The Roommate Arrangement Page 35

  “Natalie, how’ve you been?”

  I hated the undertone of concern, the wrinkles creasing around his eyes.

  “Fine.” I knew that Jessica told her boyfriend all about how I spent my nights sobbing into my pillow. “Congratulations on your deal.”

  His face lit up. “Thanks. I never thought it would take off like this. We’re expanding the campaign worldwide, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  Jessica squeezed Luke’s waist, and he looked at her with an adoring expression that made me cringe.

  “I wish my dad could have seen this.”

  “Your dad wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass.”

  A reedy voice suddenly joined the conversation, and I looked to my left to see William looking mad in his gray shirt, like a handsome demon. He sneered at Luke, who looked like he smelled something foul.

  Oh, God.

  “William, so nice of you to join us.”

  “You all can relax, I was just joking around.” His voice suddenly matured, and the sneer dropped from his face. “Seriously, Luke. Congrats. I can’t wait to begin the campaign. It will be great.”

  Luke hesitated before he took Will’s hand, which he shook with a slight frown on his face. William, apparently at ease, looked at me and smiled.

  “There you are! I was wondering if I’d get my jacket back.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled as I slipped it from my shoulders.

  He helped me take it off, and when I glanced at him, he winked.

  Wipe that fucking smirk off your face.

  Luke wore an uncertain smile. “You know each other?”

  “I’m taking her out to dinner tomorrow night,” Will said matter-of-factly.

  All of them gaped at me.

  “What?” I stammered.

  The background music sounded like it was too low. Our small circle ignored the party to stare at Will and me. He, in turn, ignored the bemused looks around him and addressed me with a scorching look. Blood careened through my veins.

  Will leaned in. “Bring your portfolio. I want to see your work.”

  "No," I muttered. My cheeks were like embers, and I walked away with Jessica close on my heels.

  I stopped near a table with a row of glasses, and I took one, frowning as Jessica cornered me, looking excited.

  “He asked you out on a date?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not going.” I looked back at the group. William and Luke were exchanging words and Luke looked serious. I couldn’t imagine what they were talking about.

  I don’t want to be hurt again.

  And he looked like just the man who would do such a thing.

  I tried to forget about Will on the way home, but he kept popping up in my head. I couldn’t get over how weird the whole thing was—how he looked drunk but wasn’t, and his wildly inappropriate behavior. He has issues.

  What kind of rich guy goes to a party looking like he had just been mugged? There was something refreshing about his open honesty, even if it was rude as hell.

  As I dove into bed, yawning, I decided that the night hadn’t been so bad. It had been worth it to meet the strange man who asked me out minutes after insulting me.

  No way, buddy.

  Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

  2

  I went to work on Monday, my mind churning with the bizarre encounter at Luke's party. It was one of the weirdest conversations I ever had with a stranger. I walked to my cubicle and caught a faint tinge of cologne, and suddenly Will's fingers were at my neck, making me hot all over.

  “Stop it,” I muttered to myself.

  “Stop what?”

  My coworker, Janine popped her head from our shared wall.

  “Oh, I was just talking to myself. One of those days.”

  I grimaced at her, and she returned the smile reluctantly.

  My gaze flicked back to the email from my boss requesting a meeting at three. My heart pounded.

  What does she want to talk about?

  I knew what it would be about. Lately, my job performance wasn’t at its best. She sent my designs back multiple times, telling me they lacked inspiration. They were too derivative.

  She will probably talk about it.

  I made the finishing touches on my tablet and sent the graphic to her, hoping that she would find it acceptable. Two fifty-five.

  Might as well walk over there.

  There was someone already in her office; I could see their bodies behind the frosted glass. The door flung open and Mark, one of my colleagues, sped out without a backward glance. I closed my hands to relieve some of the coldness and opened my boss’ door.

  Mary waved me in from behind her desk, looking uncharacteristically serious.

  Uh-oh. Does she hate my last design?

  “Hello, Natalie. Have a seat.”

  I sat down painfully.

  “Natalie, as you know the aquarium has been experiencing declining profits.”

  This was my cue to nod, but I couldn’t move.

  Oh God. Am I being fired?

  "Our department's budget has been cut. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to let you go."

  I am being fired.

  Why?

  A horrible emptiness gaped in my chest. “Why me? I’ve been here way longer than Carrie and Janine.”

  "You've lost your edge. You're frequently late, and you don't pay attention in meetings. I can't use anything you send me."

  I couldn’t find the words—my world was falling apart. My voice stumbled to salvage my job.

  “I’ll redo the design right away—”

  “Natalie.”

  “I promise I can get the work done. I just need another chance!”

  “Natalie, I can’t give you another chance. We don’t have the budget, and that means I have to make difficult decisions like letting someone go.”

  A little of anger ground into my voice. “And that someone had to be me?”

  Her face creased. “I’m sorry. I would keep you, but we don’t have the budget.”

  First my relationship, and now my career. Devastation crashed over me like massive stone walls.

  Ignoring her outstretched hand, I turned around and bolted from her office like a coward. What else was there to do but empty out my desk and go home? I didn’t want to face my coworkers and hear their sympathies. I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of tequila.

  Don’t be stupid. Your designs are good. You’ll find another job.

  “Natalie? What are you doing?”

  A photo of Ben and I sat on my desk, its metallic frame grinning.

  It’s all your fault.

  I hurled it into the trashcan, along with all the other unnecessary trinkets. The only thing I kept was my coffee mug, which I shoved into my purse.

  “Natalie!”

  Janine poked her head around my cubicle.

  I dissolved when I saw the concern on her face. “I—I was laid off.”

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.”

