Hailee
It’s the day of my interview with Green Growth, the timber company Lucas hooked me up with.
If I had a little more freedom and a lot more money, I’d probably spend a few weeks unemployed. But after two more days of sitting around Alex’s mansion, the idleness began to really get to me. There are only so many books you can read before your next rent payment takes your mind from the page.
Plus, there’s a little bit of guilt from not being a productive member of society. Especially with all the traffic of the city bustling by.
I get a ride in the Mercedes to Green Growth’s office. It’s not a swanky glass box in Manhattan. Their dress code is not formal. There are guys in flannels and women in T-shirts on their patio outside. It looks like the kind of place where people won’t use corporate slogans that make my skin crawl.
I have the driver go around the block and get out of the car on the next street over. I don’t exactly want my potential new employer seeing me get out of a one-hundred-thousand-dollar Mercedes.
The building is one of several converted warehouses in Brooklyn only a few blocks from the water. The old doors have been replaced with glass, and I enter a modern reception area.
I approach the woman at the desk with ringlet curls and hoop earrings. “Hi! Barnes for a two o’clock interview with Samantha.”
The woman nods and types something. “I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“Great. Thank you.” I smile, but she doesn’t make eye contact, and I take a seat in a chic-looking chair that’s design didn’t consider comfort.
My ass is somehow sore in two minutes, but it’s another ten before a door opens and a woman not much older than myself peeks her head through. “?”
“Hi!” I say. I stand and walk to her.
Again, my bubbly hi isn’t reciprocated. This place does tear down forests. I’m just applying for the position of doctor who attempts to sew up the mortal wound.
She gives me a firm handshake. Maybe a little too firm. Like she came from a world of tough men trying to prove their strength. She’s a strawberry blonde with narrow eyes and two very sharp canines. She’s pretty in a vampirish way I know some alternative girls would kill for.
“How’re you today?”
“Glad my cab had air conditioning.” I cringe a little. This job interview hasn’t even started, and I’ve already lied. I guess I’m just warming up.
We break the ice with a few sentences about the weather, and then she sits me down in a much comfier chair in front of her glass desk. She closes the door. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a windowless office in New York.
I like it. I wouldn’t mind being with a company that doesn’t spend so much on real estate. Besides, if I get this job, I’ll be in the field, not the office.
“So.” Samantha sighs as she sits. I don’t like the way she purses her lips. It looks like she thinks this is a waste of time. That would explain why she was ten minutes late. Maybe this position is filled already. “Tell me about your time at Blackwell Mining.”
I start my boring spiel. I’ve pretty much perfected it by now. Samantha nods politely along, and when I finish, she takes a deep breath and pauses at the top of it, like there’s something she’s figuring out how to properly phrase.
“And I do have to bring this up, . You left because you began a relationship with your boss, Alex Blackwell, correct?”
I picture Samantha standing up, grabbing her gold Buddha paperweight, barring those canines, and shoving the Buddha down my throat.
At least that’s what it feels like happened. I should’ve been prepared for this question.
I choke on my words. “Um… He’s not actually my boss. Melissa Holt is my supervisor. I knew Alex through my brother. They’re good friends. That’s how we met. Our paths seldom crossed in the office.”
“Mmhmm.” Samantha hums skeptically and takes her first note of this interview. “Green Growth does have company policy against employees starting relationships.” She says it like it should be a reason I consider a different job.
“Alex and I began a relationship, and I left the company immediately afterwards. I would never abuse something like that to climb further in my career. In fact, I think you can see that this isn’t exactly a gold star on my resume.” I try a grin.
Samantha smiles, but not with me. It’s an amused smile and maybe a little judgmental. “We do see your experience makes you a good fit for the position. However, I scheduled this interview before I knew about your workplace relationship. I decided not to cancel out of courtesy, but I don’t think your ethics are a fit for us at Green Growth.” She taps her pen and gives me her bitchiest sphincter-tight smile.
It's condescending. Belittling. Like the real reason she didn’t cancel this interview was so she could make me feel like shit.
My cheeks and insides burn with embarrassment. I have to keep my eyes from watering. This company makes its profit destroying habitat. The only reason they offer this position I’m interested in is because they’re required to replant by law. I shouldn’t be embarrassed.
I’m offended.
“Look. I don’t want to be lectured about ethics by a company that bulldozes the Amazon to sell pulp to cardboard manufacturers.”
