As predicted, Alex snapped back to his usual self. No more pancake tower cakes, early morning surprises, or nice kind words. It was not like this happened often– or ever– but all it took was that one time for me to expect it again.
I had tried talking to him all week to clear up any misunderstandings. Still, whenever I brought up our personal relationship, he assigned me something new to do.
Finally, I thought I had a chance during our office Halloween party, which everyone in the building was attending. I figured I could get him alone by the dessert table filled with black spider cupcakes and green ghoul punch and talk about what had happened since my birthday, but no luck. As soon as I followed him to the table, secluded away from the partying crowd, he got on a call.
"You landed okay? Dad's driver should be there. Just go where he takes you. If I hear you dilly-dallied anywhere else..." Alex threatened someone. Okay good! Mom and Dad don't know what happened here, so don't mention anything." This decoded that he was talking to Glenn. Sounds like Glenn had just landed in Australia.
Alex hung up, looking stressed, when I plucked up the courage to approach him. First, picking up the nasty-looking cupcake to make sure I had a reason just in case he ignored me. I didn't want to look like an idiot.
"Glenn made it to your parents okay?"
"Yup, did you update my afternoon calendar, block off 6:00-6:30. I won't be available." He instructed business as usual, head buried in his phone.
"Sure. Do I need to be available to you at that time?" I pried. A half an hour meeting at a random time usually meant he was going to see someone, typically at the hotel, the same thing he accused me of doing with Ben.
"Nope. I'll be out for something personal." He simply said. "Legal got some notes from dad's lawyers, so I need you to sit with them and iron out what we can and can't comply with. Also, can you provide a summary to Dad's lawyers, cc Eric and me from the legal team and Daniel from the IT team? I think a guy named Shawn will join today's call from my dad's team. Once the email is sent, monitor any responses you get. I don't want this to be a bottleneck from moving forward with the Vcard team. You let me know as soon as both the teams agree."
"Sure," I sighed.
"Unless you have plans with someone?" He asked, still not looking up. "If that's the case, I can ask the intern to take a look. David?" He called our tall and lanky intern, who was chatting up the IT girl from the office a floor above ours.
"No, it's fine. I didn't say no, did I? This is too big of an assignment for him, plus he'll call me anyways. I can do it."
"Great, thanks." And that was it. He walked away.
Two things were certain from our last few interactions; one, he was still pissed. He wanted nothing to do with me and was keen on ignoring the fact that he had asked me out. Two, he was already moving on. Something personal? Yeah right! He was going to the hotel room to see someone. He gets to celebrate his Halloween, no doubt, with some chick dressed as a slutty nurse while I deal with the not-so-sexy lawyers, some with Australian accents–great!
So even though it was the Halloween weekend, after the party, I stayed another hour extra and took meeting minutes while a bunch of Lawyers argued back and forth. I was not smart enough for this. Nor did I get paid enough for this. I noticed our lawyer, Eric, had the same vest-collar shirt combination as the asshole who got Glenn drugs on my birthday. Dug or Duke or something. A lot of the nonsense he spewed that night started coming back, but one specific term kept popping up as the Lawyers argued, "We do know Vcard wants to reduce the final cost on their end by 5%..." I tuned them out and focused on the term Quiet Qutting. I knew what the words meant individually, but what did they mean together?
I tried to pay attention to the conversation again. After all, I had to report all of this to all the assholes in the room. Email them, he said. Monitor the response, he demanded. When do I have to monitor the responses till? Till 10? Till 11? Till I drop dead from overworking?
Quiet Quitting. It had the word quitting in it. Something I've been trying to do for the last month.
I checked out of the meeting again and, this time, using my phone as a distraction. I googled Quiet Quitting. The first article defined it as the way out for the lazy guy who still needs a steady paycheck. Quiet Quitting, according to the article writer, was for people who do not strive for perfection or career advancement, so they don't give 110%, only do the bare minimum. This did not align at all with me personally. Not something I can do. I clicked out of it, deciding not to bother anymore on this topic, and went back to the meeting.
"Char, section 5.a. Note down that request by Shawn's team was declined by Vcard, and that's why our team worded it the way we did." Eric barked, not at me, but at Shawn.
"Sure thing!" I said, then typed vigorously, adding to my notes. These assholes were ripping this 20-page contract word by word for the last hour. Alex was only supposed to be gone till 6:30. It was almost hitting 7. He must be enjoying his new conquest. Ew. Let me ignore the fact that I called an actual, living, breathing woman with ambitions –probably– a conquest.
