59
I’m finally home, and I’m standing in my apartment. Sarah isn’t here, as usual; only this time, it vexes me. There’s a crapload of man things scattered throughout the apartment, and that rank smell of Marcus’s aftershave is over everything. I’m also aware that the whole time I’ve been gone, I have only heard from her via text, briefly asking about my mother. I know I shouldn’t be upset; I barely touch base with her, but I assumed I would have had at least one call since I haven’t been home in more than a week.
I march to my room and throw my suitcase down in agitation. I have two whole days at home for a change as Jake is shooting off to see his momma for her birthday. For once, I’m not being dragged along for the occasion. I know Jake loves his mother, and he wants some alone time with her; he has plans to take her on a shopping and spa day for her and her two sons.
My room is depressing after the weeks of jumping between grand hotels and Jake’s apartment for quick changes and flight stop-overs. I miss his apartment and the view from his comfy ivory tower, the city lights stretching below. My room is claustrophobic. And it doesn’t help that there are mountains of clothes piled on three surfaces, as I would come home and throw out the contents of one suitcase and pack another before leaving again.
My cell beeps, and I open the text, surprised to see Jake’s name already. We’ve barely left one another, and I’m still wearing my dress from the dance: red satin, floor-length, all boobs and shoulders on show.
“What are you doing?” it reads.
I guess he’s bored already; maybe he’s feeling listless and unsettled like me. I’ve been home less than an hour, and already I’m itching to get out of these four walls. He’s supposed to be getting an early night for his trip home tomorrow, but I send a reply with a smile on my face.
“Staring at a sea of pointless clothes and wondering how I will wrestle Donna’s gold card away from those itchy fingers.”
“Can I come stare with you?” His reply makes me smile, and that usual warmth grows in my chest.
My poor boss is losing the ability to socialize with ordinary people beyond me. What am I doing to him?
It’s still early, so I guess he isn’t ready for sleep. I know I’m not.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Carrero? Are you lonely in your ivory tower without me?” I text back.
“Maybe.” His reply is instant. I stifle a giggle; he’s impossible at times, like a child who needs my constant attention, unable to satisfy his boredom. I wonder where all his buddies and playthings are tonight? Surely, he can’t have only me to hang out with.
“If you’re that bored, how can I deny you my sparkling company?” I have to admit, I miss him already. I’m so used to his constant presence that standing here alone feels alien.
“Are you home alone?” His replies are swift, and I can’t help but grin.
“Aren’t I always?”
He knows about Sarah’s almost constant absence, yet he knows that Marcus hangs around even when she isn’t here.
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” he replies.
I close my cell and look around with a critical eye.
Should I clear up? It’s only Jake.
I giggle at my lack of concern in this matter.
When did I start thinking this way, “It’s only Jake?” How many weeks ago would I have panicked at the thought of Jake Carrero in my apartment?
There’s a noise at the door, and I’m surprised he’s here already; it’s been less than five minutes, and I’m sure he won’t have been waiting outside. I hear the door open; it can’t be him. He doesn’t have a key, and he’s not rude enough to just walk in, even if he did; he’s not that kind of creepy at all. He has impeccable manners.
I walk out of my room and come face to face with the sleazy Marcus, all floppy curly brown hair and sulky brown eyes with an unshaven face, carrying a brown grocery bag.
Great. So now he has a key.
“Marcus,” I exclaim drily. He seems to be a little shocked at my arrival and throws me a nervous tight smile. His slight frame meanders into the kitchen to dump the bags.
“Emma, you’re home for once. I started to think you were never coming back.” He grins with his lopsided, toothy mouth, eyes appraising me openly, and I shudder.
“I’m guessing you’re living here now if my whereabouts have become your concern,” I reply flatly, anger simmering low down inside me. Sarah has no right. She should have at least asked me if I minded. I despise this guy on standard terms, but his living here is worse.
“Sarah and I decided to give it another go, and as she works a lot, we figured this would give us our best chance at working it out.”
Great. Thanks, Sarah.
I’m seething internally.
“She didn’t think I should know?” I thinly veil the venom in my voice. My voice is tight and haughty and holds nothing back of my dislike. I can’t stand this wiry, curly-headed, out-of-work actor freeloading from my friend in our home.
“Why?” he responds belligerently, and I push down the urge to throw something at his head.
“Because it’s half my apartment, and I pay half the bills,” I retort, incensed at his nerve.
“We kinda figured you would be moving out, seeing as you’re shacked up with your boss,” he smirks at me as his eyes do the usual route from my cleavage down to my ankles and slowly back up. He makes me sick. I’m beyond livid. Sarah knows that nothing is going on between Jake and me. I swallow the urge to slap him across his messy head, tightening my fingers into fists by my side while swallowing hard.
Smarmy prick.
“I’m not shacked up with my boss! I work for him, that’s all,” my voice full of hatred, my teeth clenched.
“Yeah, sure.” He’s eyeing me in that ‘know it all,’ sleazy manner that makes my skin crawl, his eyes seeming to say, “I can imagine you screwing him in all those fancy hotels.”
“Fuck you, Marcus! You know nothing!” I turn on my heel and stamp back into my room, anger threatening to burst out. I just cannot be bothered with him or a fight.
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