I play strong until I get downstairs to my car. Then I crumble. The sound of tires screeching drowns out my sobs as I leave The Billionaires Club behind. As I leave Anders behind. My mind is still stuck on his naked body and that strange expression on his face as I walked out the door. I can't place it, but I've never seen him look like that before. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again.
Instead of driving back to the apartment, I go to Evelyn's new house. She consoles me on the sofa, telling me I did the right thing. I know I did the right thing, minus the sexual stuff. It doesn't feel right though. Nothing feels right anymore. Nothing feels right after I see him. I hate it. I could not be happier that he's out of my life.
By the following day, I've somewhat pulled myself together, which is good, because I got a last minute job interview at Indistreet Bookstore in the mall. I replace my thoughts of Anders with the typical job interview worries, making a list in my head of the questions they might ask me and formulating the best responses possible. Hopefully, they won't think my bachelor's degree in library science makes me overqualified. That would be just my luck.
By some miracle, the unenthusiastic middle-aged woman who interviews me simply looks at my resume and asks when I can start. She tells me that they're in desperate need of help, and I'll have to man a calendar kiosk they have set up in the center of the mall. I groan internally. This is not the type of work I was hoping for, but a job is a job, and perhaps I'll eventually get to work in the bookstore itself.
My phone is littered with missed calls from the same number I'd been avoiding when I originally left The Billionaires Club. It belongs to Anders, and despite myself, I save it in my phone as a memento, though I never intend to call it. The fact that he's trying to contact me even after I made it clear I never want to see him again is half-endearing and half-painful. It's water under the bridge though. I'm done with him. I have to be if I want to move on with my life.
And I do move on with my life. The lease at the apartment ends, and I transfer over to the new house without incident. Then I start my new job, which is every bit as boring and miserable as the job description made it sound. I spend eight hours a day, five days a week, standing around in the mall at a small counter that faces two rows of calendars. Sales are few and far between, so there's really not much to do but stare out towards the food court and pray I don't run into anyone I know. That's pretty much unavoidable when you work in the mall though.
The first person who recognizes me is an old high school friend. It feels like she's looking down on me the entire time we're talking, even though I explain my situation to her. It's a bit humiliating to be working at the mall for minimum wage when you have a college degree, but I have to look at it as the means to an end.
The second person who recognizes me is Ryan. The girl from high school, I saw coming. She stopped to look at the calendars and didn't recognize me until she was checking out. Ryan came up from behind me. How he recognized me from behind, I'll never know. Maybe I have a memorable ass? I've been told I have a nice one before.
At first, I feel conflicted about seeing him again. He's the one who told me about Anders' wife. The one who destroyed my trust in Anders. No. It wasn't his fault. It was Anders' fault for not telling me he had been married in the first place. For not telling me anything.
“Hey, Tessa.” He looks as adorable and awkward as before. It's strange to see him outside of The Billionaires Club, wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of a starched white shirt and black slacks.
“Ryan. Fancy seeing you here.” I know I sound like an idiot, but I can't think of anything else to say.
“It's been a while,” he laughs uncomfortably.
“It has.”
“I heard you had an emergency and had to leave the . . . well, you know.” He shifts and looks away, as if mentioning The Billionaires Club in public is forbidden.
“Oh. Yeah. I got sick.” It's the lamest lie that I can come up with.
“Well, are you better now?” He looks me over with concern.
I'm glad I'm not the only one saying stupid things. It's been weeks since I left The Billionaires Club. If I wasn't better, I wouldn't be working.
“Yeah. I'm good. I landed this super awesome job,” I say sarcastically as I gesture to the calendars.
“Calendars. Great.” He nods, not realizing it's a joke. “I missed you.”
The sentiment surprises me, and I feel my cheeks heat up a bit. My mind drifts back to our brief time together at The Billionaires Club. He seemed genuinely interested in me back then, and I was interested in him. When we were talking, Anders came and scared him off. He had acted like he'd lost interest in me after that. That was probably to save his job though. Now, we're away from The Billionaires Club. There's no more Anders to interrupt us or threaten his job security.
“I missed you too,” I reply, though I'm honestly not sure if I mean it or not.
“I'd love to catch up, if you have the time.” He looks away from me when he says it as if he expects to be rejected. It's super cute, and I can't help but smile.
“I would love to catch up with you.”
“Oh. Really? Well, awesome. What time do you get off of work?” His eyes snap back to me with enthusiasm.
“My shift ends at six.”
“Great. Um. I'll pick you up then. Maybe you'll let me take you out to dinner?”
“Yeah. Dinner would be great.”
“Cool. Well, I'll see you at six then?”
“See you at six.”
I watch him walk away with a strange sense of satisfaction. Maybe not everything that happened at The Billionaires Club was bad after all.
