Chapter 3
Chapter Three
S kye
"Skye Blue Redding, are you still alive?"
"That's how I'm able to call you, Mom." I press my lips together to stop from saying something that will get me into trouble. I hate when she uses my full name. It’s so cringey.
“Oh, you called me? I thought that maybe it was your AIT.”
“My what?”
“Your AIT.” She stresses the T like I’m slow.
“Do you mean AI?”
“Yes,” she snaps. “That’s what I said.”
“Mom, I don’t have an AI. Or any sort of robot that is able to make phone calls for me. If I did, I’d have them working all these shitty jobs.”
She gasps at my use of the word shitty and I try not to roll my eyes.
"How can I help you, Mom? I am on my way to work and I'm already running late. But I saw you called me a million times earlier today so I wanted to make sure I called you back.”
"Can a mother not call her only daughter to see how she's doing?" She’s affronted and I know my dad will call me sometime this weekend to tell me to be nicer to my mother. I’m already annoyed at the emotional manipulation coming my way.
"Mom, you know I am busy. I’m fine."
"You're always busy, Skye. You're busy in the morning." She pauses dramatically and I once again realize where I get my flair for dramatics.
"Yeah, because I'm on my way to work in the morning when you call."
"You're busy in the middle of the day."
"Because I'm at work ." I hurry down the road, avoiding trash and people as best as I can. I wish I had a driver that could drop me off everywhere I wanted to go. That’s one perk of being rich that I could really get behind.
"You're busy in the evening."
"Because I'm going to my second job."
"You're busy on weekends."
"You know I volunteer and have another job."
"Exactly, you're always busy."
"I know, Mom, but I have a lot of debt. And you know I really want to go to Australia."
"I thought you said you wanted to go to Africa or Asia."
"I guess I want to go to all of the A continents. Africa, Australia, Asia. I want to hit up Europe too. And I wouldn't mind going to South America. You know I've always wanted to go to Peru and climb Machu Picchu and..."
"Yes, dear, but it's not like you're going anytime soon, is it?"
"What's that supposed to mean, Mom?" I snap because I hate that she never supports my dreams. She thinks I’ll get kidnapped or trafficked as soon as I step foot on an international flight.
"I mean, it’s like you said, you don't have the money. And you know Dad and I don’t have a trust fund for you. We’re Reddings, not Kennedys."
"I know that, Mom. That’s exactly why I'm working so hard because we come from a long line of ‘we work hard, but don’t have two brass pennies to rub together’ folk and?—”
“Money is not everything.” Mom sounds offended and I know I need to tread carefully so as not to make her any more upset.
“I’m just working hard right now so that I can save."
"Or you can move back with me and Dad. You won't have to pay any rent. And then, you can?—"
"Mom, I'm not moving back to Florida and I don't want to live with you and Dad. I'm twenty-five years old now. I can take care of myself. I need to take care of myself. I know what I'm doing." I sound like I did when I was thirteen and begging my mom to let me go to a high school party with my friends. It irritates me knowing I sound like a kid again. Why is it that mothers always make us feel like kids, no matter how old we are?
"Well, you can't say that you don't want to live rent-free, because aren't you living with Elisabetta for free?" Mom knows how to dig in the knife and remind me I'm not as mature and self-sufficient as I'm making out.
"Yes, Mom." I stifle another sigh. I will not pout.
"She's not charging you any rent, is she?" My mom presses on. She knows she's got a winning ticket right now. If she reminds me that she told me that my college boyfriend, James, was a pompous jerk before I realized, I would scream.
"No, but that's because her dad bought the condo for her, so there is no rent."
"Exactly. She's letting her dad pay." My mom's tone is cutting. "So technically, you're not taking care of yourself."
"Yes, Mom, I know that, but I just?—"
"You're not sleeping with him, are you?"
"Sleeping with who?" I ask in confusion.
"Oh Lord. Billy, come here," she calls out to my dad loudly. "Billy, you need to talk to your daughter. She's sleeping with her friend’s dad to?—"
"Mom!" I shout into the phone in shock. "Stop it. I am not sleeping with Elisabetta's dad. Are you crazy?"
"Why then, is he letting you live in his condo for free?"
