Chapter 12
Jessica
We walk into Thrift on Third and the musty smell makes me feel at home.
“So where did you get your new scarf from?” Shelley stares at me. The heat in my cheeks grows.
“Ahhh, is it okay if I don’t tell you right now?” I wince, hoping she lets me off the hook.
“Oh my God, are you seeing someone?” She stalls, looking at me with wide eyes full of curiosity.
“Um… no, but it is a gift,” I clarify, not wanting to get into it now. Especially when I don’t really know what's happening myself.
“Fine, but I’m not forgetting it. I want details.”
“I promise, you’ll be the first to know.” I’m thankful that she drops it. For now. Although she eyes the fabric with a keen sense of knowing.
“I can’t believe you still come here.” Shelley rolls her eyes, her own fashion sense a little more high-end.
“You know I love Mabel. She never steers me wrong.”
“Oh, Jay Jay, you’re here. I have just the thing for you…” Mabel gushes immediately upon seeing me. She looks amazing today, her gray hair set, her blue eyeshadow on, and her lips bright pink. Not many people can pull off that look, yet Mabel does.
“See, told you,” I whisper to Shelley, who decides to go off through the store and look at the racks.
“How is it that you’ve always got just the thing?” I tell her, laughing as she pulls me in for a warm hug, one which I return happily. Her signature scent of jasmine and sandalwood encases me.
“You’re the perfect size. You know, when I worked in the Parisian ateliers in the 1950s, the models weren’t coat hangers, they were women. Real women.” She pulls back and looks at me adoringly.
“I didn’t know you worked in Paris.” It all sounds very glamorous to me.
“Back then, we dressed for elegance. Fashion should never be about vanishing into a size zero. It should be about presence, and you, my dear, have presence.”
“Well, I’m no size zero, that’s for sure.
” I chuckle as she scurries out the back.
This shop has been here for years. I can’t remember when I first met Mabel, but I come in almost every week just to say hello, and I always leave with a bag full of clothes.
“You need to stop spoiling me,” I yell out to her as I pick up a vintage vase, liking the design.
“I knew it would look good on you the minute it came in.” She walks out and hands over what looks to be a black silk faille set. “Besides… I won’t be here for much longer.” Her smile slips.
“What do you mean? Are you leaving?”
“Well, I’ve loved it here, but business is just not the same. People aren’t really coming in like they used to. Stock isn’t selling… so I might need to close.”
My heart breaks. “No! There has to be something we can do. What about online sales?”
“Ohhhh, Jay Jay, you know I don't even have a website. And I’m too old to be trying to figure out how to do all that digital stuff you kids do.” She pushes me toward the changing rooms like she didn’t just drop a bomb on me.
“But what…” I start, my mind racing on how to help her.
“No. You come in here to enjoy and visit. Not to talk about business.” She hushes me and gives me a look that ensures I don’t dare raise the issue again.
With a relenting sigh, I look at the silky dress and feel it in my hands. “This is gorgeous…”
“Try it on. I want to see it on you. Especially with that amazing scarf. Where did you get it?” Mabel’s hand runs down the lapel of the scarf.
“Soft, isn’t it? It was a gift.”
“Hmmmm… he has good taste.” She nods in approval.
“What makes you think it was from a man?” I tilt my head, wondering how she always seems to know these kinds of things.
She looks at me with a knowing grin. “I was young once… This kind of scarf isn’t something you buy just for a friend.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“This is cashmere… French… designer… upward of a thousand dollars…” She looks over the scarf with appreciation, admiring the craftsmanship.
“A thousand dollars?” I choke out.
“Oh, Jay Jay…” Mabel clicks her tongue at me and smiles. “Try on the dress. It will go perfectly. I think your new man may really enjoy seeing you in this set.”
My cheeks burn as I stand in a state of paralysis for a beat. I know Donovan is wealthy, but that’s a lot of money to me.
“He’s not my man,” I insist, and she gives me a wicked grin.
“Not yet anyway.” She winks, and I can’t help but grin before walking to the back to try on her latest find.
There’s a knock at my door. I already know it isn’t Donovan, as he’s working from home.
“Hey, you got a minute?” Shelley pokes her head around my door, and I grin.
“Sure. Come in.” I push my glasses back as my eyes leave the screen of data about sea levels in the Pacific to look at her.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.” She sounds serious, and I watch her take a seat in front of my desk.
“What’s happened?”
“There are some… rumors…”
My stomach sinks. “Oh?” I swallow down the lump in my throat.
“I was in the break room earlier, and the girls from marketing came in with Ashley. You know I usually ignore them. They all look down at us in finance anyway. They’re all dressed in current Dior and their Louboutins are so high I’m amazed they can walk.
” She huffs a laugh, but I can’t even react as I wait.
“What were they saying?”
“Probably exactly what you’re thinking they are saying.”
“That I slept my way into the job?” This is what I thought would happen. I should’ve expected it and I had heard small whispers. But it still hurts.
