Madison

It’s been three days since my night with Cal. My body craves him, and I’ve been using that memory to get off. The way his lips pressed on my skin. His dirty words and how they made my pussy clench and wet with need. It’s the best sex I’ve had—not that I have much to compare it to.

I feel like an asshole for leaving in the middle of the night. I left him a note, letting him know if it’s supposed to happen, then we’ll meet in the middle. I wonder if I had left him my number if he would’ve used it. Then again, something tells me Cal has no trouble getting numbers, so mine would simply be added to the pile.

“Are you ready?” Kaylee asks, coming into the kitchen and taking her coffee canister with her. “I cannot believe you’re working with me. I know this isn’t what you want, but it’ll be fun. Think about it as a foot in the door. You’ve got to start from the bottom and work your way up, but then once you’re there, you’re going to celebrate and shine because that’s the type of woman you are, babe.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

In the car, Kaylee talks about another failed date, and I can’t stop thinking about Cal. How does one night turn into this?

“Hello! Earth to Madison!”

“Huh?”

Kaylee’s silent for a few beats before saying, “You’ve been off since that night. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what you said when you came home. I didn’t want to ask you about what happened because I figured you’d tell me, but since you didn’t, now I’m going to ask. What happened?”

My body heats as I remember the way Cal cherished me and brought my body to a level of euphoria I’ve never been to. With a deep breath, I tell Kaylee about our conversation at the bar, then what happened in the hotel room, and leaving in the middle of the night.

“So you didn’t leave your number?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to go back to the moment I picked up the pen and wrote him the note. “Nope.”

“Wow.” She drags out the word and then grows quiet again. I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say. “Madison, I’m so glad your vag got some action and you finally know what an orgasm feels like. The way you talk about him ... are you still thinking about him?” I don’t answer, afraid if I say it aloud, my heart will hammer through my chest. “You just got out of a relationship with an asshole, and you’re healing. You don’t need another man to hurt you. Take that night for what it was and move on.” She pats my thigh, and I let her words sink in.

We get to work and head to the employee lounge. The room’s fairly big and comfortable. The idea of being someone’s personal stylist is unnerving. I didn’t think I’d be here. Throughout my college years, I imagined myself in a large office, overlooking downtown Chicago, making my mark as a successful businesswoman. Since that’s not happening, I’ll have to settle for this job. I need to start somewhere. Nowadays having a degree sometimes means nothing. Companies want experience and a degree. Well, how in the world can a college grad have experience if there isn’t any provided? Employers should trust that a degree represents something. It’s an accomplishment, not just a piece of paper with signatures and words. It’s a certificate of completion. A credential to show endless nights of studying, coffee and more coffee, and getting an unpaid internship.

A degree represents hard work and dedication. That in and of itself should speak volumes.

Pushing away the frustration, I take another peek in the mirror, and an internal groan nearly escapes. My reflection’s staring back at me, wondering how I’m going to conquer the business world and leave my mark. All while I’m someone else’s bitch. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“Baby steps.” I repeat this mantra a few times, inhaling calming breaths and letting it slowly leave my lips.

“Are you feeling good?” Kaylee asks with a slight concern in her tone.

Kaylee and I have been friends since we were babies. Our mothers were best friends, so we grew up together. She’s the jelly to my peanut butter sandwich and the cheese to my grilled cheese sandwich.

Kaylee puts her things in the locker and steps over to me to hand me her lip gloss. Her beautiful dark brown hair is in wavy curls, and she’s wearing a flattering knee-length gray dress.

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to get me this job?” We’ve been through a lot together—from starring in our first-grade play to going through each stage of our lives together—and now we’re co-workers, living the life. If Kaylee had anything to do with this, I’d be highly upset. All my life, people have made it a point to always do something for me. Especially my father. He’s the worst.

Throughout my life, he ensured each teacher I had knew to pass me with an A. At times, I knew I didn’t deserve that grade, but I didn’t catch on until my senior year. Once I got to college, I made him promise not to interfere. He stayed away, but I knew his minions lurked around every corner. When I graduated, I told him I didn’t want any more of his money. I wanted to earn my own way and learn how to be independent. It was what my mom instilled in me.

My father means well. I know he loves me and just wants to take care of me. It’s only us now. At times, I’ve given in to appease him, but I never take his generosity for granted.

Throughout my years in college, he put money into my account, and I used it when I needed books and food—the essentials. Even with my scholarships, I still had to pay, and my father signed a check every semester.

I worked at a coffee shop and a bar during college. The tips at the bar were always good. My coffee shop job was something fast-paced to do for fun. I only worked three hours in the morning, then bartended Thursday through Saturday nights. My paycheck from the coffee shop was only a little over a hundred a week. Then when I bartended, I usually made anywhere between two hundred to three hundred and fifty dollars a night at the bar since it was in a college town. Thirsty Thursdays were the busiest, and I easily walked out with three hundred dollars on those nights. Fridays were okay, and Saturdays were the second busiest.

