Epilogue
Mindy
“You’re gonna make this new job your submissive little slut,” I say aloud, pumping myself up as I stand on the busy sidewalk.
“Fuck yeah, you will,” a woman in a sleek pumpkin-colored pantsuit and bushy black curls says as she walks by. Her smile is brilliant, and her raised fist tells me she believes in me, despite not even knowing my name.
Ah, Houston. Gotta love it.
I stare up at the mirrored building in the heart of the city, squinting against the sun so I can see the Hale Cosmetics logo at the top. The morning light glints off the metallic HC emblazoned in a delicate script over a silver crown.
This has always been one of my favorite buildings as I pass through Houston on the interstate. It's a bold blue with sharp, clean angles that come to a point at the top, as if it’s saying, “Hey, look at me! I’m full of awesome shit.”
I hitch my crappy little purse up on my shoulder.
Just the sight of this bag brings on a wave of anger, and I want to beat my soon-to-be-ex-husband with it.
I’ve never been prone to bouts of uncontrolled rage, but that was before I started going through divorce proceedings with Twatface Roger.
That’s the name my two best friends gave him, and it’s absolutely apt.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think my mild-mannered, mama’s boy, wimp of a husband would turn so vicious.
I’d thought it was sweet when he bought me a Louis Vuitton purse for Christmas right after we were married, even though we weren’t exactly flush with cash at the time.
Our lack of funds was directly correlated to the honeymoon costs, which were more than they should have been since Roger invited his mother along.
Yes, you heard that right, but I’ll repeat it so you can really get the full effect.
He brought. His mother. On our honeymoon.
I’m apparently horrible at seeing red flags since that one was waving like a cape in front of a bull, but for some reason, I still married his ass.
Don’t get me wrong; I adore Roger’s mother.
Rose is kind and sweet, even though she has a distinct lack of boundaries.
I thought she’d passed those kind, sweet characteristics on to her son, but I guess that makes me a nitwit.
Because Roger is neither kind nor sweet.
He’s a twatface, as we’ve already established.
And that brings me back to my purse. Not the Louis, but the one slung over my shoulder.
The one I had to dig out of the back of the closet because my soon-to-be-ex burned my new purse—along with most of my clothes—after I told him I wanted a divorce.
Talk about pitching a tantrum—Twatface really knows how to do it up right.
Luckily, I came home early from work since I’d gotten fired that day—thanks for that too, Twatface—and caught him poking around in the burn barrel with a large stick.
Mostly only the remnants of metal buttons, shoe soles, and zippers remained.
I managed to save a few articles of clothing, including the navy-blue suit I’m wearing right now.
And that brings me to Hale Cosmetics, where I’m starting my first day of work today as the executive assistant to the CEO, Haywood Hale.
My eyes focus on the lobby, which is just on the other side of the glass doors, and I suddenly feel nervous as hell.
I don’t belong in such a grand building with all its fancy furnishings and even fancier people.
My suit is nice, not designer, but the quality is good.
My purse though… It looks like something I found while dumpster diving behind the 7-11, with its fake leather peeling off in patches like it has a skin disease.
It’s the seven-year-old purse of a broke college student, not a badass career woman, so I turn the worst side toward my body and march through the doors with my head held high.
“Gooooood morning,” a security guard rumbles. His nametag reads Bear Collins, and his first name certainly fits. He’s a big guy with a bushy beard and kind hazel eyes.
“Hello, I’m starting work here today,” I say with all the confidence in the world.
“Ah, are you the new executive assistant to Mr. Hale?”
I smile pleasantly. “That’s me.”
“Great to meet you,” Bear replies, pointing to the metal table beside him. “If you’d just put your bag right here. Once you get upstairs, they’ll give you the access card for the employee entrance, so you won’t have to see my ugly mug anymore.”
Reluctantly, I put the bag from hell on the table and wait for him to kick me out for not being properly accessorized. But he doesn’t bat an eye, using a small stick to check for explosives or whatever before giving me a nod.
“Now if I could just see your ID, please.”
I pull it from my equally shitty wallet and hand it over. Bear makes a note on a clipboard and gives it back with a smile.
“Welcome to Hale Cosmetics, Ms.—”
“Espinoza,” I interrupt before he can say Twatface’s last name. “I changed my last name but haven’t gotten my license changed yet.”