I spend the rest of the day fantasizing about Ryan's big brown doe eyes and wondering what his lanky body looks like beneath those street clothes. It's a horribly perverted thing to imagine, but ever since The Billionaires Club my mind has been on sex 24/7 it seems.
Six o'clock rolls around, and Ryan shows up at my kiosk like clockwork. He's changed into something a little more dressy, trading his T-shirt for a button-down shirt. As he approaches me, I imagine myself unfastening those buttons to get to the skin below. All I see are Anders' smooth muscles beneath though, and my lips dip into a soft frown. Why am I still thinking about him?
“Are you ready to go?” Ryan asks me.
“Mhm.” I nod.
“We'll take my car. I'll drop you off back here afterward.”
“Alright,” I agree, following him towards Macy’s.
“How was work?” He looks down at me as we enter the department store.
“Boring.” I try not to groan. In truth, I kind of hate my job. It's hard not to when you're an adult working in the mall.
As we approach the door leading out to the parking lot, I notice a familiar man walking towards us. He notices me too, and the second recognition hits me, my breath hitches. I move closer to Ryan's side and pick up my pace, but Ryan stops dead in his tracks, noticing Anders too.
“Hey boss,” Ryan addresses him, his voice sounding every bit as nervous as I feel. The last time we were caught together like this, it wasn't good. I half expect Anders to tell him to beat it.
“Ryan,” Anders says darkly, looking from Ryan to me. “Tessa, what are you doing with him?”
“That's none of your business,” my tone is venomous. Just seeing him makes me raise my guard. He's wearing one of his business suits and looking oh so delicious. That doesn't matter though. All that matters is getting away from him.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks stiffly.
“No. You can't. Come on, Ryan. Let's go.” I give Ryan's arm a gentle tug towards the parking lot.
“Sorry, boss,” Ryan says to him before we continue walking. I can't help but wonder if Ryan is worrying about his job again. It's obvious the run-in made him uncomfortable. It made us all uncomfortable.
We climb into his truck and drive to Chili's. The ride there is awkwardly quiet, and we don't really start talking again until we're seated, and both have a margarita sitting in front of us.
“That was totally weird,” I say finally, breaking the silence.
“What was?” He maintains his blissful ignorance.
“Anders.” I know we're not supposed to talk about The Billionaires Club, but this is definitely going to lead into it. There's no way it can't.
“Yeah. That was something else.” He runs his fingers through his short curly auburn hair, and I can see the concern on his face. “I wonder why he wanted to talk to you.”
“No clue,” I lie. I know full and well why he wanted to talk to me. Because I haven't been returning his calls. Because he wants sex. Because he's an asshole. “So, how's the job going?”
“It's alright.” He nods.
“I'm really sorry about what happened last time.”
“What do you mean?”
“That thing with Anders when you and I were talking.” I stir my drink, avoiding his eyes. This entire conversation is incredibly awkward.
“Oh, don't worry about it. He can be bitchy at times.”
“He can,” I laugh, then realize it sounds like I actually know him, which I don't. I don't know anything about him.
“I didn't mean to make you feel bad by avoiding you, but I didn't want to entice his wrath again.”
“It's fine. Don't worry about it,” I say with a smile. “That woman at the counter was his ex-wife, just so you know.”
“What?” He looks up at me.
“The woman. The blonde one. You told me she was his wife. She's his ex-wife.”
“Oh, did I?” I can't tell if he's just acting, or if he truly doesn't remember.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. A slip of the tongue, perhaps.” He shrugs. “I suppose it shouldn't really matter. That whole place is just about sex. Some of the billionaires are married, you know. They just keep their membership there a secret from their wives.”
“How do you hide something like that?” I can feel anger bubbling up inside of me, though I don't know why. Maybe it's because the clients aren't made aware that some of these men are married. Do they even care? Surely, there are more women like me who it matters to.
“Some of them just take one client at a time. It's really not that hard, if you think about it. These guys go on business trips all the time. Some of them act like they have to work late.” He looks up at me and notices my scowl. “But anyway, I'm glad you're not there anymore. That means we can hang out together now.” A bashful grin takes over his face.
“I'm glad I'm not there anymore too,” I say, trying to remind myself that The Billionaires Club is in my past.
“You're not dating anyone, are you?” He takes a sip from his margarita and glances at the table across from us.
“No.” I can feel my cheeks growing warm.
“Neither am I. Maybe we could . . .” he hesitates, as if he's unsure of how to word it.
“I'd like that.” I nod fervently, feeling like a bobble head. How nice it would be to date someone my own age who is genuine.
“Awesome.”
For the rest of the meal, we talk about trivial things. Before we leave the restaurant, we trade work schedules so that we can figure out when it would be most convenient to get together again, though we don't actually set a date. When he drops me off in the mall parking lot, I'm a little disappointed that he doesn't try to kiss me. He's a perfect gentleman, and a bit old-fashioned, which I find to be endearing. It will definitely be nice to date a guy who isn't just after sex.