Not Safe for Work (26 page)

And then we stood in silence in his kitchen, drinking coffee and staring at the floor. Well, I stared at the floor. I didn’t know where he was looking, and couldn’t bring myself to find out. Instead, I focused on getting some caffeine into my system and not nodding off where I stood.

He spoke first. “So what happens now?”

“Which part?” I lifted my gaze. “My job or…”

We locked eyes.
Or us?

He shifted his weight. “Let’s start there.”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. Part of me wants to walk in there, tell them to shove it up their asses and leave. But then what?” I set my coffee cup down and pushed it away. “It’d be liberating for a minute, but I’d be screwing myself. I wouldn’t even qualify for unemployment at that point.”

“Have you considered a lawyer?”

“Absolutely. But what will that even accomplish? A lawsuit could take months or even years. I still have to eat and pay for my kids to go to school. Not to mention attorney fees.”

“Let me pay for—”

“
No
.” I put up a hand. “Out of the question.”

“Jon, you shouldn’t have to go in and work in that environment.” He put his own coffee cup down. “These people are literally telling you to fuck me or lose your job.”

I winced. “I know.”

“I don’t want to face them either. They’re—”

“If you pull your contracts, everyone there is fucked.”

Rick pursed his lips. “But what about you? I can’t give money to people who treat you that way.”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I just…don’t fucking know.”

He watched me silently for a moment. “Let’s be honest about this, though. Now that we both know, it’s hard to ignore.”

“Yeah.” I kneaded the back of my neck. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it at all.”

Another silent moment went by, and all the while, his gaze was fixed on my fingers. Any other time, I’d have fully expected him to offer to rub my neck and shoulders for me, but he didn’t. I didn’t have to ask why.

All at once, he released a long breath, and his shoulders dropped. “Let’s…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I can do this, to be honest.”

I wanted nothing more than to beg him to reconsider, but all I could do was push out a breath and slump against the counter. “I don’t know if I can either.”

Silence fell. It dropped itself between us, pushed us further and further apart with each passing second.

“So what do
we
do? About…this?” I asked after a while, and regretted it as soon as I did.

“
Don’t ask questions,
” my father had warned me when I was a kid, “
unless you know you want the answers.
”

Rick met my gaze. Immediately, my heart sank. Like so many times before, the answer was there in his eyes, clear as day, and I knew the words before he spoke them: “Maybe we should take some time. Figure out where to go from here.”

“So…a break.”

“I guess?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t really see any other way.” His eyebrows knitted together.

Yeah. There was another way. It couldn’t have been more obvious if it was written on the wall in flashing red neon.

But I couldn’t just walk away from my job. Get another job, tell the partners to go fuck themselves—it was a lot easier on paper than it was in practice. Standing here in a kitchen that had probably cost more than my entire house, I was all too aware that replacing my income would be a drop in Rick’s bucket. And I cringed, mentally begging him not to make that offer.

Don’t go there. Please, please, don’t go there.

You could pay every bill I have a hundred times over, and I’d never be able to look you in the eye again.

If you really know me, you won’t go there.

A solid minute passed, and he finally lowered his gaze, staring at the marble tiles beneath our feet. “So I guess that’s it.”

“I guess it is.” My stomach turned to lead. I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that he hadn’t gone there. Did he know me well enough not to suggest bailing me out financially? Or was he beyond considering solutions and had just resigned himself to this?

I cleared my throat. “I should go. I’ll, um, get my stuff from upstairs.”

Rick nodded, but he didn’t speak.

I went upstairs. He didn’t follow. While I gathered everything that had taken up residence here—a razor, a toothbrush, a couple of changes of clothes—and stuffed them in my overnight bag, he didn’t come into the bedroom. Packed and ready, I went back downstairs to the foyer.

In the foyer, I rocked from my heels to the balls of my feet. Did I go to the kitchen and say good-bye? Did I wait for him to come in here to do the same? Or did I walk out and hope he understood I just didn’t want to force either of us through more painful conversation?

Maybe I was a coward, but I took the last option. With my heart in my throat, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and opened the front door.

For the first time since we’d been seeing each other, I walked out of Rick’s place without a promise of what we’d do next time, without a long kiss to back up that promise, and without looking back.

