The bubble burst. The other shoe dropped. The cat leapt out of the bag and out the window.

The day at work started out just fine. I got in, woke my computer up, fired up Excel and brought up the latest dump of analytics data.

I even managed to get a good tweet in and I was pleased to see that our official Twitter account had gained a dozen followers since yesterday.

And of course I thought about Neil. About maybe seeing him again that night. My hand even started straying towards my phone.

Maybe he’s messaged me already, I thought.

At some point in the last week, things had begun to get serious. I thought so, at least. It wasn’t as though we sat down and had the talk. The one where we both say how much we like each other and then say we think we should be exclusive.

The talk never happened because it didn’t need to happen. Not only because I was definitely not seeing anyone else, but because everything went so smooth and naturally between us.

Soon you should tell him how you really feel.

It was a way I hadn’t felt for a guy in a long time. And I wasn’t even sure I was ready to feel that way for someone.

Still... I reached for my Samsung, hoping for maybe a quick pick-me-up of a text.

Instead the phone on my desk rang. Before I picked up the receiver I knew it would be Mr. Diehl’s secretary.

“Hello, Rachel Smith speaking,” I said. My stomach took about half a second flat to tie itself into a knot of Gordian proportions.

“I know,” the secretary said, “Mr. Diehl would like to speak with you right away.”

“I just received the weekend data. Surely he wants me to look through that first?”

“No. He’s expecting you, Ms. Smith.”

Before I could say anything else, she hung up on me. I pulled the receiver away from my face and looked at it while I chewed my lower lip.

I hung up the phone and pushed away from my desk, the castors of my chair rolling almost silently below me.

I started for his office.

And here I’d been thinking, hoping more like, that I’d found that mythical work-life balance people talked about so much.

That it was okay to be a little less productive at work if it meant being happier as a person.

That maybe—maybe—it wasn’t a huge mistake to take up with Neil the way I had. The way that one little, annoying voice in the back of my head kept muttering, I told you so, I told you so.

But Mr. Diehl never called anyone into his office for good news. At least, he never called me into his office for good news.

“Go right in,” his secretary said.

“Oh, yes. Right, thanks,” I replied. I’d been so deep in my thoughts that my feet took me over by themselves.

I’d been wrong about my stomach, too. The knot tightened when I reached for the latch. I paused there, fingers wrapped around the cool steel. I needed a moment.

“He’s expecting you right away,” his secretary said.

I looked over my shoulder and saw her watching me. Just beyond her, her computer monitor displayed some sort of cute cat YouTube video.

“Yes, right, sorry. I just was trying to remember if I logged out of the system,” I said.

I managed a smile somehow. Even though on the inside I bristled. She answers the phone and watches videos all day and doesn’t come in on weekends and she looks at me like I’m the one not doing enough.

I took a breath, let it out, and pushed the door open.

As usual, Mr. Diehl sat behind his desk. This time, a tight smile pulled at his cheeks and he steepled his fingers in front of that smile, elbows resting on the desktop.

I grabbed the back of the empty chair in front of his desk, meaning to pull it out so I could sit.

“I didn’t tell you to sit, Ms. Smith,” he said.

“Oh, okay.”

So I stood behind the chair. My knees started trembling a little. My throat went dry. That kind of dry that requires a big swallow to moisten again.

It was so quiet in there that he’d definitely hear a swallow like that. And he’d judge.

So I suffered the dry throat. In fact, we stood there regarding each other for a solid minute. Each second passed with acute awareness.

What is going on?

“Is there a problem?” I said finally. My voice was froggy from the dryness in my throat.

He spread his hands, palms up, “Is there?”

In my imagination, I saw Devil-me and Angel-me appear on opposite shoulders.

“Rachel, remember, you want to impress him. As soon as he sees that you are capable of doing your job, and doing it well, he’ll let up on you. So don’t say anything rash,” Angel-me said, her halo twinkling.

“What a load! The guy hates women! Don’t you remember what Neil said? He’s never going to cut you any slack. He’s just gonna take and take until you got nothing left and then smile when he fires you! Don’t take any of this double-talk crap,” Devil-me said, waving her pitchfork for emphasis.

