32
I fucked up. I mean, I seriously fucked up. I’d just finished getting reamed by my direct supervisor for making a rookie, first-year-on-the job mistake. I knew my boss was an ass, had seen him unleash on plenty of people before, but not me. Not that I didn’t deserve it. I sighed, rested my elbows on my desk, and squeezed my forehead. I didn’t do shit like this. Ever. But the fact remained that I did do it, and sitting before me was the evidence. Crammed into my office was box after box of substandard linens, towels, glassware, and travel-sized hygiene products.
Audrey, the franchisee, had opted to purchase the items from a vendor other than the one that usually provided them to Sable Inns and Suites franchises, the company we had an exclusive contract with to provide these items. I knew why she did it, because it was cheaper to go through the other vendor. A lot of franchisees tried stuff like that to cut costs. That was why I was there. That was my job, to oversee everything from purchase orders to staff hiring to ensure shit like this didn’t happen.
But it happened, and on my watch.
Shit.
I had looked over the order before she submitted it and somehow not paid attention to the vendor. When she signed the contract, the one I went over with her line by fucking line in my office in Houston, I made it clear to her that it was a must to use Sable Inc.’s partner vendors. The CEO was adamant about that, very nearly obsessive about it, because the company that provided our hotels with these items was black-owned, and he had made it his mission to support other black-owned businesses. So I made all of that crystal clear to her, thinking, assuming she would adhere to the rules she’d signed in agreement of. I thought and assumed wrong, and got my ass handed to me because of it.
But the fact that she’d ordered this bullshit wasn’t the worst of it. I personally assisted her with making arrangements to return the items, and I got on my computer and ordered them from the correct company for her, but it would be two weeks before they could fulfill the order. Two damn weeks, which meant the opening of the hotel would be delayed for two weeks, which made an oversight that I might have been able to conceal from my boss one I was forced to report.
I sat up and fell against the back of my chair, closing my eyes as my ears rang from my boss’s words. He was pissed, and rightfully so, asking me if maybe I needed to be replaced, if I was tired or maybe distracted, and then his ass took things too far when he said, “Maybe your YouTube filming schedule is hampering your ability to do your job.”
That pissed me off, so despite the fact that I was on thin ice, I said, “Are you telling me what I can and can’t do with my free time?”
“No!” he shouted, making me pull the phone from my ear. “What I’m telling you is until the hotel is up and running, you don’t have any free time!”
And then his ass hung up on me. So there I sat, two hours after the time I’d usually get off work, staring at boxes, rehashing the conversation, and trying to deny the truth.
I was distracted.
Very distracted.
But the problem was, I didn’t want to stop being distracted. I didn’t want to spend more time working and less time with Angela. I didn’t want to stop making videos with her. I liked my life as it was, but I also didn’t want to lose my job.
I grabbed my keys and stood, glancing around the office before leaving, realizing that sitting there giving myself a headache was not going to fix anything.
*****
I used the key she’d given me and let myself into her side of the duplex, dropping onto her sofa and tossing my keys onto her coffee table. I sat there staring at the floor, still suffering from the effects of a fucked-up day at work. When she entered the room, I looked up and gave her an unconvincing smile, said, “Hey, baby,” and dropped my eyes to the floor again.
She slid into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her gently on the lips and pulling her tightly to me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, as she hugged me back, resting her head on my shoulder, a cloud of soft, kinky hair brushing against my cheek.
“Work.”
She sat up and looked me in the eye. “What happened?”
I sighed, rubbed my forehead, and slowly told her.
“Anyone can make a mistake, baby. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she offered.
I shook my head. “It was a stupid mistake, Angela. I don’t make mistakes like that. My boss asked me if I was distracted, brought up our videos…”
I could feel her body stiffen. “What’d you say?”
“That I’d fix it. And I did.”
“No, about me being a distraction. Do you think I’m a distraction, Ryan?”
“Honestly? Yeah, a big one.”
She stood from my lap. “Hmm, well…you’ve been here, what? Five months now? That means you’ve only got a month left to be distracted by me, so I guess that’s a good thing.”
