One Look At You (7 page)

“No!” I practically shout the word. “I mean, I’m perfectly alright. Let’s not waste any more time. I intend to complete the reports by week’s end. That way I can go back to John.”
And my old life – free of you. Free of the non-stop fear that I’ll get caught.

“I see. Well, I’d be happy to get you back on schedule, but I’m afraid you won’t be going back to John just yet,” he says with almost malicious glee. “I’m not happy with any of the resumes HR has sent me. Until I have at least half a dozen candidates to choose from, you’ll continue to work here.”

I open my mouth to object and then close it again, deciding instead to keep quiet. What’s the point? He’s the CFO and he can simply fire me for insubordination.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I ask politely, raising my chin to meet his icy gaze straight on.

He responds by turning his back on me and going back to his desk.
Alrighty then
. I make my way back to my desk, but then change my mind and walk over to Cassie’s.

Cassie is in her thirties, single and blessed with a cheerful disposition. However, she simply can’t work without music. She always has her iPod on, so I approach her from the side so I don’t startle her. She takes off her earbuds and greets me warmly.

“Hi there! Long time, no see.” Before I can reply, she starts talking again. “What’s with the new look? Is it lonely at the top?” I smile, knowing she means nothing by it.

“Very lonely,” I say. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, clearly puzzled.

“You guys aren’t stepping up your game. Tony told me he hasn’t seen any good resumes. Is Margaret trying to make my life a misery?”

She laughs. “You’re joking, right? First of all, I don’t see why you wanna go back to John when you can be next to the super hot Mr. Avery. Secondly, Margaret is a pro. She would never send bad resumes to the boss.”

I shake my head. “Well, that’s what he told me.”

“Hmm, perhaps he just doesn’t want to let go of you. John used to sing your praises to high heaven. Tony probably thinks the same way.”

“Nooo, he said he hasn’t found anyone impressive enough.”

“I don’t know what he means by that. I’ve seen the resumes. Two Stanford graduates. One from Cornell and another three from Berkeley. All with at least five years’ experience with big corporations. One of them was an assistant to a Starbucks executive. What else is he looking for?”

“Perhaps he hasn’t seen those resumes?”

“They were emailed to him, so unless there’s a black hole in his computer or he just automatically deletes his messages, that would seem impossible.”

I let out an air of resignation. “Do me a favor. If you’re about to send some really good resumes, copy me blindly. That way I can remind him to read them.”

“I’m not sure I could be do that. HR policy. However, I will email you that I’m sending him a promising batch of resumes. How’s that?”

I high-five her and then see her putting on her earbuds again.

“I don’t wanna stop just because…” she is busy singing along. She looks up at me in an embarrassed way. “Don’t you just love Janet Jackson?” she says without waiting for an answer.

And then it hits me. That’s the song we were dancing to – “Any Time, Any Place”. Suddenly, I find myself back in the ballroom.

My arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, my body molding to his. His hands move from my midriff to my butt. They linger and then slowly caress until I feel the heat rise within me.

“You smell so good,” I speak in a suffocated whisper.

“So do you,” he whispers hoarsely into my hair. “And I want to smell every part of you,” he says. Even though I’m shocked at his words, I shiver with excitement. He bends to nibble at my earlobe and I’m astounded at my eager response. My hands hold his face and I raise myself to press my open lips to his. He responds with a hunger and urgency that sends me reeling. He pulls me harder against him and continues to kiss me with such raw sexual heat. We are now oblivious to anything but our mutual hunger. My legs are like jelly and my whole body’s on fire.

“Come with me,” he says with a tremor in his voice. I can’t speak, so I just nod and take his hand blindly.

“Livie, I suggest you daydream at your own desk before the big boss starts looking for you,” Cassie cuts through my thoughts with her words and good-natured laugh. I slowly walk back, trying to keep my composure. I’ve just remembered something so vividly, and how I wish to God I hadn’t. How, just how, can I face him now?

He comes out of his office just as I make my way back to my desk. I’m openly staring at him, but I don’t hear the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“Olivia!” he says my name so forcefully that I finally understand that he’s asking me something.

