Chapter 15 #2
I endeavored to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. “No,” I said flatly.
“How could you not know that?” It was Steven’s turn to sound incredulous. “He recruited you. You spent all day Friday with him. I’m sure we’ve discussed him before now; who did you think I was talking about when I said ‘the boss’?”
I didn’t hear the rest of Steven’s musings. I was in the Matrix, and I’d just unwittingly taken the red pill; my thoughts became as agitated and circular as a washing machine on the spin cycle. We ate in silence for several minutes, and I mostly succeeded in avoiding eye contact with Steven.
After a few minutes, Steven interrupted my internal avalanche of misery. “I thought you knew when he hired you.”
I met his eyes with a frown. “He said…he said that he could get me the interview, but I’d need to get the job on my own.” I was having difficulty keeping my voice steady.
Quinn was wealthy. Actually, he wasn’t just wealthy; he was a stinkin’ rich son of a b… biscuit. And, once again, I had allowed someone else to be the captain in my sea of destiny. Once again, I was an accidental bystander to my illusion of success.
Steven seemed to understand my thoughts.
“You really did get the job on your own.” My features must have betrayed my doubt and unhappiness because he put his chopsticks down and reached across the table, his gray eyes softening.
“No, really, listen to me, Janie. I’ll admit, Mr. Sullivan has never recommended someone for an interview before.
Usually he just recruits them and they start.
I’ll tell you what, he is always right. For instance, look at me. ” He gave me a wry smile.
I tried to manage one in return, but couldn’t help feeling a mixture of anguished devastation and annoyance with myself.
I had just discovered that either Jon or his father had arranged for my interview with the last firm and likely the job itself, and look what had happened.
I didn’t like thinking that the only reason I was hired at Cypher Systems was that Quinn Sullivan had decided on a whim that he wanted to kiss me, and I was good with numbers.
“Honey Cakes—can I call you Honey Cakes?” He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Really listen to me. I knew you were going to be great if Mr. Sullivan recruited you. But, if it makes you feel better, I showed you that iPad spreadsheet with the wrong formulas on your first day as a test, one which you passed with flying colors.”
I sighed, suddenly finished with my salad; I didn’t want to eat ever again. “Thanks.”
He eyed me with what I perceived to be a speculative glare. “This is his company; his baby. Do you really think he’d hire someone who wasn’t amazing? Again, look no farther than your partner at this table as proof.”
I tried for a half smile and rolled my eyes. “No, you cannot call me Honey Cakes.”
What I couldn’t tell Steven was the real reason why I felt so upset.
The clarity of the moment stung. My chest hurt and I didn’t really comprehend until right then that my aforementioned balloons of hope in the alternate reality carnival of dreams had been quite inflated despite all my best efforts to keep my footing on the ground.
Suddenly the idea of seeing Quinn again filled me with dread. My heart skipped two beats when I remembered my upcoming trip to Las Vegas.
“Will he…uh…” I cleared my throat and wiped my hands on my napkin. “Will Mr. Sullivan be at the client meeting in Las Vegas?”
Steven, back to eating his sushi, shook his head. “Yes, as I told you before, the boss vets all new clients for the private accounts. He’ll fly over with us, God help us all.”
“Oh.” I thought about that for a moment.
In preparation for the Vegas meeting, I’d been drafting proposals for the mysterious boss without comprehending that Quinn was the boss.
In fact, I’d even told Quinn about one of my ideas when he interrupted my lunch at Smith’s last week.
I felt like I was going to be sick. I croaked my next question. “We’re all taking the same flight?”
“We’re all taking the company plane.” Steven’s voice was so nonchalant he might have said, “Wednesday is the day I cut my toenails.”
I blurted out, “There is a company plane?”
“Yes.”
My heart rate increased at the thought of spending four hours in an enclosed space with Quinn. “And we’ll all fly together—with him?”
“Yes.”
I searched the table as though it might provide me with answers, and I tried to squelch the panic from my voice. “But what if I want to fly on a commercial flight?”
Steven raised a single eyebrow at me. “And why would you want to do that?”
I huffed, not wanting to tell the truth but recognizing the strangeness of my statement. I could only think of one excuse. “I have frequent flyer miles.”
