Having Fun with Mr. Wrong (3 page)

They set up a date for Carmala to meet with Tom the following week.

Wow!
Little ol’ Carmala Rosa, a simple South Philadelphia girl, was moving on to an opportunity bigger than she ever imagined. Synergy wanted her, badly enough to pay for an apartment upgrade.

Banter could kiss her ass.

The glow of satisfaction coursed through her soul, but the deal wasn’t finalized yet. She hoped it would be…and soon.

****

Carmala couldn’t wait to tell Guido all about the Synergy Plus job offer.

Later that night at the apartment, he unpacked a brown paper bag filled with several containers of Chinese takeout and placed them on the breakfast bar. Carmala grabbed plates, utensils, and napkins and set the table.

“Do you think the Synergy Plus job is in the bag?” Guido asked while he served the food.

She tasted the chicken and vegetables in oyster sauce. God, it was mouthwateringly good. But she could barely concentrate on eating. “I don’t know, Guid. I sure hope so. Ever since my review with Cathy, I feel more and more uncomfortable going to the office.”

“Yeah, because they’re squeezing you out. I think you should go for the job at Synergy Plus. What have you got to lose?” He spooned another forkful of food into his mouth, licking his lips in apparent delight.

“I’d love to work with a group of people that think like me. But the commission income concerns me. I need to count on a salary, especially if I’m going to be moving into a higher-rent apartment.” Carmala was silent for a minute and thought of her next words. “Guido, we Italians don’t stray far from the family, yet I uprooted myself from three generations who lived within blocks of our home. And broke Mom’s heart. And now Banter wants to force me out.” She pushed her food around in her plate.

“You have to realize that all things happen for a reason. It was your destiny to come to New York. Besides, if you didn’t come here, you never would have met me.” He winked at her and pulled her to him across the breakfast bar long enough for a juicy kiss. For a tiny second, a flash of heat swirled at the bottom of her belly.

She looked down at her unfinished food and lost her appetite. “Dad wanted me to take advantage of the chance to work with Banter in New York. At the time, Banter was excited to have me on board and paid for my move. I know it’s what they did for all new hires. But they supposedly picked me out of hundreds of students, claiming that I was more qualified than my peers. All that, to now be pushed out. It hurts, even though I want to move on.”

“They had a position to fill, and you filled it. But that was then, and this is now. It’s time to move on. You’re dwelling too much on the past.” He pointed at her plate. “Eat your food, it’s getting cold.” He spooned more food in his mouth and appeared to drift off in thought for a moment. “You know, Carmala, I love takeout from China Star. It’s worth walking the extra blocks.”

The last thing on her mind was food. Anxiety, apprehension, and fear replaced her taste for even her favorite dish. Thoughts of relying on a commission-based pay structure tortured her mind.

And all Guido cared about was food.

She pushed her plate away. “My career is heading for an about-turn. Which Chinese take-out place we use doesn’t seem to be the issue. I almost feel like you don’t understand the full impact of what I’m going through, Guido.”

He looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean? How can you say I don’t care?” He hesitated and then added, “I care that you’re not eating. You need to eat.”

“How can you expect me to sit here and eat?” She raised her voice; her heart rate shot up. “I’m worried about taking on a job that’s fifty percent based on commission. I can’t count on paying the bills if my income is unpredictable.”

God!
She wished she hadn’t had the outburst. Now she’d started an inevitable argument.

He threw his fork down on the table. “You’re overreacting, Carmala. The guarantee is more than you’re making now. With your fancy degree and accreditations, you can be in charge. They’re even going to upgrade your apartment. What the hell do you have to complain about?”

Oh, yeah, she’d pissed him off. “Guido, let’s not go there. Please.” It was late. She was tired and so didn’t want to argue. But once an argument started with Guido, there’d be no turning back.

“What do you mean,
let’s not go there
? We’re already there. You have a better opportunity, and you’re going to complain about it? I don’t get you. You know I sit here with you every night as you bitch about your problems at work. I try to get your mind off it, but it doesn’t seem to help.” He rose and scooped the rest of the food on his plate into the trash. “You sure know how to kill a person’s appetite.”