"Mom. Elisabetta is the one letting me?—"
"So, if Dad and I lived in New York, you'd want to live with us? If we moved to New York, you'd move back home?"
"No, Mom." I say quickly. "That's not it. I want my independence." I can hear the panic in my voice. "Please do not move to New York. Look, I love you and I will try and come to Florida for Thanksgiving, but I’ve really got to go. Okay?"
"Fine," she says after a long silence. I will definitely be getting a call from Dad later to tell me off. "I guess I'll just go and sit next to your dad and watch hockey and crochet."
"Okay, Mom. Enjoy," I say and hang up quickly. I'm not going to let her take me on another guilt trip today. Those seem to be the only trips I'm getting to go on these days. I feel bad about hanging up, but I've already got way too much going on.
I hurry down the street toward the restaurant. I'm running ten minutes late now, and I know if Fabricio catches me walking in late, he's going to write me up. He's already given me a verbal warning. I don't know what it is about the guy, but he makes my skin crawl every time I see him. My phone rings again and I'm about to tell my mom off when I see that it's my main boss, Kingston Chase. He's an attorney at the law firm I work for as an assistant. Even though I find him annoying as well, he doesn't make my skin crawl. My heart races slightly as I debate whether or not to answer. Curiosity gets the better of me and I answer on the fourth ring.
"Hello?" I say breathlessly as I'm practically running down the street now.
"Is that you, Skye?" He sounds confused.
"Who else would it be?"
"I don't know." He pauses. "I didn't catch you doing something reserved for later at night, did I?"
I roll my eyes at his comment.
"No, Kingston. What do you want?"
"I was wondering if we could meet up for dinner?" he asks, and I frown slightly. Why on Earth would my new boss want to meet me for dinner? For a few moments, I think it's because he wants to take me on a date, but then the thought immediately flees my mind. Kingston Chase has not given me any reason to believe that he wants me. In fact, I was shocked that he'd even hired me in the first place. "I need to speak to you about something important."
"Nope," I say, looking at the time on the screen. "And honestly, I have to go. Can this wait until Monday?" My brain is screaming at me because I want to know why he wanted to ask me to dinner and what he wants to talk about. Though I'm not going to let my inner thoughts run away with me like my friend Lila did when she first met her boss, Max.
"No, it can't really wait till Monday," he says, as if I've asked him to wait to eat for seventy-two hours or something. Men can be so dramatic. "I saw the stack of files on your desk this afternoon. And it concerns me that you're not getting through the work as quickly as I think you should be."
"What?" I can hear the irritation in my tone and I don't care if he hears it as well. "What are you talking about?"
"I told you that I needed you to get through all the files by this evening. And it appears to me that you didn't even make a dent."
"You gave me over a hundred files, Kingston," I snap. "I'm not superwoman."
"Obviously," he drawls, and I swear that if I were with him in person, I'd give him a look so fiery that he'd melt into the ground like a snowman when the sun comes out. "In fact, I think you should be in the office right now working, if that's what it takes."
"Really? If a free dinner wasn't possible for me, do you think working was going to be."
"What do you mean it's not possible?"
"Because I have plans this evening and they don't revolve around you. Not having dinner with you and not certainly not working for you."
"Where are you off to?" he asks innocently, but I don't trust him.
"None of your business," I say, and he chuckles slightly. I don't want to tell him about all my jobs because I don't want him to ask why I'm trying to make so much money. I have a feeling he's not going to want to hear that I want to take a year off to travel around the world. Not after I told him in my job interview that the law was my life and that I wanted to be a legal assistant as a precursor to applying to law school. Yes, I lied, but I could hardly tell him that I had no interest in the law and only came to find a job because I'd met a girl on the street on the way to an acting audition. I fully believe that little white lies are okay if they are for the greater good. And the greater good, in this instance, is my bank account.
"Is this your way of trying to make me jealous Skye?" He sounds amused.
"What?" I screech and stop dead in the middle of the street. Is he serious?
"Watch where you're going, lady!" a middle-aged man shouts at me as he nearly bumps into me, then trips. He glares at me and mutters something under his breath, and for a moment, I'm nervous he's going to hit me.
