One Look At You (8 page)

“Melanie!” Jen shushes her.

“She’s right. I was a complete slut, if I have to say so myself,” I say truthfully.

“So you came out of your shell – big deal,” Melanie scoffs.

“Melanie, you really aren’t listening. I just told you how I behaved so awfully and you call it ‘coming out of my shell’?” My voice is steadily rising.

“Livie, you know what your problem is? You have this notion that good people only do boring things. Good people don’t drink. Good people only have sex missionary style. Good people don’t make out in public. Oh, just grow up!” Melanie sure doesn’t pull her punches.

“It’s not that…. Okay, maybe, you’re partly right. But, I kind of draw the line at foreplay at a party. It’s disrespectful, and… yes, I don’t think it’s proper behavior. So, can I please torture myself about my bad behavior?”

“Honey, I think what Melanie is trying to say in her usual tactless way,” Jen makes a moue at Melanie as she says this, “is that you’re too hard on yourself. It was a momentary lapse. You’re not yet a candidate for the second circle of hell.”

Melanie looks a bit apologetic. “Two words: Let go. Or you’ll soon be a basket case.”

“Maybe I already am. Thanks, guys. And I’m sorry too if I keep going on and on about this,” I touch both their hands as I say it.

“Eh, that’s okay. Today you’re the drama queen. Tomorrow, Jen, you can have your crown back,” Melanie says.

“Hardy-har-har!” Jen interjects and then laughs good-naturedly.

“Can we order another calamari?” Jen asks.

“Make that two. And another round of sangrias. We have time to kill before the movie starts,” Melanie declares.

This week hasn’t been bad, so far. I’m well on my way to completing the last batch of reports. Tony (yes, I’m quite at ease using his name now) has not said anything derogatory about my work. He just had one or two comments about a few of them, and I simply tweaked the reports to his liking.

The topic of global warming bores me to tears (go ahead, hate me!), but I have to say that I’m becoming more and more convinced that Greenpeace is doing a good job of bringing awareness to the issue of renewable sources of energy. It’s still spring, but it feels like summer to me. We’re having record-breaking temperatures this week – in the nineties. The office still feels like an icebox, but when you step out of the building, you can feel the heat big-time.

I just got lunch at the pizza place one block away, and even with the air conditioning, I am feeling hot and sweaty. I take off my blazer and unbutton the top portion of my blouse. Yes, I’m still wearing conservative professional attire to work. No need to blow my cover when I’m sure it won’t be long now before my boss finds a suitable assistant. Tony’s out for lunch, though, so I can somewhat relax for a few minutes.

“Olivia!” I scramble to my feet at the sound of his voice. I nervously try to button the tiny pearl buttons of my blouse, but he calls me again and I give up.

He’s standing by his doorway, looking at me impatiently, and I ask “I thought you were having lunch at the Hyatt with one of the directors?”

“You thought wrong. Don’t you bother to check my calendar on Outlook?”

What brought about this ill-humor? He was fine this morning when I left some reports on his desk.

“Did you want something?”

“No, I just like to call you to see how fast you can walk to my desk,” he says sarcastically. “Of course, I want something. Come into my office. I need to show you the document.”

I follow him, but he doesn’t go behind his desk. Instead, he stands next to me and reaches for the report. He’s about a foot away, and I can smell his woody-citrusy cologne. I have this strange urge to touch his arm and feel his expensive lightweight wool suit. I look at him sideways and notice how focused he is on the paper in front of him. His eyes then dart to me and whatever he sees makes one eyebrow lift. Unconsciously, my right hand goes to my neckline. When his eyes follow my hand, I forcefully put it down.

A glimmer of humor seems to shine in his eyes, but he makes an effort to keep his face devoid of expression. He shows me this morning’s report, with several portions highlighted. “Do you see the highlighted parts?” I nod. He continues, “Well, these don’t make sense when compared against the data in the report of last week,” he enunciates every word like he’s talking to a stupid person.

I look closely at the figures and I really don’t see what he’s talking about. I don’t have a photographic memory, so I need to review the reports side-by-side and I tell him so. “I’m sorry, but I have to look into this again in order for me to give you a proper assessment.”

