Page 83 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
I laughed. I couldn’t believe it, but I did, and Hemi’s expression hardened even more. “If Karen were here, she’d say that the 1950s called, and they want their sexual politics back. I love being your somebody, but I have to be more than that, just like you do. Come on, Hemi. See.”
“I don’t see,” he said, and then his phone chirped, and he looked at it. “Charles.” He stood up and put a hand down for me. “Time to go.”
I’d thought about this over and over the day before. Obsessively, you might say. I’d come to the conclusion that therewasno real choice. I couldn’t work for Cherise, a woman who hated me even more than Martine had. I’d gone back into Henry’s office and told him that I’d stay with Simon, and I’d seen the expression on his face.
I wasn’t going to stay there long. I couldn’t. It made me feel like a little girl playing Office.Everybody wants to be somebody,Gabrielle had said, and she was right. I loved Hemi more than I could possibly say, but loving somebody wasn’t enough to build an entire life around.
“I’m going to be looking,” I told Hemi. “And I’m not going to do it behind your back. I’m going to look for a new job, and I’m going to get one. When I do, I’ll probably be working until six-thirty, and that’s all right, if I’m learning something. And if I’m hearing the truth.”
Hemi
What was I meant to do with Hope? She was impossible.
When I was in the car with her again, was watching her leaning back against the cool leather and closing her eyes, I asked, “Better?”
Was I still narky? Of course I was. She wasn’t giving the situation enough chance to settle, that was all. Employees got their knickers in a twist. It was their entertainment. Gossip, outrage, rumors. And then it settled down and they adjusted and moved on. I’d tell her that, and then I’d tell her again, as many times as I had to until she knew it. Shewasn’tgetting another job and going back on that treadmill, wearing herself down again when she was already all but passing out from a few minutes in the heat. Why should she have to push herself that hard? Wasn’t one of us doing it enough? What purpose would it serve?
So, yes. All of that. But I still couldn’t help checking that she was all right. I couldn’t keep my feet with her. I gave up ground I didn’t have to, I broke all my rules, and I kept on doing it.
She opened her eyes at last. “Yes. Fine. I know you didn’t want to hear that, and still…Thanks for getting the car, although I’m embarrassed. You were right. Itwastoo hot. And I never thanked you for yesterday, either. For listening to me in the meeting, and…after the meeting. I appreciated it more than I can tell you. For being sweet with Nathan, too.”
Sweet?I’d beensweet?How was I meant to answer that? And how was I meant to stay angry with her? “You are the most aggravating woman,” I told her. “I’ve started to believe that you were put on this earth to put me to the test.”
The minute I said it, I knew it was wrong, because I was saying that she’d been put on earth for me. Minefield.
Except it wasn’t. She turned her head, gave me that impossibly sweet smile that told me she wasn’t worrying one bit about giving up ground, that she knew she could win anyway, and said softly, “Good thing you’re such a hard worker, then. And such a good man.”
Which was how she did it. Every single bloody time.
Hemi
By Thursday, things had settled down. Hope was looking for a new job, and I knew it, and I wasn’t worrying about it. I’d taken care of it, and I had enough to do.
Maybe not enough to eat, though. It was almost noon, and I was thinking about lunch, which annoyed me. I’d lost my discipline in New Zealand like any big Maori boy going home to his whanau in the rugby offseason and tucking into his mum’s cooking. I’d come back just that unfit, too, and Eugene had made me pay.
When he’d done the weekly weigh-in on Saturday afternoon, I’d been down three and a half pounds since our return. I’d felt every one of them leave, too, protesting all the way.
“Not too bad,” Eugene had grunted, marking it down on the old-fashioned clipboard he insisted on using. “Egg whitesonly,chicken breasts, and none of them tamales, because I’ll know, and you’ll just make it harder on yourself. Another week or two, and you might just’ve worked off that fat. Pound and a half to go. And if you don’t like hearing it, next time, don’tdoit.”
Hope hadn’t tried to hide her smile, and Eugene had told her, “Get on up here yourself, Miss Little Bit.”
“Ihaven’t gained any weight,” she’d said saucily, but she’d stepped up.
“Nah,” Eugene had said after the scale had offered up its proof. “You’ve lost another half a pound since last week. Haven’t put on the muscle you ought to’ve, either. You been working out too much? Too much is as bad as not enough. You ain’t Hemi. Don’t you be trying to keep up with him.”
“Thankyou,” I’d muttered, and she’d shot me an outraged look.
“No,” she’d said. “I’mfine.MaybeIate too much in New Zealand, did you think of that?”
“Hmm,” he’d said. “Feelin’ all right?”
“Yes. Fine.”
“Not really,” I’d put in. “Just about passed out in Central Park, didn’t you.”
“It was hot.”
“Hmm,” Eugene had said again. “Yeah, I’d say you better ease off some. Andyouneed to be eatin’ them tamales. Just don’t give any to Mr. Big here, I don’t care how much he whines. And if you start feeling bad, you go on and get it checked out. Meanwhile, get on the bike. Level four, and keep it there. We’ll go easy today.” He’d turned to me, then, and said, “Butyou…you get on the rower and go hard. Ten minutes. I wanna see some sweat.”