Steven’s thin lips curved into a broad grin then he abruptly laughed so hard that tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. I could feel myself turning red then eggplant purple with embarrassment. His laughter was, however, contagious, and I managed a self-depreciating half-hearted chuckle.
“Oh, Janie, you are a peach.” I think he meant it as a compliment, but I only heard you are a fuzzy fruit.
“You won’t mind forfeiting some frequent flyer miles, I promise.
It’s a pretty stress-free way to travel.
And we’ll be briefing the boss and talking over strategy en route, so there is actually a good work-related reason to travel together.
He’s not so bad if you stick to business topics. ”
I didn’t know how stress-free it would be; I already felt pretty stressed out just thinking about it. “Who else will be on the plane?”
Steven wiped at his tears of hilarity and gave me an open smile. “Well, you and me, Carlos, Olivia, and the boss—you know, Quinn Sullivan.”
I glared at Steven. “Thank you. I get it now.”
He gave me a sweet smile. “Just making sure.”
Suddenly, I had a headache.
That night, I cancelled my tutoring session on the South Side and I called Jon.
I didn’t call Jon last Sunday as I had promised I’d do.
At first, it was an oversight, but after talking to Kat during our bathroom pow-wow on Tuesday, I’d been purposefully avoiding him.
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t certain he’d been the reason I’d lost my job, and I didn’t want it to be true.
However, for some reason, now I really wanted to see him. Elizabeth didn’t say anything about my abrupt decision, but she gave me plenty of disapproving stares before I left the apartment and, as I pulled on my boots, said, “Isn’t Quinn calling you tonight from New York?”
A sharp pang reverberated in my chest; her words had found an unintended target: I missed Quinn and I wanted to talk to him.
I missed talking to him, seeing him, touching him.
Despite my confusion after he left on Sunday, I’d been looking forward to his call all week.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and set my jaw.
I currently had no plans to tell Elizabeth that Quinn was my boss’s boss. I needed to process it first, decide what it meant. Right now, in my current mindset, it meant that Quinn and I were already over.
In response to her passive-aggressive query, I shrugged my shoulders and stood to leave.
She lifted her chin toward my cell. “You’re not taking that?”
I shook my head. “Nope.” And I pulled on my coat.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her glare heavy on my retreating back. “Well, if he calls, I’ll just let him know you’re out with your friend.”
I paused at the door, took a deep breath, and called over my shoulder as I shut it behind me. “Don’t wait up.”
I thought I heard her growl as I walked down the hall, but I couldn’t be certain.
As I left the building and walked toward the el platform, I was acutely aware of the two guards behind me.
I wondered if they were in frequent communication with Quinn.
I wondered whether they would tell him what I was up to and who I was meeting.
The thought made my stomach turn a little sour.
I didn’t like the sensation of being leashed.
The cell phone felt like an albatross around my neck, and I’d only had it a week.
The guards also were starting to grate on my nerves.
With a literal shrug of my shoulders, I tried to shrug off the mounting irritation and redoubled my efforts to focus on the task in front of me. I walked faster.
Jon and I met at one of our previously regular haunts.
It was an Italian restaurant on the North Side with tall burgundy leather booths, dim lighting, and really good fried cheese.
I didn’t return his embrace when I entered, but rather, my arms hung limp at my sides, and I felt no nostalgia when the heady tomato, wine, and sausage aroma wafted over me.
But I did allow him to lead me to our usual table.
We placed our drink orders. I wanted only water, but Jon ordered a bottle of expensive Sangiovese and two glasses.
No sooner had our waiter left when I asked, “Why did you cheat on me?”
It wasn’t the question I meant to ask. In fact, I didn’t really care about the answer. I was just stalling before confronting him with Kat’s evidence about his father’s role in my job loss. Also, for some reason, I was craving drama. I wanted to yell at someone.
“Janie…” Jon sighed, his head dropped, his shoulders slumped. “It was a mistake. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Jon, I’d like to know.”
“This is going to sound crazy. You have to…” he reached out like he was going to grab my hands but then seemed to think better of it. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me that you’ll stay—you’ll stay and talk to me after. Don’t get up and walk out.”
“I asked, didn’t I? I want to know; I want to talk about it.” I winced at my own lie. I really just wanted to yell at him for being a liar and a manipulator.