My phone blinked with Sugar's message. I opened it, and it read, 'you sure you don't want to come to Cal's? I wanted to go as the three musketeers.' No, thank you.
'Stuck at work. You have fun. Drink a drink for me.' I typed back.
'Boo, Alex sucks! Okay...I won't be back tonight, so don't wait up,' she texted back right away.
My first Halloween weekend in my 30s, and I am missing it. Sugar was right; Boo Alex sucks.
"Charlotte!" An Aussie accent called my name, snapping me out of the pity party I was about to throw myself.
"Yes, Shawn."
"Thanks for the summary of the contract you sent with the email. Made my job so much easier! Saved me hours! You are a Beaut!"
"Uh...thank you," I cooed back. Glad I saved you hours, bud because I wasted half my day making your life easier. For some reason, this made me angry. Shawn was probably making twice as much as me, yet I was doing more work. I turned my phone back on and typed Quiet Quitting once more. This time I skipped all the articles that seemed to be criticizing the term. I decided that if someone like Dug/Duke/vest-wearing pig hated the term, it couldn't all be bad.
According to BurnedOutBabe, Quiet Quitting is a method in which your overachievers find a way to strike a work-life balance. She stated: In today's connected world, everyone is just a touch of a button away. Great for employers, who can easily text, 'can you hop on this call? Can you send out this one email?' But what about the employee, someone like me, who needs to ensure her work is done right away and perfectly so there is no room for complaints. Forget giving 110%. I would give 1000% most days. Eventually, I burned myself out and decided to quit. Find another place that would most likely treat me the same. The sad thing is, I liked what I did! So why should I have to give this up and start the cycle all over again when you can set boundaries with people who know you. Tell them you are not available on the weekend and that after 5, your phone and emails go on silent. Tell them you are allowed a personal life without apologizing for it. They hired you to get one person's job done, so why is it fair that companies now slowly ask you to give up more and more of your free time. 9-5. That is all you legally owe them. More than convincing them, you will have to convince yourself. You will have to be okay with giving a little less than you usually do. Decide today! Set boundaries now! Or you will let your Employer take illegal advantage of you!
Ha. The last time I worked 9-5 was probably my first week at LongD. 1000%, I was running on almost 2000% most days for LongD–no, for Alex. Ilegal? My contract was legal, which pretty much said I had to do what Alex told me, or I'd be fired and unable to work for six months. Not something I could afford in NYC. This was a nice concept on paper, but not so much when Alex was your boss. Again, I tried to brush this off, but my contract came to mind. Nothing on my contract said I had to deal with Lawyers. I was his secretary. I shouldn't even have a project. I should just be doing admin work. Scheduling meetings, not attending them. Answering calls, not leading them. Noting down vendors interested in working with the company, not creating project plans and reviewing their work.
I paid attention even less as the meeting dragged on for another hour, and Alex was nowhere to be seen. They barked more notes at me, but I did nothing about it without realizing it. My mind wandered. Maybe all the things Alex was asking me to do were illegal. Not sure if I was quitting or quite quitting, but tonight I had no energy to work.
"Hey all, I am not exactly feeling great. Eric, I will send the notes I have taken so far. Can you send out any other things discussed? I have to go." I said, getting up.
"But we are almost done, Char!" Eric lied. He got to work at 4 pm today, and I was sure he had more than enough energy to finish whatever was left in this 'almost done' meeting.
"Sorry! I have to go," I continued walking out. I kept going, not looking back. I was not thinking about what they were most likely saying about me in the conference room. I didnt stop till the cold breeze of the outside hit me. I took it all in a deep breath, letting the shitty city air fill my lungs, and I felt light like a helium balloon. Like I could just fly away. That lasted for about 3 seconds till my phone rang, and all my might went out the window.
"Hello," I quietly said.
"Are you still in the meeting?"
"No, I left."
"Okay, good. I was going to ask you to leave. I am around the corner." I saw his car pull up a few seconds later, "get in."
****
"Ugh, this dress is too tight!" I yelled as I tried to squeeze into a size two red gown Alex had thrown at me as I tried to get into the car. He had then stepped out with the driver and told me to get changed.
"It's size 2!" He yelled from the other side of the car door.
"I am a 4!" I informed him. He might be used to size two models, but I had a bit more meat on my body! I would have a bit more if he left me any time to eat.
"It will look fine!" He exclaimed.