This wasn’t a split. Was it? There’d been no screaming or saying things we’d wish we could take back. No one had declared that this was over and we could never be in the same room—my workplace notwithstanding—again. I still had feelings for him, and had no reason to believe he didn’t still have feelings for me.

But I was leaving, and he wasn’t stopping me.

This didn’t feel erasable. This felt like “a break” the same way moving out fourteen years ago had felt like a “trial separation”—nothing had been set in stone yet, nothing signed or finalized, but there’d been an unspoken certainty that there was no going back.

As I drove away, refusing to even glance at Rick’s tree-shrouded house in the rearview, I didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel, but numb didn’t seem right.

The motherfuckers had won. They didn’t like one of their lowly modelers dating their top client, and even though they had too much business savvy and not enough power to
stop
that relationship, they’d zeroed in on its Achilles heel. Whether they’d understood or not how effective it would be, they’d figured out how to wipe their stink all over our relationship until it became unpalatable. Until Rick and I couldn’t touch or even look at each other without smelling the mood-killing presence of Mitchell & Forsythe.

At a stop sign, I leaned back against my seat and closed my eyes.

So it was over. This was how it ended.

And it was cold, cold comfort that I still had a job, because I had to go to that job today. Show my face, do my work, be ready to take orders from the people who’d found their way into my relationship and casually burned it to the ground. There was no way out of it. No way around it.

The only thing I could do right now was go home, get ready for work and do everything I could to keep myself out of the unemployment line.

I opened my eyes and kept driving.

Chapter Thirty-Two

This whole thing was going to eat me alive.

Thank God Rick wasn’t in the office today, but I still couldn’t breathe. Not with that ultimatum wrapped around my throat, and the pressure from on high pushing down on my shoulders. If my bosses found out Rick and I had split up, I was screwed. And every time I saw one of them, even if they were just passing by the Zone’s windows, the resentment threatened to boil up into unrestrained fury. Splitting up with Rick was starting to become a moot point, because I was going to get fired for bludgeoning one of the partners with a keyboard.

My concentration was shot. Every time I’d talk myself into a simple task, it wouldn’t be long at all before I was staring blankly, not even sure what I’d meant to do or why, only that my mind kept going back to this morning. And yesterday. And back to this morning.

It was impossible to count the number of times in my career when I’d stared down a model or tried to make sense of a blueprint, all the while convinced I wasn’t going to make it through the day, or the hour, or to the end of this project. Distraction. Exhaustion. Frustration. It happened. And every time, I’d powered through.

But this time, there was nothing inside my skull except a bullshit ultimatum and a breakup that hurt way too much for something that didn’t end with screaming and things that shouldn’t have been said.

I pushed the blueprint aside. It wasn’t happening today. It just…wasn’t.

Without speaking to anyone, I walked out of the NSFW Zone. Upstairs, I tapped on Marie’s door with my knuckle.

“Come in.”

I stepped into her office and shut the door behind me. “You have a minute?”

“Absolutely.” She took off her glasses. “You doing all right?”

“What do you think?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

“My friend… He’s looking into it.” She scowled. “They wisely didn’t put their ultimatum on paper, so—”

“So it’s my word against theirs.”

“
Our
word against theirs.” She looked me right in the eye and set her jaw. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you. As far as today, though…” I exhaled hard. “Listen, I’m just not…here today. I need—”

“Go.” She shooed me toward the door. “I’ll make excuses for you if you need them.”

“Are you sure?”

Marie nodded. “Jon, I’m on your side here. Whatever I can do, I will. Including running interference with the partners until this situation is sorted out.”

“I really appreciate it.”

She offered a thin smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I turned to go.

“Jon.”

I looked over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. If I’d known what they were going to do, I’d have done something. Shut it down, or…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. At least someone on this floor still knows what ethics are.”

We held each other’s gazes for a moment, exchanged slight nods, and I finally left her office. On the way back to the elevator, I admittedly felt guilty for some of the bantering that went on behind closed doors downstairs. For as much as my crew and I had ripped on her for being a tyrant, I knew better. I’d known better for a long time. It was easy to forget when she tore into me or one of my people for something, or when she pinned us to impossible deadlines. The conversation we’d just had, though, underscored the truth that Cal and Scott could never quite see—that Marie was caught in a male-dominated world where she had to play the hardass so the good ol’ boys would respect her. Even if it meant letting her subordinates believe she was a bitch. She really couldn’t win.

