Promise Me, page 3
I roll my eyes and give her a tight smile, "I'm sure everything's fine. She probably just wants to go over my flight information for the millionth time."
I still can't believe Julia talked me into going to that damn reunion. As soon as I told my mom I was coming home for the event she squealed so loudly on the phone I thought my ear drum would explode. Needless to say, almost every other day since then she's been calling to make sure I haven't changed my mind. I think I'm more afraid of what Julia would do to me at this point if I didn't go. She's been bringing it up pretty consistently since I bought the non-refundable airline ticket. Yes, non-refundable. That one was all her idea. She thought it would make it next to impossible for me to back out if I couldn't get a refund on my air fare. Although, according to her predictions, she'll be paying me for my ticket after I have "hot, dirty sex" with Tyler. Yeah, right.
Sitting down at my desk, I pick up the phone and start dialing. "Hi Mom," I say as soon as she picks up.
"Oh thank God. I've been trying to call you all morning."
"I know, I just got your messages. Why didn't you call me on my cell? Is everything ok?"
"Sweetie, everything's fine… but...," she trails off and I start thinking the worst. "Mom, is Dad okay? You're freaking me out."
"No, no, no, don't be silly, your father is fine," she hesitates a moment then she takes a big breath before hitting me with the real reason she's been calling me. "I ran into Lisa at the Village Shopping Center in town yesterday. She asked about you and brought up the reunion. I told her you were coming and then she... she asked me for your phone number."
"Please, Mom, tell me that you didn't give it to her."
"Well, that's the other reason I'm calling you so early, I wanted to make sure I caught you before she called you so I can give you fair warning."
Through clenched teeth, I just barely get out, "Mom, I don't want to talk to her."
"I figured you'd say that, but I thought it would be a good idea to talk to her a bit now so that when you get here in a few weeks you'll have already cleared the air with her."
I don't even know how that conversation could possibly go well or how my mom would even think I'd be okay with her giving Lisa my phone number when she knows we aren't friends anymore. "Mom, I have to get back to work. I'll call you later in the week."
"Please don't be mad at me Sabrina. I did it for your own good. You need to make amends with Lisa. The sooner the better," she says, like I'm the one at fault for ruining our friendship.
"Mom, I can't think about this right now. I've got to go. Love you... bye."
Putting the phone back on the receiver at my desk, my eyes veer to the left and see the calendar that shows a big red circle around "D-Day", June 25th, and let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding. Just a few weeks away now and I still don't have any clue of how I'm going to get through this. I need reinforcements so I pull my cell phone out of my purse and shoot off a quick text to Julia.
Lunch? 12:30... Burger & Beer Joint?
A light knock on my door makes me pop my head up as if I've been caught sleeping in class. My boss, and owner of the gallery, Alex Holt, is leaning in the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest smiling at me.
To say Alex is good looking would be putting it mildly. He is beautiful. I take a quick inventory of him today and he doesn't disappoint. His dirty blonde hair is just a tad too long but tamed with some hair product that probably cost him a fortune. He's wearing a top of the line black suit which is tailored in all the right places and a crisp white button down shirt. He's forgone the tie today, so the top button is undone, allowing me to catch the tiniest hint of his perfectly tanned flesh. His sky blue eyes are dancing with mischief when he makes his way into my office to take a seat across from me.
"Good morning Sabrina," he says as I hear and see my phone vibrate on my desk. "Do you need to answer that?"
"Um, no, it can wait," I say sheepishly back.
This man has always made me nervous. He bought the gallery a couple of years ago and has always made me feel like a complete jackass. Not because I don't know my job or what I'm doing, it's more the sexual vibe that oozes off of him everywhere he goes. Sometimes, I could swear that he's flirting, but I promptly toss out the thought since that would be ridiculous. I mean, he is my boss, right?
"Okay, well, I just wanted us to go over some of the details of that new exhibit you've been working on," he pauses a second to unbutton his suit jacket, crosses his legs and slowly leans back in the chair.