I leaned forward and dropped my head. “You gotta bring that up now? And it’s actually six weeks, not a month. My little fuck-up bought us two more weeks.”
As soon as I said that, I regretted it. It didn’t come out right, sounded all wrong.
She stared at me. “Bought us two more weeks? So…what? We’re over when you leave?”
“Angela, I did not say that. That’s not what I said at all, and I’m stressed the hell out right now. I just almost lost my damn job. Now is not the time for us to discuss this.”
She cocked her head to the side and scoffed. “When is a good time to discuss it, Ryan? When you leave in a month—oh, my bad. I forgot you bought us some more time together.”
“Damn, really? You wanna do this now after the day I had? For real, Angela?”
“I just wanna know what’s gonna happen when your job here is over since you’re the one who said you’d figure something out. What’s the plan, Ryan? When do you plan on sharing it with me, because I’m on pins and needles wondering what’s going to happen. I’m in this relationship and I have no clue what direction it’s going in!”
“Shit, neither do I, because I haven’t figured it out yet! Damn! What do you think I’m gonna do? Dump you three seconds before I hop on a plane back to Houston?”
“That’s the fucking point, Ryan! I don’t know!”
“Angela! I can’t think about this shit right now!”
“Have you been thinking about it at all?”
“Angie—”
“You haven’t, have you? What are you doing? Just hoping this situation will fix itself? Well, it won’t! Either we’re going to be together or we’re not. You need to tell me which one it is.”
“Do you wanna break up? Is that it?! Is this your way of telling me?!”
Her face softened a little as she furrowed her brow. “Ryan, I didn’t—”
“You know what? Fuck it! Let’s break up right now so your ass won’t be in fucking suspense anymore. That’s what you want, right? You’re so damn convinced it’s gonna happen, then I’ll make it happen. It was fun, I enjoyed it, but whatever. It’s over. Done.”
Her eyes were glassy, and as she lowered them, a single tear trickled down her face. That’s when I realized what I’d done. That was the old Ryan saying that stuff to her. The ain’t-shit Ryan. Ain’t-shit Ryan didn’t exist on the same plane as Angela, and up until that moment, I thought he couldn’t exist in her presence. But somehow, his stupid ass had popped up, and now Angela’s Ryan was left to deal with the consequences.
She slightly shook her head and looked back up at me, her eyes now full of tears. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
“Baby,” I said softly, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. It’s just…I had a bad day. I told you now wasn’t a good time to talk about this.”
She raised her eyebrows and wiped her eyes with the hem of her t-shirt. “So this is my fault?”
“No…no, baby. That’s not what I meant. Baby, I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? I don’t know how to deal with shit like this…”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to go. Just go, Ryan.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked, actually perplexed at the thought of leaving her. What was I supposed to do with the hours between now and when I had to be back at work besides spend them with her, laughing, talking, eating, making love…
She shrugged. “I don’t care. You just need to go. If you don’t, I will. But I don’t wanna see your face. I don’t wanna hear your voice. I just want you to get the fuck out of my house.”
My heart squeezed in my chest and for a full five minutes, all I could do was stand there staring at her.
She finally shook her head and left the living room. I followed her until she entered the bathroom and slammed the door in my face, screaming from the other side, “Ryan, go!”
So I left.
I went back to work. Couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I would’ve gone to a bar to drink my sorrow away, but if anyone had even said hi to me, I probably would’ve cursed them out. I didn’t want to be around people unless they were named Angela Strickland. And I had fucked up so royally with her, that was out of the question. As I sat in my dark office in the empty hotel that smelled of paint and wood and cardboard, I told myself this was for the best. I wasn’t wired for this relationship stuff. Trying to navigate the world of monogamy was like rocket science to me. I was bound to mess things up with her. I was kidding myself trying to be in a committed relationship. Whoever I was with her wasn’t really me anyway.
I shook my head at my own stupidity. Sitting there in the dark over a damn woman. I didn’t do shit like this. What I needed was to get ahold of myself and take my ass somewhere and find me another woman, a good one-night-stand partner, someone I could screw with no attachments. Yeah, that was exactly what I needed, some random, no-strings-attached pussy.
I snatched my keys up from my desk, and said to myself, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”