3. Dex
Chapter 3
My legs threaten to give way as I get up from my chair. What had gone on between Bernard and Nate? If Nate’s broad smile and cockier-than-normal swagger were anything to go by, he came out on top. Which means… God, Bernard’s mood will be… volcanic.
My mind is already made up for how best to handle what I witnessed. I just won’t mention it. Ignore it. Pretend it hadn’t happened. Although the latter will be a challenge. The sight of my boss’s huge pumping ass and half-flaccid cock is burned onto my retinas. I wish there was bleach for eyes… and memories.
Before I can knock on his office door, it swings open, and Bernard stomps out, jabbing a pudgy finger in my direction. “You’re fired!” he yells.
I grip the side of my desk. Bile rises in my throat, and prickles develop along my spine. “Bernard, please don’t. I need this job. You know I do. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t. I told you not to let anyone in, and what do you go and do? Let Nate fucking O’Reilly barge his way past, and now, because of your ineptitude, I’m seriously out of pocket.” Another jab of a finger in my face. “So, you, Missy, go flip burgers for all I care.”
“You can rely on my discretion,” I say, completely breaking my own rule to never mention what I saw. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.
It’s a mistake.
Bernard’s nostrils flare, and the noise of his breathing increases as he turns glacial eyes on me. “Oh, I know that,” he says through clenched teeth. “My power in this town spreads far and wide. You’d do well to remember that.” With every word, he bends farther over me, and it takes all of my willpower not to recoil from his garlic-infused breath. “But I’m not mean-spirited.” He straightens while I almost choke at his bare-faced lie. “I’ll give you two weeks’ severance.” He turns away and, as he reaches the door to his office, he glances over his shoulder. “Now, pack up your stuff and get the fuck out before I have security frog march you from the building.”
The door slams shut, and a sob breaks from my throat. Bernard is a terrible boss, but the pay is great. I can’t afford to take a lesser paid job and maintain the payments on Mom’s nursing home.
Damn you, Nathan O’Reilly.
Why couldn’t he have done as he was told and waited? Now, I’m unemployed, and it’s all his fault.
With trembling hands, I pack up my desk. My vision blurs as tears spring to my eyes. What will I do now? I can’t afford to be out of work for a day, let alone permanently. What about Mom? Two weeks to find something else that has equivalent pay is almost impossible, especially as I’ll be asked why I left my last job. Even if I don’t reveal that Bernard fired me, it won’t take long for them to find out. My former boss has a big mouth, bigger than his ass, and that’s saying something. I can’t even use the fact he’s been cheating on his wife as leverage. Bernard will ruin me. He said he would, and I believe him.
It doesn’t take me long to get my stuff together, and with my shoulders squared and head held high, I leave the building. Unfortunately not before I hear the two receptionists gossiping about “Yet another one Bernard has fired.”
I put the small cardboard box containing my things in the trunk of my car and climb inside the ancient Ford. I turn the key in the ignition, and my exhaust makes a horrible rattling sound. Goddammit. The last thing I need is a hefty auto repair bill, too.
As the enormity of my situation washes over me, I slam the palm of my hand into the steering wheel. Fuck Bernard, and fuck Nate O’Reilly. Maybe I should give up and move back to Wisconsin. But that would mean finding another nursing home for Mom, and she’s so settled at Oak Ridge.
As soon as my anger subsides, I put the car into drive and set off for my apartment. The minute I step through the door, my cell rings. I answer with one hand and open a tin of cat food for Milo with the other.
“Hello.”
“When were you going to tell me you’ve been fired?”
My heart plummets to the floor, bounces, then rolls into a corner where it curls up and dies.
Elva, my sister.
I hoped I’d have time to tell her myself when I was ready.
“How did you find out?”
“I stopped by your office to see if you wanted to go out tonight, and there was a smug little blonde who couldn’t have been older than eighteen sitting at your desk.”
I ignore the sharp pain that races across my chest. It hadn’t taken Bernard long to replace me, even temporarily.
Sighing, I say, “When I’d absorbed it enough to get my own head around the disaster that is my life.”
My sister tuts. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re young, smart, pretty enough to work in Hollywood… you’ll be fine.”
I wince at her backhanded compliment. “It might be a little more difficult than that. Once word gets around Bernard fired me, it won’t be easy to get another well-paying job. I’m worried about how on earth I’m going to keep the payments up on Mom’s home.”
“We’ll work it out, sis,” Elva says, her tone softening. “Maybe I can contribute a bit more.”
“No,” I say, my tone resolute. “Any spare money you have should go on the kids. I’ll figure it out.” Somehow.
“Look, let’s go out for a drink tonight. I haven’t been out in ages. Andy isn’t working, so he can look after the children, and you can tell me why Bernard fired you.”