Her eyes widen like I called her mother a whore. Do these people live in such a little bubble, they think they make the world a better place? Even the name is a lie. Green Growth.
It describes their victim, not them.
I stand and turn to leave. I put my hand on the door handle but decide I’m not done. I look back at her and meet her eye. “And the next time you’re having your mediocre sex, I want you to think of me , Samantha.” I wink and turn before my face collapses into worry.
What did I just say? Holy shit. I’m like some Real Housewife.
It’s not my fault she was acting like I showed up to this interview in fishnets.
I storm out, but not too dramatically. Back on the street, the driver is waiting for me where I was let out.
I really didn’t think this Alex thing through.
Men are going to see me as a gold digger.
Some women will think the same, and others will be plain jealous. And I’m not even dating him. If I were an influencer or a model or something else in the public eye, maybe this arrangement would have been beneficial.
But now?
I should never have gone to that fundraiser. I should never have agreed to stay under Alex’s roof.
I suppress panic on the drive back to Manhattan. Am I going to be forced to ask Lucas for rent money?
I can’t stomach the idea. But I only have maybe a month and a half’s worth of savings. There’s no way in hell I’m asking Alex for cash. I don’t care if my rent is like a penny to him. Everyone wants a handout from Alex, and I don’t plan on joining their ranks.
My eyes are a little wide on the car ride back to the mansion on Park as I contemplate the size of my screwup. If I were dating Alex, hell yes this would be worth it, but he’s shown plenty of restraint when it comes to any physical intimacy. We both feel the heat between us, but he’s not giving in.
In fact, he’s leaving. My insides ache when I think about it. I’m sure he has business in Europe, but he told me he’d likely be there for weeks. And I’m sure his return will coincide with the all-clear and me moving back into my apartment.
He gave me that kiss for the cameras, but that’s all he’s doing for me.
I’m both loveless and jobless. Not to mention I’m getting all the negatives of being the woman who sleeps with her boss without even doing it. I almost smile at the ridiculousness of it all. I would be smiling if the tendrils of anxiety weren’t wrapping themselves around my throat.
Did that kiss with Alex just tank my career? Again, it might’ve been worth it. If it were even real.
My memory flashes to his strong tan fingers tying those knots. His wet hair and bright smile just over my shoulder as he guided me at the helm.
I need to stop. I distract myself by scrolling on my phone until we get back to the mansion. I thank the driver, open my own door, and step onto the sidewalk. The car pulls away, and I’m surprised to see Cooper, the doorman, isn’t on duty at the moment.
Nobody is looking after me. I wait for the Mercedes to vanish down Park and then start walking quickly. For the first time in two weeks, I’m alone on the streets of the city.
It feels like a breath of fresh air, even though my nostrils are filled with the smell of sewer and garbage in the September heat.
I walk with no destination. I’ll get a dollar slice of cheese pizza the size of my head and do some quality people watching.
Those are two cheap activities this city is always good for. But I pass the first pizza joint. And then the second. My stomach is too twisted for me to feel hungry. I stop at a vendor stand. There’s a copy of a New York gossip paper.
Alex and I aren’t on the cover, but from what I heard from Alana and Sophia, we are featured inside.
I stop and pay seven dollars for an iced tea and the tabloid. With no money coming in, my bank account feels like an extra limb. Every dollar spent comes with a feeling of pain as acute as a pinch.
I lean against the building behind me and flip through it until I land on Alex and me. There he is kissing me. The photo is a little blurry due to having to be zoomed in. It’s not flattering or unflattering. You wouldn’t know who it was without our names in the caption.
I look at more photos. There’s one taken of me at the wheel and Alex over my shoulders. I sip my iced tea and read. At least I’m temporarily C-list famous. I’ve got that going for me.
“One photographer who was on the water alleges that Blackwell maneuvered his vessel in a dangerous manner on purpose to throw him overboard.”
I smirk and look back to the photo of us kissing.
My little smile doesn’t last for long. I’ve known for days now, since the night he found me sleeping against that oak tree. I just haven’t let myself think it, because if I did, I might believe I should do something about it.
About the fact that I’m falling in love with this man.
And how does that end?
A taxi lays on the horn at a jaywalker, and my eyes flick up for a second before returning to the page. “Not well.” I answer my own question aloud in a whisper.
