The Temp (4 page)

6

Eve had a flash of excitement.
Then reality came crashing down on her.
Roman Pierce had summoned her like property, like the subservient she was, like the submissive she’d now become. He’d labelled the relationship they would have by that one singular act.

Above all else, she felt cheap.

“Eve, will you come in here?” Trigger said. His voice wasn’t raised, he hadn’t moved from the lounge, meaning he knew she’d heard every word since the door had snagged on the carpet.

Eve got up wordlessly. Trigger didn’t have to ask her to come in. It was the next logical step as her butt lifted out of the chair and strayed towards him. “Close the door this time.” So he had known.

She closed the door and knew that now they could talk,
really talk
, all pretences aside. She’d sat outside while he’d held meetings with the door closed and nothing could be heard, not even when someone raised their voice.

Trigger stood up and sauntered over to the desk. He sat, swivelling in his chair facing it directly in front of her. He was all powerful in front of New York’s skyline, all knowing and all commanding.

Eve folded her legs, her hands in her lap. She wasn’t subservient. She was passive-aggressive and wished she’d spoken up while she had the chance.

“Let’s drop the act. I know you heard everything. Roman’s in need of a secretary,” he began. As if it needed saying. “I volunteered you.”

Eve almost laughed. “It didn’t sound like that.”

His brow shot up. “Alright then,” Trigger sat back. “How shall I put it? He saw, he liked, he wanted.” His words were cold, tweaking a nerve in her jaw.

“And so what? You loaned me out like I was your property? Thanks for defending me and saying I wasn’t easy. Why don’t you just”-she rose out of the chair.

“Eve.”

“No.”

“Eve,” his voice was hard. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”-

“
If,
being the operative word.”

“Sit down.” She stood firm. “Please,” she melted down into the seat again, folding her arms, her legs facing towards him. His laugh was dry. “You know you’re not as timid as you let on.”

Eve sank down further into her seat. “I have a right to defend myself when it feels necessary.”

“You have the right. Considering the position you’re in, you don’t have work place rights like the rest of them do. I don’t; not yet at least. You have to grin and bear it, for the time being.” She hadn’t been volunteered. Roman had more or less demanded her and although it warmed her insides there was a note too commanding about it. She wasn’t at anyone’s beck and call. “How do you feel about working for him?”

Eve blinked not expecting the question as if she’d be given a choice in the matter of blackmail. “He’s arrogant”-

“That’s not what I mean. He can be demanding though I think this is better than you being with me.” She felt her cheeks fire again. “For the sake of what we’re doing the faster we get in, the faster we can all go home.” Did he really believe that? He’d been here how long and they’d had him for how long?

“Will you get to go home?” Eve found herself saying.

“It’s a figure of speech. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel at least.”

“And you think Roman is the answer?”

“Yes. I’ll let them know what’s changed in your position but I’m almost certain they’ll want you to proceed with this. This position holds greater benefits than the one here. Besides, it’s Roman Pierce. Why does he bother you so much?”

“He doesn’t.”

“He does. Don’t think I didn’t hear what went on outside my office a few minutes ago.” Eve could feel herself redden beyond belief, as if she couldn’t get red enough. “He affects you.”

“Doesn’t he affect everyone?” her voice was so frail.

“I hear he’s a good boss, you wouldn’t get too many late hours and”-

“Are we really talking about the job?” Eve said. “If they want me to do it, I’ll do it, only because I have to.”

Trigger didn’t say anything for a while. “I suppose that’s the black and white of it.”

Eve got up and turned to leave.

“There is one more thing,” Trigger said.

She didn’t turn, she stood there waiting, her back to him.

“You can’t pull another stunt like your first day with him. If he fires you that’s it and whatever they have on you will be exposed.”

Eve nodded, the message was clear.

She’d have to please Roman in any way she could.

P
ART
II

Unspoken Rules

7

“Are you coming?”

“What?” Eve blinked up.

Snake eyes peered down at her over the top of her cubicle wall. Angelica was dressed in a form fitting reptilian skirt and a khaki blouse and devil red lipstick. It couldn’t have matched her personality any better. “I suppose you already know the subject off the top of your head,” she continued, her voice as cool as cucumber.

Eve’s brow arched. What was she talking about?

Another woman peered in over the cubicle wall next to Angelica. It was Celeste, charming and charismatic Celeste with her endless legs and dark Armani fitted suit.

Eve stammered. “Did we have a lunch date?”

Why would they? Eve had never really spoken to Celeste except to say the usual pleasantries. And Angelica? Well, if she couldn’t say anything nice to her then it was better Eve didn’t say anything at all. Often she’d caught Snake eyes watching her out of the corner of her eye. 

Eve had often heard Celeste laughing and talking down the hall, needless to say she was the office gossip and the very person Eve did not want to be around, especially if she and Angelica were close friends.

Celeste’s French manicured fingernails drummed on the edge of the cubicle wall. Her beauty was refined compared to Angelica’s aggressive sexual prowess.

“The meeting, it’s mandatory for all first level employees.”

Eve stammered for an excuse. “I’m expecting a call for Mr Raines.” Her palm clamped down on one of the phones.

“Oh Eve, you can transfer them to Kelly, she’s filling in. Come on.” There was a glimmer in Celeste eye’s akin to someone who always got their way.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to attend. I’m a temp.”
Oh god,
how she hated that word. She let out a steely breath, her chest relaxing marginally. One of the benefits of being a temp was she never had to sit through meetings unless absolutely necessary.