“I’m sorry?” Believe me,
I really am
, in more ways than one.

“For God’s sake, if you’re not well, please just go home,” he says with such displeasure that I feel my cheeks redden.

“No, I…uhm… I’ll be fine. Just please give me a few minutes. You were saying?”

“I have some preliminary revisions to one of the reports you emailed me. Primarily formatting. The others I haven’t gotten around to checking. I have to go. It’s that blasted affair tonight.” He says it like death is preferable to currying favor with the Board of Directors. Thank goodness for the cocktails. At least I have some time to recover from the jogging my memory got.

“I’ll look into it right now.” He looks my way like he wants to say something else, but changes his mind and leaves. A sigh of relief escapes me.

Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.
The little I remember so far is causing shivers to run up and down my spine. I made out with a stranger in a crowded ballroom, and then presumably followed him to his room. He chose me because I was drunk and wanton and willing to go all the way. And I went to him because my judgment was compromised and my inhibitions had disappeared in the sea of alcohol. We never even exchanged names. We kissed, touched, and God knows what else. But we never even knew each other’s names. I can’t remember what we did. A lump of bitterness rises in my throat.

The only way I can stop thinking of that night is to focus my efforts on the reports that I need to do. I read his email on the changes he wants me to make. I can easily reformat the report and add a few columns for the percentages he wants to incorporate. I’m an old hand at Excel so I manage to make the revisions in no time at all. I go through my list and check what’s next, and then start on gathering the data…. And the day turns into night.

The phone rings and I wonder who could be trying to reach me at seven in the evening.

“Mr. Avery’s Office. How may I help you,” I say in a perfunctory manner.

“Oh, great, I’m glad I caught you,” he sounds relieved.
Where else would I be after all the work you dumped on my lap?
I wait for him to continue.

“Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“I thought I got cut off. Anyway, Dr. Stein, from the Board, wants to get a copy of the comparative analysis you did for the East Coast suppliers. Can you please email it to her and copy me?”

“I’ll do that right now.”

“Thanks, Livie. I really appreciate all the hard work you’re putting into these reports,” he says in a gentle voice. I think he really means it, but I’m flustered by this unexpected validation. Plus, I notice that he calls me by my nickname.

“Thank you.”

“Tony,” he prompts. “Say my name.”

“What?” I’m confused.

“Olivia, you’re hopeless,” he says with great amusement. Is he having fun at my expense or am I just being too sensitive?

Then, I get it. “Thank you, Tony.” There. I said his name for the first time. He laughs at my bad timing.

“Said with a quintessential Californian accent.” Where is this weird, light-hearted conversation going?

“We all can’t have posh British accents, you know,” I lobby back.

“I actually like yours better. Good night, Livie.” And just like that, he hangs up. Why is he trying to be friendly? And why am I so paranoid?
If only we had never met at that party
. Yes, it’s the ‘if-onlys’ that always get to you.

“He seems like a cool guy.” Melanie, Jen, and I are having lunch at Testino’s in Venice. It’s our favorite Italian restaurant. Good food at unbeatable prices. We’re biding our time until the five o-clock screening of a movie in Glendale. Jen’s been whining about my working hours for the past two weeks. And I’ve been telling them about my demanding boss. Needless to say, Melanie is getting caught up on what’s happening in my life, thanks to Jen’s big mouth.

“Really, Melanie? Why are you on his side?”

“His side? The man has been trying to make friends, or at least show his appreciation. Considering that he’s the big boss at Gallo’s, you’re lucky he hasn’t fired your sweet ass. Because, by your own account, you’ve been rather rude,” she says with her trademark brutal honesty.

“Whatever.” I know she’s right, but I’m upset that she’s not sympathetic to what I have to go through.

“Livie just wants to keep her distance, Melanie. It’s not like she’s being deliberately discourteous,” Jen, sweet Jen, comes to my defense.

“It’s not like he’s ever gonna find out. Chances are he was just as drunk as you were. He was seated by the bar. It’s not inconceivable that he was downing shot after shot. Okay, okay, worst scenario, he finds out you were the woman he had the hots for… what could possibly happen?”

