apartment staring into the lid-less mug. I was contemplating a whole host of possible mishaps, but shook my head to wipe away my irrational thoughts and verbally scolded myself for wasting time that would be much better used commuting to work.

I really AM mental! Don’t walk, run. Can’t be late.

On the drive to my first day of work at Chase and Associates, I made sure to listen to the right music to get me excited for my first day. I was usually pretty good at scrolling through my impressive playlists on my iPod. I could even do it without out looking much at all. I knew how much flick from my thumb would put me at or near the artist that I happened to be seeking. However, on that day apparently I was shit at this carefully developed iPod enthusiast skill because I could not make anything work in my favor. When I first got into my car I was content with listening to an excellent selection of songs by John Mayer.

Yeah, that will do the trick.

However, I was ready to skip to the next song about sixty seconds into the first song which happened to be about someone’s body being a wonderland, and someone who either took the afternoon off from work to bang said wonderland or was clearly unemployed. This concept simply irritated me mostly because I was jealous of this ‘wonderland’ person, if she even existed. For my sake, I hoped she didn’t. So with that summary of the song flitting through my head it was on to the next song. Flick. Next. The next song that filled the cabin of my car was equally as frustrating as the first song. This song was all about doom, gloom, failure in relationships and metaphorically dancing in burning rooms to prove it all.

Oh, hell no, the newly divorced Kathleen Cooper will NOT be listening to this right now, thanks!

With that, I made my move to scoop up my iPod from its precarious perch atop my center console which also served as an armrest. I fumbled with it for a moment while still driving my car, perhaps a little less fluidly. That’s when my front right tire encountered the most foreboding, gargantuan pothole I had ever seen. With a huge thunk-thunk noise, both my tires on the right side careened through the crater. My thumb was poised, ready for iPod flick action when the impact and noise jarred my body and startled me. Upon impact, the iPod was instantly vaulted straight up into the air between my seat and the passenger seat. It landed perfectly, I mean, Olympic-Gymnast perfectly into my lid-less piping hot coffee. The auxiliary cord remained plugged into the damned thing in vain of course because the moment the molten lava enveloped my prized possession, all music about doom, gloom, failed relationships and metaphorically dancing in burning rooms… ceased, and ironically enough, the damn thing maybe even sizzled a bit. I pulled over the first chance I got to survey whatever damage had been done.

Gah! Shit! Damn that highly fucking hazardous crater-sized pothole and stupid missing lid!

I got out of my car and walked around to the front, then along the passenger side to the rear. I could not see any obvious signs of damage but then again a rock would be more knowledgeable about auto mechanics than I. Once I was satisfied that nothing major was wrong with my only source of transportation, I checked on myself.

Yep Kat, definitely jazzed up with adrenaline now!

I checked my clothing and made note of the fact that a few fat droplets of coffee successfully sloshed across my dress. My deep purple dress now had a not-so-lovely array of dark splotches scattered across my lap. There would be no time to return to my apartment and change. I was cutting it close as it was. I returned to the driver’s seat and resumed my drive to work, which really did not take long since our apartment was relatively close to Kennedy Plaza. When I arrived and hunted down a parking space, I noted the time on the clock in my car.

Five minutes to get your ass to the forty-second floor Kat!

I didn’t want my half-full coffee cup to sit in my sweltering car, in May, in Texas, all day, so I grabbed my purse and my pathetic excuse for a coffee cup and made a bee line for the entrance. I narrowly slid between the closing doors of an already full elevator and waited as it ascended smoothly to my floor. I got a few questioning stares from the people around me in the elevator.
Geez, lady stop staring at me like that. You look like a witless Neanderthal who happens to be generously doused in the most offensive scent I have ever had the displeasure of smelling. Yeah lady, it’s a fucking iPod in my coffee cup. What’s your excuse for smelling like moth balls, cigarettes, grape soda, cat piss and a stuffy basement?! Sweet Jesus, deliver me!

I had the raging urge to scream at her for having no manners. Staring is rude as hell and so is going around smelling awful. Everyone knows this. The unsatisfied grunt that I fought to keep tucked away safely in my repressed thoughts nearly escaped my mouth, and I had to fight with more effort to appear unaffected. I didn’t want to be completely tacky by covering my mouth and nose in a desperate attempt to spare my senses from the onslaught. The iPod remained in its now cold coffee bath, auxiliary cord and all. I had no napkins to take care of the mess, so I decided to deal with it once I was in the office. When the elevator eased to a stop on the forty-second floor and the doors parted, I stumbled over my own feet as I scampered out into the corridor.

Oh thank Jesus! She didn’t get off on my floor! Ah, shit, she was right next to me in that sardine can. Did any of that stink rub off on me
?

