Page 47 of Pride and Protest
From: [email protected]
A while ago, I mentioned not filling my schedule with any office events and holiday parties. You’ve been a great personal assistant and have kept my schedule relatively free of fluff. I realize in celebration of the season, I should be more receptive to “fun.” As such, I will attend the annual Christmas ball and the 50th anniversary gala. I still, however, request as few pictures and extended conversations as can be helped. I will give you a signal when I need to be rescued from excessive engagement.
Thank you.
D.
Dorsey held the phone and exhaled. The loft in Georgetown he rented seemed cramped and small with Jennifer still here milling about. She said she would drop a few papers off that he needed to sign. But it had been an hour. His head was filled withcrop tops and glossed lips from Liza’s past summer on Instagram, and the last thing he wanted right now was company. It was nearing eleven p.m., and she showed no signs of packing up. The moon had long ago disappeared, leaving a quiet and dark night. The only sounds were the sluggish swoosh of the Foundry Branch and Jennifer’s anxious heels clacking on the polished wood floors. He winced with every step.
He was going to text Liza tonight. But he wanted Jennifer gone first. It thrilled him to think that he could affect Liza the way she did him. The fluttering in his stomach when she touched his shoulders in the hallway—had her stomach twisted too?
He should’ve kissed her when she glanced at his lips in the hallway.Why didn’t you do it? You coward, Dorsey chided himself. He wasn’t sure if he’d get a slap across the face or a warmer welcome. A near-constantWhat would Alexi do?rang in his head, but in this case he knew. Alexi would have acted. Dorsey should have coaxed her into the bathroom and taken her on the vanity, rattling medicine cabinets as cotton ball containers and toothbrushes toppled onto the floor. He would cover her mouth with his to keep her from moaning too loudly.Is she a moaner or a screamer?He imagined them walking back into the family living room, flushed and smelling like each other, everyone too polite to mention it. Dorsey groaned and and rolled his eyes. Jennifer approached, looking annoyed.
“Who was that on the phone?” she asked.Why does she feel so entitled to my private moments?
“What else is there to look over? I’m getting kind of tired.” He glossed over her question.
“Sure. Um, I’ll head out, then, unless...” Jennifer let the word hang. Dorsey noticed the slightest trembling on her lip, and he groaned. He would have to take the Alexi route.
“Look, Jennifer, I have to be honest with you. We had a few dinners, it didn’t work...” Dorsey started.
“Who said it didn’t work?”
“I just kind of think we don’t work—”
“Kind of?” Jennifer looked nonplussed.
“Have you asked yourself whyyouwant to hang out with me, Jennifer? Really?” Dorsey said.
Jennifer was nodding before he finished. “This line of questioning wouldn’t have anything to do with whoever you were texting with your cock on your mind, would it? I swear, you are off thecharts, Dorsey.” Her fury did a poor job of masking the hurt in her voice. “Do you even want Netherfield to succeed? I thought we had shared goals. That’s your answer. I thought we were alike. You said you wanted this. And now I can’t get you to sit still for ten minutes to go over the financials. You’re all over the place, Dorsey, and it’s going to cost us Netherfield Courtandthe Alexandria project. Senator De Berg told me he asked you to make a gesture of unity for Alexandria, and you refused.”
“It was beneath me,” Dorsey said. He patted his pocket for cigarettes. Nothing. His head was pounding.
“Beneath you?” Jennifer smirked. “I catch you ripping the shirt off a woman in your office, and you are talking about what isbeneathyou? I don’t want you to become like one of these men in power that get... lusty and end up abusing people. You need to cut a clear line. I mean, despite appearances, youarea man in power. The MeToo movement would eat you for lunch,” she said. “Now you’re late-night texting God knows who, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Just promise me it’s none of your employees—no paralegals, no secretaries.”
“I’m not a predator, Jennifer. I am aware of my position and have never preyed on anyone weaker than me.” Something aboutthe way she said “despite appearances” infuriated Dorsey. He just wanted her out of his home and out of his ear. His heart wasn’t in this work. He knew it. She knew it. But he would try to be the man his father had been. Hewastrying. But it wasn’t enough. He was starting to fear it never would be. “Ishouldpay more attention to this work. I concede that. But that’s all you get to comment on. Are we clear?”
“I wish that was all I could comment on. Look, I know for you this is a shortcut to increasing the philanthropic budget, but this is my actual life, you know.” Jennifer crossed her arms.
“I think I just need some sleep,” he offered. He stood up and walked over to the door. “Good night, Jennifer.”
She yanked her briefcase up and choked out an angry goodbye as she rushed out. Dorsey closed the door behind her and leaned his head against the cool metal. The phone burned in his hands. Finally. Liza.
The evening had come quickly, and the Bennett women were settling in. Maurice had spent the night out as he was prone to do. They had made their polite conversation with Colin, and Liza retired to her room. Colin was still at the apartment and had made no move to leave. Liza’s guess was that he would hang around until Bev invited him to stay the night. He probably didn’t even have a hotel. She tucked in the last corner of the bedsheet to military snugness. She wanted to hear any movement on this side of the room. Liza was bent over, tucking the other side of the sheet in, when she felt eyes on her. She turned and saw Colin’s tiny green eyes squinting in appreciation. She was suddenly conscious of her thin T-shirt and swaying breasts. The ratty material of her sleep shorts seemed transparent and indecent.
“So when are you headed to the hotel?” Liza asked.
“I’m not even sure Ubers come to this part of town. It’s gotten so late.” Colin leaned against the doorjamb.
“Oh, they do. I can get you one,” Liza offered, almost pleadingly.
“I could never. Your mom tells me you’re not making ends meet,” Colin said. Liza could kill that woman. Colin followed the peaks of Liza’s nipples with his eyes.
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m just gonna pop off to the bathroom.”
Liza came back in the room with at least two pairs of everything on. A sports bra, tights with fuzzy pants over them, and a big button-down shirt over her thin T-shirt.