As I stepped onto the elevator, I promised myself that things were going to change in the Zone. Marie was a ball-breaker, but when the rubber met the road, she was our ally.

Once I had my brain back, the first thing to go would be that
Empire Strikes Back
soundtrack.

For now, though, I only swung by the Zone to get my keys and my coffee cup. “Hey, Teagan. I’m calling it an early day. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

She lowered the piece she’d been shaping with an X-ACTO. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just…” I waved my hand. “I’ve got some stuff I need to deal with.”

She held my gaze.

Don’t push, T. You know what this is about.

Finally, she nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

From behind me, Cal piped up, “Taking an early retire—”

A look from Teagan stopped him dead. No one else spoke. She tilted her head toward the door, and I didn’t wait around.

Without another word, I got the hell out of there.

* * * * *

I hadn’t even taken off my shoes or my tie before I opened the bottle of whiskey. Day drinking wasn’t my usual MO, but it was today, and I didn’t give a fuck.

I dropped onto the couch, careful not to spill my drink, and propped my laptop on my knee. I opened the long-neglected document that was my résumé and went down the list, tweaking some dates and updating my contact information. Working on my résumé under the influence probably wasn’t the brightest thing I’d ever done, but hell, why not? I was on a roll these days. Kissing Rick at work and gambling on the assumption that no one ever checked the cameras? Not my proudest moment.

In the end, I still had my job but couldn’t make myself believe it was worth it, because I didn’t have Rick anymore.

What else could I do, though? Keep fooling around with him until the charade got old and I got tired of trying to tell myself I wasn’t really being a prostitute for the firm?

Well, whatever the case, maybe it was time for a switch. A change of scenery. Maybe a new flavor of bullshit that didn’t get its stink all over my personal life.

Though I had been with Mitchell & Forsythe for years, I still kept my résumé up to date. Well, that wasn’t true. I had a document containing my résumé, and I brought it up to date whenever something made me question how many more years of my life I could piss away at that place, working my fingers to the bone and inhaling rubber cement fumes. Inevitably, the feeling would pass, but at least my résumé would be current.

I opened my browser and searched for “architectural modeler” on one of the more popular employment websites.

Four matches. Only one within fifty miles.

Fuck.

I needed another drink, so I went back to the freezer. After the second trip, I brought the bottle into the living room with me. The floor was about to start getting uneven, so the fewer trips I had to make, the better.

I was…too many glasses in and still somehow too fucking sober when the front door opened. A second later, my ex-wife appeared in the doorway.

“You’re home early. Sick?”

“No, no. Jus’ needed some downtime.”

“Can’t blame—” Karen glanced at the bottle and then did a double take. She faced me fully. “What’s wrong?”

My shoulders sank. “I…fucked up. Royally.”

“How?” She came closer and took a seat beside me on the sofa. “What happened?”

I swallowed another mouthful of whiskey. After the burn wore off a little, I took a deep breath and ran her through everything that had happened since Marie and I had stepped into that conference room right up until I’d walked away from Rick this morning. Everything after that was unimportant, and it was all starting to get a little blurry anyway.

When I was finished, she shook her head. “I wish I knew what to tell you. But it’s a shitty situation all around.”

“Yeah. It is. And fuck if I know where to go from here. Or if there’s a goddamned thing I can do that’ll actually do any good.” I took a drink, nearly draining my glass. “About all I can do is just keep working for—”

“What?” She stared at me. “You’re not seriously going to stay at that place.”

“What else can I do?” I shrugged. “I still need a paycheck.”

“Yeah, but…Jon, they were asking you to be a
prostitute
for them.”

“Yep.” I brought my glass to my lips. “Guess I should be used to it. Given what the universities are charging, it’s only a matter of time before
they
start asking for blowjobs.”

She watched me silently, not saying a word as I finished the glass and poured in another splash of booze. “Is that what this is about? The universities?”

I flinched, avoiding her eyes. “I have to pay them somehow.”

“Not like this.”

“Then how?”