“You’re being selfish. If you had to make a major change like this, you’d be as scared as I am. Only you never have to worry—”

“Oh, so you think my work is easy. Half the time, I’m either freezing or sweating my balls off, and I risk injury every day on these age-old properties. You ought to appreciate your cushy offices and working in an air-tempered climate. You wouldn’t know a hard day of work if it hit you in the face.” He cleared the plates off the table.

And now she somehow hit the nerve that “he didn’t measure up to her,” which she often heard. And hated it. She’d been supportive of him. Why couldn’t he get over his insecurities and accept that white-collar work was work too?

“You’re not being fair.” Crap. She could say nothing. She’d have to sit back and let him rant and rave.

“You think you’re so high and mighty with your business suits and all the stuffed shirts you work with from Wall Street. Us little blue-collar guys, we don’t matter.” He grabbed plastic containers out of the cabinets and shoveled the leftovers into them. He shoved the containers into the refrigerator and slammed the door so hard the pictures, secured by magnets, slid down the front.

“Guido, let’s not make this about you. I was just―”

“You were just nothing. Thanks for ruining my dinner!” He stomped into the living room, grabbed the remote, and clicked on a football game putting the volume super high.

Fine then, she’d let him stew. She had a lot to think about anyway.

****

During the following week, Carmala met with Tom Johnson to negotiate the final terms of the Synergy job offer. He needed an answer within days, but she needed the reassurance that this was the right decision.

One morning, she placed a call to Marc Blass, whom she’d met through a client assignment and had since considered a mentor. Carmala had a high regard for his opinion, and he was certainly a good contact to have considering his influence on Wall Street. An hour later, she darted across the cubicle toward her ringing phone.

“Hey, glad I caught you.”

Marc!
Just who she needed to hear from.

“How are you, Carmala? Word on the street is that you might be moving over to Synergy Plus.”

So he’d already heard. “Yes. Can’t talk about it now, though.”

“Understood. How about meeting me for drinks after work tonight?”

Although tonight was a workout night with Guido, she couldn’t miss the opportunity to meet with Marc. If he was going to make time for her, she needed to take advantage of it. “Thanks, Marc. I would really appreciate some support. I have my concerns.”

“Meet me at Delmonico’s, seven?”

She’d have to figure out a good excuse to cancel with Guido, who believed after work was their time to be together, even if it was only a workout. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

It was noon. If she called him now, she could get him squared away.

He answered the cell on the first ring. “Guido, you busy?”

“Nope, what’s up?”

Now that the fight from last week was well behind them—and he sounded as if he was in a good mood—maybe she could wiggle her way out of meeting him. “Yeah, I’m probably going to be a little late at work tonight, so we’ll have to skip the workout.”

“Why would you be working late when you’re going to leave the job soon?”

“Well, I…”
Damn!
She didn’t want to tell him. If she were truthful, he’d get pissed because, for some reason, he was jealous of Marc. On the other hand, she didn’t want a relationship based on lies. “I need to meet some people who’ll help me with the decision about the job change.”

“People, huh? Or do you mean a specific person?”

Ugh.
He’d caught her. “Look, I can’t get into it right now. I’m at work. I won’t be late. Promise. I’ll meet you at the apartment no later than nine.”

“Nine? That’s late. Who are you meeting?”

“Not now, Guid. I gotta go. See you later.” She clicked off before he could pummel her with one more question. Regardless, he’d get the whole story out of her. Later. She’d deal with him later.

****

At a quarter to seven, Carmala sat at the dark wooden bar of Delmonico’s. She loved the place. She nursed her water with lemon as she gazed around the dark panels of wood, old artwork, and a pristine bar stocked with fine liquors. The bar had been around since the turn of the century. Back then, only wealthy and connected gentlemen patronized it. They’d sip their brandy and smoke a pipe or cigar while they discussed a business transaction or legal matter with their cronies. And now here she was. A successful businesswoman. On the brink of taking an amazing job opportunity. She smiled as pride filled her inner core.

