Chapter Three
Jason
Another fucking holiday party. There should have been a rule that bosses weren't allowed to force their employees to fraternize outside of work hours. What were these supposed to do: build morale and friendships? Two things that took a nosedive when I had to spend one minute more than I had to with some of the people who I worked with. I spent more time with these people than I did my actual friends, but that was out of necessity, not because I liked them. Tell me, outside of work, what the hell did me and a lighting technician have in common?
I sat at the bar, bored out of my fucking mind. These things on paper were attendance optional, but really, if you wanted to keep your job, you came. I took a swig of my drink; the whiskey burned a little on its way down. The good stuff: Vicky didn't skimp on the booze when she put together these shindigs; she knew how much we'd need the lubrication. I threw a glance over my shoulder. People milled around the studio space with drinks, laughing and talking, counting the hours till it was safe to ditch.
Did I work with all these people? Seriously? Half of them I couldn't name if my life depended on it. There was one face I couldn't see though: Shelby's. I took another swig of my drink. That bitch. Who the hell did she think she was, quitting on me? A lot of other people had, but I had been hopeful about her. She seemed like she could actually keep up with me; finally, someone who could. I rode my writers hard, of course, I did. I had standards for myself and for the people who worked for me. She could have gone a long way if she hadn't caved and decided to run off to find someone who wouldn't push her to her full potential.
Her fucking loss, I thought, taking another drink. I emptied my glass and motioned to the bartender to fill me back up. I scanned the crowd again. Rumor had it that she was coming. I had heard one of the camera guys, Sam, saying something about that. I wanted to see whether he was telling the truth or not. She might have quit, but we weren't done. It wasn't done till I fucking said it was.
About a quarter through my fresh drink, I finally saw her. I had seen the woman almost every day for about a year now, but that meant nothing seeing her walk into the party tonight. She always dressed nicely for work: fitted skirts, blazers, and blouses that showed off her curvy frame but were workplace appropriate. Guess this wasn't her workplace anymore, so she didn't have to care about the dress code.
Her dress was red, and if the neckline dipped any lower, it would be pornographic. She kept the girls covered for work, but I knew she had a nice pair on her, I just hadn't known how nice exactly. She had luscious, round tits, C cups at least, if not better. Her dress had no sleeves and came down to about her knees. The skirt of the dress flared over her round, shapely hips. She always wore heels, but the black stilettos she had on tonight screamed fuck-me. Looking at her, I realized why I thought she looked so different: I had never seen her with her hair down. It was long, falling over her shoulders and down her back in bouncy curls. Shelby Aster, that was what you had under those fucking suits all this time?
I shook my head, taking another drink. She was pretty, that wasn't news to me. I fucking knew that, but we had never seen each other outside of work, ever. Her private life was a total mystery to me. She wore rings sometimes but not the one on the finger that meant she was someone's wife, I thought. That meant she was available. She was hot, so what? Couldn't I say it if it was a fact? No. The way things were between us, probably not. Looking at her now, all those nights working late together… I could have—
"Jason, I almost thought you didn't make it."
Someone's voice broke me out of my thoughts. I turned and saw a woman in the spot next to me that had been empty since I had sat down. I looked at her and fuck if I was supposed to know who she was. We worked together apparently, but I had never seen her in my life. If I had, I hadn't been paying attention, like now. She looked kind of short, and her tits were too big for her top, but she had caught me on a bad night. I wasn't interested. I looked back over my shoulder to see if I could spot Shelby again.
"Uh-huh," I said to her, distracted. She put her hand on my arm, and I moved it reflexively.
"Do you mind," I said pointedly, looking at the stool she was sitting on.
"Oh, were you waiting for someone?" she asked, playing dumb. I smiled tightly at her, but she took it as encouragement. "Lucky me, I beat her here."
"Hm, nice try, sweetheart," I said, looking back at the crowd, trying to get a lock on Shelby.
"Who do you keep looking for?" she finally asked. Shelby was standing in a small group, two men and two women besides her. They were holding drinks, and she was listening to one of the men talk with a wide smile on her face.
