Off the Chain Page 5

  He reached over and stroked my hair. “Why? Do you feel bad when your dog-walking clients pay you?”

  “No, but I provide them with a service…”

  “And you’re providing me with a service.”

  I laughed. He said, “Whether you see it as a service or not, it is. And I plan to pay you for it.”

  I rose up on my elbow and rested my head in my hand. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s simple. I get what I want. You get what you want. No lies. No telling you that I plan to leave my wife. All men need a side item, but most of them don’t have the means to pay for it, so they mislead you.”

  Maybe this was his effort to make me feel better but I felt like shit. I wondered if I’d rather be misled. He massaged my shoulder. “London, in business, always use your mind, not your emotions.”

  “I guess. So when you get tired of this side item, you just stop calling.”

  “Let today take care of today.”

  I lay back on the floor and stared up at the complex ceiling fan hanging above us. “So am I done for the day or what?”

  “I’d like you to stay awhile longer.”

  We had a peaceful evening, smoking cigars and having sex. Before I knew it, it was one in the morning and we were cuddled up in his first-floor guest room. I was enjoying him and I wanted to know how long this would last, but he kept it professional.

  I woke up the next morning and climbed out of bed. I wondered if I should wake him up. Instead I went into the bathroom and showered. I kept hearing him tell me this was business and I should save any miscellaneous income like this so that a job loss would be nothing. When I questioned him about what I should do when the miscellaneous came to a halt, it shocked me when he explained that if a woman isn’t in a committed relationship, she should always get paid well for sex.

  7

  When I got home, I was confused and uncertain about what I’d just done. I needed someone to talk to. I looked at Bruno as I cleaned up the mess he’d made in his crate, thinking he wouldn’t do. Kari and I didn’t talk much and I hadn’t really been able to get her to come around. It had been nearly three months, and when I stepped out of my building to take Bruno on a quick walk, I looked over at her building wishing we were still close and praying that I could erase my flirtatious spirit to make her comfortable. As soon as I stepped back into my apartment, I pressed my luck and I dialed Kari. “Hey, chick, what’s up?”

  “Hey, London,” she said hesitantly.

  “I miss you a lot.”

  “Yeah, I kinda miss you too.”

  We’d been through too much and I was sincerely sorry and I really missed her. I wanted to tell her what I had just done, but since my flirtation had ruined our friendship, I didn’t think it was wise. I just wanted to hang out and chat for a minute. I needed girlfriend therapy.

  “Good, so you can come over for a drink.”

  “Okay, I’ll be over soon.”

  By my giving her space and letting her deal with her issues with me on her own, I think Kari realized as much as I did that we were good friends. When she got there she opened her arms to hug me.

  “I’m sorry about all the mean things I said to you.”

  “It’s okay. We’re not even going to go back to it. I really miss hanging out with you. So what’s been going on?”

  She pouted slightly. “Nothing, just dating.”

  Kari wanted a relationship badly and it seemed as if men were running away like she had a disease.

  “So how’s it going?” I asked.

  “Not so good.”

  “What do you mean?” I stood up. “Wait, let me pour you a drink first.”

  “Yeah. Do that. I went on a date last night with a guy I met online.”

  I rolled my eyes. She laughed. “Exactly. Anyway, we had a pretty good conversation and all. He was a little older. Very nice-looking. He ordered a two-hundred-dollar glass of wine.”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  “Wait, I’m not finished. When the bill came, he said he had to go to the bathroom.” She dropped her head. “Thirty minutes later, I realized that he wasn’t coming back.”

  I was so shocked by what she’d told me that I dropped the martini glass on the floor. We laughed, but it was obvious Kari was in pain. I resisted the urge to immediately sweep up the glass. Instead I went over to the bed and wrapped my arms around my friend.

  “Kari, your time will come.”

  “But when?” she asked.

  “Stop looking. It’s a man’s job to find you.”

  “I’m just not sure he will.”

  “He will, trust me. Just because you try hard to find a guy doesn’t mean that you’ll find the right guy. It just means that you’ll kiss a lot of toads before you find your prince. But if you wait for your prince to find you, you avoid all the toads. Basically what I’m saying is the right guy isn’t coming until it’s the right time and no matter how much you date before he comes, he ain’t coming any faster.”

  “But it seems like I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  “And that means you don’t have any baggage either.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “We all have a little.”

  She said, “And I didn’t even tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I crossed over.”

  “Crossed over? As in to white guys or females?”

  She pushed me. “Silly, white guys.”

  “And how’d that work out?”

  “Not so good.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well I was seeing this guy for about a week and we went out to eat. The waiter asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu. And I said yes. Girl, when the waiter left he told me that he didn’t think I needed dessert, trying to insinuate that I was fat.”

