Or, if you date a man who says he’s willing to pay you for sex—you end up feeling like a woman who was offered money for sex. Even if he wrapped the offer in a cushion of a thousand roses.
Or worse, you regret not saying yes, even though you hate yourself for wanting him enough to consider shelving your self-respect and giving in.
I can’t keep calling in sick to Cogent.
But I can’t watch him walk by me like I don’t matter.
I’ll quit tomorrow. Then I’ll pick myself up, write a new résumé, find another night job, and get back out there. It’ll be okay. This doesn’t change anything.
She flipped on the television and searched until she found a sappy movie she knew would have her in tears. I’ll be strong again tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to let myself wallow.
She reached for a box of tissues and lost herself in a story she’d watched a hundred times before, sobbing through scenes she knew well enough to mouth the words to, and hugged her pillow to her stomach as the heroine came to the same conclusion she had: Men suck.
A knock on her apartment door echoed through the room. She didn’t have many friends in the city and most of them worked during the day. She knelt on her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Yesterday’s mascara was smudged beneath two bloodshot eyes. Her nose was red and puffy from crying. She scrambled to pick up the tissues that were scattered across her bed. “Who is it?” she called out.
The answer was concealed by the noise of the television. She turned it off and mentally smacked herself for saying anything. I should have pretended I wasn’t here. My television was on, though. So what? People leave them on all the time.
Hastily wiping off any makeup she could, she put a bathrobe on over her nightgown and went onto her tiptoes to peer out the peephole.
Paul.
She turned and slumped against the door in relief, even as she tried to deny a wave of disappointment that it wasn’t Gio. He’s not coming. Accept it.
Julia unlocked the door and opened it, smiling when Paul held up a bag from the neighborhood deli. He was dressed in jeans a tight T-shirt that accentuated his enormous muscles. The sight should have been pleasurable, but seeing Paul only reminded Julia of how Gio had looked the first time she’d seen him. Stop it. She chastised herself for torturing herself with an image of someone she had no intention of ever seeing again.
Paul whistled appreciatively at the number of flowers that still filled every corner of the floor. Then he handed Julia the paper bag. “When you called in again, Tom and I started to worry. He asked me to come check on you. You look awful. Are you fighting what we had? Do you want me to run to the pharmacy?”
A quick peek into the bag revealed soup. “No, I’m fine,” she said and burst into tears. Soup reminded her of how her mother had always taken care of her. Thinking of her mother made her feel even worse about moping over problems that were trivial by comparison. She wanted to call her mother to talk about Gio but knew she couldn’t. She wanted to call Gio to talk about her mother, but that door was also closed. She suddenly felt very alone.
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry. I handle throwup much better than tears.”
His comment made Julia laugh, even as tears continued running down her cheeks. “I’m not sick.”
He reached out and drew her into his arms. His embrace nearly cut off her oxygen. “Come here.” He hugged her tighter. “Is this about You Know Who?”
Julia sniffed and nodded, finding comfort in the warmth of her hulking friend’s arms. “I know he is wrong for me, but I can’t seem to control myself when I’m around him. It’s like my brain shuts off. I’m quitting Cogent tomorrow, Paul. I hope it doesn’t leave you guys short staffed. I can’t go back there.”
Paul set her back from him. “Hang on. I care, but I have to stop hugging you before I get a stiffie.”
Julia’s eyes widened and she burst out laughing, imagining what Tom would say if he were there. “Paul . . .”
He smiled unabashedly. “Hey, I’m human. Would you rather I tell you or let you feel it?”
A wave of laughter erupted from her, then quelled as a thought came to her. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Are you sure you need to quit?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?” Paul puffed up like a rooster preparing to defend one of his hens.
From behind Paul, through the still-open door, Gio’s voice carried a deadly cold tone. “Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.”
Initial embarrassment was replaced with anger. I have nothing to feel embarrassed about. “What are you doing here?”
Gio stepped into the small apartment, which suddenly felt claustrophobically small with the two large men circling each other. “The better question is, what is he doing here?”
Raising her chin defiantly, Julia said, “You don’t have the right to ask.”
Gio’s eyes narrowed and his attention focused on Paul. “Don’t you work for me?”
“Not until five o’clock,” Paul answered in a tone that goaded Gio.
As the two of them squared off, Julia snapped, “He came by to make sure I was okay. Not that I owe you an explanation. You and I said everything we needed to say the other night.”
Looking away from Julia to Paul, Gio said, “I refuse to discuss this in front of him.”
Paul planted his feet. “I’m not leaving unless she tells me to go.”
Although Julia appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t want them both to lose their jobs because she’d sent Gio mixed messages. “I’m fine, Paul. Go. We’ll talk later.”
Reluctantly, Paul nodded. As he passed Gio, he knocked shoulder to shoulder with him aggressively. “Keep your hands to yourself. If I hear that you—”
Gio punched him square in the face and sent the man falling back against the wall, sinking down to the floor from the perfect hit and sending several vases spilling onto the carpet. Julia rushed to Paul’s side. “Oh, my God. You broke his nose. It’s bleeding.”
Then she spun on Gio. “How could you? How could you hit him? He was only trying to protect me.”
Gio was momentarily at a loss for words.
Paul pulled himself back up from the floor and wiped the blood on the sleeve of his T-shirt. “You want to try that again?”
Leaning in with a threat, Gio said, “If you touch me, I’ll gladly send you to the floor a second time.”
Julia wedged herself between the two of them. “Stop it. Stop it right now.” She looked over her shoulder at her hulking friend and said, “Paul, I’ll handle this. Don’t get fired because of me.”
“I’m not afraid of Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“I know you’re not, Paul, but Mr. Andrade’s right. We do have to talk. And we can’t do that with you here.”
“If you’re sure.”
She looked at Gio’s still-angry expression and nodded. Mr. Fancy Pants doesn’t scare me, either. “I’m sure.”
With one final glare at Gio, Paul walked out of the apartment.
Gio closed the door firmly, then turned to Julia. “I don’t like the idea of you with another man.”