Chapter 3 Jules
Jules
At last it’s quitting time. I can’t get out of the building where Sutherland and Sons Accounting is located quickly enough. I catch a few curious stares as I leave the office, but nobody actually says anything. Well, except for Donald Pugh, who corners me by the elevators.
“Well, well, little lady,” he drawls, leaning in close and putting an arm above my head. His breath smells like coffee and stale peanuts, which he eats by the handful at his desk all day.
“Excuse me, Donald.” I press the button for the elevator and step pointedly away from him. Unfortunately, this obvious move doesn’t put him off.
“It looked to me like maybe you were getting into some hot water back there.” He smirks knowingly, sidling closer. “Was Philbens getting onto you about something? Actually, I wouldn’t mind getting onto you myself.”
Then he laughs like he just made a funny joke.
Since I know HR won’t do anything about it, I decide to ignore him. I take another step away and face the elevator, keeping my face blank. I refuse to give him any more of my time, emotion, or energy. I refuse to—
“Ouch!” I jump because Donald Pugh just pinched my ass—hard.
I whirl to face him.
“You son of a bitch! Don’t ever touch me!”
Donald only laughs harder.
“Look at you! I knew that would get your attention.” He gives me an ugly grin. “God, I love a woman with a fat ass!”
“Get away from me!” I exclaim, taking another step to my right. “What is wrong with you? You’re a fifty-five-year-old man acting like a preschooler! You’re supposed to learn to keep your hands to yourself in kindergarten.”
“Fifty-five? You wound me, darlin’.” He puts a hand over his heart and makes puppy-dog eyes at me. “I’m only fifty-four. Just old enough to be your Daddy.” He gives a wolfish grin that makes my skin crawl.
“Get away from me!” I tell him. “If you don’t leave me alone I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” He raises both eyebrows at me. “Go on—I’m listening. I know you ran and tattled to HR after the Christmas party. Guess what, girly—they don’t care.”
“Just leave me alone!” I repeat, feeling weak and impotent and hating the feeling.
“Look, honey, you ought to consider that you’re not gonna get a better offer,” he says, leaning close again and breathing out his rancid coffee and peanut breath all over my face.
“I mean, let’s be honest—you’re getting older and you’re not exactly skinny.
You’re lucky I’m not picky—lots of men wouldn’t even look at you.
Why don’t you come have supper with me? Or better yet, let’s skip supper and go to my place and—”
Just then the elevator finally reaches our floor. The silver doors slide open with a musical ding!
Donald steps inside and leers at me.
“Well? Aren’t you coming? We can have a little alone time together.”
There’s no way in Hell I’m getting into a closed elevator alone with him. Luckily, just at that moment, Steve from Data Processing comes jogging down the hall.
“Hey—hold the door!” he shouts.
Scowling, Donald does so. Steve slides into the elevator and I step in too. But just as the doors start to close, I slip back out again. I barely make it—my boobs are so big they nearly brush the doors and make them open back up. But I suck in a breath and make it—barely.
As I turn, I see the outraged look on Donald Pugh’s face as the silver doors shut and the elevator begins its downward ride.
I glare at the closed silver doors with hot eyes. Fuck you, Donald! Fuck you and every man like you who thinks he has a right to a woman’s body, just because he’s male! You misogynistic piece of shit!
At times like this I wish I could take a big pair of scissors and just reach between his legs and—
The vibration of my cell phone in my purse interrupts my murderous thoughts. I fish around in my bag and pull it out. I’m glad to see my friend Tasha’s number pop up. She’s ten years older than me and always has good advice. But she also prefers to talk instead of texting.
Well, what the Hell—I press the button. Might as well talk for a minute—I need to give Donald Pugh some time to head out before I walk to my car, which is parked in the parking garage a block away.
“Hey Jules.” Her voice is warm as always. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” I admit.
She is instantly concerned.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Just that fucking Donald Pugh again.” I try to keep my voice from dipping to a growl and don’t quite succeed. Tasha knows all about the Christmas party and how HR just brushed me off.
“What did he do this time? Did he try to grab your ass again?” she demands indignantly.
“He pinched it.” I clench my phone so hard the black plastic casing bites into my hand. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’m still at work. Did you need something?”
“I was just checking to see what you’re bringing to Book Club tonight. I’m kind of coordinating things this time,” she says, tactfully changing the subject.
“Oh, um…” I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. I might stop by Publix and get a fruit tray, I guess.”
“Forget the fruit tray—if you’re going by Publix get some fresh Cuban bread and some butter,” Tasha says. “Mmm, I can taste it now.”
I have to smile at the dreamy sound of her voice.
“You and your bread. If there’s anybody who loves carbs more than me, it has to be you,” I tell her.
“That’s right.” Tasha is completely unrepentant about it. “You know how I am with those bottomless pasta bowl deals—I always find the bottom. I know an Olive Garden hates to see me coming!”
I snort laughter. Talking to Tasha always makes me feel better no matter how shitty things are.
“All right—I’ll get you some Cuban bread with butter,” I promise.
“And some guava jam!” she puts in. “Get some of that too.”
“You got it. Now you’d better let me go—I still have to walk all the way to my car in the heat.
” If my voice sounds pitiful it’s because I feel pitiful.
The Florida heat is no joke. It’s aggressive and unrelenting, not to mention sticky and disgusting and awful and…
I really need to move to New England, like I’ve been dreaming of for the past ten years.
“Okay, see you soon. Hey—are you safe?” she asks, clearly concerned about me.
“Safe enough,” I say. “He went down the elevator five minutes ago. I’m just giving him time to clear out before I go down and head to my car.”
Which I should not have to do! I wish I had the money to talk to a lawyer about Donald. Maybe Lucia will be at Book Club tonight—she’s a paralegal. Of course, the lawyer she works for is a divorce attorney, but maybe she could still give me some advice.
“I’d better stay on the phone with you just in case,” Tasha says cautiously. “What if something happens?”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” But I don’t hang up when the elevator dings again. I get into the empty car and chat with Tasha as I ride down to the bottom.
Though I’d usually rather text, having her voice in my ear makes me feel safe and cared for.
She really is a great friend. But then, all the girls in my Book Club are.
They’re the real reason I don’t pull up roots and move to New England, where I could experience all four seasons, especially fall, which I would love.
She doesn’t hang up with me until I reach my car and I promise again to get her the Cuban bread with butter and jam to go with it.
“See you soon,” she tells me. “And then you can give me details—if you want to.”
I probably will—I need to vent. But for now, I just want to get out of the heat.
Even walking a block in downtown Tampa with the sun glaring down at me and the humidity at almost one hundred percent has made patches of sweat bloom in the middle of my back and under my armpits.
I swear sometimes I wish I could be skinny just so I wouldn’t sweat as much!
Tasha and I blow kisses at each other and hang up.
I get into my furnace of a car and turn the AC on immediately.
The plastic of the steering wheel burns my hands and I have to drive with my fingertips and keep the windows rolled down to blow the burning air out as my poor little Civic chugs along, the AC on high, doing its best to cool down the interior.
I head for Publix, anticipating Book Club and thinking how much I wish I could work someplace else besides S&S—anywhere else.
I have no idea that I’ve just finished my last normal day of work and I’m about to have the last normal evening of my life.