Hard Place, page 5
“Harper,” I say and shake her hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
She goes to the fancy espresso machine and I wonder if I can nonchalantly stand back and watch her use it so I can figure it out. If not, I’ll be writing down the make and model and watching YouTube videos on it later.
“I didn’t know we hired new interns.”
“I’m, um, not a temp. I’m Mr. Harding’s new assistant.”
“You’re replacing Jason?” Clarissa looks away from the espresso machine and eyes me up and down. “I would not have expected that.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask with a nervous laugh. I’ve already forgotten the sequence of buttons she’s pressed on that damn machine.
“Give me a week and I’ll get back to you on that.” She fills up her coffee and turns to leave. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Will I really need luck?” I ask Dan once Clarissa is out of the break room. I open the same cabinet she did and grab a white mug.
“Nah.” Dan waves his hand in the air. “Alex isn’t so bad when you get to know him.” He gives me a reassuring smile, but his eyes can’t hide the lie.
I’m going to need all the luck in the world to get through this.
“Shit!” I blink my eyes, hoping I’m just reading the time wrong. Nope. “Shit, shit, shit!” I throw the covers back and slide my arm out from underneath Penny. She came into my bed this morning, just a minute before my alarm went off.
She told me she had a bad dream and wanted to snuggle until she felt better. I turned off my alarm, telling myself we’d just lay here for five minutes and then get up. Well, twenty minutes have passed and now we’re running late.
Still grumbling, I fly out of bed, trip over my clothes that I stripped out of and left on the ground, and hurry into the bathroom. I’m not a morning person in the least, and both girls have inherited my night-owl gene. It’s a struggle to get them up and out of the house every morning, even though we’ve been getting up and going to daycare for most of their lives now.
It’s strange when I stop and think about it—which isn’t going to happen this morning. I’m in too much of a rush—but I’d give anything to stay home with my babies now instead of working that dream job. They’re going into kindergarten on Monday and I feel like I’ve worked more than I’ve played with them, which is normal, I know.
But it doesn’t make me like it.
I wash my face, brush out my hair, which is thankfully holding a wave thanks to yesterday’s loose curls. Tapping the screen of my phone to see the time, I have a few seconds of mental panic where I’m not sure what to do or how the hell I’m going to make it to work on time this morning.
Racing out of the bathroom, I go into the kitchen and open the pantry. We’re really low on groceries, and my bank account is really low on funds. Not a good combination.
“Mommy,” Violet calls from her bedroom. “Where are you?”
“Kitchen,” I reply, not having to talk louder than my normal “inside voice”. The apartment is small, consisting of a small living room that flows into an even smaller kitchenette. We have one tiny bathroom with a sink, tub, and toilet crammed into a space smaller than a walk-in closet, and then the two bedrooms. Horses have bigger stalls than the rooms we sleep in, but hey, at least we have a roof over our heads and a safe place to stay, right? Though if I were to look up the crime stats for this neighborhood, I’d start sleeping with a knife under my pillow again.
“Morning, baby,” I tell Violet when she slowly walks to the table. She reminds me of a zombie with slow, jerky movements and messy hair. That girl wakes up with impressive bedhead. The girls both have heads of gorgeous, thick, dark brown hair, which they got from me.
Their perfect natural curls…those they had to get from their father, as well as their hazel eyes. Because their father had hazel eyes too…I think. We weren’t in a relationship when I got pregnant. We weren’t even casually dating.
I went to a party with Tessa, needing a distraction from the worst week of my life. In my last year of college, I needed to make up for lost time when it came to partying. I preferred to spend my nights in my dorm with a book where Tessa liked to go out and get drunk. I can’t remember how many nights I held her hair back, keeping it from dipping into the dirty co-ed toilets as she puked up half a bottle of vodka.
Despite the puking that was always paired with crying and empty promises that she’d “never drink again”, Tessa always went back out and raved about how much fun said parties were. We’re opposite in a lot of ways, which is probably why we make such good friends.
And the one time Tessa got me to go out with her, the one time I needed a break and a drink and to just forget about how unfair the world was, it only proved to me that it doesn’t matter if you’re a good or bad person.
Things just happen.
Bad things.
Good things.
Unfair things.
They just happen randomly.
Or maybe it wasn’t random at all. I’d lost everything only to be given two precious daughters who I love more than life itself. Who have me waking up every morning wanting to do better.
For them.
“Can we have breakfast?” Violet asks, rubbing her eyes. “I hungry.”
“I’m hungry,” I correct. “And yes, we have to speed eat without choking this morning.” I open a cabinet and pull out crackers and peanut butter. Getting out two plates, I give each girl four crackers and smear peanut butter on them, and then grab an apple from the back of the fridge. After cutting off all the bruised spots, I have enough left over to give each girl three slices.
I really need to do better.
The lump in my throat comes back, and I have to swallow hard to make it go away. I’ve gotten a pay raise from the new job, and I’m going to go crazy at the grocery store once the money comes through.
Okay, not crazy-crazy, but I’m getting fresh fruit and veggies. And bacon. So much bacon. Again, not really. Just one package, but a girl can dream.