I stood motionless in the corridor while people milled all around me. I was doing my best to discreetly determine if I was stench free or if a tomato juice bath was in order. I couldn’t tell one way or another. It seemed like my olfactory perception had said screw this job, resigned, and skipped town, leaving me one sense short of the status: ‘fully functioning’. Dramatic as it seemed, my reaction really was completely warranted.

I grumpily walked towards Ben’s office. I had already had a morning full of unwelcome difficulties, and I just needed to cross one thing off my list of frustrations before one more problem bombarded me and sent my patience toppling over the edge. The problem I needed to sort was Ben. At times, he seemed interested in me at least in a very basic animal instinct, physical kind of way.

Wishful thinking, Kat, especially from a woman who is desperate to get laid. Preferably by Mr. Sex- on-legs.

I couldn’t afford for what was going on between us to turn into anything. I needed the new job. I needed stability and routine. I needed to focus on getting myself together. Ben was a distraction from those tasks, and he spelled trouble in capital letters. He was quiet one moment, then firm and authoritative the next. He had me so confused and disoriented that I could not tell up from down. I had a suspicion that maybe Ben enjoyed this taunting mind fuck game of his. I had my panties in a twist since the interview.

Sort this out before your head explodes. No more mixed signals, gray areas, or unclear boundaries. Handle it!

I walked right past Olivia who said nothing to me. She only stared at me with shock and confusion written across her face. I hesitated for a moment, trying to think better of what I was doing. My repressed inner Kat would have been far more useful in this situation. If I could have just wrangled in my inner self, I wouldn’t even hesitate. I would have walked with confidence right into his personal office showing not an iota of worry. I would be able to don a poker face lightning quick, one that was capable of bluffing anyone, or flip a switch to turn on irresistible feminine charm. Both were tools that I once used and knew exactly how and when to employ them. I would be able to tamp down all inconvenient emotion and withstand a vicious verbal assault without so much as a flinch or frown. I would have demanded respect and courtesy from everyone around me on the merits of competence and smarts alone. Anyone who tested me would quickly be made fully aware of my no-nonsense approach and lack of patience. Simply put, I would not have taken any shit from anyone.

Not even Mr. Sex-on-legs, Benjamin Chase. In fact I would likely meet him head to head in every way. Having three older brothers to deal with while growing up proved to be extensive training on how to manage in a ‘man’s world.’ Those no-good brothers of mine unknowingly taught me everything I would ever need to know in order succeed and be a competitive force to reckon with. Kathleen Cooper in true form is, strangely enough, a female version of Benjamin Chase. The person that planned on stomping into Ben’s office was a spineless, lowly paralegal. A ‘glorified gopher,’ as one lousy excuse for a lawyer once called me. He had always been rude as hell, making jokes at my expense and ordering me around to essentially do everything for him short of wiping his incompetent, sloth ass. One day he decided to demote me from an educated, grown woman to a subterranean-dwelling mover of dirt. I said nothing to him to defend myself or confront his serious lack of professionalism. I had blushed bright red like an embarrassed child and widened my eyes in shock to which he had beamed a satisfied smile. I had trembled as I turned away to walk to the ladies room and tried my best to be quiet while I cried in a cold bathroom stall.

I remained his over-bullied, ‘glorified gopher’ until he took a position at another firm. I wished things could be just like before. Before my spirit was backed into a dark corner and locked away to be forgotten.

I gave Ben’s office door a halfhearted knock before just walking right in.
Oh, very ballsy Kat
is what the brave part of me cheered in my head. Ben stood before one of the three windows holding a coffee cup in his hand, staring out at the city below. When he heard the door to his office open, interrupting his private moment, he turned to face the intruder, me. I stood for a moment not saying anything to him. I was scowling and breathing rapidly courtesy of the adrenaline rush I had been riding for the past fifteen minutes. We locked eyes, and his surprised expression smoothed into… was that… delight?

This guy is getting a kick out of seeing me pissed after I barge into his office uninvited, on my first day working for him no less?

Just seeing that smug expression that was a mix of pleased and amused only angered me further. I broke the silence first while still wishing that just for a moment I could conjure my former self to handle Ben. In a sarcastic voice I asked Ben a question that came out sounding more like a desperate plea.

“Please tell me that it is illegal somewhere for a person who smells so badly to walk around offending others’ nostrils with their weapon of choice” I stared across the room at him and waited impatiently for a response.

“Good morning, Kathleen. Please, do come in.”

No head games today!

I decided that maybe I could give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe that would teach him about playing his hot and cold game. Maybe I could affect his rational thinking by jumbling his brain with thoughts of me. Then he would be the one who couldn’t think clearly, or sleep, or doing anything for that matter without having to deal with distracting thoughts. If this worked out and I saw that my plot to arouse had been successful, I would simply flip the switch back to professional and feign ignorance. If my little ploy to arouse him didn’t work, it could seriously backfire. I wondered for a moment if maybe the intrusive scent in the elevator somehow soaked into my own clothing due to my proximity to the woman.