Except I can’t. I make a mental note to come up with a plausible story that doesn’t involve Bernard screwing a wannabe actress over his desk, or Nate O’Reilly’s part in my unemployed status. Although my sister is discreet, I can’t risk Elva letting something slip to Andy, who then, in turn, tells his co-workers over a beer. No, it’s better to make something up. This town thrives on gossip, and this is one indiscretion I can’t allow to spread like a California wildfire.
“Okay,” I say. “Sounds good.”
A few hours later, I meet Elva at a bar on Sunset. I have to bite the side of my cheek to stop the tears from coming as we hug. She picks a booth near the entrance, where a light breeze cools the heat inside the bar. Even though it’s a Tuesday night, the place is still busy, although not nearly as packed as a Friday or Saturday night.
After ordering our drinks, Elva takes my hands in hers. “I know you’re worried, sis, but it will all work out. Things always do.”
“I hope so,” I say, forcing myself to sound positive, even if my insides resemble curdled cottage cheese.
“So…” Elva tilts her head to one side as she asks, “What happened?”
“Oh, it was nothing really,” I say, feigning indifference. “Bernard’s a bastard.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Elva grins. “But that doesn’t give him the right to fire you for nothing. There’s such a thing as workers’ rights.”
I bite my lip in what I hope comes across as bordering on coy. “Okay, it wasn’t nothing, exactly. I was rude to a client who got a bit over-friendly, if you know what I mean. I should have just brushed it off.”
“Why should you?” Elva’s outrage makes her ears turn red. “You’re not a piece of meat that can be mauled just because God blessed you with amazing bone structure, the prettiest gray eyes, and hair the color of fall. This town pisses me off. Its attitude is still unbelievably outdated. You would think things would’ve changed post Weinstein, yet here we are. Fuckers.”
The way Elva talks, anyone would think she’d been at the end of the line when looks were handed out. The truth is my sister is a stunner. Her husband Andy is definitely punching above his weight when it comes to Elva—something I tell him in jest often, and he happens to agree with me.
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’ll pick myself up and start looking for another job in the morning.”
Elva’s cocked eyebrow gives me a clear message that tells me this isn’t over, but at least she lets it drop for now.
I drink three Long Island Iced Teas that I really can’t afford, but the alcohol cools the fire brewing inside my belly. After calling it a night, Elva and I wander outside. Once I settle her in a taxi—my sister is traveling in the opposite direction from me—I glance left and right, hoping to spot another cab soon. While I wait, my gaze catches a familiar figure on the other side of the street—someone I’d recognize in a heartbeat, considering I spend far too much time studying him.
Nate O’Reilly.
He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, probably an attempt at a disguise, but I’d know that over-confident swagger anywhere. He’s with a couple of friends who are laughing as they walk down the street without a care in the world.
It’s evident he hasn’t given me or the trouble he got me into a second thought. Burning rage hisses through me, demanding freedom. My hands form into white-knuckled fists. What a bastard! Gorgeous, yes. My secret obsession, absolutely, but still a bastard. How dare he strut about enjoying himself when he got me fired. He needs a lesson, and I’m going to give it to him…with both barrels. What else do I have to lose? The three cocktails I drank have given me courage I wouldn’t have if sober. May as well take advantage of my inebriation.
I make my way across the road. “Hey, you!” I yell as he and his friends are about to enter a club.
A car comes out of nowhere, blaring its horn at the crazy woman in the middle of the highway, and I flip off the driver as the car swerves around me. His arm comes out of the window, and he returns the gesture.
Nate and his two friends turn around. Nate gives me an arrogant stare, followed by a good old-fashioned eye sweep. When he doesn’t see anything that catches his interest, he shoves one of his friends on the shoulder, directing him inside the club, which is one of those fancy places that only allow VIPs to enter. If he gets inside, I’ll lose my chance.
“Nathan O’Reilly, stop right there.” I read an interview once where he mentioned that he never uses his full name, preferring the shortened version. I figure calling him by his given name might make him pay attention, if only for a few seconds.
Nate pauses, barely looking at me this time before gesturing dismissively. “Sorry, sweetheart, no autographs tonight.”
His friends snigger and step into the club. Nate follows. I put my hands on my hips. Fine. If he wants a public humiliation, I’m happy to oblige.
I sprint the rest of the way across the street and storm into the club after them. I haven’t gotten very far when a huge guy puts out his arm, stopping me from going any farther.
“Can I help you, miss?”
I set my shoulders. If I don’t act quick, I’ll lose my chance, so I go for it.
“Nate O’Reilly, you complete bastard!” I yell at his back. “You fucking got me fired today!”
Nate freezes, one foot in front of the other, before he slowly pivots, and recognition sparks in those magnetic eyes of his.
“You’re Bernard’s PA,” he says.
My anger scores a fiery trail through my veins. I’m going to kill him. “Not anymore, thanks to you,” I hiss.
Nate frowns, scuffing a hand over his chin. He gestures to the bouncer to let me through, and I only take two steps when Nate seizes my elbow and propels me into the club.