Chapter Eight
We spend the morning and early afternoon in very intense meetings and I am relieved when we are able to get back to the hotel. From what I can tell, we did very well, but the extreme formality of business at this level makes me uneasy. I much prefer the development process. I will leave the boardroom presentations to the likes of Henry, who seems to thrive in front of a room full of emotionless faces.
I enter my suite, kick off my shoes and fall back on the bed, taking a big sigh. As soon as I let the air out of my lungs, I hear a text alert.
Mr. Holden:
Meeting in my suite in 10 minutes
So much for taking a break. I gather my things to go to Taylor’s suite. There’s nothing productive I can do in the next 10 minutes, so I head over there right away. Taylor’s room is just down the hall from mine. I gently knock on the door and I hear Taylor’s voice faintly in the distance. He cracks the door open and smiles warmly.
“Hey Shy, I didn’t expect you for another ten minutes,” he says as he opens the door for me to enter. He called me Shy again. This morning Taylor and I were in full-on business mode and didn’t have any time for small talk, so I feel like this is the first time I am seeing him today.
“Oh sorry, I was ready to go, so I just thought I would come on over.” I notice his white shirt is halfway unbuttoned revealing his undershirt. Clearly, he was trying to change before the meeting. How inconsiderate of me. “ I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can come back in ten minutes, I’m just down the hall.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I was just changing my shirt. Come in.” As he says this I eye his colossal suite. I thought mine was amazing. His has several large rooms, one of which he has set up as a meeting room. When my eyes come back to him he is in the midst of removing his shirt. Underneath he is wearing a white, short-sleeved cotton undershirt. I think his body was made for T-shirts. “I’ll be right back.” He vanishes into what I assume is the bedroom. While he is in there, there is another knock on the door. I let in Henry, who gives me a big high-five. He is clearly very pleased with his presentation.
“Did we nail it or what?” We did? I only saw a bunch of Russian men stoically watching Henry speak. Maybe the fact that they didn’t curse at us or attack us is supposed to mean they loved us. Taylor comes out of the room still wearing his white T and a pair of flat front khakis that fit perfectly over his slim hips. He pours three glasses of what I believe is whisky and hands them out.
“I just wanted to let you both know that I think you did an excellent job today. While nothing is official, they were very pleased with our proposal. I know how much time and effort went into this. All I ask is that you give me your best effort and I believe you have. We should know for sure by the time we get back to the US whether or not we have been chosen. The gala is where we can seal the deal by going the extra mile. All the decision makers will be there and we want to appeal to them on a more intimate level. Tomorrow, the tables will turn and we will be courted as they seek foreign investment into newly privatized sectors. If we play our cards right, they will sign onto the fiber optics deal to attract our further investment into the country. This is all ours to fuck up. Let’s finish what we started today. Salud!” We are all smiles during the toast. So far, I have mostly seen the stoic, plow through H.I. headquarters type of boss. This is my first official Taylor Holden pep talk. I presume he reserves this for his very small inner circle that I am now a part of.
“Alright, before we head to bed very early like good little workers...” he very purposefully looks over in Henry’s direction as he says this, “let’s look over some final facts and figures. The people we interact with tomorrow will be the very same people who can influence a deal worth hundreds of millions to H.I.” I guess the toast was just meant to make looking at charts, graphs, numbers, numbers and more numbers seem less grueling.
Day two consists of touring factories and sitting in boardrooms negotiating the purchases of stock into various sectors of newly privatized industries. There is s a lot of negotiating and usage of terms way above my paygrade. Quite frankly, my main responsibility was to keep track of our tight schedule and make sure things ran as smoothly as possible for Taylor. This workday was much longer than the previous one and we do not return to the hotel until about 5:30pm. I feel completely spent and plan to go to bed early. As I am toweling off after a hot shower, I hear a text come through on my cellphone.
Henry:
The hardest part is done! Want to go clubbing tonight?
