| |
I move slowly as I put the chairs back and separate the tables in the low key coffee house. Unlike other coffee places, they not only didn’t mind us meeting here, they were always welcoming. Even though I hadn’t wanted to come today, I’m glad I did. Today’s meeting, on a breezy, bright, Saturday afternoon filled with laughter and friendly familiar faces was what I really needed.
“Holly? Are you okay?” The words come softly from Amelia as she pushes a chair into place.
I bite my tongue to keep the words inside. Amelia is a sweet girl who isn’t anything like the pampered princess I assumed she was the first time I met her at the second meeting, almost a year ago. Stumbling in on five-inch Manolo Blahnik heels, in a demure, black, Chanel skirt-suit; instantly, in reverse snobbery, I didn’t want to like her. Only it was hard not to, with her enthusiasm clear at joining her first book club. She loved the book club, which focused on thrillers and mysteries rather than highbrow literature, as more than a dozen other clubs that already existed in the city. She’s also the sweetest, nicest person I’ve ever met.
As the host of the club, I make it a point never to leave until everyone else has left. This has led to several one-on-one conversations, when it was clear Amelia lingered to talk. Sometimes, we continued talking about the book or even other members of the club. More often, we talked about the pressure she felt to be as good as her older brother, who is a partner at the law firm where she’s a second-year associate. Odd, we’re the same age, twenty-eight, yet very different. Our differences have me embarrassed to talk about it.
I shake my head, faking a smile I mean to brush off her concern, but my mouth doesn’t comply. When I open my mouth, I burst into tears. Horrified by my tears, I bury my face in my hands.
A hand is on my shoulder, rubbing lightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She sounds distraught. Once again, I wonder if she’s for real, yet her sincerity is clear. Amelia is so sweet cotton candy wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and I feel like an ass for thinking otherwise. “No, don’t apologize. I’m the one who can’t hold it together. I was fired yesterday from a job I hate but badly needed.”
“Oh, my goodness, how awful. The horrible place you said was only one step up from a boiler room?”
“Yes, they are about to be shut down. I think they’re afraid when the SEC comes in, that I would talk. Their excuse was I didn’t finish a report I was told to do, but there was no report. Then I made things worse by dumping my boss’s coffee in his lap while calling him a sexist pig. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to use him as a reference. I’ve already been living paycheck to paycheck, there is only a few hundred left in my bank account. I don’t think I’ll last long without a job here in Chicago.”
Amelia lets out a squeal I’ve never heard from her before. “This is fate! Oh, my god!”
“What?”
“Ethan needs you! His housekeeper, life-keeper really, Cora, is quitting in three days! Man, is he mad about it, but he won’t let Cora know, he adores her. He understands though, Cora is in her late sixties. She can’t keep cleaning up after him, maintaining his schedule, picking up dry cleaning and shopping. I’ve been hunting for the perfect person for him, but supposedly, I haven’t found one. Out of the five people I sent to him, he wasn’t happy with a single one. He can be a little picky. You remember me talking about him, right?”
How the hell could I forget? The guy sounds like an asshole. I know more about him from his name and face in the paper. The papers loved him and filled in the blanks she hadn’t talked about. “Yeah, you called him an obnoxious, asshole manwhore who is best taken in small doses, if at all.”
Amelia throws back her head with a tinkling laugh. “That’s Ethan. Don’t look so worried. You will only be dealing with him in small doses, and as far as the manwhore thing goes, you’re safe.”
“Because of my weight?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
A blush appears before she answers, “Yes, he’s dated every nationality out there, but he prefers a certain, um, silhouette, I guess you can say. All of them are ridiculously tall, thin, and with cover girl looks. He’ll view you as scenery and the help. Which is really what you want, his attention can be overwhelming.
I know you, you can do this. You’re a smart person, you organize this book club every month, you did the work of three secretaries for two years, and you put up with all kinds of people in book club. Ethan will be demanding, but if you do your job, and do it right, then working for him will be the best job you’ve ever had. I promise. You’re the one, and even though you never told me what you were making at your old job, I’m positive this is better.”
