Mogul
Page 17
* * *
The next day, things don’t improve. Bryn heads off to see Christos while I head to work, and when she comes to the office, her eyes are red and she won’t talk to me for about half an hour. No matter how much I demand she tell me what happened.
She tries to focus on work and to check the latest designs, but when I say, gently, “Bryn. Talk to me,” she whirls around, clutches me tight, and bawls her eyes out. “We broke up.”
Fifteen minutes later, after she’s had a good cry, we’re both in her office, sitting morosely at the edge of the desk.
“How are you?” she says as she tries to turn her concern toward me. “When I saw the way you two looked at each other in Central Park, I just knew you’d found your guy.”
“Found. Past tense. I’m not keeping him. I can’t.” I sigh and try to arrange the design folders scattered on Bryn’s desk.
She reaches out to take my hand and stop me. “While we were waiting for him, Mrs. Ford started telling me all about her grandson and how he was going through an ugly divorce. She basically implied his ex is a total bitch. He gave her his place on West End Avenue.”
“No wonder he stays at the hotel.” I squeeze her hand, then continue fixing the papers before I store them in her drawer and rub my temples.
“She dotes on him,” Bryn says.
She’s not the only one. But I can’t let myself know him. He didn’t even say that he wanted more from me. Though he looked frustrated when I left, I can’t be sure if he wants me for me or he just wants someone to take out his frustrations on.
Suddenly I feel the hickey on my neck. My hot Dirty Workaholic’s hands somehow lingering over me.
“Enough about Ian,” I whisper, reaching out to take her hand. “Want to take work home instead of being here so close to…” I don’t even want to mention his name.
Bryn’s eyes water again. “It’s really over.” She pushes the heels of her palms to her eyes for a second before dropping them. “I walked into his office, asking why he stood me up last night without a fucking word, and he broke up with me. His ex is pregnant.”
“Bah! I could just…” I shake my head, too shocked to say anything else.
WORKING GIRLS
Sara
“You’ll get through this, Mom,” I insist as I talk to her on the phone that evening. “It’s not because of you. It was that fucking strumpet.”
An image of Ian fucking Ford making love to me with his hot mouth and blazing dark eyes takes over my mind, and I shake it off with a vengeance. “Tell me what you’re doing for yourself,” I insist.
Because I know my mom. My childhood was spent eating her homemade meals, and with my mom braiding my hair when I did my homework. She lives for her family. Being an only daughter, she nearly broke when I rented an apartment in New York. All she had was Dad—and making a warm and welcoming home for him.
Now, even that is gone.
“What do you mean?” Mom asks, as if the concept is alien to her.
“Are you seeing your friends for canasta once a week instead of once every leap year? Taking daily walks with Lico instead of having someone else do it?”
“I am. I’m walking Lico two times a day.”
“That’s good! Mom, that’s great. I’m proud of you. Do things that make you happy. Dad will regret it someday, and you’ll be so happy you won’t want him back. Ever.”
“It’s just that…” She pauses. “How could he, Sara? How could he? I did everything right. I did everything—”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I whisper. “Maybe he was too comfortable. He never feared losing you. Maybe… these things just happen. My roomie just broke up with a guy she’s been dating, and the guy was crazy about her. Some asshole ex—” I cut myself off. Some asshole ex turned out to be pregnant, I think. Bryn and Christos broke up last night. Christos didn’t even make it to their date. And me? Well. I’m seriously losing faith in the universe.
And once again, I wonder if love really works out for anyone.
I’m feeling more than a little blue by the time I hang up with my mom. It’s not just Mom who worries me. It’s Bryn, too.
Christos was the boy of her childhood who got away, and suddenly they were together again and falling in love. Now, she’s walking around in silence, sometimes staring off into space. Last night she cried all night after the breakup. In the office, when she becomes distracted, I notice the way she tries to snap out of it and focus on work—but it still hurts and frustrates me not to know what to do for her. For my mom. Even for myself, to be honest.
Because I can’t help but wonder what happened to Ian Ford and his marriage that made it fall apart. A part of me hates not knowing. A part of me wishes it were over and done with so I could find out if we really have something worth pursuing.
