CHAPTER 22
Sarah
I woke up the next morning at the crack of dawn. Tuesday. Work. I didn’t need an alarm to get me up. The vibrations between my thighs from last night’s playdate with Ari were enough. I could practically hear the throbbing.
I went through the steps of my usual workday routine. Feed the cat. Coffee. My birth control pill. A quick jog around the neighborhood. Shower. Get dressed. I threw on a loose-fitting gray Urban Outfitters dress that Lauren has passed down to me because it wasn’t her style, laced up my combat boots, and organized my messenger bag. At the last minute, I slipped Ari’s one hundred dollar bill into my wallet though I still had very mixed feelings about it. Good to go, I grabbed my skateboard. Yes, that’s how I commuted back and forth to my office located between Broadway and West Twenty-Third Street. My skateboard was a fast, economical, and reliable means of transportation.
It took me a half hour to get downtown, weaving in and out of the early-morning commuters skittering like mice along the city streets. The landmark cast-iron clock outside the iconic Toy Center Building, which dated back to 1909, read seven thirty-five. Perfect. That would give me plenty of time to finish up Catherine’s ridiculous assignments. While I’d gotten most of them done, the bitch didn’t send me a list of the fashion designers she wanted to visit in Milan until ten p.m. And by that hour, I was too emotionally and physically drained by Ari’s mind-fucking plundering to begin it. Fingers crossed I could get it all done by the time she showed up, I thought as I headed into the building with my skateboard clutched under my arm.
No matter how much I despised working for Catherine, I always got a rush of excitement when I stepped foot inside the building where I worked. There was a contagious, electrifying energy and I could feel the creative juices flowing. I’d finally landed a job where I belonged. One day, I hoped all my hard work—and talent—would pay off, and I’d be sitting in a corner office like Catherine’s overlooking the Flatiron District and displaying all the toys I’d developed. Stepping into the elevator that was packed like sardines with familiar faces, I dreamt about what the future might bring.
Ike’s Tikes was located on the twelfth floor. When the elevator doors parted, I wormed my way out of the still packed car and headed to our headquarters. Someone was ahead of me walking in the same direction. I recognized him by his girth and his shiny, thick black wavy hair. It was Ike Abrams, the founder and president of the company. We got to the entrance of the office at about the same time, and I thanked him for holding the door open for me.
He responded with a warm smile. I’d only run into him a few times and I’m sure he had no clue who I was.
“You’re here early,” he said brightly as we stepped into the colorful reception area that was filled with those award-winning beanbag toys everywhere you looked.
“Yes, sir. I have a lot of work to do.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Catherine Sinclair.” I debated whether to tell him my name but chose not to since he didn’t ask.
He smiled again. “Great. She’s one hell of a woman.”
If he only knew!
“You’ll learn a lot from her.”
I mentally rolled my eyes. Yup. In addition to knowing the layout of the Chanel makeup counter at Bergdorf’s by heart, I now knew the name of every major Italian fashion designer.
Moving past the reception area, Ike and I amicably parted ways, with him going down a different hallway to his office. His side of the U-shaped office was devoted to those who worked on Ike’s Tikes, which was the company’s cash cow. Catherine’s office was in the new development and business affairs area, and was the biggest among them. My desk sat outside it.
Other than Ike, I was likely the first person here. There was an eerie peacefulness as I marched down the dimly lit hall filled with empty cubicles and offices. In less than two hours, there would be a totally different vibe, the office space filled with dozens of employees working collectively to come up with the next breakout toy.
When I got to my desk, my mouth fell to the floor. Someone had been here before me. Waiting for me was an elegant crystal vase filled with a dozen of the most perfect long-stemmed red roses I’d ever seen. I knew whom they were from without having to open the small envelope propped against the vase. How the hell did he know where I worked? Duh! Of course. I mentioned it to him and his family at Ben’s birthday dinner the other night.
“Hay, caramba!”
I spun around. It was Fernando Suarez, my best friend at work, who, like me, tended to be an early bird. As usual, he was wearing his all-black uniform—tight jeans and an equally tight T-shirt that exposed his pumped up boyish body.
His dark eyes lit up. “Señorita Sarah found a boyfriend over the weekend?”
“Hardly,” I snapped back at him.
While I adored Fernando, a gorgeous gay guy of Filipino-Cuban descent, who worked in the packaging division (those cool Ike’s Tikes’ birth certificate tags were totally his creation), he could often be annoying. Very annoying.
“Have lunch with me later, mí querida.” He winked. “I want to hear everything.”
My eyes stayed on him as he sashayed down the corridor toward his cubicle and disappeared. Parking my skateboard under my desk, I sat down and tore open the envelope, which had my name printed on it. My hand was shaking as I read the notecard inside.