I grabbed onto the back of that empty chair with both hands and squeezed my fingers into the padded executive leather of it. I tried smiling, hoping it was a bit more genuine than it felt.

“Mr. Diehl, sir, I know I haven’t been coming in after hours as much as I used to, but if you check I’m sure you’ll find that I’m still technically ahead of schedule on pretty much every assignment...”

I stopped when he held up one hand in that schoolmarm be quiet gesture. He sighed. It was the long sigh of the exasperated, long-suffering man.

I bristled again, but didn’t say anything. Out loud, anyway.

“No,” Mr. Diehl said, “While there are technicalities like that, there is definitely a problem. You’ve shown us here that you’re capable of a certain standard. But now, for reasons unknown, you’ve let that standard relax.

“You’re still new here. New to work really, I think. Well this isn’t college, missy. This is the most crucial time for you. You need to be working your butt off if you want to get ahead in this economy. There’s no room for tardiness. No room for whatever you have going on. I won’t be able to cover for you much longer.”

If I squeezed the headrest of that leather executive chair much harder I knew the seams would burst. “Cover for me?”

He re-steepled his fingers. “Yes. Upper management’s also become used to your former pace. They’ll notice soon, too. And then it will be out of my hands.”

Something cold and unpleasant gripped the base of my spine as hard as I gripped that chair. “What are you saying?”

Once more he spread his hands in that placating gesture, “I’m saying you need to buckle down. Get your priorities straight. You’re not taking this personally, are you? I was worried you might.”

“And why is that?” I said, thinking that I already knew the answer.

“Well, because you’re a...” he waved at my body, “And I know how emotional your sort can get. Unable to keep things separate. Because, and you can trust me when I say this, none of this is personal. Just business.”

My first and most primal urge was to launch myself over the empty chair, over his desk, and into him so that he fell backwards on the floor while I throttled him.

Of course, that would prove his point. Even though it would also be incredibly satisfying.

So instead I let go of the chair. I ignored the dents my fingers left in the padding. I forced my hands flat against my thighs. Every nerve and fiber in my screamed to lay into him.

But I didn’t. Because I could see the way he smiled while he witnessed my inner struggle. He wanted me to lose it. He wanted me to become the hysterical, good-for-nothing millennial he thought I was.

Because then he could wash his hands of me. No, he’d tell the people at the employment board, I had to let her go. She simply couldn’t handle the pressures of the job. And I have the fingerprints on my neck to prove it!

Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

The next words that came out of my mouth were some of the hardest I’d ever had to say. Even harder than that time the vice principal in junior high made me apologize to another girl for a fight she had started.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Diehl, that my work has been flagging. I didn’t mean or intend for that happen. I’ll do better in the future.” And I made myself look him in the eye for every word.

That took him aback, and I gleaned some small amount of satisfaction from the momentary consternation on his face. He recovered quickly.

“Yes, well, see that you don’t. Rather, that you do. Do better that is,” he said.

I knew if I smiled then at the way he flopped about for words it would do me no favors. I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir? Perhaps something with the computer?” I left out the last bit, the part that went, Because I know that old people have a hard time with technology.

It was perhaps something I shouldn’t have said at all, but that little Devil-me on my shoulder goaded me into it.

He got the implication. His eyes narrowed. “No, there’s nothing. And I don’t want to see the few minutes this meeting took impacting today’s work. I’ll be instructing my secretary to await your full report no later than...” he smiled then, and I knew I really shouldn’t have said anything, “Midnight tonight. She’ll check the time stamp for delivery. Oh, and try to smile more.”

I refused to let my jaw drop. My analytics report usually took me two days to complete. Which was good, seeing as company guidelines dictated up to three workdays for that sort of assignment.

I blame you, I thought at Devil-me. The little bitch tittered and disappeared in an imaginary poof of smoke.

“Of course,” I said, trying to sound as though I meant to do that anyway. That, instead of going out with Neil again.

“Why are you still here? Go,” he said, adding a dismissive wave.

I went back to my cubicle feeling much deflated. I lowered myself into my chair and then pushed the heels of my hands against my closed eyes, relishing the pressure.

God, can this day get any worse?

It didn’t at first. I skipped out on my lunch break, using those extra 45 minutes to get that much closer to finishing my report. I intended on having it down not by midnight, but by no later than 11 that evening.