  Kari was pretty slim to me. The fact that this guy even made it a point to say that was ridiculous. I hugged her again. “Kari, stop dating for a little while. It’s stressful. You just don’t need the headache.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  It was ironic that I had called Kari at a moment when she needed me as much as I needed her. We spent the rest of the day together, watching a bunch of romantic comedies. Hopefully they inspired her to believe that when it’s meant to happen it will. Kari went home close to midnight.

  Listening to her dating drama made me feel better about what I had done as I reflected on Thorne’s words. “If a woman is not in a committed relationship, she should be earning something for her services.” That was probably the best advice I’d heard in a long time. He knew how to make money and just about anything as far as he was concerned could be a business. And poor Kari was dealing with these losers free of charge.

  As I prepared for work, I was empowered. At least I wasn’t dealing with any bullshit. I had earned a few dollars to spend an evening with a gentleman. It wasn’t until the next day when it was time for work that I began to feel sleazy. I stepped into the office and opened Thorne’s Wall Street Journal on his desk, like I did every day.

  It was around noon when Thorne came into the office. “Afternoon, London,” he said, just as casual as a week before.

  My heart pounded, but I smiled. “Afternoon, Thorne. There are two urgent messages on your desk.”

  “Cool. Yeah, had to wait for the wife and boys to come in from vacation this morning.”

  I looked across at the other assistant and she curled her lips. My eyes shifted. I began to wonder why she had done that. Had she been with him in the same way that I had? She mouthed, “He probably overslept.”

  I smiled tightly. “Probably.”

  Thorne stepped out of the office about an hour later and handed me a phone message: HYATT. ROOM 724. 3:30 P.M. TODAY. I didn’t read it until he stepped away. My heart dropped. I wasn’t sure what the frequency of our arrangement would be but I hadn’t expected it would be daily.

  When he returned to the office from the restroom, he looked at me for a r
esponse to his note. I nodded. He smiled and told Amanda, “I’m going to be in a meeting this afternoon.”

  He looked at me. “Monday is your early day. Right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I’m going to be skipping out of here around two. So, Amanda, hold down the fort.”

  “Always,” she said, smiling.

  I hoped she hadn’t noticed our exchange, and I wondered if she knew something about Thorne that I didn’t know. What if this was what he did with all his second assistants? He definitely had a high turnover. I racked my brain with questions, but I kept reminding myself that we didn’t have that type of relationship. I shouldn’t even want to know these things.

  Around three-thirty I began to gather my things and headed out of the office. I knocked on the hotel room door around quarter to four. When he swung the door open, he had a stern look on his face. I smiled, and he barked, “You’re late.”

  “Yeah, I know. I had to send out some e-mails and…”

  He covered my mouth. “Being punctual is important. Are you ever late for work?”

  I felt like he was taking this business thing a little too far. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”

  “What’s your hourly rate?”

  My neck snapped back. “Whatever you give me.”

  “So if I only have an hour to spare, should I give you three-fourths of your money?”

  I walked up to him and kissed him on the mouth. “Is that worth my fifteen minutes?”

  I untied his robe and began to bite his nipples. “Is this worth my fifteen minutes?”

  He said, “Take your clothes off.”

  As I undressed, he helped me and pushed me onto the bed. He rammed his penis inside me. He pounded rapidly. It was far from the passionate experience we had shared on Saturday. As he quickly released and pulled out, I felt like a slut. He walked into the bathroom and I heard the shower running. This wasn’t what I wanted. No money was worth that feeling.

  Why did I want to pretend I could handle this? I had always been able to completely forget about a guy after sex, but it was my choice. There was an unhappiness brewing inside of me from this quickie and his lack of affection afterward. He stepped out of the bathroom and began to put on his clothes. He walked over to the bed. “You, okay, London Bridge?”

  I shrugged. He was in front of the mirror fixing his tie and looking at me in the reflection. I was still naked, sitting on the bed Indian-style.

  He began to talk. “Sex minus emotion. Can you do it or not?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  After he tied his tie, he sat on the bed. “Paid sex is not always sensual. Every dog you walk isn’t well trained, is he?”

  I pouted a little and hung my head. He lifted my chin with his finger. “The only reason I did what I did today was to remind you that this is business. There are going to be days when I need to get in and get out. And you’ll have to respect that. The quicker you see it the way I do, the better we’ll be.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket out of the closet. “Or maybe you’re not the businesswoman I thought you were.”

  I just looked at him. He extended his hand to shake mine. There were five one-hundred-dollar bills clasped in between our grip. “London, a fair exchange is no robbery.”

  I’d made one thousand dollars in less than three days. It would take me four weeks of walking dogs to make that kind of money and two weeks of my gross salary. Emotionally, this definitely didn’t seem like the ideal profession. Financially, it seemed brilliant, almost too good to be true.

  Just as he was about to leave, he said, “We cool?”

  “Yeah, we cool.”

  As he turned the doorknob, he added, “Do you have a passport?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “We may have some opportunities abroad.”

  Abroad? I looked in the mirror, thinking, This is better than a real job any day. After he closed the door behind him, all the discomfort and confusion from the quick boom-boom bang-bang he’d just served was now discounted and I was wondering what would be next.

