5. Micah
THIS COULD’VE BEEN AN EMAIL
Me: I can’t talk right now
Tahj: Answer the phone, Ms. Shaw
Me: I’m not on the clock. Leave me alone
Tahj: Since when do you not answer my calls?
Me: Since you told me I could leave for the day and there was nothing on your schedule for the weekend
Tahj: I could be dying
“Promise?” I mutter to myself with a roll of my eyes. Unfortunately, I value gainful employment more than snapping back at him.
Me: If you’re dying and you’re texting me, you have bigger problems, Mr. Carter
He doesn’t text me back. Instead, my phone lights up with his name.
“Such a drama king,” I groan under my breath. The call goes to voicemail again before I can get through a maze of people downstairs and outside to somewhere quiet.
It’s not the first time he’s called me after hours. It is the first time he’s called me when I had a beautiful woman in my lap while my tongue memorized the taste and feel of her.
Down the hall, a shrill scream pierces the air and I don’t even flinch. Something about my demanding boss blowing up my phone is a lot scarier than whatever they have going on.
Once I’m outside, I take an involuntary gulp of air not tinged by the scent of heady incense and pure carnal desire, filling my lungs and adjusting to the chilly bite in the air.
On cue, my nipples tighten to painful points as I stand staring at my phone screen. I’m about to release a long exhale just as another call rolls in.
My boss doesn’t let me part my lips before his steely voice fills the line. “What are you doing, Ms. Shaw?”
“What happened to hello?” I volley back, my brows pinching together as I take in the view from the back deck.
I’m staring right at the graveyard and a sliver of dread slithers through me, quickly chased by a rush of adrenaline that gives me whiplash.
“Answer the question,” Tahj commands, his voice in my ear a harsh jolt back to reality.
“I’m at a party.”
“What kind of party?”
The intrigue in his voice is almost endearing. And maybe I’d let him rock if he wasn’t blocking my blessings right now.
“Mr. Carter, did you need something?”
A familiar weighted sigh coasts over the line, and it’s like he’s hovering over my desk with a list of tasks instead of on this phone, miles away from me. “Yes, I need to make an adjustment to my schedule for Monday morning.”
“O…kay?”
“I have an appointment with my orthodontist at nine, so I’ll be in after ten.”
“You needed to call me to tell me that?”
“Yes,” he replies. “Something tells me you won’t be checking your email before the weekend is over, and I don’t want you confused when I’m not in the office Monday morning.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I count down from five. “How thoughtful.”
There’s a pause long enough to count every tombstone a few yards from me twice . “Well, that’s all I wanted. What’re you doing?”
“You already asked me that, and I told you I’m at a party.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re having fun if your tone is anything to go by.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen with my face screwed up.
“Mr. Carter, I’m gonna hang up. Enjoy the rest of your Halloween weekend.”
Except I don’t hang up. He knows I won’t, and there isn’t a shred of urgency in his response.
“Hmm. I guess it is a holiday. Well, it’s technically after midnight now.
” In the space between his next words, I can picture him studying the overpriced watch on his wrist. Maybe even pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Either way, you be safe, Ms. Shaw.”
“Yup.” I don’t care that my answers are short, I just want to get back upstairs. Back to Gabby and the?—
“Tell me you’ll be safe,” he orders, his callous timbre putting me on high alert.
It reminds me of that night three years ago when he called me drunk from the back seat of his car service.
For whatever reason, he’d chosen to call me, his assistant, at three o’clock in the morning after homecoming activities with his frat brothers left him feeling…nice.
To this day, I remember the groggy conversation I had with him, my eyes still shut and my head never leaving my pillow as I humored him until he reached the lobby of his building.
When he woke up the next morning, I had electrolytes, pain meds and a greasy breakfast waiting for him curtesy of the delivery app with my work credit card loaded on it.
He didn’t remember the call when we got to work Monday morning, but it’s the only proof I’ve ever had that the man isn’t always the picture of perfection he likes to portray.
Maybe that’s what’s happening now. He had too much to drink and called me because he’s so used to calling me for everything else.
Convinced, I clear my throat and ask patiently, “Have you been drinking, sir?”
“You think I have to be intoxicated to care about your wellbeing?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug as if he can see me. “You’ve never cared before.”
Twisting my lip between my fingers, I know I’ll need a retouch using the tube of lipstick stashed in my cleavage before I go back upstairs. Between Gabby’s kisses and the way I’ve been biting my lip all night, I know I look a mess.
A laugh rumbles over the line, dark and dangerous, putting me on notice once again. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Ms. Shaw.”
My gaze drifts from the stars dotting the sky at his petulant tone.
“I—”
“That is all, Ms. Shaw.” There’s a finality there I’m not about to fight, despite the uneasiness churning in the pit of my stomach.
“Good night, Mr. Carter.”
“Good night, Micah.”
I stare at my black phone screen a beat after the call is finally disconnected, my brows dipped and my heart racing like I just got written up.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper into the night.
Instead of finding a bathroom upstairs, I duck off into the first one I see on the first floor. I’m the only one inside of the two-stall space and I take a second to regulate my breathing.
The light in the bathroom is the brightest in the house, but it’s still a dim glow. Just as I thought, my lipstick is faded and smeared around my mouth.
Once I reapply, I just stand in front of the mirror, studying my reflection.
My nipples are still pebbled against my latex top and only grow harder when I think about walking back upstairs.
My skin is flushed, adding a ruddy coloring to my deep complexion, and my pupils are stretched so wide, only the thinnest ring of brown remains.
My heartbeats slow until I’m aware of each one knocking in my chest. After a spell, I splay my hands against the antique vanity, leaning forward to examine myself closer.
People have their vices—other people, money, drugs. Mine has always been lust and the feeling I get from satisfying it.
The high I get is unmatched, and if people weren’t so damn disappointing, I’d probably have a near-constant supply of the thing I crave around the clock.
Even more reason to enjoy tonight for what it is.