I operate on spite, I remembered telling Neil. And spite burning pretty damn hot. For a little while, at least. Long enough, I hoped, to get my work done.

I got so into it that I completely forgot to check my phone. Even though in my work trance I thought I heard it buzz against my desk at least once.

Probably Neil, I thought.

That thought brought me out of my trance, at least for a moment.

And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? Wasn’t he?

I didn’t pick any more at that thread of thought. Because I knew if I did everything would unravel quickly, and I didn’t want to deal with that. Not with that deadline looming over me.

I sank back into that work trance, flipping through tabs on my Chrome browser, leafing through the half dozen or so Word and Excel documents also open.

If I had zero interruption, I thought I might actually get it all done.

But trouble came.

Trouble was a leggy platinum blond in Gucci heels, a Birkin bag hanging off one shoulder. I knew what it was because we’d done an online campaign for them earlier in the year. I also knew how much they cost.

Anyway, I didn’t notice her at first. I was working on a slide showing demographic data when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

Being so embroiled in my work, this shocked me. I jerked back against my chair, slamming my knees against the bottom of my desk. My monitor nearly toppled over. I saved it at the last second.

Rather than apologize, the person responsible for my surprise laughed. It reminded me of that titter from imaginary Devil-me.

“Close one!” she said.

“Yeah... Can I help you?” I replied. My knees chose that moment to start aching. I counted myself lucky that I hadn’t gone to grab a coffee or tea at any point. If I had, it would have wound up all over my keyboard and lap.

“Actually, Rachel, I think I can help you.”

At this, I swivelled in my chair so that I faced her. I immediately saw the things I noted earlier. The legginess, the blondness, the hyper-expensive bag and shoes.

She reminded me right away of the bully character in teen high school movies, perfect and prissy with a devilish streak (more like a four-lane highway). And never having received any sort of comeuppance.

“Do we know each other?” I said. I wished I’d had some advance notice of her coming. That way I could’ve run to the washroom and checked my hair, made sure my blouse was still tucked properly into my skirt, that sort of thing.

However, I got the distinct impression that this woman would never have allowed me such an opportunity.

“Not exactly,” she said, “We have a mutual friend, though. Neil Telford.”

“Oh?” I replied.

I looked at her again. Very pretty. Piercing eyes and killer thighs. I bet her boobs were perfectly perky and symmetrical, too.

In short, exactly the type of woman I pictured Neil being with.

Maybe he’s already been with her, some little voice said.

No, I thought back, I refuse to be jealous.

But I was. I mean, who wouldn’t be? This woman was tall, beautiful, and almost certainly filthy rich.

“So,” I said, because I needed to say something, “Neil told you about me?”

“Not at first,” she said, “But I knew anyway.”

“That’s creepy.”

Her perfect eyebrows knitted together, forming two similarly perfect wrinkles between them. “No, it isn’t!” She got control of herself quickly, those brow-wrinkles smoothing out before they could cause any permanent damage to her silky skin. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I’m here to help you.”

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “And how do you think you can help me?”

The mystery woman leaned back so she could peer both ways down the cubicle corridor. Then she leaned back in conspiratorially. I ignored the urge to lean forward. This is ridiculous!

“I know Neil hasn’t told you everything about himself,” she said.

“He’s told me enough. Not that it’s any of your business. Really, can you go? I have work to do.”

She smiled in an infuriating, Oh, isn’t she cute sort of way and then ignored my interruption. “I imagine he told you he’s some sort of executive downtown, hasn’t he? That maybe he keeps not telling you everything about himself?”

I didn’t answer. This was too weird.

She continued, “Then I’m sure it’s going to surprise you to know that Neil is worth billions, and that he owns one of the largest conglomerates on the Eastern Seaboard.”

I smiled. It’s all a joke. Some weird, screwed up joke. “No, there’s no way. Not Neil. He wouldn’t keep something like that from me.”

Would he not?

“He would. Don’t you know why?” she said. She looked as pleased with herself as a fat house cat that had just tipped over a vase full of roses.

While she spoke, she brought out an enormous phone, did something on the screen, and turned it so I could see.

It was the front page of Forbes, dated back a couple of months. I read the headline.

