Under the Cornerstone (4 page)

I hear a few gasps and it dawns on me that he didn't tell everyone here that we slept together, but they all know now.

"Oh." I scoff and let out a non-humorous laugh. "They don't know everything? You didn't tell them you fucked me like one of your groupie whores, and then snuck out like a thief in the night? That you didn't fucking call or say a goddamn word? 'Gee, Noely, thanks for the pussy.' Not a fucking word from you!  No, you went out and partied and told everyone my fucking business. The exact thing I asked you not to do.”

I close my eyes and pull in a breath. I wanted it to be a calming breath, but that isn’t in the cards tonight.

My vision fills with him when my eyes open and it makes me even more mad, “Fuck you, Johnny!"

He moves in closer towards me, causing Rich to push into me.

"I didn't fuck you like a groupie whore. You can be pissed, but you do not get to compare yourself to them. You were not one of them."

"No? Where were you when I woke up? I'll tell you where. You were off betraying my trust. And now your idiot manager has told everyone what happened to me!"

"I couldn't let him get away with it!"  He yells back at me.

"It wasn't your decision to make," I fire back. 

"I've been making those decisions for a long fucking time, Noles!" He starts to show some anger.

I push against Rich, who is standing solid between us, always the peace keeper.

"And today it stops. I'm twenty-six years old with a college degree and a damn good job. I live on my own and take care of myself. You may have helped me get here, but you don't run my life. You do not make decisions for me anymore. And when I ask you to do something, I expect you'll damn well do it, because I never ask for shit. At least not since I was a kid and didn't have a fucking choice but to beg for a handout," I seethe.

"You never begged for a handout, " his face softens. 

"Noely King?" A man with a badge around his neck asks.

I glare at Johnny knowing where this is going.

I turn to the man, "That's me."

"Saw your name on James Crawford 's paperwork. Is there any way I can convince you to file a report and press charges against Anthony Danello?" 

I sigh, close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose. 

"It could go a long way in your friends' assault cases against Mr. Danello,” he pushes further. 

"Fine." 

"I’m Detective Ross. Could you come to my desk?" He asks kindly.

"Sure."

Johnny pushes past Rich, "I'll go with you."

He looks down at me with eyes full of hurt. 

"No you won't. You've done enough in the last two days. I don't want to see you," I say and walk towards the detective. 

Rich calls out to me, "Noely. I’ll wait on you." 

I nod slightly, "I appreciate that, but I just want to be alone. Please go home."

Rich gives me a sad smile before I turn around. 

I follow the detective to give a statement, sign and date the pictures Johnny took and gave to them without my permission, and allow them to take more photographs.

I walk home alone at four in the morning with a promise from the detective that Tony will see jail time. But I could care less. Tony's damage doesn't begin to compare to Johnny's.

Chapter Four

I call into work as soon as I get home. I'm exhausted, depressed, and covered in Tony's handiwork. I give the same lie, I gave to Johnny, attributing my illness to bad Chinese food since my favorite restaurant is obviously closed for renovations. 

The shower calls me then I step under hot water and stand there until the water goes cold. The other tenants in the building are going to be pissed. 

I creep into bed as the sun comes up and succumb to sleep. I awake later in the afternoon and immediately order takeout. I avoid Chinese since I'm scared karma will bite me in the ass. 

When the delivery guy arrives, I find Johnny standing right beside him. I glare at him for all of two seconds, pay delivery guy, and slam the door in both of their faces. 

"Noely, we need to talk," Johnny says into the door with his stern tone.

Fuck his stern tone. 

I don't respond. 

"Noe, I'm serious."

So am I.  

A loud thud comes from the door, and then I'm sure his temper got the best of him and he's taking it out on the wood.

With my mouth full of food, I yell over my shoulder in his direction, "If you break it you buy it!"

"Open the door, Noles."

I chow down on my Philly cheese steak instead.

"Fuck!" He shouts and hits the door again about three minutes later.

Once I'm done eating, I place the takeout in a bag and drop it in the trash can. Then, I make sure all my doors and windows are locked before I go to bed. I check my phone before I lay down and find over sixty texts. Thirty are from Johnny. I don't bother responding to any of them. What happened to me is none of their business. 

I hear Johnny talking through the door, but I can't make out his words. I stick my foot out and slam my bedroom door shut, and then I go to fucking sleep. I’m not staying up all night arguing with him. I have a job I love as a marketing associate at the biggest firm in Manhattan. I got the dream job. I’ve always planned to stay at Kohler & Kohler for my entire career and climb the corporate ladder. I love what I do and I can’t afford to drag ass tomorrow after I called in sick today.

I wake before my alarm goes off and begin the tedious task of covering my face the best I can. I don’t need to be the center of office gossip. Picking out a wardrobe in cool weather makes the task of dressing for concealment easy. 

When I open my door, Johnny is slumped against the wall, but he springs to his feet.

"I've been waiting for you all night,” he says with a sleepy voice.

I turn away from him to lock my door and then walk towards the elevator.

"Noe, wait up."

I press the call button and stare straight ahead. We stand in silence and wait. I step into the car when it arrives and he follows.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me, but I told you everything last night. I swear to God it’s the truth.”

“I wasn’t concerned with what you had to say. Didn’t hear it. I went to bed,” I respond.

“Shit,” he says and runs his hands through his hair. “I fucked up. I wanted to be the one to tell you that your name was leaked in the story about our arrests. I'm so fucking sorry,” he says with genuine regret in his voice.

They know my name? 

“Who leaked my name?” I ask from behind clenched teeth.

He shrugs, but I know just as well as he does what vile creature threw my name in the ring.

“I’m going to poison Leo the next time I see him. You may want to give him a head’s up,” I warn.