Dear Sarah~
I enjoyed my long weekend with you. I trust you did too.
Yours~ Ari
My heart fluttered, and I felt my face flush. I slipped the note into my top desk drawer, very aware of the vibrations between my inner thighs. I wondered when I would see him again. I got the feeling he was devoted to Ben during the week, something I understood and respected. Yet, I found myself hungering for him.
Forcing myself to focus on my work, I booted up my computer and checked my emails. The majority of them were from Catherine sent this morning. More ridiculous things to do like picking up her dry cleaning, setting up her waxing appointment, and color-coding her files. Didn’t she have anything better to do first thing in the morning than piling a crapload of chores on me?
I got to work, resenting every minute. Just as I finished booking her trip to Milan and setting up all the appointments she requested, a familiar clickety-clack sounded in my ears. Shit. Catherine was here. Nine a.m. This was early for her. Her usual ETA was ten. Maybe she had a restful weekend and was in a good mood. If so, later today I could ask her for a raise or persuade her to let me work more extra hours to help me pay for my mother’s treatments.
“Did you book my Milan trip?” Not even a good morning.
I looked up from my computer. “Yes, I just got done booking your entire trip. Do you want me to forward you the itinerary?”
Silence. Not even a thank you. Her serpentine eyes lingered on my roses and mine on her outfit du jour.
As usual, with her svelte supermodel figure, she was a walking advertisement for Chanel. Today she was wearing a classic Chanel suit—a smart little black and white tweed number with fringed embellishments—and matching “CC” pumps. Layers of faux pearls were strung around her long neck and a bright red “CC” monogrammed headband held back her waist-length raven black hair.
“Roses?” she said frostily as she passed my desk. “I must be paying you way too much for you to afford them.”
“Someone sent them to me.” My voice quivered. Nope. Not a good day to ask for a raise.
She eyed me with contempt. “Really? That’s a surprise.”
God, she was a bitch. I’d been working for her for a little over a month, and I’d never heard a kind word out of her mouth. Not once.
“Well, I don’t want you to be smelling the roses all day. We have lots to do.”
She dug her manicured hand into her black leather Chanel briefcase (God knows how much that cost) and pulled out a two-inch thick folder.
“Last month’s expenses. I want them done by the end of the day.”
She slapped the folder down on my desk and marched into her office, slamming the door behind her. Reluctantly, I opened it and scanned the receipts. Yowzer! This woman ate out at expensive restaurants morning, noon, and night. Breakfast at The Four Seasons…Lunch at Le Cirque…Dinner at Nobu. And since when was a thirty dollar tube of Chanel lipstick (for which I schlepped uptown to Bergdorf’s to purchase on my lunch break) an “emergency business expense”? Given the number of receipts in the folder, it was going to take me hours to prepare her expense report. I needed to get going on the tedious job right away. Just as I start arranging the assorted receipts by date, the phone rang.
“Boys’ toys,” I answered. Catherine never wanted me to give out her name unless it was absolutely necessary.
“Saarah…do you like your flowers?”
That voice! I recognized it instantly. My heart raced, and the phone receiver shook in my hand. It was him!
“Um, uh, they’re very pretty.” Who was I kidding? They were magnificent, and their intoxicating scent was making me dizzy.
“Good. I have a meeting in the city today. I shall collect you outside your office at six sharp for an early dinner. Ben has school tomorrow.” CLICK.
Shit! He didn’t even give me the chance to tell him that I might not be able to make dinner because of all the work my tyrannical boss was piling on me. With my mother’s health care crisis, I couldn’t afford to lose my job.
I immediately got back to work on the expense report, but my mind kept drifting to what I was going to wear on my date with Ari. My drab dress was not going to cut it. Sadly, I couldn’t afford to buy a new one, and there was no time to scoot up to my apartment to change into one of his pretty sundresses. As my heart pounded, wetness pooled between my legs. My cotton panties were soaked. Well, at least I knew what I was not going to wear.
I was still on the first week’s worth of expenses when Catherine came charging out of her office. A file marked “Competitive Boys’ Toys” was in her hand.
“Ike just called an emergency meeting with the design team in the boardroom. He wants me to demonstrate the top-selling boys’ toys.” Her voice sounded panicked as it always did when Ike pulled this kind of stuff. “I need you to come with me. Let’s go.”
I straightened up. This was not the first time I had to accompany Catherine to a meeting and be her puppet. Maybe she’d had great success creating the bestselling girls’ toyline of all times—Poutz—but she didn’t know the first thing about boys’ toys. As I followed her down the hallway to Ike’s boardroom, I anticipated assembling robots, action figures, and assault vehicles and then demonstrating how they worked while my wretched boss sat back in her chair and fluffed her hair.