* * *
The next day I meet with Jensen, a good friend I met through Bryn who’s helping us with the upcoming House of Sass launch. He’s a graphic design artist with a fabulous basement flat in Gramercy Park that even provides that elusive key to the gated neighborhood park. He’s got a longtime boyfriend now, a thriving business, and the confidence to show for it. Makes me wonder if the bad luck we girls are experiencing romance-wise is only affecting the women of the world.
“So. The job. You happy?” he asks as we walk down Irving Place to his neighborhood coffee shop.
It takes me a moment to catch on to what he’s saying. “It’s good. I enjoy working with Bryn. Sorry. You caught me at a moment.”
“A good moment?"
I feel my cheeks flush. “Nah. I just… I’ve been a bit in a cloud since last night.” I wave it off, shaking my head.
“What? You’re not happy?”
“Yes, with the job; it’s just that today I’m a bit… spacey.”
I pause outside the coffee shop while Jensen orders our usual coffees. Then he strides outside, hands me my cup, and leads me to a small round table.
“Okay. Spill it, woman,” he says.
“I found out my one-night stand’s name. More than that, I found out he’s the grandson of one of my and Bryn’s customers. We spent the night at a hotel.”
“Sheshus, that’s fucking killer, Sara.” He slams a hand down on the table in emphasis, clearly thrilled.
“No, it’s not! He’s fucking married, Jensen.”
“Say what?” Jensen shifts forward in his seat, shaking his head in complete disbelief. “Fuck. Okay.” He drags a hand across his face. “No matter. It’s never a mistake when you get the O, you know what I mean? And you did get the O. Didn’t you?”
I groan. “God! Multiple times. That guy is so good he could make me O just from kissing. But he’s married. In the process of getting divorced, but that’s what they all say, right? I’m not that girl, Jensen!” I feel my frustration rise as I talk about it, and I swallow a huge gulp of coffee to calm it down.
“Forget him. Tell him ‘thanks for the O, but that’s all you’re good at.’ And move on. Get out more. Can I introduce you to some friends? I know a few people who can take care of the sex issue, no strings. A fuck-buddy type of thing.”
“In their dreams, Jensen!” I burst out laughing.
“The wet ones,” he says, tongue in his cheek.
The next day, things don’t improve. Bryn heads off to see Christos while I head to work, and when she comes to the office, her eyes are red and she won’t talk to me for about half an hour. No matter how much I demand she tell me what happened.
She tries to focus on work and to check the latest designs, but when I say, gently, “Bryn. Talk to me,” she whirls around, clutches me tight, and bawls her eyes out. “We broke up.”
Fifteen minutes later, after she’s had a good cry, we’re both in her office, sitting morosely at the edge of the desk.
“How are you?” she says as she tries to turn her concern toward me. “When I saw the way you two looked at each other in Central Park, I just knew you’d found your guy.”
“Found. Past tense. I’m not keeping him. I can’t.” I sigh and try to arrange the design folders scattered on Bryn’s desk.
She reaches out to take my hand and stop me. “While we were waiting for him, Mrs. Ford started telling me all about her grandson and how he was going through an ugly divorce. She basically implied his ex is a total bitch. He gave her his place on West End Avenue.”
“No wonder he stays at the hotel.” I squeeze her hand, then continue fixing the papers before I store them in her drawer and rub my temples.
“She dotes on him,” Bryn says.
She’s not the only one. But I can’t let myself know him. He didn’t even say that he wanted more from me. Though he looked frustrated when I left, I can’t be sure if he wants me for me or he just wants someone to take out his frustrations on.
Suddenly I feel the hickey on my neck. My hot Dirty Workaholic’s hands somehow lingering over me.
“Enough about Ian,” I whisper, reaching out to take her hand. “Want to take work home instead of being here so close to…” I don’t even want to mention his name.
Bryn’s eyes water again. “It’s really over.” She pushes the heels of her palms to her eyes for a second before dropping them. “I walked into his office, asking why he stood me up last night without a fucking word, and he broke up with me. His ex is pregnant.”
“Bah! I could just…” I shake my head, too shocked to say anything else.
WORKING GIRLS
Sara
“You’ll get through this, Mom,” I insist as I talk to her on the phone that evening. “It’s not because of you. It was that fucking strumpet.”