Alex may have kissed me, and maybe I could get him to do more sexually.
But date? Love? I walk over to the nearest trash bin and toss the tabloid in where it belongs. I’m just lucky that falling in love is one thing and being in love is another.
Sure, I could see myself with Alex. With that smile and velvety voice. The bright warmth of his character under the cool colors of his black and navy suits.
Yet my heart is not overwhelmed by the mere thought of him. He’s a man with flaws. He is a man who would use me and toss me away like the tabloid I just held.
Even if he somehow did catch feelings, I can’t help but think the calculating side of him would win in the end.
Love is a liability . That’s not a belief Alex would easily cast off.
I keep walking. It’s always been my primary form of exercise, and I realize how restless I’ve been without it these weeks. I go north towards some greenery and enter Central Park at Columbus Circle.
It’s getting towards the middle of September, and the leaves are all dark green and wilted from absorbing a hot summer’s worth of sun.
I just want it to be fall already. My hope is that with new crisp air comes new crisp thoughts. I feel like I’ve stepped in a bear trap after it was in plain sight the whole time.
I should’ve known there’d be consequences working for a mining company. Consequences for pretending to date a billionaire. I try to think my way out of it, but my situation feels like a maze. With every new idea comes a dead end.
There’s a heavy fog in my head. The humidity and heat don’t help, and I walk quickly all the way to the lake and stare at the water.
At least it looks cold. I don’t look for long before a rumble of thunder in the distance takes my eyes to the sky.
Blistering hot days and cold nights. It creates storm systems that aren’t there when you check the weather app in the morning. I tilt my chin up and let the chillier wind toss my hair and caress my bare neck like it’s a lover.
At least the breezes that precede these storms are a brief balm, but the raindrops will bring no relief. They’ll fall hot over Manhattan.
I can see flashing in a thunderhead. It’s not the vibrant violet you get with some lightning. The flashes are a foreboding piss yellow. Great.
I have to find a coffee shop to ride out this storm.
I notice there are not nearly as many people in the park as there should be at three in the afternoon. I hadn’t checked the weather since this morning. I was busy being nervous for my interview. Most people must have known this system was coming, because I’m nearly alone in the park.
The breeze blows again, whishing through all the leaves, and a shiver sails down my spine. There’s a man not too far behind me in a long heavy raincoat.
It’s black. He’s younger. Early thirties with only a wisp of black hair on top of his head. His cheeks are pale and gaunt with the look of a heavy heroin user, but his raincoat and dress shoes suggest money.
I turn away quickly and start walking towards Central Park West.
I’m always amazed how alone you can get in this park on a weekday. It’s like being in the eye of a hurricane, somehow alone in a storm of eight million people. I pick up my pace and turn over my shoulder.
My guts pretzel. This man isn’t just watching me.
He’s following me.
He makes malevolent eye contact and walks a little quicker. I don’t hesitate. I start a slow jog and pull out my phone. I don’t think as I skip past dialing 9-1-1.
I call Alex.
He answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Alex, are you having me followed?”
“What?”
“I’m in Central Park, and there’s a man following me.”
“Who’s with you?”
“No one. I… I left the house alone.”
“Fuck. Where are you exactly?”
“I’m going to exit by The Dakota.” I say the words, and my breath gets even shorter. I do not like the fact that I was walking to where John Lennon was shot.
“I’m closest to you. Get into a store or stop someone on the street.”
“Okay. I’ve got to hang up,” I say as I move faster.
I only have a thirty-yard head start, but it’s enough to get onto Central Park West. I jaywalk, eliciting a flurry of horns, and miss getting hit by a yellow cab by only a couple feet. The traffic thickens after I reach the other side, and Nosferatu is stuck waiting for a gap in the cars.
This is my chance. I round the corner and sprint.
The rain seems to understand its dramatic assignment, because it begins to pour with a clap of thunder right as my feet begin to pound the pavement.
I can keep running straight, but if he already crossed the street, he’ll see me in seconds. I duck into a Starbucks at the end of the block, and the entire store turns as I burst through the door.
I put on a tight smile and wipe some water off my shoulder as if the rain was my reason for acting like a maniac.
Why can’t I say there’s a man following me? Why am I so afraid of making a scene? I skip the line and go to the barista who’s not taking orders.