"Not you, do you fucking mind?" I snapped. She got up, looking hurt but I didn't care. I was still watching Shelby. The man she was standing next to put his arm around her shoulders to tell her something in her ear. She laughed, and it made my blood boil. What the hell was so funny? Why'd he have to hold her like that to talk to her? I caught myself, turning back around in my seat. What the hell, Bowman? She's here to have a good time with her ex-coworkers. Relax. I had been bored before she had shown up, but now I was... I didn't know what I was. I was on edge, but I didn't know why. She had the nerve to walk in here looking like that after quitting on me, cozying up with all these motherfuckers she barely saw day to day. Not so much as even a fucking hello my way?
I downed the rest of my glass and got up. She was still in the group, chatting. I ran a hand through my hair, composing myself, and walked over. I zeroed in on her; everything stopped around us as I approached. She noticed me walking up and looked at me. A woman next to her had been talking and fell silent when I got to them.
"Shelby," I said, smiling at her, "it's great to see you."
"And you," she replied, politely. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She had on more makeup than usual, but in a good way. Pink lipstick and dark eye shadow that made her look less like the Shelby I wanted to talk to and more like the Shelby I wanted to fuck. "I'm going to get another drink; anyone want anything?" she asked suddenly. Everyone said they were okay so she started walking over to the bar. I followed her, grabbing her arm to make her stop.
"Shelby—"
"What the hell are you doing? Get off of me," she said, shaking me off.
"I need to talk to you."
"Oh, do you?" she asked sarcastically. "That's nice, but newsflash: the only reason I ever listened to you was because I was getting paid to do it."
"Shelby, don't argue with me."
"Then leave me alone," she snapped.
"Come here," I said, reaching for her arm again. She jerked away like my hand was a flame and she was trying to get away from it.
"Oh no, you want to say something to me, say it here. You had no problem yelling in front of the whole crew when I worked for you," she said.
"Still can't listen to simple instructions. Glad to see you're taking your same tireless work ethic somewhere else," I sniped. “All I want to do is talk to you. Can’t we at least do that?” The answer to that question, looking at her face was a big fat no, but she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
“You have five minutes,” she said shortly, turning on her heel and making her way towards the exit. I had won, kind of. She probably just didn't want to make a scene. I had almost forgotten how feisty she was. That had always been one of the things that I liked about her the most. It had come through in her work. We exited the room and found ourselves in a hallway. The control room was the closest room to us; I tried the door and found it unlocked.
“Here,” I said, opening it and walking in, waiting for her to do the same before closing the door.
"You fucking psycho," she raged. She swung and her palm made contact with my cheek. My hand went to my face, touching my cheek. It stung but mostly it was the shock.I knew better than to think she liked me, but I never thought she hated me.
"Calm down; I just wanted to talk to you."
"Eleven long, thankless months I did nothing but listen to you talk down to me; I doubt you have anything else that I could possibly want to hear."
"Jesus Christ, I just want to apologize, Shelby."
"For what? Being an asshole, an impossible person to work with, talking down to me at work, making ridiculous demands because you're bored?" she listed. I cringed a little. She was mad. I had never seen her this upset with me.
"For everything. I was wrong. You were a valuable asset to me that I recognized too late. I know you quit, but I hope you can reconsider." She scoffed and crossed her arms.
"Incredible. Now you want me back? Now that I don't work for you anymore I'm a valuable asset?"
"You're good at your job, Shelby. Honestly one of the best I've met."
"That's sweet, but it's a little too late for that."
"I said I was sorry; what else do you want?"
"You can be as sorry as you want, you're still too late. You're not the only one who thinks I'm a valuable asset, Jason."
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean I got another job," she said, smirking. She scoffed again, a harsh, short laugh. "Don't look so surprised, Jason; you said it yourself. I'm good at my job." What had it been? Less than a week since she had left and she already had another job? There was no way she had sent in an application and they had gotten back to her that fast. That had to mean... she had had other offers. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had underestimated her. She had been getting offers while we had been working together, and that had probably been why she hadn't hesitated to quit; she already had work lined up. I had worked her hard because I had known that she could take it. Good job, Bowman, you just trained her to work for someone else.