Lovely Liaison

ZOEY

In just seven days, I’d gone from a soul-sucking job at a company I despised to working for a high-profile hotelier family. I couldn’t help but wonder if my luck was finally turning around.

I was dressed in my yellow Veronica Beard blouse, a gold and black skirt that hit just at the knee, and heels to match.

I looked good, but I hoped not too good. I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to my femininity.

As the elevator ascended, my mind wandered back to that night in the hotel lobby.

Julian had been flirting with me, but it was clear he was all business.

We’d met, and just a few hours later, he was making calls to find me.

Was it because of the job?

But how could it be? He didn’t know anything about me.

So why was he looking for me?

***

I soon found out I’d have a whole week to ponder that question.

Rufus introduced me to the support staff and then informed me that Julian would be in London for the next week.

Apparently, another hotel chain, Holmes Luxury Suites, was giving the Hawksleys a run for their money.

Rufus’ professionalism was a breath of fresh air. I knew right away he wouldn’t be the source of any office drama.

He walked me through my daily tasks: answering calls, scheduling appointments, preparing reports, organizing meetings, managing databases, meeting clients, and more.

Next, we dove into the company rolodex.

They actually used a real, old-school rolodex. I hadn’t seen one of those outside of a museum.

But Rufus swore by it. It was how he kept track of all their clients, contacts, vendors, managers, supervisors, investors, contributors.

It was a lot to process.

By the end of my first day, my brain was buzzing.

On Tuesday, Rufus gave me a crash course in business operations.

“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked.

The truth was yes, it was a lot to take in.

For the second night in a row, I collapsed into bed without even bothering to undress.

On Wednesday, I hit a wall. After spending three hours studying the company’s history, Ben decided to invite some artist friends over and cook a bean dish that smelled like a dumpster.

“Hey, baby! We’re making beans! Beans for Ben! Ben’s Beans! How you been, Ben? Have a mean bean, Ben!” With each ridiculous sentence, he planted a sloppy kiss on my face.

I laughed and pushed him away. I loved the side of him that art and artists brought out. But the timing was terrible.

When I asked him to take his party elsewhere so I could work, the mood quickly soured and we ended up arguing in front of his friends.

Every time he came back from being away, we would get into pointless fights.

Usually, it was just us readjusting to each other’s presence, finding our rhythm again.

I didn’t have time to stop working and argue with him, so I left to study at a coffee shop.

When they closed and I went home, his friends were just leaving, and Ben apologized, which meant a lot.

Of course, the make-up sex was fantastic. That was never a problem.

Except that he was gone all the time, leaving us to each sexually starve for months on end.

But it wasn’t all just fights between us. No one made me laugh as much as him, and a sense of humor mattered to me.

He was expressive, which was refreshing for a man from the Midwest.

No one was perfect—Ben sure wasn’t, but I knew his heart was in the right place.

He was a little gruffer than usual, a little moodier than usual after our reunions.

At least the sex remained on point.

But lying awake that night, I felt something I had forgotten about since the last time Ben left and came back.

And that was a feeling that sometimes, I didn’t know if Ben really understood me, or whether he even wanted to.

On occasion, more than I cared to admit, I didn’t think he wanted to work that hard to make us work.

Maybe I was being hard on him. Maybe my expectations were too high.

But I was determined to make a go of it.

And besides: we’d been apart for months, and it always took us some time to get back in sync with each other after being that far away.

***

On Thursday, Rufus started putting me through drills.

If this, then what?

If that, then what?

Where do we source our linens?

How many managers are working at any of our locations at any given time?

Which members of the Board of Directors seem likely to fight Julian and which are on his side?

By Friday, I couldn’t believe how much I knew about this company. I knew the place back to front.

I was getting familiar with the staff in Chicago, and was looped in on calls to New York, London, and Sydney. My own email account was all set up.

“This week has been brilliant, and you are stellar. Sorry we only discovered you so recently,” Rufus said during lunch.

“You’re a duck to water, Zoey. I’m feeling very positive about you in the role. How are you settling in? Be honest.”

