Beautiful and Broken (8 page)

"I snuck out of his room, Amy. If I wanted more, I would have stayed. Sawyer is nothing to me."
 

“So if he’s nothing to you, then take the money and run. Why not?”

Why not, indeed? I only had one answer, but my words sounded more confident than I felt. “I'm too proud for that.”

“Pride gets you alone and poor.”
 

“I hope this doesn’t have any effect on your working relationship. He’s one of your clients, isn’t he?”

She shrugs. "He’s Charlie’s client. And even if he was mine, I'd ditch him for you."

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. She pats my back. Amy has never exactly been the affectionate type but she never pushes me away. I think she’s used to it after being friends with me so long. Sometimes I think she even likes it, because she lets me hold on to her until I'm good and satisfied.

Six

WHEN MONDAY ROLLS around, I feel just as awful as I did the morning after the fight. My body still aches and my headache remains. I'm still taking the antibiotics and extra strength Acetaminophen every four hours for the pain. And now I have a nasty purple bruise on my forehead and my right eye is blackened. Even makeup won’t cover it up, plus I worry about the makeup around my stitches. The last thing I need is an infection.
 

I get to work early and sigh as I duck my head and hurry to my desk. I can feel a line of people following me, waiting to pounce like a pack of hungry lions. I never watched the local news on Saturday or Sunday, and Amy assured me no one would recognize me, but I know when I see the looks on my co-workers' faces that I'm caught. Maybe Mr. Hersey will end my pain today and just go ahead and fire me. Be done with it. Hell, maybe I should just quit.
 

Sophie leans on my desk and smiles. "I knew that was you." She raises her hand and Ryan slaps a twenty into it. They were placing bets on if I was the girl on the news or not. Here I thought getting dumped on my wedding day after catching my fiancé kissing my sister would be the absolute worst thing that could happen to me this month. It turns out my life is destined to continue down a spiraling slope.
 

I remember my grandmother once telling me that God doesn't give a person any more than they can handle. That a strong person might have a harder life because God knows they can handle it. I disagree. I think He has it out for me. I don't know how much more I can take. I've had enough. I'm ready to say uncle, and that’s
before
Mr. Hersey calls me into his office.
 

"Shit," I mutter.

"Good luck, Molly,” Carol says with a frown.
 

"It was nice knowing you," Ryan says.
 

I'm about to get fired. I know it. So does everyone else in the office. Anna smiles and waves at me as if to say 'don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.' It's been a week since my last office visit with Mr. Hersey. I've kind of avoided the office since, giving him excuses like I'm meeting with clients. I wasn't. I was in my room sleeping or crying over Jason. I feel a little guilty about that, but it wasn't as if he was paying me to do nothing. I mean, when I get paid, he gets paid, so neither of us are profiting from my current emotional slump. It’s a good thing I had some money saved or else I wouldn’t be eating right now either.
 

I walk inside his office. It smells of Old Spice and bacon. A half-eaten breakfast sandwich sits dead centre on his desk.
 

He motions to the chair and I do as I'm told. If he lets me go, I lose this office space and I can't use the company's name, which is one of the most reputable and lucrative real estate companies in the area. Going out on my own wouldn’t be possible.
 

I sigh and wait for the dark news. Later today I'll take a long bath and cry. Maybe I'll drive myself off a cliff. No one will notice, I'm sure. Maybe Amy and Megan, but they're so busy they'll get over it eventually. They'll be fine. And my debts would just magically go away.
 

"I didn't think you could pull it off, but you might prove me wrong yet."

I tilt my head to the side and process his words over and over in my brain. I’m pretty sure I heard him correctly but I ask him to repeat it, just to be sure.
 

"Dina Sloan called today and specifically asked for you."

"Dina Sloan? I'm sorry—I don't know who that is."

He shakes his head and looks at me like I drank Drano as a child. As if I couldn't feel any stupider today. I’m sure he knows all about last weekend and I'm grateful he hasn't brought this up yet. I’m hopeful he won't bring it up at all.