I feel really lame because I want nothing more than to cozy up to my bed and watch a movie rental, but part of me is curious to see if Taylor is going. I would love to see him hang out with Henry, who I figure at this point might be his best friend. I am also curious to see how he copes with his rules and rituals in a real-world setting like a club. I am sure women try to dance with him and touch him all the time. Then I have a little sinister thought: Clubwear and workwear are two different animals. I would love to see his eyes if I appeared with full makeup, hair and a tight little number. His eyes won’t lie and I just want to know if he thinks I am attractive.
Shyla:
Who’s all going?
Henry:
Me, Taylor, Lizzy, and you if you say yes.
Shyla:
Ok, I’m in. I’ll see you later.
Lizzy is a blast. She is brilliant, witty, and we clicked when we meet just a week before she left to Russia ahead of us. Lizzy is H.I.’s “French-Canadian Import,” as she likes to call herself, and is the VP of international sales who masterminded this entire fiber optics bid. She is older than Taylor, but has such an incredibly youthful energy about her. Her attendance excites me as I want her opinion while I play dress up tonight.
I take a nap otherwise I will not make it past ten o’clock. It’s about nine thirty when Lizzy knocks on my door. She looks great, her short blonde hair is slicked back; she is sporting dark eye makeup and a glittery silver mini dress.
“Hey you! Ready to paaartay?”
“I am sure you are ready seeing you are probably going to make a ridiculously sick bonus from all of this if the deal goes through. You have to help me choose an outfit.”
“Oh it will, and that means drinks are on me tonight as you were all instrumental in making this happen.”
“That’s if Taylor lets you.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.” She is already rummaging through my clothes. “Oooooh, how about this!” She pulls out a red mini tank dress with a low scoop back made from a fabulous slinky material. It was packed in a moment of just-in-case-we-do-something-that-requires-a-slutty-outfit inspiration and I had totally forgotten about it.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s really short and tight and I work with these guys for Christ’s sake.”
“We’re off duty and you will soon learn that we are all like family. Taylor won’t care, trust me. Do it!” She is so persuasive, and she loves to have a partner in crime. I have learned this much in the short time that I have known her.
“Okay! Okay!” I say as I snatch the dress out of her hand. I use the makeup Taylor bought for me just two weeks ago. I go with smoky eyes and red lipstick to match the dress. I put on a pair of sky-high black Louboutin strappy sandals selected by Mona that I haven’t had the guts or the pain tolerance to wear. I leave my bangs out and braid the rest of my hair into a fishtail braid that lays over my right shoulder, showing off my exposed back.
“Shy-la!” Lizzy exclaims this as I walk out of the bedroom. “You look ridiculously smoking! I mean you are always adorable, but this is stupefyingly sexy!” This girl knows how to flatter.
“I don’t know, I think it might be too much.”
“It’s not! Plus there’s no time, the guys are already waiting downstairs.” She hands me my purse and cell phone as if not to allow a second thought to cross my mind.
As we walk out the hotel lobby, I see Taylor on his cell phone while pacing back and forth outside of the SUV that has been shuttling us all over St. Petersburg.
“Taylor!” Lizzy calls out as we walk towards the car. I suddenly feel really shy and wish for a giant sweater. His eyes quickly dart from Lizzy to me. He doesn’t say anything, his expression is unreadable. Although, I do swear I see his eyes widen for a millisecond. His reception is much colder than what I expected. Lizzy slides into the car. Taylor says nothing as he signals for me to get in behind her. I knew this was a bad idea.