"So sorry," I proclaim, giving him my most apologetic face. I point to the phone and make a face. "My boss is being—" I start but the man sneers, cusses me under his breath, and continues on walking. "How rude." I mumble as I move over to the side of the street and stand outside a closed flower shop. I peer through the windows wistfully. I haven't received flowers since my dad bought me roses on my sixteenth birthday. How have I never received flowers? "Why would I be trying to make you jealous, Kingston?" I ask because I really have nothing else to say.
"I don't know." He pauses. "Who were you saying sorry to, by the way?"
"Not you. There must be a reason why you think I'd be trying to make you jealous. Please explain."
"Maybe because Lila and Max got together and you're now thinking that you might be lucky number two in the office?"
"Lucky number two? What does that mean?" Is there a company lottery system I didn't know about?
"Lucky lady number two. You know, like, I'm the bachelor behind door number two."
"What?" My laughter is instantaneous and loud. I laugh heartily for what feels like ten minutes. I laugh so hard that I start snorting and my body shakes. I cannot believe what he's just said. He thinks he's some prize behind door number two. What an ego!
I'll give it to Kingston, he's very attractive. And when I say very attractive, I'm understating.
Severely understating.
Kingston Chase is knock-you-off-your-feet sexy.
Like, he could blink at you and your panties would fall to the ground.
And dissolve into a puddle.
He's the sort of tall that makes you have to peer up at him, like he's some sort of Greek god. He has dark hair that looks black indoors and brown in the sun. Hair that is silkier than should be legal. He has big, beautiful blue eyes. And I'm not even a girl that is into blue eyes. In fact, I've hated men with blue eyes ever since Sam Richards, a guy I went on a date with in tenth grade, told me to suck him off for his birthday while we listened to Frank Sinatra in his Chevy pickup truck while referring to himself as "Sexy Blue Eyes." I didn't suck him off and I didn't even think about dating a blue-eyed guy again. Not that I have any intention of dating Kingston.
He's my boss.
Just because he has a chiseled face and the sort of body that bodybuilders would be jealous of means nothing.
I don't want him. He has an attitude that goes on for days. He's the bossiest man I've ever met in my life. And even though he is my boss, I still find it irritating. To be quite frank, I'm not into overly handsome blue-eyed men who think they can boss you around all day and night.
"Are you laughing or crying?" he demands. "Are you upset because I'm not jealous?"
My jaw drops even lower. Is he for real? "You have got an ego the size of the Hoover Dam on you, don't you, Kingston Chase?"
"I don't have an ego. I'm just being matter of fact. It has crossed my mind that you might think that there's a possibility that you and I may end up together."
"Why on Earth would I think that?" I'm being loud now.
"Like I said, you started on the same day as Lila. Now she and Max are together and looking at Brownstones to buy and she barely works."
"That's because she no longer works there full-time."
He clears his throat. "I just wanted to be clear that all we have is a work relationship, Skye."
"Did I say I thought we had more?"
"Just in case you thought that I was interested in going down the same road as Max, I wanted to make it clear that I'm not available."
"Okay." I don't know if I should be offended or not. This conversation is awkward and stupid. I want nothing to do with Kingston Chase. Pompous asshole that he is.
"Is that all you have to say?" He sounds surprised.
"I don't really know what else you expect me to say," I mutter, my anger starting to build. "I don't care if you're available or not. I don't want you. If you were the last man on Earth, I still wouldn't want you. You're not my cup of tea. You're more like kombucha…all sour and weird."
"I'm what?" He coughs and I smile to myself.
"Kombucha, that fermented drink. Kingston, I hate to break it to you, but you're just not my type." That's a bit of a lie, but like I said before, little white lies don't count. "So trust me when I say, if I was seeking a bachelor and chose door number two and saw you standing there, I'd run away so quickly." I snort as I take a runners stance. "Shoot, I'd be running so fast that I might even win a medal at the Olympics.” I bounce back and forth on my heels as if I’m ready for the starter’s gun. I really do know how to amuse myself.
"Really, Skye?" He doesn't sound so full of himself now. Take that, Mr. Hotshot Attorney. Not feeling so cocky now, are you? I don’t know why that makes me feel so satisfied.