I wiggled until I got the slim fit, almost elastic, dress up my thighs. It smoothly slid up my torso till it hit my boobs. That was another mountain to climb. I flattened my right boob and moved the dress up till I strapped the dress around my shoulder and did the same with the left side. Once I was fully clothed or at least covering all my bits and tits, I opened the door and stepped out.
I pulled the dress down, wishing that I could make it touch my knees at least. "It's tight!"
"You look good! Here put this on!" He stuck a devil-ear headband on my thankfully clean hair. "There is a bag in the car with some makeup, do it while we drive to the pier." He demanded, getting into the car. I follow him in, locating the makeup bag.
I took out a foundation, and even in the darkness of his tinted car, I could tell it was the wrong shade. "This is too dark!" I barked.
"There is another one in there. The lady at the store told me if you mix the two, you'll get the perfect shade." Then, when I gawked at him in awe, he added, "I showed her a picture of you."
"That's what he was doing all afternoon while I was stuck in a 3-hour-long meeting," I mumbled. "After he avoided me all week!"
"What?" He asked. Thankfully, my words didn't form loud enough for him to understand my jabs.
"Nothing, um.. you're not wearing a costume? I thought the investor was having a costume party on his yacht?" I questioned, hoping to change the topic.
"I am wearing one. I am going as a broke businessman in need of money." He smiled.
"Nice one!" I flatly said.
As the car drove towards the pier, where his yacht was docked, we chatted about our game plan to get Andrew Yovich, hopefully, our future investor, on board with our vision. "You start the conversation with him. He likes chatting up pretty girls." This was the second time tonight that he complimented me.
"You're pimping me out?" I screamed.
"Only if it works!" He laughed this time. Why was he acting as if nothing happened? Did he think I forgot about him asking me out? Maybe now was a good time to bring it up. "Alex..." I started. "Do you think we can take a break from business and talk about us for a second?" His laugh abruptly stopped. He cleared his throat but said nothing. "It's just that it sounds like you were asking me out with the birthday pancakes and fortune cookies. So were you?"
"That was before when I thought you were a single woman. I get it. You have a life outside of the office." He simply said. "So don't worry, forget about it! I already did. Twice today with Veronica!" He exclaimed, giving particular emphasis on her name. Ve-ronn-ni-caaaa.
So he is back to acting normal because he got fucked? That's all it took for him to get over me before he even got under me? There was Only one way to describe this situation: WTF!
"So why isn't Ve-ronn-ni-caaaa here with you today?" I questioned.
"Because she doesn't know details of our project...." He explained. "Oh look, I see the pier, oof his boat looks crowded."
The first thing I noticed once we got out of the car was the wind and its synchronization with the waves of the mucky Hudson River water. My very short dress ensured my legs stayed in a state of goosebumps, but whatever it did cover didn't let an atom of air in. As we walked, I slowly acclimated to the new weather through the 6-inch heels, making everything else a bit more difficult.
"Wow! It looks like a party, party!" I commented as we got closer to the boat. The rest of the boats and yachts on the pier quickly danced with the waves encouragement. However, one yacht was alive. Large yellow backyard lights hung all along the deck as a crowd of people danced and wooed underneath it. Its music echoed throughout the emptiness, reaching us louder now so that we could tell the boat was singing the 'Cupid Shuffle.'
Alex helped me inside the bouncing boat with a touch of his hand, and we scanned the inside. It looked like your typical rich person's living room. There were long couches placed in a manner that created a full circle. One of the couches faced a large window, exposing the deck where most of the partiers were gathered. In the middle, I recognized Andrew, as I was mainly conversing with him over zoom calls, surrounded by scantily clad women. He looked older in real life. His hairline was receding a bit more, and his wrinkles were almost multiplied.
"Ah, Char darling!" He said, peering over one of the women whose face was so close to his I was shocked he could see anything else. "Come over here!" he waved at us, getting up.
Andrew gave me two kisses on my cheeks and shook Alex's hands, "Nice to finally meet you. Did you all get a drink?"
"No, we just got here," I answered.
"Fashionable and gorgeously late...." He commented, then waved at one of the men wearing yellow Hawaiian shirts. "Harry, get them a drink. An old-fashioned and a prosecco?" He guessed.
"I can go for an old-fashioned!" I replied.
Andrew raised his eyebrows, "Okay, Char is here to party!" I awkwardly smiled.
By the time our drinks came, Andrew had swatted away all the other girls, and only Alex and I were left there, and for some reason, I was sandwiched between the two men.
"I am not sure if Char got a chance to tell you a little about what we are trying to do...." Alex began.
"No, no, Alex, is it? No work talk." Andrew said, smiling at me and placing his hand on my naked knee. I glared at Alex, who had no reaction.