"Well, everything seems to be in place. The final artist has signed on and has agreed to show at least five to six pieces," I say while reaching for the nearest thing I can get my hands on from my desk to grab. I find that if I have something in my hands keeping me busy, my mind will keep from straying to impure thoughts.
"Great," he says as his eyes are now focusing on the pen that I'm currently bobbing back and forth in between my fingers.
"Yes, I'm really excited about it," feeling more confident all of a sudden, thanks to a pen? Seriously, what the hell? "I think we really needed some balance in the exhibit and this artist's work really provides that. He'll be in later today to discuss it further." I hesitate a moment before asking my next question. "Would you like to be in on the meeting?"
"No need, I trust you," he says then stands up and winks at me before leaving my office. My phone buzzes again breaking me out of my thoughts of Alex and all his gorgeousness.
You had me at burger... see you at 12:30
Smiling now and a bit more at ease, I turn on my computer and spend the remainder of my morning going through emails, dealing with potential sponsors for the gallery's upcoming exhibit and try to complete as much work that is humanly possible so I can make it to lunch on time.
As twelve o'clock approaches, I'm on my way out the door when Alex catches up to me. "In a hurry?" He asks smiling down at me.
I can't form a coherent response since the cologne and general "Alex" scent is flooding my senses. It's a mixture of sandalwood and the beach. Just lovely, perfect really. He's my boss, he's my boss, he's my boss, is the mantra that's currently on repeat in my head.
"Not really," trying to sound as casual as possible, "Just wanted to beat the lunchtime traffic. I'm meeting my friend for lunch."
"Julia?" He asks while trying to not look as if he's hiding his amusement at my obvious discomfort. While I nod in the affirmative, he steps back and puts his hands in his pant pockets. "I was hoping to take you out to lunch today," he pauses before adding, "to discuss some work related matters. But seeing as you already have plans, maybe tomorrow."
"Sounds good, it's a date then."
Why on God's good green earth did that just come out of my mouth? Chuckling at my verbal slip up, Alex takes his hands out of his pockets and props the front door open for me. As I go to pass him and take my first couple of steps out the door, I could swear I hear him say, "Not yet," under his breath. My head couldn't have snapped back quicker if I tried, but the door was already swinging closed behind me. Repeating the he's my boss mantra about another hundred times in my head. I get into my car and set out for lunch.
"So let me get this straight," Julia says while she reaches over to grab a French fry that is slathered in chili and cheese. "Since you left the house this morning, your mom called to give you shit about Lisa, or the whore, whichever works for you. And for the record, I prefer the whore. Anyway, the aforementioned whore has your phone number now, thanks to your mom. And finally, for the trifecta, Alex, your crazy hot boss wants to get into your pants."
"Actually, all of it except the Alex wanting to get into my pants part is right."
Almost choking on her food, she takes a quick sip of her diet soda before saying, "He so does want to get into your pants". I shake my head and tell her she's bonkers before she starts to break all the facts down as if she was Nancy Drew.
"Number one, he winked at you. I've seen you two at gallery events before and have caught him once or twice winking at you. Now, you could chalk that up to harmless flirting, but with the way that guy looks at you as if you were his next meal, not even a possibility. Two, he asked you to lunch. You can argue that he's your boss and it's normal to do that sort of thing. But you have never, ever, gone out to lunch, just the two of you, to discuss anything. There's always been a buffer present. That tells me he wants you all to himself. Finally, number three, he's hot and you're hot, and everyone knows that hot attracts hot."
She's quite proud of herself, going back to her chili cheese fries and sliders as if she's just solved the world's greatest mystery. I, for one, am not sold. There is no way that my boss could be interested in me in anything other than a working relationship. As if she can read my mind, she says in between bites of her slider, "Please don't make me repeat all of that."