"Dina Sloan is
the
agent to the hottest celebrities in the city. One of her clients has requested your services. I suggested someone else, but she insisted on you only."

“Me?”

“I know!” He throws his hands up in the air.
 

“And you suggested someone else? Why would you do that?" I can’t hide my offence.
 

Again, he looks at me like I'm actively chugging Drano in front of him now. "No offence, but this kind of sale is way out of your league. I need someone to close this deal and I'm pretty sure—no, confident—that person won't be you."

The hell? I want to reach over the desk and punch him in his double chin. Why hasn't he fired me already if he thinks I'm such a lost cause?
 

"This is it, Molly. Make it or break it. Make the sale and you can keep working here. Lose the client and your time here is over. And you can forget about a glowing reference. You've been a huge disappointment—to say the least. No offence."

I wave him off with a sarcastic smile. Why do people do that, say something awful and say
no offence
as if it makes what they've said okay? As if saying it spares feelings. All it does is further upset and piss the person off.
 

"Who's the client?"

"I don't know. Trust me, I tried to find out, but she says that's confidential. She sent me a list of places the client wanted to view so you'll have to call her directly and make the arrangements."

"I'll be meeting her then?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Organize the meets and then I guess you'll find out when you go if you'll be meeting her or one of the client's representatives."

A celebrity asked for me by name? How was that possible when I talked to no one at the party and the only impression I made was by taking a tooth to my forehead? This has Amy written all over it. I’ll have to thank her later.
 

I smile and Mr. Hersey looks at me like I'm insane. Right. I slip out of his office and head back to my cubicle, past the frowning co-workers who look at me like I'm headed to my desk to clear it out. No such luck. I know most of them don't really feel bad for me. They just want me to leave so they can gossip about me the second I walk out the door.
 

Sophie swivels in her chair when I sit down. She's facing me, staring at me, waiting for me to say something. She'll wait a long time.
 

"Meeting go well?" she asks sweetly.

"Actually, it went really well. It seems I have a new celebrity client to entertain, so if you don't mind, I've got lots of work to do."

Her eyebrows raise at the mention of a celebrity client. Her mouth opens as if she's lost her brain and the ability to speak. Good. I can't believe how satisfied I feel in this moment. I've effectively silenced Sophie McClaren; I'm not sure when I'll ever be able to say this again, so I revel in the moment like it might be the last.
 

Moments later, she thinks of a comeback. Too late. Almost.

"So I guess you got more than a tooth in your skull at that party, then."

"I guess so."

"How did you even manage to get an invite to a party like that, anyway?"

"What's that supposed to mean?” I tap, tap, tap on my keyboard, refusing to make eye contact with her. I'm already enraged and an office brawl would not help my current situation.
 

"Well, I mean, it's not as if…" She pauses. "It’s not as if you’re…you know?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Socially relevant.”

Huh! I turn my head to glare at her.
 

“No offence…"

No offence. There it is again. I stop typing and curl my fingers. I can feel my face heating. My pulse is throbbing in my neck. I'm sure I'm going to dive for her, but I calmly lay my hands on my desk and count to three. She's trying to provoke me. She’s jealous. And I won't let her win. She’s the girl everyone loves and fawns all over. Gorgeous. The fact that I might have gained attention from a celebrity client kills her, and I have to focus on that.

I concentrate on my work, ignoring her. After a few moments she turns back in her seat to face her computer. We continue working side by side like this for this afternoon, neither of us saying a single syllable to each other.
 

I call Dina soon after doing my homework and researching the properties. My call goes to voicemail and hours later, I still haven't heard back from her. Sophie is giving me the stink eye and it's making me warm and fuzzy. Everyone in the office seems to glance at me a half dozen times or more over the day, but no one comes over.
 