Neil Telford: Billion-Dollar Business with a Smile

The picture was of Neil shaking hands with billionaire investor Warren Buffett. I leaned in for a closer look but she pulled her phone back and dropped it carelessly back into her Birkin bag.

“I don’t understand...” I said. My mind reeled. First Mr. Diehl tearing into me, now this? I couldn’t take it.

“Then let me put it to you simply,” she said, leaning in closer so that I could smell her perfume, “Neil does this sometimes. Goes out with... normal women like you. Then he gets bored and moves on. And he hasn't told you the full truth because he thinks that you’re a gold digger.

“Oh, and don’t you wonder why he never introduced you to any of his friends? It’s because he’d be embarrassed to have, and I mean no offence here, a wage-slave nobody cubicle farmer at one of his parties. Also no offence, but you probably wouldn’t even know what to do at an event like that. You’re his dirty little secret.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I said, feeling shell-shocked. Numbness spread out from the pit of my stomach.

“Because you deserve the truth. And also because Neil is mine. I need him to be done with these stupid games already.”

I looked up into her pretty face, “You two...?”

I told you so, I told you so, I told you so... That same voice in the back of my head. Now louder than ever.

“Well,” she said, practically preening, “Nothing official yet. Soon, though. When he finishes with you. Unless you care to speed the process along?”

“Please leave,” I said, my voice sounding very small even to me.

“What?” she said, leaning in closer.

“Get the hell out of here!” I said, this time my volume swinging in the other direction. All the pent up frustration from my meeting with Mr. Diehl came out.

I turned into a shaking mess of nerves and anger.

She fell back a step, taken by surprise by my outburst. And, I noticed, she wasn’t the only one.

The normal office sounds ceased. No more murmured phone conversations, no tapping of keys, clicking of mice. Just the whir of a copier somewhere. The attentive silence pressed in on me.

I stood up, pushing my chair back as I did. The backrest hit my desk with a loud crack sound. I was annoyed to find that the mystery woman was still taller than I was.

Further annoyed with the thought that even without her heels on she would be taller.

“Get out now. Before I call security,” I said through clenched teeth. I tried saying it quietly, so that only the two of us could hear.

“I’m sorry, but I thought you deserved the truth,” she said.

“I don’t think you’re sorry one bit. And I don’t care. Leave.”

She lingered a moment. Possibly to admire her handiwork. Then she went, her perfect hips swaying the whole way.

I yanked my chair out and sat back down, elbows on desk and face buried in my palms. Slowly the office returned to normal around me. Small comfort.

Because he thinks you’re a gold digger. He dates women like you sometimes. Then when he gets bored he moves on.

Why wouldn’t he tell me?

Dirty little secret, that’s why.

Even though it hurt a little, I thought I could understand him holding something like that back at first. Because women like that existed out there. Ones who’d want him for his bank account.

But it had been what, a month by this point?

And he still doesn’t trust me enough to tell me?

I thought again about how I wanted to come out and tell him how I really felt about him. The more cynical part of me wondered if that was his usual game. Make the woman commit and then dump her.

I thought right away that that wasn’t right. But I couldn’t deny that thought did occur to me.

The air conditioning kicked on. The stirring of the air brought a whiff of that woman’s perfume up to my nose.

I waved at the air in front of me, trying to dispel that smell.

My phone buzzed again.

I picked it up, saw a couple of message alerts on the lock screen. I opened them up. The first was from Suzy. The second was from Neil. I opened his right away.

I need to see you tonight. Big news. Say yes.

I started typing in a reply, but deleted it. I couldn’t deal with all of this. Not on top of having a huge assignment due.

And I definitely wasn’t getting that done by 11 that night. Not with all these interruptions. Not with all this crap on my mind.

So I decided to ignore him, promising myself to get to the bottom of all this later.

I tried to get back to work, but couldn’t. My mind kept racing off the rails. Finally, I thought of Suzy and her text.

I took my phone again, opened up her message. She was asking about the coming weekend. I sent her a message, asking if she would mind coming over to my place late that night. That I knew it was really late, but that something big had come up and I really needed someone to talk to.

I wrote that I thought Neil and I might be through.

She replied almost instantly.

Of course I’ll be there!