“Fair enough. I’m going to sort through the rest and, hopefully, by the end of the day, you’ll have an answer for me.” I turn to leave but he speaks again. “Oh, and Olivia, don’t worry. I won’t pounce on you if you dress more normally. Don’t you know that the more a woman covers herself up, the more curious a man gets?”

His words put me on edge, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “But then, you’re not a man, Mr. Avery. Just a suit in a corner office.”
God, did I really say that out loud?

His loud burst of laughter echoes in the room and I find myself smiling at his contagious response. “There’s a lot more to you, isn’t there?” he says softly.

“No, not really. What you see is what you get,” I say lightly.

“Maybe…” he doesn’t finish his sentence and I leave at once, not wanting to prolong the conversation.
Whew!
One of these days, even if he doesn’t find out who I really am, I’m going to get myself fired for my stupid impulses.

It turns out that he is correct about the mistakes in the report. It was a miscalculation brought about by an error in the formula.
Why didn’t I see that?
I really don’t usually make such mistakes because double-checking formulas is one of my rules. Let’s just say that, with the volume of reports I’ve been generating lately, it was bound to happen. Of course, I really need to be more careful in the future. The man has eagle eyes and actually reads every line.

I print the revised report and have prepared to bring it in to him when I hear someone cry out loudly, “Hola, Livie!”

No! No! No!
It’s Mark, looking tan and fit, greeting me as he saunters my way. What the heck is he doing here?

He hugs me tight and asks, “How are you, Liv?” I cast my eyes in the direction of Tony’s office and am relieved to see the door closed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in a whisper.

“Aren’t you happy to see me? You’re the only one in the group who hasn’t been bugging me with text messages and voicemails in the middle of the night,” he says, oblivious to my discomfort.

“Of course, I’m happy to see you, but now is not a good time.”

“Why not? I went over to your old desk and John told me you’ve been temporarily assigned to the CFO. Wow! That’s a great career move.”

“Not really. This is temporary, that’s all.” I look again at Tony’s closed door.

“Okay. Well, aren’t you going to pepper me with questions about where I’ve been or why I’m here? I’m hurt by your lack of concern.”

“Mark, can we just meet for dinner in like an hour or so? I just need to give this report to my boss and then I can go.”

“Fine. I’ll just hover around while you finish up,” he says nonchalantly.

“No! You can’t,” I say emphatically.

“I’ll be quiet. I’ll just sit down and read my hundred messages or so. Won’t even talk to you, I promise.” He puts up his right arm and crosses his heart.

“No, seriously.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Mark, sense the tone. You need to get out right now.”

“Ahh, I don’t know why you’re acting so weird, but okay. I’ll meet you at the Hawaiian Grill in one hour. Are you happy now?”

I smile my thanks and then he hugs me again. I hug him back lightly until I hear someone clearing his throat.
No!
I slowly turn around to see Tony staring intently at Mark and myself. His eyes are a smoldering gray. My reprieve is over. He must recognize Mark. He saw us dancing and now he’s putting the pieces together.
He knows.

“Go! Go now!” I whisper urgently. Mark looks at me like he wants to say more, but with a curt nod at Tony and then myself, he walks toward the elevators.

“Olivia, a word.”

I bite my lip and steel myself for what’s to come.

Once inside his office, he closes the door and my pulse starts to race, beating at what I can only imagine is five hundred beats per minute. He moves very slowly towards me, never taking his eyes off my face.
He wants to see me squirm.

He takes off my glasses and puts them on his desk. He gazes at me for the longest time and I do my best not to flinch. Then his hands go to my hair, pulling off the pins and allowing it to fall down freely to my shoulders. I know I should object, but I’m so filled with fear that I do absolutely nothing to stop him.

“I…” I want to end the silent torture, but I can’t think of anything to say.

“You what?” He asks softly.

I shake my head.

“So, tell me, Olivia, where do we go from here?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I murmur.
I’ll just tell you what you want to hear.
“I’ll clear my desk first thing in the morning.” I am close to tears as I realize that I can’t work here anymore.