Ike’s boardroom consisted of a long cherry wood table, a dozen black leather swivel chairs, a giant flat screen TV, and framed posters of all of the company’s successful toys. Ike, who was in his early 50’s, and the motley design team which included Fernando, were already seated around the table when Catherine and I entered the room. A dozen popular boys’ toys were scattered on the shiny wood, including a Power Rangers Zord, a Transformers action figure, and a Star Wars battleship. We took the two empty seats next to Ike, who was seated at the head of the table.
Ike got right down to business. “So, Catherine, can you please show me how little boys play with these toys.”
My inept boss smirked, looking my way. “My assistant will show you. She’s such a boy at heart.”
Her patronizing words made me cringe. Okay, I might have been a tomboy growing up, but I wondered if she knew that I could fuck a man’s brains out. And not just any man. A god. An Adonis. Ari’s beautiful face filled my mind and a tingling sensation coursed through my body, intensifying at my crotch.
Ike made eye contact with me, for sure recognizing me from our earlier encounter. With an encouraging smile, he asked me to get started.
My confidence soaring, I demonstrated each toy, one by one, complete with POW! ZING! VROOM! sound effects. Ike watched attentively, nodding his head throughout my presentation. When I was done, he thanked me, looking pleased, and returned his attention to Catherine.
“So, Catherine, what do you think we should be developing in the boys’ market?”
“Robots are always a safe bet. So are dinosaurs,” she said with authority and self-assuredness.
Ike furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “But there’s such a glut of robots and dinosaurs out there. We need something new. Something different. Something that will break out from the pack.” He turned to me. “Do you have any ideas?”
Moi? He wanted to hear from me, a lowly assistant?
Catherine shot me a dirty look. I wasn’t intimidated.
“Mr. Abrams, I think parents are looking for something that’s high-tech, educational, and not too violent.”
Ike’s face brightened. “I totally agree with you, Ms.—”
“Greene. Sarah Greene,” I said proudly.
Catherine was smoldering, her nostrils flared. I could practically see puffs of smoke coming out of her ears.
Ike turned to my flustered boss. “Catherine, by Thursday, I’d like to hear at least six concepts for a breakthrough boys’ toyline. Please work with the design team.”
“Not a problem,” responded Catherine, recovering quickly. Her voice oozed with an air of faux confidence.
Ike thanked everyone, and the meeting was adjourned. As he exited the boardroom, he shot me another smile. On cloud nine, I twitched one back at him as he left the room.
My high was short lived. Back to fuming, Catherine marched hell-bent down the hall to her office. I trailed behind the clickety-clack of her Chanel pumps. When I got back to my cubicle outside her office, there was, to my surprise, a large gift-wrapped box sitting on my desk. I immediately recognized the violet paper and humongous white bow. It was from Bergdorf’s and I immediately knew who had sent it to me. There was no card, just a label with my name printed on it. My heart was pounding.
Catherine’s pillowy Chanel-red lips slithered into a smile. “Oh, that must be the special order I placed at Bergdorf’s over the weekend.”
I broke the “bad news” to her. “Um, uh, it’s for me.”
Catherine’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I wish I had a camera to capture the expression on her face. It was a combination of utter disbelief, disgust, and disdain.
She scoffed at me. “You have no business shopping at Bergdorf’s. I want you to stay glued to your desk at lunch and come up with some ideas for a new boys’ toyline.” She threw the competitive analysis file at me and stomped into her office. “And don’t forget to confirm my lunch reservation at Cipriani’s for two,” she called out before slamming the door behind her.
Despite how much I wanted to open my package from Bergdorf’s, I spent the rest of the morning studying the file. There was definitely a need for something new, something different in the boys’ toy arena. At noon, Catherine popped out of her office.
“I’ll be out of the office for two hours. Please screen all my phone calls, and remember, do not give out my cell number to anyone.”
After refreshing her lipstick, she stalked down the hall toward the bank of elevators. I sighed with relief. She was gone. I could finally open up my package.
Just as I was about to unwrap it, Fernando stopped by my desk. I had totally forgotten we had made a lunch date.
“Ooh, fancy schmancy Bergdorf’s box. Since when have they been paying you the big bucks, mí amor?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Ooh. Mí amiga has a hot sugar daddy.”
I felt myself flushing. “No, not exactly.”
“Come on, mí amor. Open, open! Let me see what you got.”
I twisted my face in frustration. I knew I wasn’t going to get rid of Fernando. He was somewhat of a leech, albeit an admittedly lovable and not hard to look at one. A dead ringer for George Chakiris—Bernardo in West Side Story. With his jet-black hair, exotic chiseled face, and tight little ass, he could have easily been a male model. Or an actor.