“Shyla, holy shit!” I am really beginning to regret this outfit. It seems to be getting attention from the wrong guy. I wonder if Henry ever worries about sexual harassment lawsuits. Taylor is quieter than normal, which means he is completely silent. Henry pops a bottle of Cristal in the car and while we all take glasses, Taylor barely takes a sip. I, on the other hand, decide that alcohol will be the only way to become comfortable in my own skin so I guzzle down a couple of glasses before we even arrive at the club. It doesn’t take many drinks for me to feel the effects of the alcohol as warmth and giddiness oozes over me. We are immediately escorted past the lines when we arrive to the club and I remember what Taylor had asked me just days before. Without hesitation, and thanks to the alcohol I just consumed, I grab Taylor’s hand and practically pull him into the club. He looks stunned, but doesn’t make any remark. “I figure this could be practice for the gala!” I shout over the crowd. He lets the faintest smirk creep through. I wonder if he is anxious, but I don’t want to bring up the subject. Anonymity may be in his favor. No one is trying to talk to him, or shake his hand, although I do notice several women and a guy eye him lustfully.
We are seated at a VIP section where bottles on ice are already waiting for us. I go into autopilot, intercepting drinks for him is becoming second nature. About an hour into our time at the club, I am officially drunk. This means I am much more loose and playful than my usual self. Lizzy pulls me up off of the couch to dance and I oblige. She drags me onto the dance floor where there is an endless ocean of bodies. It’s so loud I can barely make out a word she is saying to me, but I can tell she is completely hammered too. I lost track of Henry a while ago, but then I spot him dancing very closely with a leggy Russian girl. Oh Henry! When I turn my attention back to Lizzy, she is gone. I can’t find her at all. Now that I have to navigate my surroundings on my own, it dawns on me how drunk I really am. If not for the fact that I am completely surrounded by people, I would barely be able to walk straight.
I feel someone take me by the arm and pull me close. He starts to sway his hips and I follow. He is very young looking, maybe 21 years old. He has blond hair, blue eyes, and is boyishly handsome. I figure if I just stay put and dance with him, that Lizzy will come back. Five minutes pass and no sign of Lizzy. I begin to feel dizzy and sick and I don’t know what else to do other than pull away from this guy and try to find my way back to the VIP section. I start to work my way through the crowd, and what earlier felt like a fun, bouncy group of people, now feels like an aggressive mob, bumping, elbowing, and shoving me around. I just want to get back to Taylor. His firm presence is such an anchor. I finally pull away from the dance floor and find myself in a dark hallway that houses the bathrooms. As I turn around to get my bearings, I see the young man I was dancing with is just behind me. I look down the hallway and see couple after couple passionately making out. I realize this guy might be getting the wrong idea. Propping my hand up against the wall is my only defense from falling over. These damned heels are making walking without support a near impossibility. The stranger leans his body against mine and I feel him kissing against my neck. I try to push him off, but he just leans harder against me. Then I feel his hardness against my pelvis. While I begin to panic internally, my movements and gestures feel so slow. I look around to see if anyone notices this guy forcing himself on me, but no one is paying attention. I feel his cold, clammy hand on the exposed skin of my mid back and it sets a course of adrenaline through me that allows me to give him one good shove. Then I hear what I believe are two men shouting in Russian, I feel someone grab my arm, which makes me panic even more. “Shy! It’s me Shy! We are leaving now.” Great. Even though I know I am in trouble, his presence automatically grounds me and I know that everything is okay now. I am safe.
With his arm around my waist, he practically carries me to the SUV. His hand on my bare back excites me. Once I am able to get a good look at this face I see he looks none too pleased. He makes a call.
“Henry? Can you hear me? We are going back to my room, Shy is fucking wasted and she nearly got herself into some trouble. Where is Lizzy? They were supposed to stick together!”
“I’m sorry.” I sound drunk. “Is Lizzy in trouble? It wasn’t her fault. We got separated.”
“No, Shy, no one is in trouble. We’re all adults here. But you could have been in big trouble. Do you realize you are an attractive foreigner who sticks out like a sore thumb? You are clearly a tourist and dressed like that, you cannot get so drunk that you lose your wits.”