“Taking the coward’s way out? I don’t think that’s your style,” he says with confidence.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I say, unable to look at him.

“And how do you figure?”

“Please, I really don’t know what to say anymore.”

“No one’s asking for your resignation, Livie,” he says my name like he wants to soften the blow.

“But it’s expected, isn’t it? How can I possibly work here now?”

“What happened at the party is personal. This is professional. I do hope you have the sense to make a distinction between the two.”

“I’m sorry, but I would feel very uncomfortable working here with you. I’ve been in constant fear and uneasiness just waiting for you to put two and two together.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” I openly stare at him for being deliberately obtuse.

He sighs and goes behind his desk. “Alright, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But please don’t expect any references from this office. If you leave me in the lurch in the middle of a transition, I would have every right not to give you a letter of recommendation. Good luck finding a new job in that case,” he says brusquely.

“That’s unfair! I’ve always been a good employee,” I argue with him.

“Maybe before. But, as I said, if you leave now, you are effectively making it difficult for me to do my job,” he says firmly.

“There are at least half a dozen assistants who can do my job,” I protest again.

“Not the way I see fit.” He turns to his laptop and starts typing.

“You can’t just do that,” I plead with him.

“Think it over, Olivia. You can give me your decision tomorrow. Now, I have some work to do so, if you please…” Oh, he is so polite and proper, like he’s talking about my choice of coffee for breakfast. I grit my teeth and go to my desk to pack up for the night. I remember that I haven’t given him the revised report.
Screw it!
He can just have his damn report tomorrow.

Mark stands up as I approach his table by the corner. But his gentlemanly manners don’t last very long as he bombards me with questions. “What was that about?”

“What are you talking about?” I feign incomprehension since I don’t want to talk about what transpired at the office.

“You practically pushed me out the door. And your boss was looking at me like I was a bug he wanted to squash under his shoe.”

“You don’t know?” I ask, shocked that he really doesn’t know what happened.

“Don’t know what? Are we playing twenty questions?” he asks, irritated with my lack of forthcomingness.

“You honestly didn’t recognize my boss?” I ask.

“Should I know him? Is he famous?”

“Oh, my God, Mark! You’re a guy who sees every crack on the tile floor or chipping paint on the wall. Are you telling me you don’t remember him?”

“What the hell, Livie? Just tell me!”

“He’s the man I was dancing with at Joseph’s party. I woke up next to him the next morning, remember?”

His eyes bulge and seems to be thoroughly perplexed by what I say. “I don’t get it. What’s going on? How is he your boss?”

“Seriously? You need for me to connect the dots?”

He says nothing but he is clearly shocked.

“Mark, it’s what you’d call a twist of fate.”

“I’m not following,” he says a bit impatiently.

“Our CFO left and Tony Avery was his replacement. I know… what are the odds?” I ask rhetorically.

“This city has a population of thirteen million and you end up with him as your boss?”

“Yup. Mind-blowing!” After some time, I remonstrate with him. “You’re usually good with details. Didn’t you recognize him at all?”

“Well, in my defense, I was pretty hammered at the party. Besides, what do I care what he looked like? But, wait! He didn’t know it was you all along?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been putting up my hair and wearing glasses and hardly any make-up. I’ve also been dressing up very conservatively.”

“But now the cat’s out of the bag because of me.”

“Yes,” I say with a glare.

“I’m sorry! How could I have known? I just wanted to surprise you.” He looks like a little boy feeling sorry for his antics.

“It’s not your fault. As you say, how could you have known? Forget it! I brought it upon myself anyway.”

“Are you gonna have a pity party?”

“No. I just meant that, because I behaved like a slut, I deserve what’s coming to me.”

“Liv, you were at a party. You got caught up in the moment.” He sighs out loudly. “Why do you have such a guilt complex?”

“Mark, you’re not me. You don’t know what I feel. I remember very little about that night and I can’t help it if I feel like I’m responsible for whatever happened.”

“He was there. It takes two.” At this point he tells the server we need a couple of minutes to decide.