An image of Ian fucking Ford making love to me with his hot mouth and blazing dark eyes takes over my mind, and I shake it off with a vengeance. “Tell me what you’re doing for yourself,” I insist.
Because I know my mom. My childhood was spent eating her homemade meals, and with my mom braiding my hair when I did my homework. She lives for her family. Being an only daughter, she nearly broke when I rented an apartment in New York. All she had was Dad—and making a warm and welcoming home for him.
Now, even that is gone.
“What do you mean?” Mom asks, as if the concept is alien to her.
“Are you seeing your friends for canasta once a week instead of once every leap year? Taking daily walks with Lico instead of having someone else do it?”
“I am. I’m walking Lico two times a day.”
“That’s good! Mom, that’s great. I’m proud of you. Do things that make you happy. Dad will regret it someday, and you’ll be so happy you won’t want him back. Ever.”
“It’s just that…” She pauses. “How could he, Sara? How could he? I did everything right. I did everything—”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I whisper. “Maybe he was too comfortable. He never feared losing you. Maybe… these things just happen. My roomie just broke up with a guy she’s been dating, and the guy was crazy about her. Some asshole ex—” I cut myself off. Some asshole ex turned out to be pregnant, I think. Bryn and Christos broke up last night. Christos didn’t even make it to their date. And me? Well. I’m seriously losing faith in the universe.
And once again, I wonder if love really works out for anyone.
I’m feeling more than a little blue by the time I hang up with my mom. It’s not just Mom who worries me. It’s Bryn, too.
Christos was the boy of her childhood who got away, and suddenly they were together again and falling in love. Now, she’s walking around in silence, sometimes staring off into space. Last night she cried all night after the breakup. In the office, when she becomes distracted, I notice the way she tries to snap out of it and focus on work—but it still hurts and frustrates me not to know what to do for her. For my mom. Even for myself, to be honest.
Because I can’t help but wonder what happened to Ian Ford and his marriage that made it fall apart. A part of me hates not knowing. A part of me wishes it were over and done with so I could find out if we really have something worth pursuing.
* * *
The next day I meet with Jensen, a good friend I met through Bryn who’s helping us with the upcoming House of Sass launch. He’s a graphic design artist with a fabulous basement flat in Gramercy Park that even provides that elusive key to the gated neighborhood park. He’s got a longtime boyfriend now, a thriving business, and the confidence to show for it. Makes me wonder if the bad luck we girls are experiencing romance-wise is only affecting the women of the world.
“So. The job. You happy?” he asks as we walk down Irving Place to his neighborhood coffee shop.
It takes me a moment to catch on to what he’s saying. “It’s good. I enjoy working with Bryn. Sorry. You caught me at a moment.”
“A good moment?"
I feel my cheeks flush. “Nah. I just… I’ve been a bit in a cloud since last night.” I wave it off, shaking my head.
“What? You’re not happy?”
“Yes, with the job; it’s just that today I’m a bit… spacey.”
I pause outside the coffee shop while Jensen orders our usual coffees. Then he strides outside, hands me my cup, and leads me to a small round table.
“Okay. Spill it, woman,” he says.
“I found out my one-night stand’s name. More than that, I found out he’s the grandson of one of my and Bryn’s customers. We spent the night at a hotel.”
“Sheshus, that’s fucking killer, Sara.” He slams a hand down on the table in emphasis, clearly thrilled.
“No, it’s not! He’s fucking married, Jensen.”
“Say what?” Jensen shifts forward in his seat, shaking his head in complete disbelief. “Fuck. Okay.” He drags a hand across his face. “No matter. It’s never a mistake when you get the O, you know what I mean? And you did get the O. Didn’t you?”
I groan. “God! Multiple times. That guy is so good he could make me O just from kissing. But he’s married. In the process of getting divorced, but that’s what they all say, right? I’m not that girl, Jensen!” I feel my frustration rise as I talk about it, and I swallow a huge gulp of coffee to calm it down.
“Forget him. Tell him ‘thanks for the O, but that’s all you’re good at.’ And move on. Get out more. Can I introduce you to some friends? I know a few people who can take care of the sex issue, no strings. A fuck-buddy type of thing.”
“In their dreams, Jensen!” I burst out laughing.
“The wet ones,” he says, tongue in his cheek.