“Dressed like this?” I ask, feeling a bit attacked.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You look great, that’s my point. I just knew when you stepped out tonight I was going to have to spend the night fending off guys, but I didn’t realize it would be that bad.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin the night. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t ruin my night. I am just a little freaked out by what I just saw. Do you have any idea what could have happened?” I bow my head in shame, feeling like a reprimanded child. At the same time, he is showing a level of concern for me I didn’t know he was capable of. He looks so pouty gazing out of the window. I want to kiss him so badly, but even though I am drunk, I am still rational enough to know that would be incredibly stupid. I wonder if tonight’s festivities have crossed some other work relationship boundary. It’s not everyday your boss saves you from a potential sexual predator when you are too drunk to save yourself.
***
The next morning, I wake up to what I can only describe as a vice tightening around my skull. I see blonde hair and my heart races for a second, remembering the guy I danced with the night before. My foggy memories pour in very quickly and I remember leaving the club with Taylor, him screaming in Russian to the blonde guy, and Taylor reprimanding me in the car. That’s as far as I can recall. The blonde next to me now is Lizzy. As I peel myself off of the bed, my body aches. I am so hungover, and every cell in my being feels miserable. I recognize we are in Taylor’s suite. What the hell happened last night? Do I even want to know? I look down and see that I am still wearing the red dress, except it has rolled up to the middle of my waist. I tug it down and very slowly walk out of the bedroom and into the main area.
Taylor is seated at the table, a full breakfast spread in front of him and an iPad in his hands.
“Good morning,” I croak.
“Good morning Shy.” He looks amused. How cruel, to be amused by my pain and humiliation. “You should have some coffee. Take a seat.”
“What happened?”
“Do you remember last night?”
“Well, yes, in parts. I remember everything up to the SUV and then that’s it. Why is Lizzy in the bed with me?”
“It appears Lizzy had just as much to drink as you did. I told Henry he and Lizzy could come back here, but there wasn’t much of a party. Lizzy wasn’t feeling too hot herself. I volunteered to make sure you both were taken care of. Welcome to Holden Enterprises, where top level executives act like college students.”
His comment is a punch to the gut. “Taylor, I am so sorry. This is so embarrassing. You have to know I am not like this...”
“I could tell you don’t drink much.”
My smile turns into a wince, as a wave of nausea hits me. “I haven’t partied like that since college and I guess I didn’t account for the lack of practice. I feel like such an idiot. This is inexcusable.”
“Listen, I took you there. I made it clear it was okay to party last night. Don’t beat yourself up about it. When you see Henry and Lizzy, you’ll feel like a champ. As long as you work hard and get results, I don’t care what else you do.” Taylor pours me a cup of coffee.
“I feel so sick. Did I puke last night?”
“No, but I was concerned you would and I wanted to make sure neither one of you ended up on your backs.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t want you to choke.”
“Oooh. Ok.”
“The other meaning too, which is why I had to pull you away from that sleazebag.”
“Oh no! That guy! I almost forgot. I’m even more embarrassed. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” I bury my head in my hands out of sheer frustration with myself.
“The guy was a jerk.”
“Not that I will ever tell Rick, but he appreciates what you did for me last night.” Taylor’s face becomes solemn and he looks down to take a sip of his coffee. The mood of our conversation changes so quickly. “Are you mad at me Taylor?”
“No, Shy. I get it. I know you don’t drink a lot and you overestimated the amount you can handle. Just don’t pull that crap again. I can’t always be around to rescue you. Just think what could have happened if I wasn’t there.”
“I’m sorry.” I look down with a pout, doing my best to use my baby face to garner some sympathy. “I acted really stupid last night. I don’t think you realize how incredibly embarrassed I am at this very moment.
“Again, I don’t care about the partying, as long as you produce results. I just don’t want you to get hurt is all.”
“You don’t ever get drunk, do you?”
“If you mean do I like to drink until the point where my cognitive and motor skills are significantly impaired? The answer is no. I haven’t done that since college. I do enjoy some responsible drinking to take the edge off.”