  8

  When I arrived at work on Pink Slip Wednesday, people were crying as they were escorted out of the building. My mother always taught me not to wear my heart on my sleeve. “Dress up stress in the best garments you own,” she’d say. I walked into the office wearing a knee-length stiffly tailored trench coat from Banana Republic, a short black skirt, and a plum silk three-quarter-length-sleeve fitted button-up top from J.Crew. I wore silver accessories and a pair of black Nine West pumps. I sashayed through the doors like I knew I still had a job.

  On normal days the brokers strolled in between the hours of nine and eleven. Everyone was there by seven-thirty. The brokers were responsible for breaking the news to the unlucky members of their teams. When I walked in, Amanda appeared shocked by my positive energy. I smiled. “Hey, you.”

  Looking at me suspiciously, she responded slowly. “Hey…”

  I asked, “Did he talk to you yet?”

  Almost apologetically she nodded.

  I smiled. “Okay, so…”

  “I’m still here,” she said in a guilty tone.

  “It’s okay, Amanda.”

  “But I think…”

  “You think I’m gone. I think so too, but it’s okay. I’ll find something.”

  She reached out for a hug. While we embraced, she said, “I’m sorry, London.”

  “Don’t be, sweetie. I’ll just walk more dogs until I find something else.”

  I almost laughed out loud. Before I could get to my desk, Thorne came out of his office and asked me to come in. Amanda mouthed, “Good luck.”

  I curled my lips, thinking Don’t be phony. We both knew that one of us would go and if it wasn’t her, obviously it was me. Inside Thorne’s office there were two human resources representatives.

  Thorne sat in his chair uncomfortably, like it was a challenge to find the words to let me go. He grimaced before speaking. “London, I regret to inform you that there have been major budget cuts in the last quarter and as a result your position has been eliminated. As of five o’clock this evening you will be escorted out of the building and asked to return any of Quinn Forrester’s equipment and/or belongings.”

  While handing me a black folder, he continued, “There is an exit checklist enclosed to assist you in the departure process. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, not really.”

  One of the human resources representatives spoke up. “Also, you’ll note in your departure letter, you are eligible for two weeks of severance for each full year of service.” She looked down at a form in front of her. “So you get one week. It’s prorated,” she said, smiling as if that was something to be excited about. After a week, then what? I was out of a damn job. Being that I was no longer gainfully employed, I planned to walk Thorne until his paws fell off. I loved having my own place and my own money. Although it had been only a few months, I was so far beyond struggling and living on Kari’s sofa. Also, Kari had made it clear that she did not want me back.

  When I walked out Amanda’s face was beet-red. I smiled. She said, “What happened?”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be.”

  It was interesting that there were Office Movers boxes strategically placed on the wall adjacent to my desk. I couldn’t recall if they had been there before I went into Thorne’s office or not, but suddenly a feeling of rejection came over me. I didn’t like it, so to avoid letting this get to me I proceeded to pack my things in the boxes. Amanda kept trying to make small talk but I practically tuned her out.

  I stepped out for lunch to get some fresh air. I went down the block to a deli. After I ordered my food, and a double shot of espresso in my caramel latte, I sat on a stool in front of the counter facing the large glass window so that I could people-watch. I daydreamed momentarily. Finally a server came to bring my food. He grabbed my number off the tab
le and slid the tray in front of me.

  “It’ll get better.”

  Slightly taken aback, I said, “Oh, I’m fine, but thanks.”

  He nodded. “Good, enjoy your lunch.”

  And I did just that. My lunch lasted longer than normal. There was no reason to rush back only to be escorted out in a few hours.

  When I returned to the office I sat around, doing nothing. There was no real reason to be there in my opinion, except that I got paid for those hours. As I sat at my desk doodling on a notepad, Thorne walked out of the office looking exhausted. I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just on to the next thing, whatever that may be.”

  He sat on my desk, which he’d never done before. Quickly I looked up to see if Amanda was watching. He slightly lifted his hands up in a defenseless gesture. My assumption was that he was trying to let me know this was out of his control.

  “You know, London, I know an entrepreneur when I see one. This isn’t for you anyway.”

  “Are you saying that you got rid of me because you want me to focus on my business?” I asked, laughing.

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Do you need any help getting this stuff home?”

  I shrugged.

  “You catch the train to work, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I probably should’ve driven today.”

  “I’ll drive you home since I had to do the ungentlemanly thing and lay you off.”

  “How nice of you.”

  Amanda said her goodbyes close to three. She promised to keep in touch and to let me know about any other opportunities that she heard of. I didn’t believe her, but I said, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  She said, “I’m going to miss you. It’s been fun.”

  We hugged and she rushed out of there like she was trying to avoid the close-of-business drama that would probably occur.

  Shortly after four-thirty, Thorne came out and asked if I was ready. I looked at the boxes atop my desk and said, “Looks like it.”