“Eat, sweetheart. I’m going to get your sister up.” Violet nods and rests her head on the table. I feel bad making them get up early so I can drop them off at daycare, but we’re going to have to get used to getting up and leaving even earlier once school starts. The girls have to be there by eight-thirty, and need to be picked up by two-thirty. Thank God Tessa is willing to take them either home with her or over to Dad’s apartment.
“Penny,” I say softly and go back into my room. I pull up the blinds to let in the little bit of light this cloudy day has to offer. The outside of the window is in serious need of cleaning, but there’s a better chance of me winning the lottery, meeting a prince in disguise who falls madly in love with me, and finally getting my letter to Hogwarts—on the same day—than there is that the super would hire someone to clean the windows of this apartment complex.
We didn’t move in here for the glitz and the glamour, luckily.
“It’s time to get up, sweetheart.”
Penny slits her eyes open and groans, pulling the blankets back over her face.
“I know,” I tell her and flop down on the bed. “I want to go back to sleep too, but I have to take you guys to daycare so I can work.”
“No daycare. No daycare,” she groans, voice edging on whining. Only my kids can wake up and whine, I swear. It grates my nerves if I’m being honest, and my patience is shortened when I’m tired.
Which I always am.
“It’s Friday!” I scoop her up in my arms and sit her up. “That means we get to sleep in tomorrow and watch movies and go to the park if it’s nice.”
“Can we do spa day?”
“What’s a spa day?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t mean go to an actual spa. Even if I could afford it, I think I’d draw the line at taking five-year-olds. It would be the opposite of relaxing.
“We do face masks and paint nails. I saw it on Babydoll.”
Babydoll is what they call watching YouTube Kids. I’m not sure why that name stuck, but it did.
“That sounds fun! I’ll see what I can find for face masks. I have nail polish and I still have that bath bomb Aunt Tessa gave me for my birthday to use. That sounds like something you’d do a spa too, doesn’t it?”
Penny perks up, smiling and nodding.
“But we can’t have a spa day if I don’t go to work. So come on, get up and eat and I’ll pick out clothes for today.”
“Can I match sissy?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell her with a smile. The girls have similar clothes, but since ninety-nine percent of what they own came secondhand, it’s not like I was able to buy sets of anything.
Ten minutes later, I’m still rushing around to get ready. Penny started the day slow, and now Violet is taking a turn having a meltdown and won’t sit still as I try to brush her hair.
“I’m not doing your hair,” I tell her and let go of the handful of thick locks I was holding. “You are old enough to sit still while I put your hair in a ponytail. You can wear it down now.”
Violet flops from the couch to the floor, crying. “I want my hair up. Please, Mommy!”
I close my eyes, knowing that I shouldn’t give in. She’s whining because she knows I end up feeling bad, but it’s hot and humid out and they go outside at daycare. She really should have her hair up, but she should also sit still for thirty seconds and not turn her head back and forth just to test me.
“No. We tried three times and you didn’t listen.” I set the hairbrush down and get up, grabbing my cosmetic bag. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, mostly because I don’t have time and good makeup is expensive. But I want to make an effort for at least the first month at my new job.
And as much as I hate admitting it, everyone on floor fourteen looks so put together. Like they’re actually in charge of their lives and aren’t rushing around with two minutes to spare while a five-year-old is rolling around on the floor crying.
I risk losing a minute of precious time to go to the bathroom, but there’s never a promise I won’t get stuck in traffic on my way into the city, and having to pee while sitting still on the highway is awful. When I come out of the bathroom, Penny is on the floor too, hugging her sister.
I’m an only child, so I don’t quite get the bond between siblings. These two are sisters but so much more. They have their own personalities. Penny is a bit more easygoing and Violet is much more of a daredevil, but they are so alike in many other ways, and not just in how they look.
“Ready?” I ask and they both look up.
“Can you do my sister’s hair, Mommy?” Penny asks. “I told her to sit still.” She emphasizes the last words and it’s so dang cute.
“Yes, but we need to hurry. Get your shoes on while I put her hair up, please.”
Penny nods and Violet sits up. I quickly pull her hair into a ponytail, brushing it smooth. I add big white bows to both girls’ hair, grab our stuff, and speed out the door.
We make it to daycare right on time, and I’m not the last one in the car line. The line moves slowly, and when we’re two cars away from the door, I put my new fancy Lexus in park and turn around in my seat so I can undo the girls’ car seat straps.
Violet jumps right out of her seat and looks out the window, thinking it’s cool she actually has legroom to stand in this car. Penny doesn’t move but rests her head against her seat.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, turning back around. The line inches forward.
“I don’t wanna go to daycare.”
“I know, but you have to.”
“Why can’t I stay with you?”
Oh, my heart. “Because I have to go to work.”
“Stay home,” she begs, eyes filling with tears. “I’ll miss you.”
Violet looks at her sister with wide eyes, and I know what’s about to happen. She loves school, like Penny usually does, but now thinks that she should be sad and crying because her sister is.
“I’ll pick you up as soon as I can and then we’ll have the whole weekend to spend together. You’ll have fun once you’re in. You love your friends!”
“I want to stay home.”
“We’re already in the car. I’m not going home.”
