By this time I was as dressed as I needed to be to leave. I looked at Richard with murder in my eyes, “I guess not. That’s why we’re here, huhn?”
As I marched towards the door my last words to him were, “And you know to never call me again, don’t you?” I slammed the door behind me and all but ran to my car.
On my drive home, I reminded myself I knew he was hiding something. He would just pop up places, which meant the times we were together were times that were convenient for him. And the fact that he never invited me to his place was a red flag. I wasn’t hurt; I was embarrassed about looking like a whore in apparently someone else’s home.
Wait until I tell Michelle this one. I just needed to get to bed; I had a long day ahead of me.
In bed, tossing and turning, I couldn’t rest that night. Slumber wrestled against restiveness. My day had been too active. I graduated, won a dance-off, and got caught preparing to have sex with a cheating man—in someone else’s apartment—all in one day. I twisted and turned all night. When five o’clock came the following morning, I got up and jumped on the treadmill for an hour. Once that was complete, I started my day earlier than usual.
I arrived at work just before eight a.m. although we didn’t start appointments until nine. The lights were all off, which I expected as I was typically the first to arrive. After checking the messages and making notes of them I then started pacing through the building turning on the lights. I thought to turn on the muzak system first because I had one of the songs that played in rotation in my head, but decided to wait until all of the lights were on first and found myself humming the song instead.
When I found my way to the back area near the storage room where the copy room is, I opened the door and hit the light switch and heard someone gasp as I was about to turn to leave the room. With my heart racing at being startled, I pivoted in my tracks, jumped and then gasped myself.
It was Michelle’s uncle, Dan Smith, with young Hailey Witherspoon. Mr. Smith’s belly was competing with his willy! I didn’t expect this from him at all. So many thoughts routed my mind in rapid speed. If Dr. Witherspoon only knew his daughter was giving out professionals of the oral persuasion to the senior partners I’m sure he’d put his bid in for partnership. I was beyond embarrassed, mortified better described my case.
Damn! When will this end? I can’t take another peculiar moment!
“Oops! I’m sorry!” shot from my mouth before turning the lights back off and shutting the door behind me.
Soon after, I heard Hailey yell, “Shit!”
I tried dreadfully to go about my day as usual. When I saw Hailey again it was around ten a.m., she didn’t speak and neither did I. I simply carried on like business as usual. Mr. Smith appeared at the front-end desk that I was covering that particular day handing in a file at around lunchtime. After asking me to schedule the client’s next appointment he looked over to me with tentative eyes, “Uh…Rayna…”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” I responded and forgot to breathe.
“I’d like to meet with you tomorrow morning concerning your professional endeavors. I just learned of your recent graduation from PT school. Let’s say eight thirty a.m.?” he proposed and walked away, just like that. He didn’t wait for a response. My stomached dropped to my stilettos and I could feel my racing pulse in my neck. I didn’t know why he posed it as a question as if I could say no.
“Sharon, I’ll be taking my lunch now. Please cover the desk?” I asked one of the permanent receptionists just before I went to my small office to grab my purse and phone and left.
“Shelly, I’m in trouble!” I yelled into the phone as soon as I got into the steamy car.
“What happened?” From Michelle’s tone, I could tell she was preoccupied, likely in her office crunching numbers. After filling her in on the story, she yelped, “No wonder!”