“He could fire her?” Jen asks in a voice filled with doubt.

“Are you serious? On what grounds? He doesn’t want a lawsuit on his hands.”

“Well, it’s definitely going to change the dynamic. I mean, I couldn’t keep going to work, knowing I’d be seeing him and he’d be looking at me in a different way.”

“You mean with lust-filled eyes,” Melanie says with a laugh.

“Can you not use those words?”

“There are worse things than being looked at with desire. You should be so lucky. He’s rich, gorgeous, and has, or had, a hard-on for you. That’s not a bad thing at all,” she concludes.

“Will you please stop talking that way?” I whisper, looking around to see if people are listening in on our conversation.

“Relax! Nobody cares about your love life.” Melanie now looks bored with the topic.

I glare at her and Jen tries to ease the tension. “Guys, can’t we talk about something else?”

“Fine, little lady. What do you want to talk about?” Melanie says in an imitation of a southern drawl. Sometimes, Melanie is a pain in the you-know-what, but she does have moments when she can be funny.

“Ha-ha,” Jen says to mock her back. “Have any of you guys heard from Mark?”

“Nope,” I say.

“The jackass didn’t even respond to my text message the other day,” Melanie says.

“I know. No email, no text messages, and no phone calls. Where in the world is Mark?” Jen asks with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Remember the time when he was incommunicado for a month because he had left suddenly for Italy with a girlfriend and never bothered to tell us?” I remind them.

“But it’s just so rude in this day and age not to reply,” Melanie says in a huff.

“Oh, c’mon. Technology is a double-edged sword. Sure, we’re connected at all times, but it’s also intrusive. We have no private lives anymore. Let him be, guys. He’ll call when he wants to,” I say in Mark’s defense.

“I kinda disagree with that,” Jen says. “The fact that we are reachable is a good thing. And when your friends want to say hi, you really should make an effort to drop them a line or two. How hard is it to reply, ‘Hello. Busy right now.’?”

“I’m with Jen on this one,” Melanie says in agreement.

“But people need space. You really can’t expect everyone to be on call at all times,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Isn’t that what friends are for? To be there for you?” Melanie asks with a lift of an eyebrow.

“True, but it’s not like you have an emergency or something. By the way, among the three of you, it was only Mark who bothered to pick up the phone when I needed a ride. For shame, ladies. Tsk, tsk,” I say with humor.

“Oh, don’t you dare bring that up!” Melanie says in a loud voice.

“I didn’t hear the phone ring,” Jen insists vehemently.

“Lighten up. I’m just trying to point out that the poor maligned man must be occupied with some personal or professional project.”

Melanie inclines her head and says, “Well, the thing is, Mark is eccentric in so many ways. All that money sometimes makes him think he’s above the fray.”

Jen and I nod our heads. “The almost three-month long safari,” Jen mentions.

“Staying at the ashram in Kerala for a month,” I make my own contribution.

“Worst of all, staying at their co-op in New York for a year,” Melanie says with a pout, and we all laugh at her ridiculous example.

“What?” she says. “A year is a year, no matter where. He didn’t even communicate with us that much.”

“You know what, let’s just give him the benefit of the doubt. Sooner or later, he’s going to resurface.”

“Then we can all go somewhere for the weekend,” Jen excitedly chimes in.

“Or we can all just give him the cold shoulder,” Melanie naughtily suggests.

“Maybe Jen’s,” I say. “Already too much tension in my life.”

They simultaneously touch me on each shoulder.

“I know, right? You used to be the one with the snooze-fest life, and now… mystery and intrigue stalk every moment of your life,” Melanie says with a dramatic flair.

“Here’s the thing. I used to think knowledge is power. But, now I’m beginning to think that ignorance is bliss.”

“Why, did you remember anything recently?” Jen asks.

“Kind of. I remember making out with him on the dance floor.”

“For real? That’s so crazy. How did you feel when you remembered?” Melanie asks this time.

“Totally embarrassed. I was coming on to him big-time. I was acting so out of character. Like… I don’t know…”

“A cat in heat?” Melanie suggests. I flush, unable to acknowledge how apt the analogy is.