“Then go to work with you,” she tries.
“Yeah!” Violet agrees. “Can we go to work with you, Mommy?”
“No, my loves, I’m sorry but you can’t. They don’t let kids in the building,” I lie, hoping it will help. Though I can’t imagine Alexander would ever allow children in the office. He’s so cold and stuffy…and incredibly good-looking.
Which isn’t fair, by the way. He’s such an asshole. Why can’t someone kind and caring who likes to volunteer and snuggle puppies have his looks?
I drive up to the doors, and Miss Amy, one of the daycare workers, opens our car door.
“Oh, Miss Watson. I didn’t know this was you. New car?” she asks and helps Violet jump down.
“Hah, I wish. It’s my boss’s,” I say, feeling it’s easier to leave it at that. Saying I have a “company car” sounds too fancy and explaining that I was given a reliable car to drive around so I can be at Alexander Harding’s beck and call is too degrading.
Miss Amy holds out her hand for Penny, who wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head.
“What’s wrong Penny-lenny?” Miss Amy asks. She’s so good with the kids and most of the time they love her. It’s one of the few things that makes me feel better about dropping them off here every morning.
“I miss Mommy.”
Miss Amy leans farther into the car. “I have an idea, but you can’t tell Mommy, okay?” she whisper-talks. “I just opened a brand-new box of crayons. How about you draw a super special picture for Mommy?”
Penny sniffles. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I tell Miss Amy, blinking away my own tears. I give each girl and extra hug and kiss before driving off. I’m so upset that I don’t realize I’m running late until I pull into the parking garage at work. My old car is still sitting in my same reserved spot, and I pull into a much closer one reserved for Mr. Harding’s assistant.
I quite literally run to the elevator to take me to the building and walk as fast as I can across the lobby and into another elevator. It’s eight fifty-four and it takes about a minute to go up to the fourteenth floor, well, as long as we don’t stop at every single floor.
Which is what happens. Okay, not every floor, but we stop at floor number five. And seven. And ten. And twelve. I practically shove my way off the elevator when we get to my floor and burst into the office, not letting out my breath until the doors shut behind me.
It’s eight fifty-seven. I’m not late.
“Hey, girl,” Marcus says when I breeze past.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Good. It’s Friday. Got big plans for the weekend?”
I shake my head. “I’m hanging out with my kids. So nothing crazy eventful, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“You have kids?” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re so young. No offense or anything, I just assumed we were like the same age.”
“We probably are. I’m twenty-five and have five-year-old twin girls.”
“Twins? You look amazing for giving birth to freaking twins.”
“It was five years ago,” I laugh, not adding that the stress of being a single mom and not being able to buy groceries for myself helped me lose the baby weight. Though I think the whole construct of “baby weight” is utterly ridiculous. Women grow human beings inside of them. Who the fuck cares if we put on a few pounds, get stretch marks, or have loose skin on our bellies?
Let me say that again: women grow humans inside of them. It’s nothing less than a miracle, and physical appearance pales in comparison. I’ve been told over and over how lucky I am not to have gotten stretch marks, and I’m proud of my C-section scar. Not one, but two tiny humans came out of me.
It’s fucking awesome.
“Well, you look amazing nonetheless.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile. That compliment was just what I needed to lessen the ache in my heart over dropping the girls off at daycare. I head to my desk, drop off my purse, and peer inside Mr. Harding’s office.
He’s on the phone, and holy hell, Alexander is looking fine today in a dark grey fitted suit. It’s strange, really, how most of his body is covered up yet I find him to be dripping with sex appeal. He looks up and catches my eye. I give a small wave and a smile and then head into the break room to get a mug of black coffee in case Alexander wants some again this morning.
The break room is full of food this morning, enough so I stop, blink, and make sure I’m not imagining it. There’s a chef in a white coat standing behind a hot buffet, and I’m pretty sure those flute glasses are full of actual Champagne.
Why didn’t I start working here sooner?
“Morning,” a twenty-something-year-old guy says, coming into the room. “I’m Taylor, Dan’s assistant. You’re Harper, right?”
“I am,” I say, not looking away from the coffee. I don’t want to spill a drop. “Nice to meet you. Have you been here long?”
“Not too long. Only seven months.” He picks up a glass of orange juice. “The guys all hassle me and say this is a chick drink, but I love a good mimosa. Want one?”
Thank goodness he said something, or I would have chugged the thing before I tasted the alcohol.
“Maybe later. I don’t drink often, and I haven’t had breakfast.”
“Get one before they’re gone.”
“So you guys do this often? Eat bacon and eggs while drinking?”
He nods and holds out a plate for the chef to start filling. “Every Friday. And the first Monday of the month we get massages. Well, they do. We can too if there’s time.” He laughs like the thought of having free time is hilarious. “I better get out there. Good to meet you, Harper.”
I take a lingering look at the hot breakfast and force myself away. Hopefully I can give Alexander his coffee and then sneak back in for a plate for myself.
He’s still on the phone, so I set his coffee on my desk and sit down, looking over the calendar for the day. A few minutes tick by, and I look up every thirty seconds or so to see if Alexander is still on the phone.