When she tells me the salary, I’m speechless. It’s almost double what I was making. The idea of being a glorified cleaning-woman for some rich asshole holds little appeal, and I was about to say no. Now, I’m not only considering it, I’m worried I won’t get it. “How can you be sure he’ll hire me, when he said no to five others?”
“I’m going to make him. I’m going to play the baby sister card he always uses against me. He’s going to agree to at least a six-week trial. Then, when he sees how awesome you are, you get to keep the job.” Amelia finishes with a flourish and smug smile.
My nerves start buzzing at the idea of forcing myself on Ethan Bishop. Amelia has shared her frustration of his strong, demanding ways she felt unable to challenge in the slightest. She said he treated her like a know-nothing law student, even though she had graduated from Harvard Law at the top of her class. Ethan made her frustrated to the point of considering going to another firm. He kept her tightly leashed in her position as an associate. The fact he made partner at only thirty-two, six years ago, attested to the fact the man wasn’t human. Amelia had been in awe of the hours he spent at the office, all he did was work. He freely admitted to her the women who came and went, as if his bedroom had a revolving door, were simply there as stress relievers.
Ethan Bishop’s reputation as a rainmaker in Chicago corporate and sports law, along with the fact he was gorgeous, gave him a cachet that held the attention of the public. His movements and clients were constantly reported on and gossiped about on social media. It actually helped his bad boy reputation that he was once a juvenile delinquent and had spent almost a year in detention for his long list of crimes, which included stealing a car for a joy ride and selling marijuana to his schoolmates.
Since it all happened when he was sixteen, and his brigadier general father and wealthy mother’s expensive lawyer were able to plea deal down his charges to misdemeanors, his many misdeeds didn’t hinder his ambitions to go into law. When he got out at seventeen, he did a complete turnaround. He went from failing out of private school to honor roll, graduating at nineteen. However, he made up for time by going through Penn State in only three years. He moved on to Harvard for law school, graduating magna cum lade.
Amelia adored him, following in his footsteps right into Penn State, while avoiding the bout of juvenile delinquency. I’m trying to convince myself someone as sweet as Amelia wouldn’t love a complete asshole, even if he was her big brother. “What do I do?”
“Here’s my email address, send me your resume then get a good night’s sleep, and wait for my call on Monday.” Her excitement is contagious. As I walk home, I try not to get too excited. Yet, I can’t deny I want the job, badly. I’ve already been harassed and treated like crap over the last two years by the men I’ve been working for. The same treatment coming from just one man doesn’t sound nearly as bad.
He’ll run out of fat jokes quickly, besides, they no longer bother me. After so many years of being a plus size I’ve become reconciled to my weight. I’m a size sixteen now. I’ve gone as high as a size twenty and been as low as a size ten, but that was through the use of scary drugs I refuse to use anymore. The money alone makes me want to skip home. I could afford my own place in the city. No more weirdo, flaky roommates, even if it was just a studio, it would be my own little space.
With a sigh of longing, I let myself into my apartment. There is no surprise to find my roommate on the couch in the middle of sex. I’m pretty sure she’s a sex addict. She brings people home for sex on a daily basis, having sex everywhere for hours. Men or women, she isn’t picky. I’ve actually been looking for a new place to live for the last month. I started looking only a month after moving in. If I get the job, I could stick it out for at least another month and save money for a studio of my own.
As I undress and get ready for bed, my mind is swirling with hope and fear. I don’t want to let Amelia down, yet her brother sounds scary. What I’m really worried about is my mouth getting me fired. I’m the third child and only girl of a Marine, with a mother content to be a doormat for my father. My brothers never treated me like a girl, we fought bodily as well as verbally—with a sometimes vicious streak. I give what I get and my mouth has gotten me fired before, stupid doctor. Lasting at the last place for two years only happened because of sheer determination to make it in Chicago. Now I know I love it here. I don’t want to leave, and working for Ethan Bishop will allow me to stay. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be locked into the job forever. Once I’m in a better financial position, I can find another job, hopefully one where my boss isn’t an asshole manwhore.