“Oh, give me the damn shoes!”
“What do you mean you think Gabriel is cheating?”
I’m a chicken shit. I can’t talk to Gabriel about it. Mostly because there has been zero privacy in my house since Gwen is staying for a few days. Lord knows I can’t talk to my mother about this.
Even if I did talk to him – If he’s having an affair, he’s not goanna say, “Oh, since you ask, yes. Yes, I am having an affair with the blonde with big boobs from the park. And yes, she did buy sexy lingerie to wear for me. Thank you for asking.”
Instead, I hold my breath until I see Malory, my sounding board.
“Part of me thinks he is and part of me knows better. I mean, this is Gabriel we’re talking about. It would be so out of character. He’s one of the good guys… right?” I ramble, disgusted that I’m even thinking this. My foot is shaking a mile a minute, and I’ve chewed through two pen caps this morning alone.
“Yes, Gabriel is definitely one of the good guys.” Malory tries to comfort me, her hand leaning across the desk to touch my arm. It’s an odd gesture for Malory. It seems forced.
“But you say it all the time. He is good-looking and successful. I mean, why wouldn’t women be thrusting themselves at him all day long?” My head falls in my hands. There is a mountain of work on my desk to be done, but I can’t concentrate. “There is this girl in the park…”
Malory scowls. “What do you mean a ‘girl in the park?”
“Blonde, perfect, and well acquainted with my husband and son.” The thought makes me shiver. “And to top it off, I heard her talking to someone about this guy she’s seeing.”
I let out a breath of air. I feel defeated. “There was something she said. She made a reference to the guy making it all worth it. Like there was an obstacle they had to overcome.” My fear is that obstacle is me.
“Tell me more about the girl. What did she look like? Was she young?”
“I’d say early-twenties. She was—” The ringing phone interrupts me. I put my finger up to Malory. “Hold that thought.”
I pick up the phone.
“Hello.”
“This is Cecelia from Mr. Asher’s office. He’s requested your company in his office. Shall I alert him of your availability?”
Is this the right time to be dealing with Asher?
He’s your boss, Kat. Yes.
“Yes. I’ll be up in five minutes.” I hang up.
Malory’s black eyes question my phone call.
“Asher has summoned me.” I answer her unspoken question.
“Huh,” she replies with a raised eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Huh. Shall I say more?” Her lips fix into a smirk.
“You’ve said enough.” I stand, grabbing my files for the gala. I’m sure he wants to go over the permits and timeline.
“If Gabriel is having an affair, you want to catch him in the act. Otherwise, he’ll just cover his tracks,” Malory says, and I nod in agreement. I should be taking notes. “Do you have any proof of this alleged affair?” Malory questions.
“No.” There is comfort in that fact.
“Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not talk to Gabriel about this. We need to come up with a strategy first.” Malory stands and smoothes out her onyx dress. “Did you drive in today?”
“Yes. Why do you need to borrow it for some reason?”
Malory grabs her bag and thinks for a second before changing her mind. “No. I just wanted to know if you had a train to catch. When you get back, I still have questions for you. I want to know who this younger other woman is.”
I stall at the door before answering. “If my husband is sleeping with another woman, does it really matter how young she is?”
Malory stares at me blankly as I walk out of the room.
Upstairs in Asher’s office, I take a seat and stare at big-eyed fish. They’re so naïve, thinking their perfect little aquarium is a paradise just for them, when, in reality, there is an entire ocean out there they have no idea about. They only know what they’ve been lied to about.
The large door behind me opens and a dark-skinned woman with hazel eyes and a tiny frame exits Asher’s office. She’s buttoning the top button of her blouse as she saunters over to the elevator. Shouldn’t she at least have the decency to put herself together inside the office? It’s like she wants people to know what she’s up to.
“Ms. Grayson.” Cecelia draws my attention away from the afternoon booty call. “Mr. Asher will see you now.”
Oh, what this poor girl must have to witness on a daily basis.
“Close the door,” Asher calls over from the bar area.
I compromise and leave the door slightly ajar as I do every time I’m in his office.
“Afraid someone might think we’re being… Oh, what’s the word? Inappropriate?” Golden eyes leer at me.
“Did you enjoy your Twinkie?” I say, referring to the woman who just left Asher’s office. I hope he can hear the disgust in my voice.
“That,” he says, pointing toward the door, “was not a Twinkie. That was a Simone Davenport.”
“Do Simone Davenports not have the same cream filling as the rest?” I sneer.
Asher waves me into the room and motions toward one of the barstools. “Simones are part of the business world. Daughters of men with a lot of money and power. So if you fuck over a Simone, you better have your balls in a vise.” He makes a mock cringing face like he was just kicked in the balls. “But we do have an arrangement. We see to each other’s needs.”
He is so full of himself.
“All men are swine.”
“Only the good ones.” His chiseled chin rises as he holds up a glass. “Drink?”
There is one thing to say about Alexander Asher. He doesn’t hide who he is. Sure, he has secrets. But women know what they’re getting from him. They know he’s a cad and non-committal. He doesn’t lie and he certainly doesn’t sneak behind anyone’s back.
The thought is lightly refreshing. I could use a good dose of honesty right about now. I let out a deep breath and toss back my shoulders making my way toward the bar. “I don’t drink on school days.”
“Only school nights?” he teases.
“That was a special occasion.”
“Heather’s birthday was a special occasion? Are you two becoming buddies or something?” Asher lifts the rocks glass to his lips and takes a sip. The alcohol must burn a little because his throat clenches.
“As much as I’d love to banter back and forth with you, I have a gala to produce.”
“Right,” he says, putting the glass down on the bar. “I have something to show you.”
He is giddy with excitement. Its so un-Asher it makes me smile for the first time today.
Asher walks over to his desk. Propped up against the side is a large poster-sized picture. He lifts it with both hands and turns it around. He is wearing his megawatt smile in anticipation of my reaction.
I can’t help but let out a small laugh. In his hands is an original vintage movie poster for the film It Happened In Brooklyn, starring Peter Lawford and, my namesake, Kathryn Grayson.
“I thought we could hang it in the conference room,” he proposes, looking down at the poster in his hands and then back up at me, waiting to see how I react.
I can’t argue with him about buying it for me, because he didn’t. He bought it for the office. That’s acceptable. I won’t admit it out loud, but I kind of like that he bought it because of me. It’s a sweet gesture. “It will look great in the conference room. I approve. Now let’s talk about the gala.”
“Yes.” He places the frame back on the ground and suddenly becomes very serious. “The gala. Come, take a seat.” We walk over to the small conference table and Asher holds out a chair for me. The swell in my belly that was dancing earlier with every emotion from anger to excitement and absolute anxiousness is settling. Maybe it’s the scent of vanilla or the way his voice has this melodic sound to it, but I am undeniably relaxed in his company.