“It’s mandatory,” butted in Angelica. “Don’t think you can squirm your way out of it,” she stalked off.

“I don’t think I should go,” her bottom lip quivered, pleading to Celeste.

“Mr Johnson from HR said anyone who misses the meeting will have to sit down one on one with him and hear it. Would you rather do that?” she trilled.

“No, no,” Eve considered the pros and cons. Her heart beat rapidly to a dance she hadn’t been invited to. How could she tell someone she didn’t do crowds, didn’t do strangers and didn’t do confined spaces? It was bad enough being on the 45
th
floor and having to ride in a steel box every morning to get there. Or she could sit down with Mr Johnson, a man she hadn’t met and listen to him go through whatever meeting he had planned for them. Eve didn’t do one on one. She didn’t do social. She didn’t do…anything out of her comfort zone.

Eve nodded her attention trailing to the carpet and its uniform itchiness. She had to go; it was the better of two evils.

“What’s the meeting about?” Eve walked beside Celeste barely keeping up with her long strides.

“Sexual harassment in the workplace.”

Eve stilled.
Oh, god.
Why couldn’t it be on O, H & S, or something she could relate to? Why, why did it have to be sexual harassment? As if she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable enough as it was. Finally Angelica’s remark made sense, for some reason the woman had the most sordid impression of Eve and for no reason. 

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Celeste sauntered on. 

“I didn’t think it applied to me.” Eve’s shoulders hunched forward, her hands creeping to protect her sides. She made herself as small, as invisible as she could.

They approached the crowd in conference room 2.

“Celeste,” others greeted Celeste like the permanent she was. Eve barely acknowledged anyone as she sifted in behind a row of chairs, the furthest corner in the furthest part of the room. Almost everyone was a stranger, besides Celeste and one or two familiar faces.

Angelica sat in row two throwing a malicious sneer her way. Eve imagined her shedding her snake skin. She wanted to bury herself in her chair.

Mr Johnson from HR stood at the front wearing a brown suit jacket and bow tie. He had the appearance of a tenured professor, setting him apart from the sharks.  His hair was dark and peppered in fine wisps of white though his face was years younger.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have to interrupt everyone’s valuable time. Sexual harassment is not a laughing matter.” The crowd silenced. Eve wished Trigger or Roman were here to distract her, anything to drown it out.  “It is important everyone knows what their rights are and how we can deal with the matter. Luckily for you this conference only comes round once in a blue moon. To begin, what is sexual harassment?”

Mr Johnson flipped a switch to the first slide. Eve read the slide; it helped to focus on the words instead of the strangers surrounding her in a clinically white room with limited breathing capacity. It was clear Mr Johnson was reading from the screen. “Sexual harassment is any unwanted or unwelcome sexual behaviour towards another person which makes them feel offended, humiliated or intimidated. It is not an interaction, flirtation or friendship between two parties which in fact is mutual.”      

“It is very serious and we do not take it lightly. It is a form of sexual discrimination affecting both men and women.”

Eve took a moment to study the bodies around her. There was shuffling, fidgeting and disquiet and at least she didn’t feel like the only one uncomfortable with the subject material. “Please take a moment to look at this list which includes the many forms of sexual harassment.” Mr Johnson flipped over to the next slide.

Eve read the list, her blood running cold in her veins. She’d never known or understood her rights, reading the list; at least once in one of her jobs she’d had one of these things happen to her. At the time she’d ascertained it was normal. She bit her lip, noting the increasing level of movement among the suits. Her hands clamped tighter under her thighs in an effort not to squirm.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later when the slideshow ended they were excused. Eve’s heart thumped wildly as she watched the crowd disperse; being furthest in the room meant she had to wait for everyone to leave first, her gaze flitting about, not making eye contact, remaining petite and forgettable. Her pulse raced against the clock, she needed to get away. The slideshow had her trembling.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Mr Johnson blocked her path.

Eve kept her head down. “Eve Allure, Mr Raines’s new secretary, temporary secretary,” she amended.

“I appreciate you coming. This is always a delicate subject among employees,” he was locked on her. “I noticed you were tucked away at the back.”

Eve glanced up, daring herself to look into his eyes, amber pools of warmth. “I don’t do well in crowds,” she swallowed.

His brow rose. “Oh? It wouldn’t be the subject matter, would it?” 

“I’m sure it’s a delicate subject with everyone.”

“You know, sexual harassment affects one in five women. It can be very hard for women at times.”

“I’m sure,” Eve didn’t know what to say as his scrutiny stayed on her.

“My office is on the third floor if you ever need to talk.” Eve didn’t respond. For a moment the walls closed in on her, her clothes were tight against her skin, constricting her breathing. “I’ll be sending round a copy of the slideshow to all the employees, so if you have any further questions on the matter, don’t hesitate to ask. Help is always at hand.”
Help is always at hand.

Eve left the conference room on auto. It wasn’t until she was in the bathroom that her body shrank against the walls until she was hugging her knees.
Breathe.
It was only a sexual harassment meeting. So why did it affect her so? It didn’t. It shouldn’t. It was Mr Johnson and his ability to see a frailty in her that could be mistaken as the traits of a victim.

Was she a victim?

She needed help; only she couldn’t go to anyone for it.

What was worse was if Mr Johnson, a total stranger, could see the lie she was living then so could others. She hadn’t ever questioned whether she gave off the appearance of a victim. She was shy, petite and hid herself well.

Were those the traits of a victim?