The Opportunist
Page 12

“I’m not going to kiss you,” He said. I felt my heart lurch. Was it up or down? Up or down? I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved. He backed up. “Not today, Olivia. But, I am going to kiss you.”
I felt a swell of agitation swirl through my belly, it traveled up my chest and reached my mouth.
“No.”
It sounded so silly; a child’s word of defiance. I don’t know why I said it, except to take back some of the control he had stolen from me.
Caleb had already turned to walk away, but my “no” stopped him. He turned. His hands were in his pockets. The hallway seemed to shrink around him, his presence swallowing it up. How did he do that? I expected him to say something else, maybe flirt with me some more. Instead he grinned, looked at the ground, looked back at me…and walked away.
He won again. That little move had been stronger, left more of an impression than if he had actually pressed his lips to mine. Now, I had the impending feeling of being hunted. I barely had time to process what had just happened when the door was flung open and Cammie pulled me into our room by the waistband of my jeans.
“Tell me everything!” she demanded. She had rollers the size of Twinkies in her hair and her face was lathered in something that smelled strongly of lemon.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said mysteriously, almost dreamily.
“I’ll let you keep the sweater I loaned you.” I considered this a moment, before nodding.
“He took me to Jaxson’s ice cream…” I began.
Chapter Five
The Present
I have to stop daydreaming. I’ve been spending too much time thinking about the past and reliving how we met. I am suddenly aware that I am seated behind my desk scribbling distractedly on a document I am supposed to be transcribing into type, and that hours had passed. I brought doughnuts into work and one of the lawyers from the firm is digging around in the box getting sugar all over his sleeve. He makes his selection and perches himself on the edge of my desk knocking over a cup of pens. I cringe, but keep my hands in my lap.
“So, how’s law school going?” he ignores the mess he made and bites into a jelly. I imagine the stack of law school applications on my dresser at home and sigh. Tonight. Tonight, I would be ambitious.
“Fine, thank you, Mr. Gould.” I can’t take it anymore. I scoop up the pens and reposition the cup.
“You know Olivia, a girl with your looks can get far in this world, if she plays her cards right.”
He is chewing with his mouth open.
“Well, I was hoping that my talent and hard work would get me far in the world, Mr. Gould, not my appearance.”
He chuckles at me. I envision myself jamming a pen into his trachea. Blood. There would be lots of blood to clean up. I better not.
“If you ever want to excel in this field, sweetheart, you let me know. I can instruct you all the way to the top.” He smiles at me, winks, and my slime-ball radar goes off. I hate being sugar lipped, especially by a bleating goat in pinstripes.
“Instruct?” I ask with false enthusiasm. Mr. Gould picks at his teeth, flashing me a view of his wedding band, which he liked to forget symbolized fidelity.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“No,” I sigh boringly, “but you’ll have to spell it out for human resources when I tell them that you’re sexually harassing me.” I pull a nail file from my drawer o’crap and begin sawing at my thumb. When I look up, his face has gone from its usual tomato red to an ugly shade of scared shitless.
“I’m sorry you see my concern for your future as sexual harassment,” he says, quickly removing himself from my desk.
I size him up, all the way from his bony shoulders, which are poking out of his Armani suit like two tennis balls, down to his regrettably small feet.
“How about we stick to work-only conversations and you save your concern for your wife—Mary was her name wasn‘t it?” He turns away, his shoulders rigid. I hate men….well, most of them.
My intercom crackles.
“Olivia, can you come in here for a sec?” It’s Bernie.
Bernadette Vespa Singer is my boss and she loves me. At five feet even she has cankles, perpetually smudged peach lipstick, and wiry black hair that looks like poodle fur. She is a genius in her own right and a damn good lawyer. With a ninety-five percent prosecution rate and a stride to match any man, Bernie is my idol.
“Mr. Gould offered to help advance my career,” I say coolly, walking into her office.
“Bastard!” she slaps her palm so hard on her desk her bobble heads jump to action.
“Do you want to press charges, Olivia? Damn that cock-a-wiener bastard. I think he’s sleeping with Judge Walters.”
I shake my head “no” and sit down in a chair facing her desk.
“You’re my kind of assistant kid, tough as nails and ambitious as hell.”
I smile. That was what she said when she hired me. I’d taken the job knowing she was a little crazy but not caring since she won cases.
“What’s happening with that fellow you were telling me about?” she asks. She scratches her nose with the tip of her pen and it leaves a scribble on her face.
I blush so fiercely it is an immediate emission of guilt.
“You know he’s going to find out eventually,” she says, narrowing her already beady eyes at me. “Don’t do anything stupid, you could have one hellavah lawsuit on your hands.”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
I don’t know why I told her. I regret it now as she stares at me with her probing eyes.
“I know,” I mumble, pretending to fumble with the buttons on my blouse. “Can we just not talk about it right now?”
“What is it with this guy?” she says ignoring me. “Is he well endowed? I can never understand why pretty girls like you go chasing after men. You should get a vibrator. You’ll never go back. Here, let me write down the name of a good one for you,” she scribbled something down on a yellow post it note and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I looked at the wall above her head and take the paper.
“Not a probby. See you later, kid.” She waved me out of her office with her chubby, ink-stained fingers.
I invited Caleb over for dinner. Same dog, same tricks. Our coffee rendezvous ended abruptly when the pimply kid behind the counter flipped the closed sign in the window and turned the lights off in the cafe. We had lifted ourselves regretfully from the table and wandered outside.