“You didn’t drink last night.”
“Well when I saw...Nevermind.”
“What?” I ask. I hate when he does that. Taylor eyes look past me and he shakes his head disapprovingly. I turn around to see a very disheveled, and worn-out Lizzy.
“Fuck me.” She says, scratching her head. “Did you lay me out on the road last night and drive over me back and forth with the SUV?” I am beginning to learn that Taylor may appear to be a stern businessman, but the people he keeps closest to him are some of the most interesting characters at H.I. Lizzy sits down at the other open chair and pours herself a cup of coffee. “Did I have fun last night?” she asks. “Taylor, don’t look at me like that.”
“Did you know you left Shy out on the dance floor and she was nearly attacked?” Taylor scolds, half serious, and half mockingly.
“Oh my god! What happened Shyla?”
“Nothing. Besides this massive hangover, I am fine. Can we just move past last night? I made a fool out of myself and the embarrassment is punishment enough” I rise to go to the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair looks like a nest and my eyes are completely encircled in smudged makeup. Awesome.
“Sure thing ladies,” Taylor says rising from the table. “You are both going to love what I have planned for us this afternoon.” He grins mischievously.
***
Taylor planned a surprise for the H.I. staff in Russia to thank us for all the hard work we put in. Now, here we are, on a fucking boat. I am hungover on a fucking yacht. The catered food looks amazing, but I can’t stand the sight of it. Taylor was kind enough keep the boat anchored for a while so that the rocking wouldn’t be so terrible. What I feel most terrible about though, is that he spent all of his time and money (or Marsha did) on this lovely outing, and Lizzy and I are ruining it for everyone. I take a nap in the bedroom and hope that I will feel normal enough when I wake up to tolerate the trips to the numerous canals and rivers of St. Petersburg.
I wake up to the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming toward me. When I open my eyes, Taylor is sitting on the chair next to the bed. I try quickly to regain my wits; I don’t like the idea of him catching me off guard and possibly looking like hell again.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes, I brought you some coffee and food. You’ll continue to feel sick unless you get something into your system.” I know he is right, but the first bite is the hardest. I take the plate from his hand and take a peck from one of the crackers.
“I feel so badly that I can’t enjoy what you planned out for us. It is amazing. I am really sorry. I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was great to see you all have some fun, even if it didn’t end on the perfect note. I just hope you feel well enough to join us upstairs when we get moving.” Today his hair is shaggy, and he is wearing a pair of khakis with a thick, heather gray, cable knit cardigan and boat shoes. He looks like he belongs on a billboard. I take him in as I slowly ingest the crackers. I can’t help but smile.
“What?” he asks with defensive playfulness, as if I am mocking him.
“Taylor, can you believe we met just weeks ago?” I watch him ponder the thought and he grins his crooked grin.
“No Shy, it feels like I have known you much longer.” I smile. I feel like I have known you forever too. I can’t say it though, he is still too unpredictable. I still don’t know when I will get Taylor or when I will get Mr. Holden. A comment like that will make him clam up again. Things have been so relaxed between us on this trip, even after last night’s drama. Maybe I have worn him down. Maybe he realizes he doesn’t have to put up the persona with me.
“You are a great boss. All of the people around you want to do right by you because you treat us all so well.” I look into his crystal eyes and I think I see them glisten, but I can’t be sure.
“Thanks Shy. I was right about you. I’ll see you upstairs hopefully.” He stands up and heads out of the room. He always does that, stops the conversation just when I feel we are connecting. I wonder how he would have reacted if I told him that I felt like I knew him too, that I feel an inexplicable connection, that he is all I think about. I quickly rid my head of those wandering thoughts. They are childish and dangerous and I cannot let them take a life of their own.
Taylor was right, the food, while not completely curing me of my hangover, makes me feel strong enough to join the group. I head upstairs to warm welcomes from the gang and we spend the afternoon exploring the waters of St. Petersburg.