My heart hammering with anticipation, I carefully tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box. My eyes grew wide. Inside, under layers of tissue paper was a breathtaking hot pink strapless dress with a thigh-high slit extending from the hem. A pair of strappy silver stilettos accompanied the dress.
“Ooh! Alexander Wang. I love him!” exclaimed Fernando.
The raving fashionista made me stand up and hold the dress against my body.
Another “hay caramba.” “That is so fucking hot. Bebé, you are going to get some major action.”
My cheeks heated further. I could always count on Fernando for brutal honestly. And that’s why I loved him from the day I met him. He had become my best friend and confidant at Ike’s Tikes. I knew everything about him, including his longtime relationship with one of the city’s top window display designers, who he hoped one day to marry. I, in turn, could tell him anything and everything. He was one of the few people in the world who knew about my ambitions, financial woes, mother’s illness, and my bitch of a boss. I, however, wasn’t going to tell him anything about Ari. I couldn’t jeopardize my relationship with him or his cherished privacy. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get away with it with my tell-me-everything amigo. Fortunately, luck was on my side.
“Fernando’s tight tummy is screaming, ‘Tengo hambre.’”
I told Fernando that Catherine had ordered me to stay at my desk at lunch. I couldn’t leave in case she came back early even though that was unlikely. No problema. Fernando offered to go to the commissary and bring back lunch for both of us. We could eat and talk at my desk.
Over chicken tortillas, we gossiped mostly about Catherine. Fernando lived for gossip and had collected a lot of dirt about my tyrannical boss. Her background was a little sketchy. She lived in Europe for a while, worked at a major European fashion house, and then was recruited by an up and coming toy company to develop a girls’ lifestyle brand. The Angelina Jolie look-alike Poutz dolls she created took off immediately, knocking Barbie off her throne. Rumor had it that she stole the idea for Poutz from a rival designer, but it could never be proven. Ike Abrams hired her with the hope she could work her magic, developing a breakout boys’ toyline for his company. Supposedly, to lure her away from the other toy manufacturer, he had to give her the title of President, Boys’ Toys and all the perks that came along with that title—including a driver, an unlimited expense account, and a three-year one million dollar a year contract with bonuses. Boy, I wish that would happen to me one day. I just had to work hard. And be patient. Good things happen to those who wait, my mother always said. Given her precarious health condition and my dire straits, I hoped sooner than later.
As we came close to finishing lunch, the phone rang. “Boys’ toys,” I answered.
“Saarah, do you like your dress?”
I could feel my face reddening. “It’s lovely.”
Know-it-all Fernando knew right away who was on the other line. “It’s him, sí?” he mouthed, pointing to the box still on my desk.
I nodded like one of those bobble-head dolls, putting a finger to my lips to shush him.
“I thought you could use a little more color,” said the voice on the phone.
If Ari could see my face now, he might think differently.
“I look forward to seeing you in it.” CLICK.
With a shaking hand, I hung up the phone.
“Okay, chica, spill the beans,” said Fernando, eager to hear the dirt.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, I met someone. He’s very rich and very nice.”
“And muy bueno in bed?”
My silent blush gave away the answer.
“Fantástico!” Fernando clapped his hands with the glee of a child getting a sweet. He was genuinely thrilled for me. That’s what I loved about him.
“What is going on here?”
Gah! It was Catherine. She was back unexpectedly early. I quickly hid the box with the dress and shoes under my desk.
Venom poured from her eyes. “Sarah, I thought I told you to work over lunch.”
Words were trapped in my throat, but fortunately, Fernando came to my rescue.
“We were brainstorming. We have some really good ideas for the next big boys’ toy.”
“Very well. I look forward to hearing them.”
She marched into her office and slammed the door behind her. Shortly afterward, Fernando went back to his cubicle, and I spent the rest of the uneventful afternoon finishing Catherine’s expense report and thinking about my date with Ari. She spent it behind a closed door. I had no idea what she did all day although I imagined she spent most of her time online browsing Chanel.com.
At three p.m. Catherine emerged from her office, all spruced up. She stopped at my desk.
“I’m off to my colorist. I do hope you let Ike know that I can’t make the staff meeting…discreetly.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I did as you asked.” The skanky bitch liar…some doctor’s appointment.
“And then I have cocktails and dinner tonight.” Her venomous eyes locked on me. “Can I assume before you leave you will get all your work done?”
I flashed a fleeting smile at her. “Yes. Your expense report is all done, and I’ve set up your waxing appointment for Friday. I’m working now on your files.”
“Good.” Again, there was no thank you as she stomped off.
Good on my end too. She was gone for the day. I could get ready for my Trainman, who would be picking me up soon. My heart fluttered.