23 Nicole
Nicole
Nicole hasn’t had sex in well over a year, but she’s pleased to find she’s still pretty good at it.
Or at least, that’s what Ellen’s various noises and dirty talk suggested.
Yes, sleeping with her boss is a transcendently bad idea.
That said, it was a good time, some much needed de-stressing, and she doesn’t think Ellen is the type to hold it against her.
She’s not even sure Ellen is the type to remember they did it.
Ellen is all business and glamour, after all.
Yeah, she’s a lawyer for shady people, but she’s a high-powered lawyer who goes on fancy dates, has power, comfort, and a social life.
That’s everything Nicole wants. And if Ellen likes Nicole, maybe that means she can get there one day, too.
Nicole sits up, looking for her clothes.
It’s dark. Ellen didn’t turn the lights on in her apartment when they came in, and all the window shades are drawn, just cuts of afternoon light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, drawing lines over the bed that Ellen now lies out on, snoring softly.
Nicole has to pee, and she still has more work to do to make sure her friends are okay.
Oh god, her friends. They cannot know about this.
The mocking would be even more than she could handle.
She’ll reveal it in a year or so, offhand at brunch, like she thought they already knew. She can call it her Brandon moment .
She finds her purse at the door to the bedroom and pulls out her phone to use as a flashlight. She shines it around, looking for her underwear.
The apartment, revealed in pieces by the light, is not quite what she expected. It’s expensive, the walls in the bedroom are covered in silk, the furniture all looks high-end, sleek, sophisticated. The kind of apartment Nicole wants to have when she’s rich and successful.
But it’s also a sty. She thinks the floor is parquet but can’t be sure because it’s literally covered in clothes.
Nice clothes, expensive things that should be hung up.
In the bedroom, it looks like the clothing flood started in a pile on an Eames armchair, but then toppled and coated the room.
There are legal papers and files amid the clothes on one side of the bed, buried like ancient relics.
Lots of the clothing still has tags on it, too, and on the console in the corner is a mountain of receipts from eBay and other auction sites. Ellen seems to like bidding.
The open living room and kitchen are safe from clothes, and here Nicole can see the parquet floors, but there’s a smell, probably from the various take-out and pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen counter, coffee table, and sofa, each in various states of emptiness, strewn among more legal documents and fanned-out books, notes written on them.
There’s a console on one side of the room covered in open boxes and weird antiques pushed up against each other—lamps, candlesticks, letter openers.
The boxes have more of the same, with receipts from more auction houses in them.
It’s got baby-hoarder vibes. Ellen works, eats, takes off her clothes, and bids on a worrying amount of crap online.
But there’s no evidence she does anything else.
Nicole eases back into the bedroom and tries the master bath, where there’s a wet towel on the floor and another in the bathtub.
No toilet paper either, so she makes her way back out to the living room, trying a few doors there—one is locked, but the other is a bathroom that is notably tidier than the rest of the house, except for the layer of dust on everything, including the toilet paper.
No one has been in here in a while. She’s happy to break it in though and sits down to pee, dusting everything with toilet paper first, like it’s a public restroom or something.
Is this really the fancy high life that Ellen is living? Can’t she hire a maid?
She washes her hands, sneezing from the dust on the faucet. Outside, there’s faint light coming from the bedroom, and she makes her way back there. Ellen is still in bed, propped up on one shoulder now, staring at her phone, but rolls over when she senses Nicole to smile at her.
“Hey. I know it’s pretty bad. My maid quit a few weeks ago.”
Nicole shrugs, trying to be cool. All this built up in a few weeks?
“I know, I know, I’m a mess.” Ellen sits up. “There’s just not much time to clean, you know? I’m working until three a.m., in the office by ten, trying to have a personal life. You’ll see when you get to my level. There’s no time for stuff like cleaning. Or finding a new maid.”
Nicole sits down on the bed. “I thought getting to your level meant more free time.”
Ellen laughs loudly. “Sure.” She glances down at her phone again.
Nicole tries to hide her frown. Doesn’t more power mean more time for life? Isn’t that why she’s been putting so much of herself into her job now? As a sort of loan so that she can have a great life later? Ellen’s life—or at least her apartment—is not the glamour Nicole wants for her own future.
“Is that work?” Nicole asks, looking at Ellen staring at the screen. She sits down on the bed, peeking over Ellen’s shoulder. “Something to do with—”
“No, no.” Ellen clicks the Lock button but not before Nicole sees a full-screen Chibi character. Ellen did not seem like the anime type, and Nicole doesn’t know enough about Japanese animation to know who it was, but she feels her eyes going wide with confusion.
Ellen seems to spot this and smiles, maybe a little embarrassed. “It’s an auction I’m watching. I love to win stuff. No better feeling.”
That seems like a lie, but from the apartment, it’s a believable one—this place is filled with stuff .
Never fuck your heroes. Ellen loves to win—auctions included—so much that she’s essentially just packing her house with crap.