Dina calls me back just before I leave for the day. She tells me she wants five viewings the following afternoon. I tell her I'll try, but I'll have to clear it with the agent of the homeowners.
 

Her response: "Make it happen," before hanging up. I stare at the phone like I've been slapped. I'm not sure I can remember the last time someone hung up on me. Why does she need to be rude?
 

Sophie smiles as I set down the phone. “You won’t last a day with the likes of them.”
 

I ignore her. She might be right. But I will never admit it. Instead, I stay late and do everything I can to make sure I have the five viewings that Dina requested. I still don't know who the client is that I'm meeting. I call Amy to ask her about it and she's as clueless as I am, but she wants details after the viewings, which I will gladly share. I'm so curious I can't stand it.
 

***

I'm to meet the client at the Red Line Coffee House the following day. It's this little cafe on the main floor of the Dover Hotel— the same hotel I did the walk of shame at after sleeping with Sawyer. Sigh. Being here makes me uncomfortable and I massage the back of my neck as I feel a flush of heat in my face.

I check my watch and it's twelve forty five. I’m fifteen minutes early and I'm dressed to impress, wearing my best outfit: a black pencil skirt and white silk blouse with a fitted red blazer and matching pumps that Jason bought me for Christmas last year. Looking down at them as I sit at the table near the counter, I can't help but feel nostalgic.
 

Why can’t I stop missing him?

"This seat taken?" says a familiar, deep voice.
 

I begin to smile as I look up, but my smile quickly fades. Then my temper fires. Sawyer slides into the seat opposite me. His smile is timid, like he’s not sure if I’m happy to see him or not. Newsflash: I’m not. He wears brand name track pants and a henley shirt. His hair is freshly showered and damp, falling over his eyes so he flicks his head to push it back.
 

"Yes, it is. I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh, really. A date?"

"That's none of your business." I fold my arms across my chest and sit up straight. I need to be on my toes with this one. I barely know him and yet everything about him disturbs me. "Haven’t you done enough damage?" I say as I lean in. He leans in to meet me.

He points to my face and drops his hand onto the table. "Your face doesn't look so bad."

I scowl at him. "Thanks. Just the kind of compliment every girl wishes for.”

He clears his throat and changes the subject. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you care? The damage is done. Now if you don't mind, I'd really rather not see you ever again."

“Dane said you were insulted that I sent him.”

“I’m not a gold digger. And you if you wanted to make things right, you could have come to the hospital and apologized instead of sending your lawyer. I mean, it's not like we're complete strangers, is it?" I feel the heat pooling in my cheeks. I really don't want to think about that night we spent together. I can barely remember it anyway, but the look on his face, the frown and the head tilt, I wonder if he remembers me at all—other than our incident at the party.
 

"Did we hook up?" He points between his chest and mine.

I want to slap him across the face. Okay, we were both drunk, but could he make me feel any smaller? The heat in my cheeks burns hotter, this time from anger. At least I remembered sleeping with him—sort of. The least he could do was afford me the same courtesy.
 

“I wasn't at my best when I saw you at the party,” he adds.
 

"No. We didn't." I look away hoping he doesn't see through my lie.
 

He shifts in his seat and taps his thumbs on the table. His eyes go blank, as if he's somewhere else.
 

"I
am
sorry about the…" He points to my head.
 

I take a deep breath and study his face. Somewhere on the edges of his cheeky smile, I see a flash of sincerity. As much I’m decided on accepting his apology, now is not the time for making amends. I have more pressing things to deal with. My watch reads one-oh-five.
 

“What were you even fighting about? Let me guess, a girl? Maybe the girl you slept with at the party? Real classy, by the way.”

He scratches at the scruff on his cheek and takes a deep breath. “How did you know about the girl?”

“I was in the bathroom when I heard your marathon sex session.”

“Wow.”
 

I expect him to be embarrassed, to blush or something, but he doesn’t. He just looks a little surprised.

He massages the back of his neck as he chuckles. “This really isn’t going the way I planned.”