Blinking and walking unsteadily down the hall, I try to remember if I’d even fallen asleep or not. But more pounding on the door of my apartment has my eyes opening wider.
“Vera! Open up, already!”
It would seem that I can only dodge Dexter’s calls for so long, and he’s now taken it upon himself to bang down my door at ten thirty at night. What a catch. I really know how to pick them.
“Dexter, you do know it’s been a few days, right? No point showing up now and at this hour.” I swing open the door and hiss at him.
He stumbles back a step. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”
Leaning a hip against the doorframe, I pretend to think about it. “Hmmm … let’s see; maybe it’s because you left me stranded on the side of the highway. Though I could be wrong.” I glare at him. “Nope, actually, I think I’m absolutely right.”
He scowls, taking a step closer to me. “I came back for you, and you weren’t there. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
A disbelieving laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not leave your girlfriend stranded somewhere dangerous by herself? Or maybe, check in on her well-being well before now?”
He ignores me and changes the subject. “If this is about the house, we can discuss it. I’ll find us something different, something smaller. If you want.” His hands reach for my waist, and I step back inside my apartment. “I don’t want to.” I sigh, knowing that I need to do something about this. Badger’s right. And even though I’m slightly terrified because I don’t know what might happen after, it doesn’t change the fact I need to end this. “Look, I don’t want to do this anymore. Like I told you, I’m done, Dex.”
He rears back like I’ve just punched him. “Done? What the fuck do you mean done? I thought you were just pissed.”
The volume of his voice startles me, but I don’t let it show. “Exactly what I said.”
His brown eyes narrow to thin slits as he stares at me. His jaw clenches tightly. “Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters. “You can’t just do this. Who are you to say that we’re over?”
My brows rise. “And who are you to make all these life-changing decisions for me?”
He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “That’s bullshit, Vera. You’ve known your whole life, just as I have, what’s in the cards for people like us. And you and me, we make a good team. You can’t just decide to opt out now.”
“Oh, can’t I? I’m sorry, but I just have. Why don’t you give Lisa a call? Goodbye, Dexter.” I slam the door closed and lock it before marching back down the hall to bed. He knocks again then calls my phone until I switch it off.
And for the first time in my entire life, even with the fear accompanying it, I feel an odd sense of freedom. It might only be small, but it’s enough to have my eyes closing and sleep finding me without any trouble at all.
It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m busy pounding away at the keyboard; just another slave to the clock who’s counting down the hours until I can go home.
Just kidding. I’m doing some online shopping at Nordstrom, seeing as these idiots don’t think I can handle a real part-time workload. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told them otherwise. I think it has to do with my father, to be honest, but he wanted me to be a part of the family business in some way, so he’s going to have to learn to trust me. As it is, I’ve already finished my work for the week.
Oh, that red one’s nice. I zoom in on my computer screen for a closer look at the intricate beading around the neckline. I’m not normally one for too many eccentricities on my clothing, but I must admit this little number is quite pretty. I’m about to add it to my cart when Sally, one of my father’s lead accounting minions, rounds the corner of my cubicle, looking a little harried. She stops right freaking next to me. My eye twitches. Has no one heard of personal space these days?
I slowly swing my chair back a bit to face her, not liking the disadvantage of sitting when she’s standing over me. Especially when she’s looking like an enraged pit bull who’s wearing a shade of mauve lipstick that totally clashes with her maroon sweater dress.
“Vera,” she says nasally.
“Hi, Sal. Still got that cold?” I try not to smirk, though it’s really hard.
She shakes her head, exasperated with me already it seems. “For the love of God, I don’t have a—you know what? No, just no.” My eyes widen with my smile. “You’re not going to distract me today.” She points a finger at me, and I admire the shade of cream she’s painted her nails.
“Where’d you get your nail polish?” I ask.
I swear she growls before throwing her hands up in the air. “I don’t even know why I bother. Seriously.”
I laugh; she’s always so amusing. “Seriously, indeed. Now, what do you need to chew my ear off for today, Sal?”
“My name’s not Sal. It’s Sally.”
“Semantics. Come on, spit it out already.” I briefly admire my own brown painted nails. “Lots of work to be done and only so many hours in a workday.”
I glance up in time to see her roll her eyes. “Yeah, because your client list is a mile long.”
The smile wilts off my face, but I shrug. “Again, why are you here?”
“My parking spot. You know parking spots by the elevator are reserved for full-time employees only. Move your beast of a car someplace else.”
I sigh dramatically. “Really? When are you going to get over this? You and I both know that that’s not actually a rule.” She’s a stickler for them, this one. So much so that I swear she makes some of her own up just to have more to follow.
My cubicle phone rings, which is a rarity, but I’m thankful for the out. “Oh, would you look at that? Duty calls. We can continue this enlightening debate later, yes?” Not waiting for an answer, I scoot my chair back toward the phone, watching as smoke practically leaves her nose and ears before she huffs loudly and storms off.
I spend the next half hour on the phone with a client then spend the following few hours trying to sort out a bunch of butchered returns of theirs that someone other than me did. And my father thinks I’ll screw things up. Jesus.
I grab some lunch from the café downstairs and return to my cubicle to continue my hunt for winter clothes. Summer’s well and truly come to an end, and a girl needs to be well prepared. My phone vibrates on the desk next to my half empty to-go cup. Damn, I forgot about that. I take a quick sip of the now lukewarm drink and pick up my phone.
“Vera.” Shit. Why didn’t I check caller ID? Not that I’d ever ignore his calls. Few things scare me in this life. But my father is, unfortunately, one of them.
“Hi, Daddy.” I try to put some sugar into my tone and fail, even to my own ears.
“You’ll be attending the Halloween ball this weekend, won’t you?” That’s his way of asking how I am.
I take a deep breath and let it out as silently as possible. He, of course, won’t be attending. He doesn’t lower himself to such standards anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to be a no-show, though. Lucky for him, and for me, shopping and dressing up are two of my favorite things to do. “Of course, I will be.”
He grunts into the phone, and I wait with bated breath to see if he’ll mention Dexter. It was only last night. Surely, he hasn’t found out yet. Not that he can do much about it, but it still worries me some.
“Good. I’ll be out of town for the coming week, so if you need me, call Clyde and he’ll forward me a message.”
He’s always going out of town. I sometimes wonder if that’s code for getting laid somewhere without prying eyes and gossip. Hmm, yeah. On second thought, I don’t need to know anything about that. “Will do. Have a safe trip.”
He grumbles something to someone in the background before responding with, “We’ll talk when I get back. Don’t show up late to the ball, and don’t leave too early.”
He needn’t bother to tell me this. He’s told me the same thing a thousand times. Ever since he decided to have me make an appearance at any events he didn’t deem important enough to attend himself.
“Of course, talk soon.”
He gives me a short, gruff goodbye in response then hangs up.
I drop my phone onto the desk, my head following it as I groan. I suddenly know how he must have felt after dealing with my mother’s phone calls over the years.
Because one phone call, just one miserable excuse for a conversation, is all it takes to burn any crumb of happiness from my body for the remaining hours of the day.