The elevator doors open, he whispers my name, I turn to him and raise my hand slapping the shit out of him. Then I turn on my heel and get the fuck out of dodge.  He tries to follow me through the building’s front entrance, but I turn on my heel and stick my finger in his face.

"Do not fucking follow me. Do not show up at my house or my job. Do not call me or text me. Do not send news from a friend. I'm done, Johnny. You did this. It's all on you.  I'm going to work, so please leave me the fuck alone!" I end in a shrill scream that paints shock across his face.

"Noely baby..."

Using both hands, I push my hands into his chest with all my might and send him back two steps.

"Are you fucking deaf?!! Leave me alone!" 

His eyes well up with tears and it's almost enough to break my resolve, but then I remember what he told me in the elevator. 

They know my name. 

That's enough for me to stay strong, turn around, and take my ass to work. He apparently got the message at some point because he doesn't follow.

When I get to work, I find an email from my supervisor asking me to report to her office as soon as I arrive. I take a deep breath, wonder if I have time for coffee, realize it probably isn’t a good idea, and then suck up my nerves as I walk to her office.

I know why I’m here when I arrive. Sheila looks up at me with her long, manicured nails. She looks like she should work in the fashion industry instead of marketing. She’s a bitch. I usually don’t pay her much attention.

“I’m glad you could make it in today, Noely,” shelia sneers at me.

What the fuck is her problem?

“Okay?” I respond.

“When you called me yesterday to advise you wouldn’t be at work due to food poisoning, you should’ve covered all your bases,” she arches her perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

“I’m sorry?” I play dumb.

“Your name is in the Village Voice this morning. Apparently, your group of friends ‘rescued’ you from an abusive boyfriend and all received assault charges as a result. My fiancé is a huge fan of Blood Feather, so while I finished my morning coffee he read the article to me. You can imagine my surprise when your name was read aloud.”

“The incident you’re speaking of did not involve me. I was not present when the assault occurred,” I tell her.

“No. But you were dishonest with me when you phoned,” she almost hisses at me.

I lie through my teeth, “Sheila, I really had food poisoning. The two incidents are not related.”

“A little coincidental, don’t you think? Your boyfriend ‘allegedly’ assaulted you, your friends end up in jail for defending your honor, and you call in sick on Monday morning? I’m having a difficult time believing you had food poisoning.”

She pisses me off so I offer a dry reply, “Would you like me to bring you some vomit to prove I had food poisoning?”

“Do you have some available?” Her eyebrow raises even higher.

“Not on hand. I usually make it to the toilet in time. I’m not particularly attached to my own vomit, so I flush when I was done.”

“Sarcasm isn’t your friend right now,” she speaks down to me.

“I apologize, but you’re calling me a liar and attempting to connect two events that had absolutely nothing to do with the other.”

“If that was all I had you and I wouldn’t be sitting here. Tony’s uncle is head of our accounting department. I was advised that if you wish to remain an employee at Kohler and Kohler, you are encouraged to drop the false assault charges against his nephew.”

“False charges?” I raise my voice.

She rolls her eyes at me which makes me want to kick her in the teeth.

I breathe in deeply, close my eyes, and think through yet another predicament I’ve found myself in because of Johnny and Tony. I realize something immediately. If I drop the charges, Detective Ross can still pursue them on behalf of the state. Also, as soon as I drop the charges, they’ll fire me anyway. Tony beats my ass and I lose my job.

The job I'd always wanted at this and only this fucking firm as an account manager for marketing campaigns is gone. I love this job. I made more money than I needed and now I'd be hard pressed to find another job when the reason for my termination was discovered, because Kohler & Kohler wouldn’t describe my reason for termination as “Her boyfriend is our accounting manager’s nephew. He beat her ass and she filed charges because her best friend is a fucking idiot. We didn’t like our manager’s nephew being cast in such a negative light, so we terminated Noely King. She’s disposable anyways.”

“Fuck you, Sheila. You’re going to fire me as soon as I drop the charges anyway. So you, Tony’s uncle, Tony, and the big men at the top can fucking suck it. Before I leave, you should know you’re a cunt. Daily water cooler talk usually consists of a rating of your daily cunt-ness based on other staff member’s encounters with you. You may have fucked, sucked, and clawed your way to the top, but remember once you reach the top the only way to fall is down. I hope I’m there when karma ass fucks you with no lube.”

With that, I exit her office before I was forced to listen to another word that came out of her mouth. I’d never spoken to anyone like that. I most definitely have never spoken to a superior or any co-worker in a professional setting with such hostility and lewdness. Honestly, it was liberating. Part of me wants to walk around the city and speak to everyone like this all day. It feels that damn good.

As I packed up my desk at a job I've had for four years, my colleagues walk by and slow their gait as they do. Then they walk back by my office door. The whispers weren't really whispers at all. They didn't try to hide the fact that they were talking about me and it dawns on me that they would all be told various reasons for my sudden departure and none of them would be the truth. I’m on a roll today, so I might as well leave this place with a fucking bang. If I’m going to be forced out, my exit will be spectacular.

I text Johnny and request he sends me what I want.

Johnny: Why do you want those?

Me: Send me the fucking pictures now. I need them now. I don’t need you to ask questions, just do what I asked you to do.

I also never spoke to him like I have in the last few days. It feels good to be angry. It’s exhilarating to tell people exactly what I want instead of constantly being concerned about their needs.

Johnny sends me the pictures of my bruised and battered body that he took the same night he fucked me. I try to compartmentalize the last thought while I send the texted pictures to my work email. I carefully draft a letter and double-check that I clicked the appropriate group in Microsoft Office that will deliver it to every employee at Kohler & Kohler.