On Sundays, my father and I had dinner, and we talked about my jobs, school, and my future. With my degree and background in business and marketing, I’d be an immense asset to his company. Since he’s overprotective and enjoys knowing every detail of my life, it wouldn’t work out. He’d micromanage me, and I’d feel like I was under the microscope.

I love business and I have goals I want to achieve on my own. If I get handed a job, then how will I push myself without working hard to earn it? Upon graduating, I had several interviews scheduled. I prepared and studied each company. I was sure I’d done well in my interviews, but the business world is competitive. Maybe I didn’t hear back from the other companies since I didn’t graduate from Harvard or one of those other prestigious schools. I shake my head. Columbia is a prestigious school. Whatever the issue, I need to be thankful I have a well-paying job.

“I promise you. I know you didn’t want me involved, and you wanted to do something for yourself. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay. Fine. Do you think it’s weird, though? The interview went horribly. I was ten minutes late because of traffic.” Our apartment is in Oak Park, but the commute to Chicago isn’t too bad. It’s a two bedroom with lots of space and located in a safe area. Hopefully, we’ll move to downtown Chicago in a few months. I groan when I think about the interview I had to get this job. “And I knocked papers off his desk.” Major embarrassment. I didn’t think they’d call me as soon as they did.

Kaylee waves me off. “Who cares? Obviously, they don’t, so you shouldn’t worry.” She laughs. “But in all seriousness, you’re so smart. You made an impression during your interview, or they wouldn’t have hired you. Believe in yourself!”

Once we’re on the sales floor, Kaylee and I head over to our supervisor, Glenn. He smiles brightly gives us a pep talk, making sure we know to always smile and never ever give our clients attitude. Even if we’re busy with someone else, we need to ensure we treat everyone in our area well.

“Okay, team. Go make me proud!”

Before I’m able to follow Kaylee, Glenn pulls me aside. “Is everything okay?” I question, wondering if I have already done something wrong.

“Yes, yes. Of course. I don’t normally do this to new employees, but you impressed me with your assessment. I love your ideas and your vision, so that’s why you’ve been assigned as Bryce Hunter’s personal stylist. Mr. Hunter spends a lot of money here, so we treat him with extra love and care. You’ll be going to his place of work to meet with him, and you’ll be at his disposal. I will warn you; if he hates you, then I will have to let you go. So please … impress him with your vision.”

Holy. Fuck. What?

“Glenn, I really appreciate this, but are you sure you don’t want to give this client to Kaylee? She’s been working for you for three years, and she’s so much better at this than I am.”

Unlike me, Kaylee didn’t connect with the college vibe. Once she decided college wasn’t for her, she looked through the papers, social media, and even Googled businesses around the area until she landed this job and has loved it ever since.

He shakes his head. “No. You. I need you to please Mr. Hunter and always, always make sure he’s happy. Madison, when I tell you he spends a lot of money here, it’s an insane amount. Plus, he requested you. Personally.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Excuse me? How does he know me?” I point my finger at my chest.

“We made an announcement on the website welcoming you to our team.” Glenn sighs and rolls his eyes. “Do you not check the website?” He throws up his arms and adjusts his glasses. “Okay. Regardless. Whatever Mr. Hunter wants, Mr. Hunter gets. It’ll be your job to make it happen. If that man wants something absurd, I don’t care how far out there it is, you will make it happen. Say it with me. Make. It. Happen.”

I don’t say it with him.

“So he’s extremely rich, demanding, and a slightly pompous ass?” I try hard not sound sarcastic. Who does this man think he is to personally request me? I should feel honored and happy, but something about this whole thing isn’t sitting well with me.

“Very. He needs to always look his best, and when he needs to attend events, we ensure his date gets the same care as he does.”

He sounds like a diva. Great. An adult frat boy living off Daddy’s money. “Thank you for trusting me with Mr. Hunter’s account. Where should I go?”

Glenn gives me the address and keys to the company car. Mr. Hunter’s office is close but not within walking distance. I grab a few magazines, my portfolio, and my purse before heading out.

Jumping in the dark blue Acura, I replay Glenn’s instructions, well, his warning too, in my head. I’m not looking forward to this meeting at all. I avoid men like Bryce Hunter at all costs. He sounds like a pretentious ass. I mean, first, why can’t he come to the store like everyone else? I get that he spends a lot of money, but what about our other clients? From what Glenn said, it seems as though Mr. Hunter expects people to bow down to his feet. He’ll say jump, and we’re expected to respond with how high? Oh, no. Not this girl.