If that’s what gets you to the top of your field, winning at work, Nicole isn’t sure she wants to have that drive.
But she does believe, based on everything else in here, that Ellen might be bidding on some anime auction just to win it.
Ellen points at Nicole’s phone. “How about you? Your friends find anything out?”
Nicole leans back, opening the phone. No new messages, but she decides to tell Ellen that they actually found him. She’ll probably tell her not to go to the party, but Nicole thinks she can make a case for it. “Apparently they found him and they’re having a party tonight.”
“Oh, sure,” Ellen says sarcastically. “A party. Sounds fun.” She props herself up on her arms to peek at Nicole’s phone.
Nicole glances over and considers pushing a loose strand of hair out of Ellen’s face but doesn’t. Too intimate, somehow, even after what they just did. This woman is her boss. “I know, they’re all out of their minds. I guess the plan is to try to figure stuff out about him at the party.”
“Okay.” Ellen runs her tongue along her teeth, really considering it. Nicole hadn’t expected that. “I guess that’s better than just letting him vanish again. But with KBA on his trail—”
“I know. It’s dangerous.” Nicole lets her head fall back onto the headboard.
Ellen turns, back going straight as she looks at Nicole. “Where’s the party?”
“A friend is house-sitting. Fancy place in Brooklyn.” There’s a beat, a moment, as they look at each other when Nicole knows she can ask Ellen if she wants to come with her.
But she lets it pass. There’s too much mess here—both figurative and literal.
Is this what crawling to the top of her career looks like?
Queen bee? So much for work-life balance.
“Sounds fun,” Ellen says, turning back to lie down on the mattress again.
“Why would he come to this party though?” Nicole asks. “If he’s in intelligence, and all this is spy stuff, why go to a house party with a guy you just met?”
“Good place to hide, potentially,” Ellen says.
Nicole considers that and decides it makes sense, and she hates it—this guy is using her friend’s crush on him. “Maybe. But we still don’t know what’s going on, just that he was working in Brussels and KBA made his reservation, which he left early.”
“So figure it out,” Ellen says, still staring at the ceiling. “Interrogate him at the party.”
“Interrogate?”
“Get him alone, dress it as looking out for your friend.” Ellen’s hand rests on her bare hip, right over the stiletto tattoo.
It’s smaller than Nicole thought it would be, but just as sharp looking as she imagined, yet right now, it’s almost delicate looking, not like something Ellen might stab her with.
Nicole nods, not letting herself reach out to touch Ellen, even though she suddenly wants to. “Yeah, that could work. Should I tell him I know about KBA?”
“Maybe. But carefully. He could run. Or get violent. I don’t want this to end in a hostage situation.”
Nicole swallows. “Good point.” Though can she trust someone whose apartment looks like a crime scene?
“Text me the address so I know that if something goes down there, it’s a problem. I’ll monitor the police scanner tonight. Be careful.”
Nicole nods, trying to ready herself for this. Put on her armor. Despite being naked. Which makes her realize the other thing: “Did you want to talk about…?” she asks, trying to sit as professionally as she can while also naked in bed.
“The sex?” Ellen tilts her head, confused. “It was great. No complaints. Why?”
“Just—you’re my boss, it could be weird—”
“No, no, no,” Ellen interrupts quickly, hand flying up to stop her. “I’m your boss’s boss’s boss. And don’t worry, there’s no quid pro quo here. If we end up in this position again, sounds fun, but you’ll never have to if you don’t want to, and it won’t impact anything at work.”
Nicole takes a deep breath. Good. She could be lying, but good. “Thanks.”
“Just don’t tell anyone about what a mess my place is. Looks like I don’t have my life together, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Nicole says. “I promise.”
“Okay, so I’m going to make a few calls for some other cases. But why don’t you shower off if you want to? Or keep working on KBA until your party.”
“Sure,” Nicole says.
“We okay?” Ellen asks. “Feels like something’s off.”
Nicole nods, though she knows Ellen is right.
She’s just reevaluating her entire life based on Ellen’s apartment.
Sort of hard to say that out loud though.
“Just sort of confused about how I got here, going to a party with a probable spy.” Sleeping with my boss whose glamorous life turns out to look like it could end up on a hoarding TV show.
Ellen gets out of bed and stretches. “Yeah. Sometimes it feels like everything is out of your control. You just need to step back and ask yourself: What do you want your life to be? That’s how I got where I am.”
“I guess I should figure that out, then,” Nicole says with a smile.
She thought reaching Ellen’s level would mean more balance, more time for a life—but based on this apartment, Ellen doesn’t even have time to hang up her clothes.
Maybe that TV-lawyer idea is better. Or maybe—she suddenly has a flash of Sam, the protest poster, her dark lipstick.
Maybe Nicole should never have drifted away from that.
“Well, let me know how I can help. But I’m going to go make those calls now.”
Nicole lies back in bed, staring at the ceiling as she hears Ellen unlock the door in the living room. It’s a good question: What does she want her life to be?