“Ashley was with them?” I frown, thinking about the woman who gatekeeps Donovan’s office like she’s guarding a king. I knew the moment I met her that she didn’t like me.
“Yeah. She also made mention that he bought a designer cashmere scarf for somebody and they were all gossiping about who that might be for. They all thought it was for that beauty editor he went to Broadway with last month, but…” Her eyes look at the coat hook in my office where the vibrant scarf now hangs.
“It was for me…” I whisper, feeling caught.
“Oh my God, are you having sex with Donovan York!” she almost shrieks.
“Shhhhhh, keep your voice down,” I hiss at her.
“Sorry, just… I really want to be you right now.”
“What?” I balk.
“Everyone is trying to land him. You have some stiff competition but… I can see it.”
“See what?” This conversation is moving too fast for me. My brain is still on the rising sea levels and how they’re threatening the long-term viability of key port infrastructure.
“I can see him and you. I actually think it could work.”
“We haven’t… I mean, we’re not…” It doesn’t really matter what I say. The redness in my cheeks tells her everything she already knows.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me. I know you got this job on merit. I’ve seen your work firsthand. You’re dedicated, honest, hardworking. I’m on your side. But you need to be careful. He isn’t making you do something you don’t want to do, is he?” Her frown is immediate.
“What? No!” I rear back in surprise, but I guess it’s a logical assumption. It hits me then exactly how serious this is. For me. For Donovan. I knew it wasn’t a great idea, but it could ruin things for him if the gossip gets out of control.
“So… you like him? He likes you?”
“I like him. I think he likes me too.” I need a friend now. I have to be honest.
“Well, by the look of the scarf, I’d say he does. Suits you too. Red’s your color.”
“That’s it? Red’s my color? You're not going to talk me out of it? You're not going to tell me this is the worst decision I could make for not only my career, but probably my life? You aren’t going to warn me to pull back, stop it before it becomes something unsavable?” I may be projecting my own fears now, but she’s my friend. Hopefully she can help.
She pauses and gives me a smile. “No. You're a smart woman. Having a romantic relationship with your boss is a little outside of your usual life choices, and I’ve never known you to do something so risqué… but I can see you love this job. You excel at it, and I have a feeling that it isn’t just the work, but maybe the man you’re working with that’s making you smile so much these days. ”
I swallow roughly, feeling nervous, but not in a bad way. “So you’re saying I should just go for it?”
“I’m saying that if I or any other red-blooded woman was in your position, we’d be having sex with Donovan York all over his office every day of the week.” She fans herself while giving me a grin.
“What about the office gossip?” My brow crumples, wondering why Ashley seems to have such a problem with me that she’s spreading rumors rather than deflecting them.
“What about it? Can’t stop it. People will talk, no matter what you do. So I’d probably just put my head down and prove them all wrong. Show them you didn’t get your promotion because big dickie Donovan wanted to come out and play.”
“Big dickie what?” I crack a smile then, and she grins even wider.
“Ohhhhh, you need to tell me everything…”
“It’s stupid of me, isn’t it?” I moan, my head falling into my hands, knowing it’s a line I shouldn’t want to cross. Yet I do.
“Maybe, but all good things usually are.”
My cell chimes, and I look at it.
“Is it him?” Her eyebrow rises, her smirk on full display.
“No. Jimmy.” I show her the screen, and she rolls her eyes.
“Is he still calling you?”
“Only about three times a week.”
“Three times a week?!” Again, she shrieks.
“You know what he’s like. He doesn’t have many friends.” I shrug. I feel bad for Jimmy, but his calls are excessive, especially since I don’t ever answer them. My stomach drops a little, unease filling it.
“Isn’t he a lawyer in the city? Of course he has friends. Does he still come into the shop on Saturdays?”
“Like clockwork.”
She frowns. “You need to tell him to stop.”
“I decline every date he asks me on. I don’t seek him out; I’m merely polite when I see him. Look, I don't even answer his calls.” I show her the screen, scrolling through all the missed calls.
“He’s weird.”
“Uncle Bob doesn’t like him.”
“Your uncle Bob’s a smart man. Speaking of, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
I pull in a deep breath, needing to release some tension.
“My parents are supposed to be here.” I take off my glasses and rub my eyes. From one hard scenario to another.
“Want to bail and come to my place?”
“No. I should see them. I haven’t seen them all year.”
“Shit, has it been that long?”
“Yep. Their visits have now become an annual thing.”
“Parents of the year right there.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, at least you’ve got your nice new scarf to keep you warm… Have you slept with it yet?” I pick up her double meaning.
“No. It’s for workplace attire only,” I confirm, and she giggles.
“Hmmm, not for long, by the looks of it.” Her grin is wicked as she waggles her eyebrows, and I throw my pen at her, happy to have her on my side.
“Oh…stop!” I tell her. “I need to get back to work.”
“Fine. But in all seriousness. Maybe stay clear of the break room for a while. Those marketing girls are bitches and don’t like to play nice.” She stands, and I give her a nod.
There’s no way in hell I’m stepping foot in that break room ever again if I can help it.