The Boss (7 page)

At around seven, he emerged from his office
with Rudy and Hope Foley,
Porteras
's senior stylist.

"Sorry to have kept you so late, Sophie,"
Neil apologized. "We're going to dinner; will you be available
should we need you?"

"Of course." I was dying to get home to tell
Holli what had happened at lunch, but it looked like it was going
to be a long night playing Bubble Spinner and waiting for my boss
to get back to the office from a dinner meeting. Maybe Neil wasn't
so different from Gabriella, after all, from a work
perspective.

"You don't have to stay here," he added
quickly. "I hope you didn't think I meant for you to - "

"Gabriella would have chained her to the
desk," Hope laughed. She had always clashed with Gabriella, and was
often the only person at the magazine who dared to push her
contrary opinions. I'd often found Gabriella's calm reactions to
Hope's impassioned arguments wildly entertaining.

Rudy laughed with her, and Neil did, as well,
but I noted a distinct flush creeping up his neck.

"Yes, well, I'm hardly going to expect that
of you," he mumbled.

Hope and Rudy didn't seem to notice his
discomfort, but did I ever. I wondered if he had the same mental
image I was having re: chains and desks.

I forced myself to maintain eye contact and
said evenly, "Well, have a good night!" Then they were – thankfully
- out the door. I waited for them to enter the elevator, then
jumped up and grabbed my coat.

* * * *

When I got home, I
wanted to launch directly into my bizarre day, but Holli was in a
state. A totally understandable, enraged state.

"Look at this!" she fumed, thrusting her iPad
into my face. "Can you fucking believe this?"

"Ohhhh no." I dropped my bag and shrugged out
of my coat as my eyes scanned the magazine page on the screen. A
beautiful photo of Holli - her long legs rising like Grecian
columns from a pair of Yves St. Laurent boots, her hipbones jutting
from a simple pair of black lace panties, skinny arms covering her
non-existent bust - was superimposed with the words, "How Thin Is
Too Thin?"

"I did that shoot last year. I’d just had
that gastrointestinal thing! Of course I looked emaciated. This is
totally unfair criticism!" She handed the iPad to me when my hands
were free, and stalked to the kitchen.

I scanned the article, but it was the same
ignorance as usual. Models were too skinny. All of them were on the
verge of dying from eating disorders. What kind of example were
they setting, blah blah blah. Holli wasn't so famous that she'd
become the target of stand-up comics' jokes yet, but I feared that
time wasn't too far off.

Since Holli and I have been friends for so
long, I've learned, through trial and error, exactly what one
should not say in this situation. Trying to see the bright side in
the career benefits and the envy of other women was absolutely
unwelcome. Suggesting she might be ignoring some deeply rooted
eating disorder she didn't even know she had? Even worse.
Expressing my jealousy of her ability to eat a cheeseburger the
size of her head and actually lose weight while doing it? That was
the worst.

The best thing to say, really the only
appropriate thing for the situation, was what I said next: "This is
totally shitty."

And it was, totally and completely shitty.
There was no reason for anyone to be judging Holli’s health based
on her physical appearance alone. They had no idea if she was
anorexic or not. They weren’t her freaking doctors.

"Look at the industry as a whole, that's
fine." Holli had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of
the water running into the empty metal tea kettle. "But don't
single me out. Because you know what that says to my future
employers? 'Don't hire this model, or everyone will have a shit
fit.' If they think I'm too skinny now, wait until I have to choose
between food and rent."

I scanned the article. "At least they don't
mention you by name."

"Which would be a relief if my face wasn't on
the title page." She rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I'm just
frustrated."

I dropped the iPad on the sofa and went to
stand beside her. I put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed.
"Do you feel bad?"

"Yes, I do," Holli sniffed in pitiable
exaggeration.

"Do you wanna get high and watch
Norbit
?" I asked, pulling her into a hug and patting her
back like I was burping a baby.

"Yes, I do," she mock-sobbed into my
shoulder.

The ability to make light of our problems
while simultaneously soothing our hurt feelings was one of the
aspects of our friendship I treasured most.