“Marriage or the other way around?” he asks, lowering his voice on the last part.
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m going through a divorce. Espinoza is my maiden name.” Which I started using again as soon as Roger started his bullshit, I add in my head.
Bear gives me a little salute and directs me to the petite woman standing at the reception desk, chatting with two other ladies. I’m glad I have an escort because I could get lost in a tent and this place is huge.
“Hi,” I say, approaching the woman and admiring her burgundy hair with long bangs that frame one side of her face.
She turns to me with a welcoming smile. “Mindy, I assume?”
“Yes, and I’m guessing you’re Amanda?”
“That’s me. I’m the receptionist for the executive floor where you’ll be working.” She gestures toward the women. “This is Carla and Marla.”
“No relation,” the one whose name tag denotes her as Carla says, and I laugh because the women couldn’t be more different.
Carla is a little person, blonde and fair in complexion, while Marla is an extremely tall, thin Black woman with pin-straight hair and cheekbones that could cut glass. She looks like she belongs on a runway.
“She thinks she’s funny,” Marla says with a wry grin, giving the other woman a playful push. “Welcome to the family, Mindy. You’re going to love Mr. Hale.”
“I’m glad to be here. I met him during my interview, and he was so sweet.
We interviewed at a restaurant, so this is actually my first time in this building.
It’s beautiful.” My eyes flit over the cool white and shiny silver of the lobby and up to the enormous, modern-looking chandelier hanging over the center of the space.
Everything is so sophisticated, and it should probably be intimidating, but the people I’ve met so far have been nice. I only wish Twatface hadn’t burned almost my entire wardrobe so I wouldn’t have to wear the same two outfits every day. But it will be okay once I get my first paycheck.
Because maybe I forgot to mention this, but my ex also emptied our bank accounts so I’m currently—how should I word this delicately?—broke as fuck.
After saying goodbye to Carla and Marla, Amanda leads me to the elevator bank. I learn she’s in her forties, though she looks much younger, and has two kids.
“How did you come to work here?” she asks, putting a key card up to the scanner and pushing the button for the top floor.
“My Aunt Lorraine knew there was an opening and suggested I apply.”
“Oh, she’s the nanny for Phoenix Hale’s little girl, right?”
“Yes, I missed out on a lot of years with Aunt Lorraine because she and my mother were estranged. But I reached out after Mama died, and she was so kind to me. It’s still weird sometimes, but we’re working on reconnecting.”
“Aw, that’s sad about your mom. I’m so sorry. How did she die, if that’s okay to ask?”
“It’s fine,” I reply. “Pancreatic cancer. Once they found it, she went pretty quickly, which is common, from what the doctors told me.”
We reach the top floor and step out of the elevator. Floor-to-ceiling windows flank the left and right side of the lobby area, and a wide chrome reception counter sits directly in front of us with the Hale Cosmetics logo on the wall behind it.
“That’s my area,” Amanda says. “Feel free to come to me with any questions that might crop up. I’ve been here a long time.
” She gestures to a hallway to the left of her desk, leading back into what I assume are offices.
“That’s marketing down there. Phoenix Hale is the marketing director, and he’s a doll. And the CEO’s office is down here.”
“My aunt said Phoenix is really nice, though I haven’t had the chance to meet him.” I match her brisk steps as we enter the wide corridor to the right. “How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Twelve years,” she replies, pointing to an opening on our left. The nutty aroma of coffee fills the space, and my nose swoons. “That’s the coffee area and bakery. We have our own barista on this floor.”
“Wow. That’s a perk,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll definitely be taking advantage of that.”
“You want one now?”
Of course I accept, and we step into the space, which is open on both ends. The other side appears to open into the marketing hallway.
“Hi, Amanda,” a man says. He’s standing at the counter, tall and incredibly handsome, with dark hair and dimples. And he looks so familiar. But where have I seen him before?
“Phoenix, hi,” she replies cheerily before patting my bicep. “This is Mindy Espinoza. She’s your dad’s new assistant.”
“Phoenix Hale,” he says, holding out a hand for me to shake. I do, but I can’t stop staring at his face. Where the hell have I met or seen this man? With the bespoke cut of his suit, I’m pretty sure we don’t shop at the same stores.
“Very nice to meet you,” I say politely.
His mouth quirks up on one side, and he seems to be inspecting me as well. “You look very familiar. Have we met?”