"I hear you. It's a Friday, but you know we are here for that reason. To get you on our team." Alex continued.
"Are you on that team?" Andrew asked me, bringing his face so close to me that I could smell his whiskey breath. I moved away and did a combination of a smile and a nod. "How about we set up a lunch tomorrow and talk it through? Now, Alex, go have some fun. Don't you see what all these women are wearing?" He gestured towards the room.
Alex smiled. "Good point! You two have fun. I'll be over there!" Alex said, pointing in the same direction. Before getting up, he whispered to me, "Talk to him about the VR project." Then he walked away into a sea of girls.
"You are a beautiful girl," Andrew tried to whisper into my ears, but it seemed like the drink was getting to him because he was talking to my cheek.
"Thanks," I groaned. I never wanted to get out of a situation more than now. Drunk Andrew had started talking about all the money he makes and how little he works while slowly moving his hand up my dress. I forcefully moved it away several times, but he found some excuse to touch me again. Meanwhile, Alex was nowhere to be found. If he thought I would sit here and get harassed, he had another thing coming. I took my old-fashioned into my hand for a few seconds, then I loosened the grip on the glass and let the drink fall onto my–Alex's very expensive–dress. "Oops, I should go get this cleaned up. Where is the restroom?" He pointed at a room in the back of the boat. I didn't wait for his permission and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door.
I took a seat on the toilet and slowly cleaned myself up as I scrolled through my phone to kill time. I must have hidden there for at least 20 minutes. Finally deciding it was enough time, I unlocked the bathroom door and walked out, only to notice Andrew and one of the skinny naked girls making out on the bed to my right. I quickly locked myself back in. Fuck my life. First, I did not realize a bedroom was attached to this bathroom. Second, the damn boat was so loud that I did not hear them coming in. I guess I was stuck here till they were done.
I cracked the door open slightly to check if they were done a few minutes later, but I just heard kissing and moaning. I softly groaned to myself. I wanted to puke. I heard a loud knocking as I was about to close the door. "Char! Open this damn door! Right now!" I heard Alex scream. He was so loud I could hear him past the noises of the party and the sex. "The door isn't locked, but I will count till three and open it." He warned. "1...2..."
I saw Andrew walk past the bathroom door, "What are you doing?"
"Where is she?" Alex said.
"Not in here, dude!" An even drunker Andrew slurred.
I slowly opened the bathroom door and appeared right before Alex, "I am in here." I meekly said.
He sighed. "Let's go!" He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room. We walked till we were in a quiet corner of the yacht. "Why did you go in with him? What were you planning on doing in there?" He frantically said.
"Oh, after you pimped me out to him, I am shocked you are upset. I was just following your instructions."
"I didn't...."
"Didn't what? Get me a dress size too small and let him touch me with his grubby hands?" I yelled, not interested in what he had to say. My anger made my eyes revolve against me as tears started streaming down my cheeks.
He said nothing for a few seconds, then eventually said, "Are you okay?"
"No, I want to go home." I cried.
He engulfed me in a hug. I tried to push him away, but when he calmly spoke, my anger began to melt. Not fair. I wanted to hate him! "I am sorry. That is not what I was doing, I promise. I would have killed him if you were in that bed with him." I sobbed into his suit, his warmth somehow giving me chills. His hands gripped me with light strength, his thumb moving up and down my spine. It felt like an easy thing to become addicted to. I wanted to shove him aside, but I was not strong enough. This was what I always wanted–his warmth, attention, touch–and I didn't think it was fair to deny myself this pleasure after waiting for it for eight years. We stood like that, in the corner of a loud boat, shockingly feeling unseen. Then he softly asked, "You never did answer my question?" I didn't answer, not entirely sure what he was referring to. "May? A date?" He added.
I took his grip off me, so I looked directly into his eyes and shook my head into a no.
"Why not?" He asked, his dark eyes glinting hopefully at me.
"I don't want to wait that long." I simply said. He smiled at me, and before I knew it, he wrapped me back into his arms, his one hand on the back of my neck as he pulled me into a kiss. Our lips move to a beat of a song unknown to mankind, our hands dancing around each other's back and neck to the same song. I heard both of us grasping for air, but neither of us was willing to give up what we were doing now to get it.
When we finally untangled each other because a loud cheer had transported us back, I didn't know where to look. I was scared to look into his eyes to find regret like I did last time, but he lifted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes, hungry for more.
"Now what?" He asked.
I shrugged. Now, what indeed...