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
"The whole Alex thing. You're not blind, right?" I must look hopelessly lost since she sighs at my confusion and says, "Sabrina, you're super hot."
I've been told I'm good looking, beautiful even, and not to toot my own horn, I do know that I'm not hard on the eyes, but hot? Correction... super hot? I don't think so.
"Seriously," pausing for emphasis, "have you looked in the mirror today? All you need is a pair of glasses and you'd be every fifteen year old boy's wet dream. You look like that chick in the "Hot for Teacher" video, except for the hair color."
I look down at myself, a bit uncomfortable now thanks to Julia's vivid description of fifteen year old boys masturbating. I'm wearing a black pencil skirt that reaches just above my knee with a capped sleeve, white pin-tuck shirt that is tucked and kept in place with a black patent leather belt. My toes are slightly peeking out of my favorite matching black patent leather pumps. I've never been a big jewelry person, so I've decided for the bare minimum today, diamond studs, a gift from my parents after graduating from high school. My auburn hair is in a low pony tail at the nape of my neck with side swept bangs. "Are you kidding me? And by the way, thanks so much for the mental image, I've lost my appetite now."
"Nope, and that right there is yet another reason I'm sure Alex is dying to get into your pants. He knows that you have no idea of how hot you are. It's a turn on for a guy like him. A conquest, if you will," she says between sips. "Look at yourself for crying out loud, with those curves, that hair, and your green eyes. I've said it before and I'll say it again, your mom must have fucked a gypsy to get you."
This rant is annoyingly familiar. Julia swears that I'm of gypsy blood. I've tried countless times to explain how I take after my mother's side of the family which is mostly of Greek origin, but she likes to tease me about my "gypsy" blood, convinced that I was either, a. left on my parents doorstep by a group of gypsies, or b. my mother bedded an actual gypsy to conceive me. Instead of encouraging her any further on this issue, which would undoubtedly lead to her singing a few bars of "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves," I just roll my eyes and try to change the subject.
"Enough with the Alex talk, there are more pressing matters at hand. Case in point, Lisa. What should I say if she actually calls me?"
"Yeah, that kind of sucks that she got the jump on you," she says as she wipes her mouth with her napkin and then proceeds to throw it on top of her plate. She signals to the waiter with the universal sign for, "bring me the check, please" before continuing.
"You have two options. One, you can talk to her and find out once and for all why she did what she did and then tell her off. Or two, you don't answer her and just show up at the reunion, where obviously she's going to want to talk to you, and then you can tell her off in person."
If I decide to answer her call she's going to want to rehash the past and explain everything. If I don't answer her call, then I'm going to be forced to deal with her at the reunion with a lot of witnesses. I'm not big on confrontation, so I'm not exactly fond of either option. The last time I had a confrontation was with the dry cleaner and that ended up with me paying for the bill even though they shrunk my favorite pair of black slacks. Julia thinks I'm a bit of a pushover, but I think it's just easier to move on and forget about it.
"How about I just cross that bridge, when and if, she actually calls me?"
"Whatever, it's your reunion, not mine," she says and hands the waiter her credit card. After signing the receipt she walks me to my car which is parked on the street before walking back to her office which is just a few doors down from the restaurant.
Julia runs a small event planning company that was previously managed by her father. Since his retirement a couple of years ago, he handed over the reins to his only daughter, only to see the company flourish under her leadership. She's really good at what she does and it shows. Her clientele list is growing and her events have been heralded in the local paper. She's also been spotlighted on one of the local TV stations as an up and coming "Miamian to watch". I've actually been able to get Alex to use her services to promote exhibits at the gallery a few times, including the latest one we are working on.
Returning to the gallery, the rest of my day is pretty uneventful. I meet with the new artist for the next exhibit and finish up some other miscellaneous tasks. After lunch I had turned off my cell phone just in case Lisa decided to call me. Pulling the phone out of my purse, I turn it back on and notice the time, almost six-thirty, more importantly, there are no messages. Turning off my monitor, I throw the phone back into my purse and grab my keys. I walk out my office door and right into Alex, knocking my purse to the floor and spilling all its contents every which way.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."
