Chapter 20 #2
Okay, okay. I understood. One step forward and two steps back. But it was still fucking progress, and I'd take it. I did wonder, however, why everyone was so obsessed with my work lately. First Archie and now her.
"Work's fine." To be honest, I couldn't really get too excited about anything there right now. Everything was getting complicated all of a sudden, my latest project hitting obstacles at every turn, like an invisible enemy was conspiring against me.
"Fine? That doesn't sound very fine."
"Nah, it's good. All good." I laughed, trying to play it off, because I didn't really want to talk about it. I had the most beautiful woman in the world on the phone with me, and I couldn't think of anything more boring to talk about than my job. "What about you? How's your work?"
And here we were at another crossroads, the strangeness of our half-anonymous situation keeping us from a normal topic of conversation.
Her tinkle of laughter met my ear, a tinge of nerves in there, I could have sworn.
"It's good. All good," she said, repeating my words back to me.
Clearly, she was done with the topic. So what the hell could we talk about?
"You mentioned before about your dad..." she said.
Of all the things in the world, she was circling back to my dad? "Yeah? What about him?" I asked.
"Are you two close?"
I nearly choked. She wondered if I was close to that man? Thinking back, I tried to remember exactly what I'd said about him to her before, and all I could come up with was mentioning his bullshit second marriage and neglecting Archie.
And of course, she knew I worked for him, knew my last name was on his company letterhead, and most likely had read all about his contentious first marriage with my mom too.
"No. We're not close. Actually, I'm not close with either of my parents." The words came out harsher than I intended. "My mom lives in Paris with her third husband, and I hardly ever hear from her. And my dad? Well, I've hated him for as long as I can remember."
Her gasp of astonishment came through the phone. "You hate your father?"
"I do."
"Why?"
Because he's a nasty old prick. Because he's never had a single nice word for me.
Or anyone for that matter. Because every single thing out of his mouth since I could remember was critical.
"He's just an asshole, plain and simple.
Always has been and probably always will be. I have no hope that he'll ever change."
She thought about that for a beat. "Then why do you work for him?"
That was a good fucking question. A complicated one that I wasn't sure I could explain.
"Because when I graduated and tried to step out on my own, every other door mysteriously closed when I tried to walk through it.
Rent, car, life... those things don't pay for themselves.
And he made sure I had nowhere else to go. "
As the words left my mouth, a sudden wave of regret hit me. Sure, I hadn't had much of a choice when I'd started there. But now?
"He sounds very manipulative. And not in a good way."
"Is there a good way to be manipulative?" I asked, genuinely curious to know her opinion.
"I think so. My parents kind of do it, but they mean well and truly love us. So it doesn't feel the same way it probably does with your dad."
Like I did any time she mentioned her family, I tried to pounce on it. "So your parents are together, right? What do they do?"
"Yes, they're together. My dad's a lawyer, and my mom—wait a sec. Speaking of manipulative..." She paused to let out a laugh.
I laughed along with her. "Hey, I learned from the best."
Meanwhile, I added 'dad's a lawyer' to an ongoing note I had in my phone.
"I guess you did. I really have to watch my back with you," she said.
For some reason, I hated hearing that. "No. You really don't. If you let me, I'd actually guard the hell out of your back and protect you from all the bad things in life."
"You would, huh?"
"One-hundred percent."
"I'm sure you say that to all the ladies."
This wasn't the first time she'd said something like that to me, and I decided I needed to set things straight. Because I was a lot of things, but I wasn't some asshole fuckboy who'd fucked his way through Manhattan.
"What do you actually know about my dating history?" I asked, not sure what was out there on the internet about me, if anything.
"Um, well, not much, I guess," she admitted.
"Well, let me tell you then. Because I'm not some douche who has a different woman on my arm out at the club every night."
"Oh, okay." Her voice was a little breathless, a surprised edge underneath.
"Maybe a long time ago I tried to play the field a little, like most people in their early twenties. But it got old really fast. So I gave up and just focused on work and building my life up, cooking a lot, working out and hitting the gym, playing sports with friends when I had any free time."
"Oh, um, I see. Well, sorry for assuming."
"Not sorry. Remember?"
To my relief, she laughed again. "Thanks for the reminder. Not sorry then. Just didn't mean to assume. But looking at your peers, your colleagues, you can probably see why I did."
"Of course I can understand. Most of my friends have been absolute dicks. Growing up the way we did, with money, with privilege, it can go to your head and make you feel entitled, like you should always have a gorgeous woman on your arm. But I swear to God, I'm not like that."
"And why not? Why aren't you like your friends then?"
That was a good question, and I had to think about my answer for a bit. "I'm not sure really. It just doesn't appeal to me. And the last thing I want to do is mislead someone, make them think I'm interested in them just to get laid, and then ghost them."
Dead silence from the other end. Absolutely nothing. Not even a whisper of a noise.
"You still there?" I asked.
"Oh, um, yeah. Hey, sorry to cut this short. But I've got to run. I'll call you later though. Okay?"
"When?" I asked, my voice deeper and more firm than I'd intended.
I couldn't stand the idea of another fucking week without talking to her. If she made me wait that long again, I'd go insane. I was about two seconds away from hiring a private investigator, despite her desire for privacy and anonymity.
"Soon. I promise. Good talking to you. Bye," she rushed out, in a hurry to go.
And that was it. She was gone. And I fucking hated it.