“Jon. Listen to me.” She took my hand and gripped it firmly. “We made promises to those kids, but they’re mature and understanding. They know things can change that are beyond our control.”

“Except I brought this on myself.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you didn’t expect—and you don’t deserve—what your bosses are asking you to do. And ten years from now, do you want those kids to remember you killing yourself to pay for their school? Or do you want them to remember their dad putting his money where his mouth is after all those years he told them that doing the right thing is the most important thing?”

I winced.

She went on, “They can get student loans if they need them. You and I can get loans if we need to. Their tuition will get paid if we have to rent a one-bedroom apartment together. But don’t you dare be a coward in the name of money. That’s not you. That’s never been you.”

“No, it hasn’t. But, I mean, it isn’t like the kids will know what happened with me and Rick.” I gestured with my glass, nearly losing my grip as I did. “They don’t even know I’m seeing anyone, so how the hell would they know if I’m working for people who told me I had to keep fucking him?”

Karen scowled. God, that look. I’d seen it a lot during the last year we were married and the first year we were divorced, before we both grew up and got our shit together. Much more calmly than she would’ve thirteen years ago, she said, “They don’t have to know the details to know that you’re unhappy or that you’re working yourself into the ground. And they know the biggest financial strain in your life right now is paying for them to go to school. They’re not stupid.”

I lowered my gaze, absently swirling what was left in my glass.

“We raised three good kids,” she said. “They know there are things in this world that are more important than money. I seem to recall someone telling them repeatedly that even if their job was mundane and miserable, they didn’t have to put up with abuse. That their self-respect and dignity were more important than a paycheck.” She inclined her head. “I seem to recall that same someone paying for his son’s car insurance for three months while the kid found another job. Do you happen to remember why he was out of a job in the first place?”

I stared into my glass. I’d lectured my son for ages over the fact that flipping burgers was not beneath him, and that minimum wage was enough for someone just starting out. A few months into that job, I’d sat him down and explained that while burger-flipping for minimum wage was something you just sucked up and endured, the verbal abuse he took from his supervisors was not.

“
There are things we all have to put up with on the job,
” I heard myself telling him. “
And there are things no one should have to tolerate.
”

Closing my eyes, I pressed the glass to my forehead. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you. But whatever you decide, please do it because it’s the right thing to do, not because you’re worrying about the bottom line on the kids’ tuition. Financially, we’ll find a way.”

“It’d be a lot easier to do the right thing if I could see the way.”

“Isn’t that always the case?”

“Pretty much.”

We sat in silence for a long moment. When I leaned forward to top off my drink, Karen didn’t stop me. I sat back and took a deep swallow. She was watching me, but she didn’t say anything. She’d never gotten on my case about drinking—I didn’t do it often, and very, very rarely to excess—but she never liked it when I did. Anything more than a beer didn’t sit well with her. Drinking myself stupid in the middle of the day after bailing on work? Yeah, I could only imagine what she thought of that.

I rested my elbows on my knees, clasped my drink in both hands and pressed my forehead against my thumbs. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is… Fuck, this is such a mess.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m just concerned about you taking care of yourself.”

“I’ll get it together.”

“I know you will.”

Eventually. If you know what’s good for you. If you don’t want me to verbally hand you your ass.

I sighed, feeling lower and lower by the second. “On the bright side, this is one of those rare times when I’m really glad the kids are out of the house.” I blew out a breath. “They don’t need to see me like this.”

She didn’t respond right away. After a while, she touched my shoulder. “You’ll be okay. It might not happen overnight, but I know you’ll sort this out.”

Well. At least someone still had faith in me.

“Take it easy tonight, okay?” She squeezed my shoulder. “You’re not going to drink yourself any closer to an answer.”

“I’m not drinking for an answer. If I wanted to think, I’d still be sober.”

“Fair enough.” She paused. “Do you want something to eat?”

My stomach lurched at the thought of anything besides more booze. “Not right now. If you want to, go ahead.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

She rose but didn’t move away from the couch. Slowly, I lowered my hands and looked up at her.

Her thin eyebrows pulled together, and her lips twisted with sympathy. “You know, this whole situation is bullshit, but it’s a damn shame about you and Rick.” She touched my shoulder again. “Seemed like you guys really had something.”

“Yeah,” I said into my glass. “It did.”