We settled on the couch with tea and popcorn
- you'd be surprised how well those two go together - and I put in
the DVD. My news about Neil could wait.

We made it almost twenty minutes into the
movie before Holli's eyes grew wide and she exclaimed, "Oh my god!
I never asked how it went with the guy!"

I shrugged. "Nothing to tell. That's why I
didn't bring it up.”

"Soph. Do you really think you're doing me a
service by not telling me all the details? I'm in pain here; it's
your duty as my friend to cheer me up through Schadenfreude."

"It wasn't that bad." I couldn't believe how
easy it was to admit it, but it was true. "I thought we might... I
don't know. 'Get back together' isn't right, because we were never
together. But we did talk about possibly hooking up casually."

"Go you!" Holli lightly slapped my
shoulder.

"I think we decided not to." I tried to break
the news gently, but I could tell she was disappointed. "Turns out,
he has a daughter my age."

"So he was married?" Her face scrunched up in
disgust.

I shook my head. "No, he said she was his
daughter from a previous relationship. He's only been married for
two years, and get this, they're getting a divorce."

"Then you should have been in there!" She
sighed. "Is that the reason you're not going to..." Holli slid her
index finger through a circle formed by the fingers of her opposite
hand.

I pulled a throw pillow from behind my back
and walloped her.

"Do you think you would be comfortable with
that? Having sex with someone literally young enough to be your
kid?" I scolded.

Holli laughed and intercepted the pillow,
fluffing it and tucking it behind her. "Younger. Once I'm north of
fifty, I'm never dating anyone over twenty-one. And everything will
be coming up Holli."

After our movie was finished, and I had gone
to my room to turn in, Holli's response started getting to me.
Maybe she was right. What was so wrong about dating someone younger
than you? My dad had been younger than my mom. Well, by like two
years. And I was looking for positive examples, not couples who had
gone down in spectacular flames. Still, I couldn't see any reason
why I should be grossed out by the age difference between Neil and
myself.

None of that really mattered, though. Neil
wasn't looking for anything serious, and neither was I. In fact,
I'd actively avoided romantic entanglements since my last year of
college. There was no orgasm so amazing, no surprise bouquet so
sweet that it was worth risking my own dreams and identity.
Besides, I hardly had time for Holli anymore, how would I work a
boyfriend into that schedule?

I hadn't even been home to visit my mom in a
year. My heart absolutely dropped at the thought of what she would
think about all this. She had once told me she would prefer to
think of me as a virgin, even if I ended up with three husbands and
fourteen kids. Of all the people that could have helped me navigate
this situation with grace and common sense, it would have been her.
But there was no way she would want to hear about the time I flew
across the country, planned to fly around the world, without her
knowing about it. And oh, by the way, I had sex with a stranger. In
her mind, I had gone straight to NYU, after some minor trouble with
a missed connection.

Boy, what a missed connection
. I
flopped over in bed, and turned my pillow to the cool side. Would
sleeping even be an option tonight?

Out of habit, my iPhone lay on my bedside
table, within arm's reach. As Gabriella's assistant, it hadn't been
out of the realm of possibility to be woken in the middle of the
night for a crisis with a flight or a sudden realization that we
were about to run the same pair of shoes a second time. From what
I'd already gathered, Neil was going to be a different type of
boss.

Or at least, that's what I was thinking right
before my eyes slid closed, about two seconds before my phone
vibrated. My bedside table resonated the buzz like a snare drum,
and I sat up automatically, trained well by two years in
servitude.

It was Neil's work number. I glanced at the
time. Ten forty-five? Why was he still at work at ten forty-five,
when no one else was?

"Hello?" I stifled a yawn as I answered.

"Hello, Sophie. I hope I didn't wake you." It
disturbed me just how much of an effect his voice had on me. It was
like whiskey, deep and comforting, warming my limbs and dizzying my
head.

I was so intoxicated by him, it took me a
second to stammer out, "N- no. I, uh. I was up."

