out there, I interrupt her chatter as she tells me about management structure changes and circulation issues at the paper. I clear my throat, hoping to sound a little more professional than I feel at this moment. “Christine, I asked to meet with you because I really need a job and I was wondering if you could help me out.”
Suddenly the restaurant seems very quiet. She takes another sip of her wine. “Oh.”
“Yes, I’d love my old job back.”
She stretches out her arms and swirls the liquid in the glass she’s holding while making a face as if in deep thought. She really does enjoy putting on a show. When she sets her glass down and leans forward slightly, I avert my eyes to avoid seeing the tops of her breasts. But when her cool hand covers mine, I can’t stop myself from flinching. Her fingers stroke my skin, soft, slow. This whole charade literally makes my skin crawl. Some might call it sexual harassment. Me, I see it like it is—an older woman looking for attention. I was always good at giving her just enough. But tonight, walking the line seems more difficult.
“We might be able to work something out,” she says.
I look anywhere but at her. “Work something out how?”
She clears her throat. “Listen Ben I’m not going to beat around the bush. I want the article you wrote before everything happened.”
I guess the cougar wants my piece, not me. Although I’m not sure I should be shocked by this turn of events. After a beat, I answer. “Come on, Christine. You know I killed that story a long time ago.”
“Yes, I do. But you wrote it with intentions to publish. Didn’t you?”
I raise my brows. “Of course I did. Why do you want it now?”
“Do you really need to ask? It’s breaking news. Front-page news, even. It was the catalyst behind everything that has happened.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Ben. No more games. You and I both know what happened. I’ve been around this business too long.”
“Well, I don’t have it.” The muscles in my jaw tighten. All I want is to put that part of my life behind me and move forward. “That story is old news. You know I’m good at my job. I can help increase the paper’s circulation. You know I can.”
Her stare is relentless.
My wasted brain assesses the situation, but there’s no way out of this that will end well. I need some time to think. I set my glass down and decide I’ll hit the restroom. But my shaky fingers let go too early and the goblet tumbles over, spilling the wine everywhere. I grab my napkin and quickly start wiping it up. Her hand covers mine and she leaves it there.
“Christine, what are you doing?” I mutter with my voice a little strained.
She looks at me, and her eyes narrow.
“What?” I ask.
“Dammit, Ben! You worked for me. You owe me. Give me something.”
“I owe you? Like you said, you know how this business works. No one owes anyone anything.” I sit up straight and look across the table into her eyes. Now she looks really pissed. What the fuck? Her lips curl and her nostrils flare in the most unsightly way. She reminds me of one of my mother’s friends, one that I’ve never cared much for. The thought makes me wince. The waiter comes to the table to take our order, but he receives another wave of the hand. This one more exaggerated as Christine barks, “Our check. Now.”
He sputters but doesn’t dare speak.
My stomach lurches and I make a gagging noise. She shoots me an annoyed look.
“Excuse me.” I stand up and race to the bathroom. Fuck, I feel sick. I make it to the bathroom and puke my guts out. A cold sweat coats my body. Not sure if it was the sushi, my nerves, or the wine, but all I know is I have to get out of here. I trudge back to the table but remain standing next to her.
Her stare is unrelenting. The candlelight reflects red on her skin, making her look even angrier. I bow my head and tuck my hands in my pants pockets and try to sound contrite. “Christine, I’m
Suddenly the restaurant seems very quiet. She takes another sip of her wine. “Oh.”
“Yes, I’d love my old job back.”
She stretches out her arms and swirls the liquid in the glass she’s holding while making a face as if in deep thought. She really does enjoy putting on a show. When she sets her glass down and leans forward slightly, I avert my eyes to avoid seeing the tops of her breasts. But when her cool hand covers mine, I can’t stop myself from flinching. Her fingers stroke my skin, soft, slow. This whole charade literally makes my skin crawl. Some might call it sexual harassment. Me, I see it like it is—an older woman looking for attention. I was always good at giving her just enough. But tonight, walking the line seems more difficult.
“We might be able to work something out,” she says.
I look anywhere but at her. “Work something out how?”
She clears her throat. “Listen Ben I’m not going to beat around the bush. I want the article you wrote before everything happened.”
I guess the cougar wants my piece, not me. Although I’m not sure I should be shocked by this turn of events. After a beat, I answer. “Come on, Christine. You know I killed that story a long time ago.”
“Yes, I do. But you wrote it with intentions to publish. Didn’t you?”
I raise my brows. “Of course I did. Why do you want it now?”
“Do you really need to ask? It’s breaking news. Front-page news, even. It was the catalyst behind everything that has happened.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Ben. No more games. You and I both know what happened. I’ve been around this business too long.”
“Well, I don’t have it.” The muscles in my jaw tighten. All I want is to put that part of my life behind me and move forward. “That story is old news. You know I’m good at my job. I can help increase the paper’s circulation. You know I can.”
Her stare is relentless.
My wasted brain assesses the situation, but there’s no way out of this that will end well. I need some time to think. I set my glass down and decide I’ll hit the restroom. But my shaky fingers let go too early and the goblet tumbles over, spilling the wine everywhere. I grab my napkin and quickly start wiping it up. Her hand covers mine and she leaves it there.
“Christine, what are you doing?” I mutter with my voice a little strained.
She looks at me, and her eyes narrow.
“What?” I ask.
“Dammit, Ben! You worked for me. You owe me. Give me something.”
“I owe you? Like you said, you know how this business works. No one owes anyone anything.” I sit up straight and look across the table into her eyes. Now she looks really pissed. What the fuck? Her lips curl and her nostrils flare in the most unsightly way. She reminds me of one of my mother’s friends, one that I’ve never cared much for. The thought makes me wince. The waiter comes to the table to take our order, but he receives another wave of the hand. This one more exaggerated as Christine barks, “Our check. Now.”
He sputters but doesn’t dare speak.
My stomach lurches and I make a gagging noise. She shoots me an annoyed look.
“Excuse me.” I stand up and race to the bathroom. Fuck, I feel sick. I make it to the bathroom and puke my guts out. A cold sweat coats my body. Not sure if it was the sushi, my nerves, or the wine, but all I know is I have to get out of here. I trudge back to the table but remain standing next to her.
Her stare is unrelenting. The candlelight reflects red on her skin, making her look even angrier. I bow my head and tuck my hands in my pants pockets and try to sound contrite. “Christine, I’m
Similar Books
