Three
'My first mistake was loving you.'
-Brian McFadden-
Is he drunk?
"Why are you silent, Ms. Khan?"
My lips were still silent even though the contents of my head were hurling curses at each other. How could it not be? Is this coffee man who turns out to be a super perfectionist ruler the boss above my boss? And this morning, I prayed for him so that he would be doused with hot coffee, while on the table, there was a package containing a new shirt as a sign of his regret. Do I need to confess to the priest that my tongue has cursed this man?
"Aren't you scolding me for being late to meet Mr. Lawren or replying to my behavior this morning for being rude and impolite?" This question was the only thing that could come up after my brain combined words and remembered Ketty's words. Where is a boss who suddenly buys a shirt for a new employee who has been disrespectful to him unless he asks for something in return?
Tch!
"Do you think your boss is complaining to me?" I guess Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow.
Yes! Of course! What else?
He laughed like he had no problem while I felt I was being played. Ketty had the wrong perception about this crazy man. The fear that shrouded my heart was replaced by annoyance that reached the top of my head. I got up, feeling like my time was wasted here.
"Ms. Khan! Wait!" shouted the man stopping my footsteps. "Wouldn't it be rude if you left without saying goodbye and refused what I gave you? I don't like seeing untidy women in the office."
I squeezed my hand tightly, holding back my anger to not curse this ignorant man. I turned around and said, "But I can more than afford a shirt, sir. Shouldn't you correct who's at fault if you're uncomfortable with my appearance?"
"You mean I was wrong?"According to his version, I didn't answer and chose to say goodbye and leave. "Excuse me, I have to get back to work."
"You're fucking awesome and crazy!" Ketty praised when she found out why the big boss called me.
I didn't respond to Ketty's words when my fingers and eyes were still busy entering various transactions for the end-of-month report on the computer. Oh my God, comparing it to doing my final assignment on campus doesn't feel much different. My shoulder and neck muscles feel tense and need relaxation, a cup of hot chocolate, and aromatherapy candles.
Ketty pulled her chair closer to me, supporting her chin while smiling meaningfully. "I've never seen such a big boss."
"Don't make things up, Ketty. He feels guilty but looks down on me as if he can't buy another shirt," I glanced at her briefly. "Don't you have anything else to do?"
"You've got my work covered," she joked. "I'm just curious how he could--"
"Don't talk about that anymore, please."
The girl with brick-red lipstick stepped back, seeing my change in mood. Besides, what's the point of discussing a topic that inevitably leads to 'he'll ask you out'?
Do not expect!
"I'm sorry, Ketty. It's just... regarding the boss and whoever it is, I'm a little uninterested," I said, not to make her angry.
Mom once said that life must be balanced even though you are the most individualistic person. Even if you don't have many friends, at least never add enemies, let alone one in your neighborhood. Therefore, I gave in to words Ketty might not like to hear. If my attitude on the first day is bad, tomorrow will be worse, and this could be the beginning of another disaster.
"You mean you don't like men?" Ketty asked another question as if she could read the writing on my forehead: 'I hate men.'
I nod my head. "That's a complicated thing. Never mind. I'm sorry, and I must finish this before lunchtime."
"Does not matter."
Entering the end of February, the weather in Manhattan is a little cloudy; maybe summer is already peeking out shyly, even though there are still two months left. However, this time, based on the weather news on television, it seemed like it would rain, considering that thick, dark clouds were slowly moving to cover the city. While stirring coffee for the seniors working late, I stared at the thick glass walls, wondering if Emilia could pick me up. But, if I think about it, it feels like her job is more challenging because she has to look for the latest news in every remote corner of the city.
The smell of these coffee beans reminded me of him, who insisted on getting me a new shirt. I shook my head quickly, shaking off the image of his face that was starting to creep into my mind. Apart from that, the big boss's face seemed familiar. Eyes as blue as the ocean, thin ruby red lips, reddish freckles that slightly adorn the cheeks, and thick eyebrows like...
Robert Pattinson!
"If Emilia were here, she would be excited to meet the coffee guy," I muttered while giggling and then fished my cell phone out of my pipe-pants pocket.
To: Emilia
I just remembered that my boss is an imitation of Robert Pattinson. It would be best if you worked here.
Not long after, my friend replied with lots of heart emoticons. I laughed out loud. Emilia was really into the Twilight actor, and my friend would watch whatever film Pattinson played in hundreds of times.
To: Elizabeth
Are you serious? Should I resign and become his secretary? How hot is he?
To: Emilia
1-10, I'd rate it 2. He's fucking annoying.