“It’s a lot, I won’t lie. But you’re a great teacher and…” I didn’t want to sound cocky, but it was true, “I got this.”

“I’ll be out next week, following Julian to London for, oh, about a week or so. Think you can manage if I slide a bit of my plate onto yours?”

My worry must have been obvious because Rufus immediately tried to reassure me.

“I’ll leave complete instructions, and I will be available if you should need me. And anyway, at this point, I doubt you’ll have any trouble.”

“So, it’ll just be…?” I asked.

“You and Julian. And the staff, of course. But don’t worry, I’ve put him on notice to remain on his most upright behavior,” Rufus said with a smile.

Alone with Julian?

I was finding my feet at the company and everything was running smooth and cool.

But if I was going to be working alone with Julian, was it possible for it to stay cool?

Normally, I was no risk taker, and spending time alone with a man who gave every signal of interest…

There was someone I couldn’t seem to shake from my mind…

It was like playing with fire.

I was aware that this company had taken a risk on me, hiring me with less scrutiny than I’d anticipated.

This was my opportunity to prove myself, and I had to seize it.

I reminded myself that I was an adult, capable of making decisions with my head, not my heart.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

“Don’t sweat it, Rufus, we’ve got this.”

***

I walked through the front door, arms laden with stacks of papers, folders, and envelopes that needed my attention.

If I wanted to be prepared for a busy Monday, I had to buckle down over the weekend.

“I don’t like this, Zoey,” Ben said. “It’s your first week and they’re already monopolizing your weekend—will I ever see you again?”

“You’re the one who’s always gone, not me,” I retorted. “I need to be on top of my game by Monday. This job is crucial, considering only one of us has a steady income…”

“Right, I forgot. Because you’re scaling the secretary ladder.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, dropping my papers onto the table.

“It means this situation sucks, and I don’t think it’s my responsibility to deal with it. I mean, you’ve barely spent any time with me since I got back.”

“That’s not true! And you didn’t even tell me you were coming back! I’m not on vacation with you—”

“This is exactly what I was telling my friends—you’re all about money, and not at all about the truth. And that’s all I care about, that’s what my work is about…”

Ben trembled with indignation, struggling to voice his thoughts.

“And you won’t look me in the eye and tell me what you really think of my career,” he continued, “which is that you don’t think I’m any good—you don’t think I’m good enough!”

I was taken aback. Where was this coming from?

His words were absurd, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“This is a joke to you?” he asked.

“Ben… I do appreciate your work, but I also think you could invest more time in it, and not rely on me so much. I support you—you know I do.

“And if you can’t see that,” I continued, “then you’re blind and I don’t know what you’re doing being an artist.”

Ben scoffed, trying to dodge each accusation.

I persisted, “On the other hand, you’re never here. Never talk to me. Never support me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

I was gaining momentum. He needed to hear all of this. I needed to say it.

“I get harassed, you blame me. I get a new job, you criticize me in front of my family. And in a week, the apartment has turned into a pigsty.”

Ben was silent for a while, but I could see him bristling with resentment.

“I don’t know what you want from me…” he said.

“I want more effort from you, I deserve it,” I shot back.

“That’s bullshit, take it back, Zoey.” Ben’s eyes darkened. “I work my ass off, I’m swamped, all I do is work and—”

“I never see you working! I’m tired of supporting you!”

Ben’s eyes widened and before he could react—

“Ben, don’t—!”

He hurled a vase across the room, where it shattered into countless pieces.

In less than a minute, I was in an Uber, texting April to ask if I could crash at her place.

***

The next morning, I returned to our apartment and unlocked the front door, unsure of what I would find.

To my surprise, the entire place was spotless.

The dishes were done, the laundry folded, the bathroom scrubbed, and the broken vase was gone.

And on the dining table, Ben had left a note:

“Gone to LA, we’ll talk when I get back,”

“You jerk!” I yelled at the empty room.

How could he do this to me?

He just got back!

No clue as to when he’ll return.

Am I just supposed to wait for him?

Feeling angry was good.

It was better than acknowledging a more dangerous emotion I didn’t want to admit to myself.

I was relieved he was gone.

What does this mean for us?