"Really, Kingston Not-My-Type Chase. And if you don't mind, I really have to go now."
"Where are you going?" he asks, and his tone doesn't sound so smug now.
"Like I told you before, it's none of your business. You're my boss, and as far as I'm concerned, our interactions end at five o’clock PM on Friday. They won't start again until Monday at nine AM. So, ciao bella." I hang up on him quickly before he can respond, and then because I don't want to be interrupted by any more phone calls, I power my phone off.
"Is he out of his ever-loving mind?" I mumble, as I run down the street. I'm so late that the White Rabbit would be giving me side eye. "Why on Earth would that ass think I want him?" The question makes my head thud. Had I given him some sort of signal that would make him believe I was interested? I think back to our interactions over the last couple of weeks. Nothing I've said or done should have led him to believe that I give two shits about him.
Sue me, yes I think he's hot, but most women in the world would think he's hot. I think George Clooney's hot. I think Brad Pitt's hot. I think Bradley Cooper's hot. I think Boris Kodjoe's hot. Shit, I could probably name ten million men that I think are hot. It doesn't mean I want them.
Had he seen me checking out his arms that one day he came to the office in his gym clothes? Surely not.
I swallow hard as bile rises up my throat in embarrassment. Had he seen me checking out his shorts?
I reach the corner right before the entrance to the restaurant and I know I should go directly inside. Fabricio is going to be pissed at me. I'd have to grovel to keep my job. But instead of hurrying into the restaurant, I power the phone back on.
Because fury has hit me.
Embarrassment has made me angry.
Once the phone powers on, I call Kingston and wait impatiently for him to answer the phone.
"This is Kingston Chase. How may I help you?" he says in clipped tones as he answers the phone.
"It's Skye," I snap. "Which you knew."
"Hello, Skye. How may I help you?" he says politely, as if we hadn't just had an infuriating conversation five minutes ago.
"I just processed what you said to me," I huff out. "And I'm pissed."
"It took you that long to process what I said?" he says slowly. "No wonder you're not getting through those files very quickly." He chuckles like he thinks he's some hotshot lawyer and that makes me even angrier.
"You're just a jackass, a pompous prick, a wannabe, and I think that?—"
"May I ask a clarifying question?" he asks matter-of-factly, cutting me off, and I blink. Is he about to fire me for being insubordinate?
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, you just said that I am a wannabe, correct? But I'd like to inquire and find out what sort of wannabe I am."
I just stand there, gripping the phone. "What?"
"You said I'm a wannabe and I want to know, I'm a wannabe what? A wannabe plumber? A wannabe electrician? A wannabe judge? A wannabe ballet dancer?"
"Oh, you infuriate me. You are driving me crazy, Kingston Chase."
"Doesn't sound so bad to me."
"You are so annoying. I was just calling you to tell you that?—"
"That I'm annoying?" he interrupts, again, and I can hear the humor in his tone. "I see."
"No, I'm calling you to let you know that I don't appreciate you calling me to tell me that we're never going to get together."
"Did I hurt your feelings?" he asks softly, like he's nervous he's going to break me. "I didn't mean to do that."
"No, you didn't hurt my feelings. I don't want you."
"You don't sound like someone that doesn't want me."
"What are you talking about? How does someone who doesn’t want you sound?"
"They sound like they don't care. You sound like you care a lot."
"I am angry with you," I shout. "And not because I care about you, but because I'm annoyed."
"Because I told you that we're never going to have the relationship that Lila and Max have?"
"I don't want the relationship that Lila and Max have. I am not even looking to settle down right now."
"Oh, in case I wasn't clear, I'm not looking for just a sex thing either," he says, chuckling. "Don't get me wrong, I love sex, I'm good at sex and I have many casual relationships, but I don't think it would really work out between you and me."
"I don't want to sleep with you. Oh, I'm so annoyed."
"Is that all you have to say or are you going to hang up on me again?"
"You wanna know what, Kingston Chase?"
"What, Skye Redding?"
"This." I say, then I hang up. I glare at the phone and stick my tongue out. I’m even angrier than I was before. I put my phone into my handbag and hurry into the restaurant. Of course, Fabricio is standing there, waiting for me. His face looks pinched and thin and I know he's about to let me have it.
