Blast From The Past 1

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Authors: Faith Winslow
research before applying for, and accepting, my position at rEcore—but, damn me, I never thunk to research whether or not I’d unknowingly banged one of the head honchos… But, lo and behold, I had, and, as I sat there with Gigi in Burger Bistro, he was walking right towards me.
    “Hi, J.R.,” Gigi said, leaning in to kiss Joe on the cheek.
    “Gretchen,” he said, with a smile on his face. Seeing him up close was nothing like seeing him from a distance earlier that morning. He was still tall, dark, and handsome—with those steely gray eyes set deep in his rugged face—but his face and hair showed slight signs of aging, which suited him quite well.
    “Who’s this?” Joe—or was it J.R.?—asked, turning to look at me. “Our new hire?”
    “Yes,” Gretchen replied. “This is Patricia Williams. We scooped her up from a firm in Cincinnati, and she’s already making progress on that music app we recently started developing.”
    “Great news,” he said to Gretchen. “And great to meet you,” he added, turning to me. “Do you go by Patricia, or something else? I know Gretchen here sometimes goes by Gigi, so I figured I’d ask.”
    “I go by Trish,” I said, swallowing the huge lump that was forming in my throat. I was waiting— just waiting —for him to say something else that’d make me choke on that lump.
    “Really?” J.R. responded. “I would’ve pegged you for a Patty.” When he said that, I was sure he was about to say something else… He had to recognize me, right? Whatever game of cat and mouse he was playing, I didn’t like it.
    “Nope,” I said, giving into his game as much as I was willing to give in. “It’s Trish. Patty’s a little girl’s name.”
    “I guess it is,” J.R. said, looking at me as if my mere existence confused him. I figured the wheels in his head were turning, and he was trying to remember where to place me in the long line of girls he probably encountered before and after his huge success with rEcore. Like the burgers on the menu, or the drafts on the wall, I was one of many, and I figured it might take him a moment to register me.
    “Well, welcome to rEcore, Trish,” J.R. said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I look forward to working with you, and learning more about you… I’ll let you ladies finish up here. I just wanted to come over and introduce myself, but I really should be going now.”
    Not even a minute later, J.R. was gone. He’d walked out of Burger Bistro, and, in that instance, I realized… he had no idea who I was. He didn’t remember me at all, or, if he did, he wasn’t man enough to admit it. I bit my lip, and my tongue, and sat back, trying to let the beet-red look run off of my face.
    “What the hell was that all about?” Gigi barked at me.
    “What? What do you mean?” I asked, trying to act as though nothing had happened.
    “One of the richest, most powerful men in the world just bought us dinner, and you got all snarky with him,” she clarified. “Why? What the hell is wrong with you?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, bending at the waist a little. “I didn’t mean to come off like that. I guess it’s that stout and those peppers causing mayhem in my belly.”
    “It better be,” Gigi—or, in this moment, Gretchen—followed up, though it was apparent that she didn’t believe me. “‘Cause if you keep acting that way around your superiors, you won’t last long at rEcore, or in any other office.”
    I felt reprimanded and scolded by Gretchen, and more than offended by J.R.’s behavior. This job at rEcore was supposed to be a big career move for me—the kind that could make or break my career—and, at this point, given the fact that I’d once upon a time slept with the founder and just pissed off my supervisor, it seemed more likely to break it.

~ Chapter 15 ~
    “So he has no idea who you are?” Julie asked, running her hand through her pink hair as she checked her email on my rEcore-issued

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