She’s maybe seventeen, with dyed purple hair and a black and white striped long-sleeved tee under her apron. It’s a Tim Burton look. I like it, but she meets my frenzied expression with flat emotion.
“Can I have the bathroom key?”
“You have to buy something,” she says. “But I don’t really care. Just don’t do drugs in there.”
She hands me the lanyard, and I give her a big smile. “Thank you.”
She lifts a corner of her mouth a millimeter, and I walk to the bathroom. I keep one eye on the windows and another on the lock as I try to fit in the key.
My heart skips a beat. A lanky figure has stopped at the windows. It’s him. He’s staring right at me. I turn the key, throw open the door, and shut it behind me, flipping the deadbolt.
Then I fumble with my phone and text Alex where I am.
Blood pounds through my ears, but I do think I’m safe here. Starbucks takes homelessness as seriously as the government does terrorism. The door is eight feet tall and made of heavy wood. You’d need a battering ram to get in here.
Or the spare bathroom key…
What if he’s able to get it? I keep my hand on the deadbolt switch, ready to fight against any attempt to unlock it.
My phone dings. Alex says five minutes.
I listen to the chatter of the coffee shop, ready to hear footsteps come to the door, but none come. My heartbeat slows. This whole walk was me having an existential crisis about the consequences of my choices. And now this happens?
It’s like the universe is giving me a sign. I should go back to Virginia. Stay with my mom while I get back on my feet. This is not the big-girl life I wanted out of New York.
Alex texts me again, asking where I am. I didn’t tell him I was barricaded in the bathroom. I text him the man’s description and ask if there’s anyone like that around.
Alex must’ve been through with his searching, because it’s nearly two minutes before he texts me back. No.
I unlock the door and step out. Alex is standing in the center between two tables, and I almost feel bad when I see him. His hair is a complete mess. It stands on end every which way from running in the rain. His eyes are exhausted, and they widen and then relax as he sees me.
I walk towards him sheepishly.
“.” He works his arms out of his long raincoat and wraps it over my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, but it’s weak.
He sets his muscled arms on my shoulders and pulls me against his warm chest. He smells like leather. A hint of spice. I close my eyes and imagine I’m not standing soaking wet in the middle of a Starbucks. One good thing about New York is that no one even bats an eye at us.
“The car is on the way.”
I nod.
“I’m going to get security footage from this block. We’re going to find him.”
“Okay.” I’m just glad he’s not chiding me for going out without security. He must realize how suffocating it is to be stuck under surveillance twenty-four-seven.
Alex takes me outside and leaves his raincoat around my shoulders, even though we stand under the awning while the Mercedes comes around.
There’s nowhere to park, so they stop about halfway down the block and put on their hazards. I tent his raincoat over my head while he walks with one arm around my shoulders.
We’re almost to the car, when suddenly a man steps out in front of us.
It’s him. My skin feels like razors. I’m about to scream.
It feels like I’m watching everything in slow motion as the gaunt man opens his raincoat and pulls out a black…camera.
He’s a paparazzi.
I close my eyes in anticipation of the flash, but none comes.
There’s no shutter click, just a hard thunk of bone on bone. I open my eyes to see the paparazzi collapsing to the sidewalk and Alex standing over him, his fist swung out.
He clocked him.
It looks like Alex is about to deliver another blow before he glances back to me and restrains himself.
The paparazzi is conscious but sitting on his ass with a starry-eyed expression like a safe just fell on his head. Alex leans over, grabs his camera, and hurls it down the alley the man had ambushed us from.
“This was him?” Alex asks me.
I nod and look at Alex’s knuckles already turning crimson.
Alex looks down at the man like there’s far more he wants to do to him. He clenches his fist but ultimately looks back to me.
“Come on.” He ushers me forward and into the street.
We climb into the back of the Mercedes. The air conditioning is on, but I’m freezing from the fear and the rain. I shiver instantly.
Alex turns off the vents in the back seat and pulls me halfway onto his lap. “Come here, rabbit.”
He strokes my damp hair gently and then wraps his big warm arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, .”
I want to tell him that it’s my fault. That I didn’t get the job and my third life crisis had reached a breaking point, sending me on a stoic walk across the city, but I can’t bring myself to talk.
The adrenaline comedown is heavy. The rain on the rooftop light. My eyes are flickering closed. No. No. No, I think, but not with much conviction. And before I can think to fight it, I’m falling asleep with my cheek against Alex’s chest.