"What time do you call this Skye?" he says, staring at his watch and tapping it.
"I don't know." I shrug. "Why don't you tell me? You're the one looking at your watch right now."
His eyes narrow and he shakes his head. "Three strikes Skye."
"Excuse me?"
"You're on strike two. One more strike and you're out."
"What are you talking about? What three strikes?"
"You're late for work again."
"I'm sorry." I press my lips together. "I'm sorry that I'm late," I elaborate through gritted teeth. I hate having to tell this jerk that I'm sorry.
"That's fine," he says, tilting his head to the side and looking me up and down. He takes a step forward and I watch as his nostrils flare. "I thought I told you to wear a skirt."
"That's not the dress code though. The dress code says I can wear a skirt or pants. I chose to wear pants."
He presses his lips together again. "I think you and I should go to the office."
"For what?"
"I think, if you want to keep your job, you're going to have to do a taste test."
"A taste test of what?" I play with my hair. "Am I going to be working in the kitchen?"
"You need to taste a little salami," he says with a straight face.
"What?"
He licks his lips slowly. "Well, to be more accurate, one big salami."
I stare at him for a couple of seconds, my heart racing as he looks me up and down. This can not be happening. Is this the evening of my nightmares? "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I stare at him.
"Depends on what you think I'm saying." He licks his lips, flashing me his yellow teeth. Gross. "Do you want this job or not?"
I look around the not-so-busy restaurant and then I look back at him. I think about Kingston and his comments. I think about my mom. I think about my student loan debt. I even think about the kangaroos in Australia that I want to pet when I finally travel there.
But none of those things makes me give a shit about sucking up to this creep.
"You know what, Fabricio? Why don't you taste test your own sausage? Because, trust me when I say, I have absolutely no interest."
"Salami," he says, stepping forward, trying to grab my hand. "I want you to taste my salami."
"I don't care if you call it salami. I don't care if you call it sausage. I don't care if you call it a fucking little bitty dick. I want nothing to do with you or this restaurant. I quit. You can't fire me cause I'm already done. And by the way, I will be filing a letter of complaint with HR on Monday." I hold up my phone. "This was recording. So, you're out." White lie, but I hope it scares him.
"Wait, what?" He looks panicked.
He tries to grab my phone, but instead, I knee him in the groin hard and an intense feeling of pleasure fills me as he yells out in pain. I hurry out of the restaurant before he can retaliate and run for about two minutes, just in case he's following me, before I stop next to a light pole and breathe heavily, doubling over to catch my breath.
"What the hell is going on?" I shout loudly, about to lose my shit. "Should I go back to Florida?" I ask the universe because maybe everything is going wrong because I'm not meant to be in New York City.
"Nah, bitch," an old man sitting on the ground rifling through a trash bag shouts back at me. "Florida's for the crazies." He cackles as he grabs a half eaten piece of chicken and takes a bite. "Not for you and me." He looks me over and holds up the leg. "Wanna bite?"
"Uh, thanks." I say, shaking my head weakly. "But no." I run away and I can feel tears trailing down my face as I laugh hysterically. I'm unraveling and I don't know what to do. I'm twenty-five and nothing in my life is going as planned. I've most probably lost both of my jobs, my hot boss that I don't want felt he had to make it clear that he didn't want me, and my mom is probably complaining about me to my dad at this very moment. I have over a hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt, and no boyfriend. Not even a potential boyfriend.
Is this really my life?
I grab my phone again and text Elisabetta. I just quit my job. Meet me for a drink?
She responds immediately. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. You okay?
Not really. The last place I should be going to is a bar and the last thing I should be doing is spending money, but I don't even care. Right now, I need to get drunk. Right now, I need to forget my absolutely crazy evening. But I will be after a drink or two. I'm going to invite my work friends as well.
For a brief moment, I think about calling Kingston again, but I'm not even sure why.
Maybe I just want to let him have it one last time.
Not that this is his fault.
In fact, I was pretty lucky that he hired me.
It isn't his fault that he is the most annoying man on Earth.
I just have to make sure that I don't let him know that.
I didn't want to lose another job.