"Not your fault. I was just checking to see if you were still here actually," he says as he bends down to retrieve my belongings.
"You don't have to do that," I say then bend down to start picking up items and chuck them back into my purse as quickly as possible. I look up at him when he hands me the last item, of all things, a tampon. I'm beyond mortified. If the ground could possibly open up at this moment and swallow me, I'd welcome it. I yank it out of his hand and shove it in my purse as if it were a stick of dynamite. Standing up, I try to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt with my hands while I tell him good night and walk around him.
"Sabrina, wait. I was just coming by to see if you'd like to have a drink with me tonight?"
This is where Julia would come in handy. Her overabundance of confidence would help in this kind of situation. I, on the other hand, am a bumbling idiot. "A drink?" God, if she was here she'd probably smack me on the back of the head. As if it had a mind of its own, my hand dives into my purse and grabs my keys to keep them occupied.
"Yes, a drink. Turns out I'm going to be out on a business matter all day tomorrow, so I was hoping to discuss some things with you now," he says and his eyes pick up on the keys I'm nervously twirling around my finger. When he looks back up at me he smiles then points in the direction of the gallery's front door. "Shall we?"
We walk out the front doors of the gallery, and while he's locking up, his phone begins to vibrate. Excusing himself for a moment to answer the call, I take the opportunity to text Julia.
Going for a drink with Alex. See u later.
If there was a world record for return texts, Julia broke it in what felt like a millisecond.
Hells yeah!
I shake my head, giggling at her response and put my cell phone back into my purse just as Alex reaches me. "Is everything okay?" He asks.
"Oh, yeah, I just wanted to let Julia know that I'd be later than usual getting home." Satisfied with my response he leads us towards the bar a couple of doors down from the gallery.
Rio Station is one of my favorite after work spots. Formerly known as Zeke's, it's most popular for its beer menu. From the most exotic to the most common brands, it's guaranteed to be there. Aside from the few tourists that frequent the place it still has that "regulars" kind of feel to it. For being located in one of the trendiest areas in South Beach, the inside is more simple than most. With its plain old long oak bar and weathered bar stools, to the few flat screen televisions, it's definitely cozier than the usual fare around here. A few of us from the gallery end up going there every couple of weeks to people watch while seated in the outdoor patio because you never know who or what you might see. As we make our way through the crowd seated outside, Alex puts his hand lightly on the small of my back to lead me inside. It's not like he's never done this before but for some reason, tonight… it feels different. If I'm being honest with myself, I don't know if I like it or not. Before I can really start psychoanalyzing the hell out of it, he pulls his hand away and motions towards the bar. Grabbing two seats at the far end, I notice that the jukebox is playing one of my favorite bands.
"Do you like Pink Floyd?" I ask him while he's trying to get the bartender's attention. "I do," he answers without looking at me. When the bartender finally reaches our end of the bar, he orders me a glass of Pinot Grigio and a foreign beer that I've never heard of for himself.
"How did you know that's what I wanted to drink?"
He turns slightly in his chair, locking eyes with me. "I pay attention."
Holy shit! With just that one little statement, I'm starting to question if this was a good idea to begin with. I am so out of my league here it's not even funny. The juke box is ironically playing "Comfortably Numb", perfectly capturing how I feel at this moment since I can't come up with anything to say back to him.
"So tell me about this new artist who's signed on for the exhibit?" He asks when our drinks arrive. I take a sip of my wine and proceed to tell him about the meeting I had with the artist earlier in the day. He makes comments every so often, but for the most part he lets me talk, and seems genuinely interested in what I have to say. Just as I'm finishing up my glass of wine, he's already motioning for the bartender again. I hear my cell phone vibrate in my purse and his one eyebrow rises in amusement.