“Hey, kiddo, good to see you.” A voice startled her out of her thoughts. Marc kissed her cheek. In typical Wall Street style, he wore a double-breasted pinstriped suit and had his thick black hair slicked back. She thought he was as handsome as he was brilliant.

“Why don’t we sit down?” He led her to an empty table in the bar area.

Marc pushed his menu aside. “I see you haven’t started to drink yet. Should we order manhattans?”

“Why not?” She could use a drink right about now.

He called the attention of a passing waiter. “We’ll take two manhattans up with Jameson’s, please.”

“Coming right away.” The waiter turned on his heel and headed to the bar.

Marc nodded in Carmala’s direction. “So the day has arrived. Are you ready to say goodbye to the androids?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

“I tell you, Carmala, Synergy Plus has a great rep. I know Tom Johnson personally, and he has a lot of pull on our team on Wall Street. You’ll probably make a huge impact with his backing.”

The waiter served the manhattans, and Marc and Carmala clinked glasses.

She took a sip of her drink, enjoying the heat of the alcohol coursing down her throat. “Yes, but the accountant in me is worried about living on commission. There’s no security. No certain bottom line.”

“You’re worried about commission income?” Marc shook his head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. My commissions have paid for the house on Long Island, the BMW, the wife’s Mercedes, the apartment in midtown, and the kids’ college education funds. What else could I ask for?”

“Well, that’s because you don’t mind living a little on the edge. And you’re ballsy enough to make it happen.” Couldn’t she be as well?

“That’s true, but you’re going to hit it big time.” He waved a finger at her. “You’re a natural salesperson, and you have an affable personality. Besides, if you let this opportunity go, they won’t offer it to you again. You will have missed the proverbial boat.”

“I guess. It just makes me nervous.”

Marc drained his glass and plunked it on the table while motioning to the waiter to serve another round. “You shouldn’t have any doubts. Take the job and move forward. ASAP. No sense in wasting another day at Banter.”

Marc took out his phone and checked his messages midway through their conversation. Carmala tsked to herself. Why did he have to fool around with his cell phone? Wasn’t this
her
time? Yet, she had to be tolerant.
She
was the one getting
his
advice.

As she waited for him to finish, the waiter came by with the second round of drinks. Carmala idly glanced through the windows near the bar exit. The sky had suddenly darkened, and rain came down in sheets. A loud clap of thunder rattled the glasses hanging from the bar. The sound startled her.

But the thunder wasn’t the real cause of her shock. A man wearing a hoodie paced outside the window. She caught his eyes glaring at her.

Dear God.
Guido. What the hell? He’d followed her.

Marc looked up from his phone. “Is something wrong, Carmala?”

She flashed a glance at Marc and then to the window.

He followed her gaze. “Who’s that guy? Is he someone you know?”

Carmala’s face burned with embarrassment. Guido was
such
an asshole. She cleared her throat. “Actually, he’s, er, my boyfriend, Guido. He expected me home. Ah…I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize to me. Should we invite him in?” Marc glanced at his watch. “Actually, I have to scoot. I have a date with my wife. But I think we’re about through here. If you have any further questions, give me a call.” He motioned to the waiter for the check. “This is an exciting opportunity for you. You shouldn’t hesitate to take it.” The waiter produced the check. Marc examined it and inserted money in the bill folder.

“You’ll make the right decision, Carmala—about the job. Call me if you need me.” He kissed her cheek and quickly exited the bar.

Stunned, Carmala sat there for a moment, feeling miffed and mortified. How could Guido embarrass her this way in front of Marc?

****

Guido barely kept dry under the narrow awning that surrounded Delmonico’s bar. Carmala’s friend had exited the door and breezed by him without a glance.

God!
At least she could have come out and invited him in when the guy left. Yet she continued to drink and stare into space.

He entered the bar, strolled up to Carmala’s table as if it was his business, and sat down. “Was your meeting worth breaking our plans?”

“Guido, you embarrassed me.” She rubbed her temples.

“You stiffed me. We were supposed to work out.” She’d blown him off
and
lied. Thank goodness he’d located her with his new phone GPS application. She should be pleased he cared that much about her.