2. Mia
2
MIA
S pinster cat lady?
I huffed a laugh to myself and dared a peek over my shoulder at Henry in his office with his dad. I wasn’t surprised to find him still watching me through the window. Feeling the heat of his stare wasn’t anything new.
You have no idea…
Calling me—a cabaret dancer—a spinster cat lady was an oxymoron.
I spent my days here, working as the secretary on his floor, but my nights were spent at Danger, the night club where I entertained as a burlesque-slash-cabaret dancer. In that respect, I was no different from Henry. He was a workaholic, always hard at it in the office and then busier yet being a father to Jason. And I was a workaholic, never failing to show up here to pretend to be a typical office worker when I probably needed more sleep from a long night of dancing.
Burning the candle from two ends used to be a fad. Now, for me, it was a drag on my existence.
When will I ever feel caught up? With life. With money. Ever?
Stifling another yawn, I pasted on a smile as Jen came down the hallway. The executive assistant to Owen, the COO, wouldn’t want to see me looking so tired. She was a busybody, always a mother hen, and I didn’t need her to fret about my being exhausted.
I was tired, but my expression lingered from what Henry had said. Hearing him mistake me for a spinster cat lady rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t like I could correct him about why I lacked a social life.
I wasn’t quick enough to wipe the frown off my face, though.
“Oh, Mia. Mia, Mia, Mia.” Jen sighed, furrowing her brow as she paused me in the hall. “You’re too young to be looking that beat.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s already ten o’clock.”
I smiled and shrugged. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix.”
“You’ve got to get a handle on that habit of yours.” She wagged her finger at me good-naturedly. “It’s wonderful to be such a diehard bookworm, but maybe you should set a timer.”
I laughed lightly, glad she still bought my lie about why I was often sleepy. I wished I could have late nights of staying up reading, too engrossed with a story to quit for bedtime. Because working two jobs like this was a daunting future to maintain. “Maybe one of these days,” I replied chirpily as I headed back to my small office.
“Do you have an idea for what book we can do for next month’s book club meeting?” She beamed at me.
This was the problem with lies. They always spread and formed more layers to keep up with. “Oh, um. Isn’t it Luke’s turn to pick the book?”
She snapped her fingers. “Oh, shoot. I think it is, but with him almost on paternity leave, I’ll bet he forgot.”
“I’ll think of one if he can’t.”
She patted my arm. “Thanks, hun. You’re such a doll.”
I didn’t have time to read for fun. I wasn’t sure I had time to even pick a book to fake read for this meeting, but I would figure it out. Not only did I need to maintain the lie that I was always sleeping because I read too late at night, but I also enjoyed those get-togethers. Working for the Dunn group felt like being included in a family. Maybe the “family” was set at the office, but it felt homey and inclusive—both of which I lacked in life.
Note to self, find a short book to suggest. I sighed as I walked to my office. Like I need something else on my to-do list.
Even though my office was tiny and the window was itty bitty, I relished the closed-in feeling. I was never prone to claustrophobia, and I appreciated the utter privacy and isolation in here. When I was on the stage, dancing, I had to overcome the ickiness of being so on and vulnerably exposed. Here, in this tiny office, I felt secure. It was my place. These four walls were mine to decorate and hide behind.
“First things first,” I muttered to myself as I plopped back into my chair. Rolling it toward the desk, I picked up my pen and scratched off the last line on my to-do list. I had a mental one that ran nonstop, but to keep on track here, I jotted it all down.
Drop off latest forms to H. I scraped the tip of my pen through the item. Below it was the chore I hated the most.
Check bills and finances.
With another sigh, I unlocked my computer and ran through my personal finances. Wednesdays were slower days, and I never felt bad to use the spreadsheet on this computer to keep an eye on my bank account. It was always short on funds. Just like I did every first Wednesday of the month, I revisited the dread that I would be working to the grave trying to pay off these damn loans. At the rate I was going, I would never save up enough to expunge my record, pay off the delinquent student loans, and pay back the credit card debts my ex incurred years ago.
There was simply no end in sight. After marking all my payment dates in and seeing how much more I’d need to make to skimp by, I dropped my head to my arms on the desktop and groaned.
It didn’t have to be like this. I could make more money. I’d never be able to go back to school and get my law degree to work in the legal field like I’d always wanted to.
My wage here at Dunn Enterprises was manageable for a standard cost of living, but it wouldn’t ever get me out of debt and able to breathe. My income from dancing at Danger was certainly higher than what I made here. It paid well, and the offer to take more shifts was there. In fact, Gina, the dancer manager at Danger, was desperate for me to do more hours.
But I can’t leave. On a heavy, exasperated sigh, I sat up and sought out the picture sitting on my desk. In the photo behind the frame was a shot of me with Henry, goofing off at last year’s company picnic. He was caught laughing, licking the whipped cream off his face from where I’d smashed a pie in his face. I was snapped cracking up and fending him off from pushing another cream pie at my face. Behind us, Eddie, Owen, and Jen were bursting with laughter too. What started as a volunteer shift at the pie table at the company and family affair turned into a hilarious moment. It often ended up like that. Henry was my boss. Owen was too. We all worked together, but being included in this workplace was the only semblance of a family life I’d ever truly had.
I fit in here. Kind of. I couldn’t give it up to work only for Gina, dancing.
I can’t leave you. I picked up the frame, rubbing my finger over Henry’s face. Since Eddie made him the CEO, we’d been friends. Henry and I just meshed. We could finish each other’s sentences. We knew how to avoid each other’s pet peeves. Henry was…
I sighed again, unwilling to imagine a life without seeing his stern expressions of concentration and being tempted to make him smile or laugh.
My phone rang, jarring me from my musings about never getting ahead or feeling caught up with debts. Seeing that it was Gina, I took a guess at what she wanted and answered.
“Hello, darling,” I replied dryly, still looking at the photo I kept on my desk.
“Hey yourself, babe,” she greeted, chipper as ever despite her deep, husky smoker’s voice. “Want to dance tonight?”
I knew it.
While it should’ve made me happy to know I was in such high demand, I felt… cheap and untethered. No one ever knew who I was. The guests who appreciated my dances didn’t know it was me on that stage. A mask concealed me.
At least here, at the office, they knew the real me. The woman and the name. That feeling of being wanted and included was a good sensation here.
For not the first time, I wondered what Henry would do if he knew that I moonlighted as a dancer. He was always so prim and proper. Dashing and handsome in impeccable suits, his hair neat and nothing about him askew, Henry was a rich and influential person, so intelligent and successful.
And I’m not. I never will be.
“Yeah, sure,” I told Gina.
Why not take a chance to make a little extra money when I was down?
The reminder that Henry and I were leagues apart always stung. He was wrong to assume I’d be a spinster cat lady. But as I listened to Gina rave about how many tips I could probably bring in tonight, I hated that Henry didn’t really know me at all.
The real me who was drowning in debt and so desperate to belong.