Before the text messages got longer, I gave three cups of coffee to the seniors first. They accepted it happily and asked me to help while the heavy rain fell. Ketty also hasn't gone home; she doesn't like coffee that much. She said coffee could make her chest flutter and stomach acid rise. Maybe it was the caffeine effect, I thought.
Those who are still loyal to the office are busy making monthly recaps. Kitty said Mr. Lawren will make financial planning for the next six months and wants to discuss the company's needs, especially in the maintenance and marketing departments. Understandably, Johnson Corp is a large company in the software sector and sells various kinds of electronic equipment. Maybe what Mr Lawren is a software protection upgrade that costs more than just selling one computer.
A few seconds later, my cell phone vibrated and brought up a notification from an unknown number. If I remember, I don't think I've ever shared my number with anyone else.
Sender: +1 2989xxx
Please don't go home yet; it's still raining heavily. I'll take you.
Mr Johnson
How does he know my cell phone number? Is he a stalker?
"Why, Elizabeth?" Ketty asked, catching the look on my stunned face like a fool.
I stuttered, hiding the contents of the message from Ketty before she started teasing me.
Suddenly, my heart was beating wildly. Johnson is crazy! Wasn't it enough that I rejected him this morning?
The next second, he sent a message back.
Sender: +1 2989xxx
Why didn't you reply to my message?
Sender: Elizabeth
Sorry, I'm calling my girlfriend.
Can I call myself crazy? Sometimes, I send answers that don't make sense. I nodded to confirm that pretending to have a boyfriend was compelling enough to act as a shield for seductive men like him.
Sender: +1 2989xxx
Oh, you have a date? Who with?
"Does he also like to interfere in other people's business?" My snort made Ketty look at me questioningly. "Sorry. I think I have to go home, Kitty."
There is no need to wait any longer than meet that annoying man. Then where did he get my cell phone number? Or, because he's a big boss who can access employees' data? Damn! Does he use his power to seduce women?
The elevator opened, and my body felt like it wanted to disappear at that moment when a tall figure in a black suit, who still looked neat, stood up and waved one hand.
"Is your boyfriend here?" he asked searchingly. "Why don't you come in? Are you afraid of me?"
More precisely, how did he know I wanted to go home? Like it or not, I was forced to use the same elevator as him, standing in a corner and pretending he wasn't there. I pressed the bottom floor button silently.
"I want to see what your boyfriend's face looks like, that you rejected your boss so easily," said Mr Johnson, sounding arrogant, "is he richer and more handsome than me?"
Can I vomit the contents of my stomach into his face? Hearing him utter sentences with such a high confidence level made me uncomfortable around him.
"Aren't you going too far to intrude on other people's lives?" I taunted without looking at him.
"I like disturbing the lives of people who reject my kindness. I don't like being rejected, Sweet Cake."
"I don't like other people interfering, sir."
"Is it true?" His voice sounded increasingly challenging.
My patience was gone; folding my arms across my chest and looking at him sarcastically, I said, "Let me make it clear, Mr Jhonson. I'm a lesbian if you want to know my orientation. So, if my girlfriend finds out you're bothering me like this, she won't hesitate to break your dick."
Emilia would bend the knee to the man beside me rather than castrate him.
The elevator dinged, and I left the man with fast steps even though these damn stilettos tortured my feet all day. I hope that him knowing my status as a same-sex lover 'even if pretending' will make him stay away. Unfortunately, my hand was suddenly forcefully pulled and gripped so tightly that the blood flow suddenly stopped.
As a result, all the nerve cells in my body caused violent turmoil, and dark images of the past suddenly came. Mr Gaze Johnson, who previously looked annoying, turned scary like my stepfather. I screamed in fear, trying to escape with the feeling of excruciating tightness in the chest. He let go of his grip; I ran as hard as possible until I fell.
I was the center of attention again. I feel disabled and abnormal. Other people will think that this treatment is just a regular thing, while I... I wouldn't say I like being touched forcefully and suddenly with a look full of desire.
My tears flowed profusely while my knees ached. I tried to stand up, but it felt like my leg was sprained. Damn! Fuck that boss!
"Ms. Khan..." Mr. Johnson tried to help, but I slapped his hand away.
Taking off these damn shoes, then standing up with difficulty and limping. "Can't you not bother me?"
"I only--"
"I don't like other people touching me like this, sir; please, don't force it."
"Why?"
My lips were silent; people were still looking at me questioningly. I shook my head weakly while sobbing and walked quickly away from the coffee man. Let my darkest secret be a secret; I don't need other people to know how despicable I am. If I knew, would everything be the same?
No, right?