"Good." I heard a noise over the line, an
inhale interrupted by a catch, as though he'd stopped breathing
mid-thought. Then he said, softly, "This would be much simpler if
we could meet in person."

"Oh." I looked down at my lap. My face was
scrubbed free of makeup. My hair was in a messy topknot, and I was
wearing my flannel pajamas with the cartoon coffee cups all over
them.

If Gabriella had summoned me, she wouldn't
have given me more than, "Come, I need you." I would be lucky to
get a location out of her, because she expected me to keep track of
her schedule both in and out of the office. At least I knew where
Neil was calling from.

"Look, it's going to take me a minute to get
down there -"

"No, no, this isn't work related." He was
quick to say it, and then a silence followed in which I swore I
could hear both of our hearts beating like big, nervous butterfly
wings. He cleared his throat. "Would you be terribly put out if
I... stopped by your place?"

If anyone had ever needed a movie montage, it
was me, at that moment. I could leap out of bed, dress myself with
comical franticness, and when I answered the door I would look like
Barbie. "Oh, this old thing?" I would say, spinning in my 1960's
Givenchy inspired dress. "I just threw it on."

He could probably make it to my apartment in
twenty minutes. I would barely have time to brush my teeth and
clear up the dirty dishes and empty Diet Coke cans from the coffee
table.

“That would be fine," I said, weirdly
chipper. I was sure he could hear my fake smile through the
phone.

"I'll need your address, for the driver," he
said apologetically.

"You can't stalk me off the company
database?" I teased.

It fell flat when he turned suddenly serious.
"I would really rather not. That isn’t how I conduct my business or
personal life."

I blurted out our address, already on my feet
and headed to the closet. "Just don't drive too fast. I need to
tidy up."

"This isn't a state visit," he assured me.
"I'll see you soon."

I ended the call and held my phone to my
chest for a fraction of a second before tossing it on my bed and
rifling through my clothes. Nothing fancy, just a black cashmere
v-neck sweater and a pair of comfy jeans. Then I ran to the
bathroom and set a land speed record for teeth brushing. I was just
clearing the living room of some of Holli's recreational
paraphernalia - he was my employer, after all - when the door
buzzed.

"Yes?" I asked over the intercom.

"It's Neil." I buzzed him up then cracked the
door. We're a fourth floor walkup, and the stairs wound down a long
central shaft to the small lobby. The click of the outside latch
echoed up the stairs, and my mouth went dry.

I heard footsteps. I heard his footsteps,
headed to my apartment. Why was I so keyed up by that? I pressed a
hand to the bare expanse of skin above the neckline of my sweater,
and felt the flutter of my pulse there. I pressed my thighs
together, then stopped the instant I realized what I was doing.

What the hell was wrong with me? I had no
idea why he was coming over. For all I knew, he was coming to tell
me he felt really bad about firing me, but he had to because he was
so creeped out to be around me.

Then I opened the door, and he was standing
there, and I had no further doubts. He had come because he wanted
me, like I wanted him. I could see it in his eyes the moment our
gazes met.

He was slightly out of breath, and cracked
some joke about a higher floor being unavailable when we moved in,
but I couldn't process any of it over the sound of the blood
rushing to my brain.

Neil was here, on the threshold of my
apartment, looking apologetic and waiting for me to say something.
All my words completely deserted me.

"Um... come in." I stepped back, and closed
the door behind him.

"I'm sorry to come by so late, but I knew I
wouldn't be able to sleep without speaking to you."

So, we were getting straight to the heart of
the matter, then. I had anticipated some uncomfortable small talk,
during which I could try to feel out what he'd come to say. Now I
didn't know what to do, or where to put my hands. I curled my
fingers into the sleeves of my sweater.

"At lunch today, I may have given you the
impression - "

"That we didn't have a chance in hell of
anything happening between us?" I supplied for him. I thought it
might make him laugh. It didn't.

"I must admit, the age difference between us
does make me uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable back then, as
well. I’m not the kind of man who needs to date younger women to be
happy. It’s not a status symbol for me. And I'm not the kind of
person who picks up strangers in airports, either."