  I waved it off and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The box of tissues was buried deep in the trash. Another surge of violent heat seared through my veins. I was so sick of tissues, so sick of crying all the time.

  “You’ll find something else.”

  She placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, which I ignored.

  In this economy? Good fucking luck.

  I ripped open my drawers and crammed the files I wanted to keep in my already overfilled purse.

  “We should go out for a drink.”

  “No.” I didn’t think I could handle dozens of people saying how very sorry they were, and how they were sure I would find another job.

  Not today.

  “I want to get out of here.”

  Maybe there was too much bitterness in my voice.

  Her eyes shined with nauseating pity. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

  Shouldering my purse, I shrugged at her and walked out of the office. I slammed the elevator button as I
thought what I should do.

  Telling my best friend what happened was my first instinct, but I knew it wouldn't comfort me have her look into my eyes with the same pitying expression I used to give her. It was embarrassing.

  Maybe I would just go home and visit my parents for the weekend. I thought of San Ramon: the oak trees, the ranch-style house where I grew up, the sparkling pool, the sunshine pouring through the kitchen, the comfortable beds, and Mom’s cooking.

  What will Mom say?

  I chewed my lip the whole way home.

  Dad will be pissed.

  He never supported my decision to major in graphic design. Graphic designers were a dime a dozen, and competition was fierce. It didn’t pay well, but that wasn’t the point. I majored in it because I was good at it. Because making art was what I wanted to do for a living.

  I shot off a quick text to Jessica, explaining what happened and where I was going. My phone vibrated and lit up with a call I knew was from her. It blared with its merry tune until it fell silent and died. I didn’t feel like talking about it. I picked it up and my face reflected in the dark glass. Then I called my mom.

  “I don’t understand. Why did they fire you?”

  The fork clattered against the ceramic plate. Frustration boiled my blood, but I didn’t raise my voice.

  “I was not fired. Laid off. There’s a difference.”

  Mom and Dad sat around me on the dark, rectangular table; their old faces basked in orange light. The kitchen was unique because half of its walls were made of glass. As a result, it gleamed with light even though it was five in the evening. The whole house was always filled with sunshine, and I preferred it for that reason. It contrasted against my gloomy apartment. The change of scenery did nothing to ease my mood.

  Dad gave me a doubtful look that made me grind my teeth together.

  “You did something wrong if they got rid of you and not the newer hires.”

  I shoved the doubt away. “I’ll find something else.”

  My mother swiveled in her chair to talk to Dad. “Maybe it was because she took so many days off for that girl.”

  Bored, I looked up from my plate to glare at her. Her tactics were as subtle as a flying brick. It took me years to understand them.

  “You know her name—Jessica. She’s only been my best friend since I was thirteen. And no, it wasn’t because of that.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t spending so much time helping her, your life wouldn’t be such a mess.”

  “Tom!”

  The snappy comment took me off guard. I could feel Dad's disappointment rolling from him like a heat lamp.

  Both of them took to Ben very well. He was a hotshot lawyer with a good salary, successful, handsome. He was everything they wanted for me. It was plain from the look on Dad’s face he thought I would never find someone like him again.

  “I don’t regret helping my best friend.”

  “That girl was always a bad influence. I never liked that you hung around her so much.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “She used you to help herself. How is she helping you now?”

  The beef stir-fry was subject to my rage. I stabbed the food and popped it into my mouth. “She is setting me up on a date.”

  “Well, it’s the least she can do after destroying your relationship.”

  “She destroyed nothing!”

  “You were engaged, and now you’re not. And I still don’t understand why—”

  “I broke up with Ben. I will not rehash it. Get over it.”

  “Don’t raise your voice like that. It’s not our fault you went into art instead of applying to dental school.”

  “Waste of money.” Mom muttered under her breath.

  It felt like a gut punch. The air vanished from my chest.

  “Twenty grand a year, and what did it amount to?”

  “Stop it, Dad.”

  “For you to make as much as a guidance counselor!”

  How could my father be so hateful? “Dental school was your dream, not mine! Don’t make me feel bad because I did something that would make me happy!”

  “You think jobs are supposed to make you happy? It’s a job! People your age are all the damn same.”

  “What are you talking about?” I roared.

  “You think the world owes you something.”

  What?

  “Natalie, you were not happy at the aquarium. You’ve wasted your education on a job that didn’t even pay well—”

  I didn't want to hear any more. Grabbing my purse from the granite countertop, I stormed outside and got back into my car. The tires squealed as I backed out of there, determined not to come back for a long time. I could almost hear the conversation they must be having: She was always so spoiled, so ungrateful. We did everything for that girl, and she’s acting like such a baby.

  The car soared on the highway. My phone screamed the whole way home, and I fought the urge to hurl it out of the window. If being right meant being miserable at my day job, I would choose wrong over right every damn time.

  I was in a crappy mood by the time I arrived at my apartment—an apartment that always lowered my spirits whenever I crossed its threshold because it was so dark and dingy. Little natural light made it through the windows and the carpet was disgusting. There was carpet everywhere, even in the bathroom. It drove me mad.

  We need to move out of this place.

  Jessica was perched on the leather couch that sat in our living room. It was brand new. Every time I saw it, I blinked at how out of place it looked. Her blonde hair gathered in a ponytail, and she turned her head to look at me with a shrugging, sympathetic grimace on her face.

  “Hey.”

  Sighing, I joined her. “I went to my parents’ house.”

  “Oh,” she said in a knowing voice.

  “I don’t know why I keep going back there.”

  “Sorry about your job.”

  I waved her off in the same way that I waved off Janine at work. “I don’t care too much. Yeah, it’s a blow to my ego, but it’s not the end of the world.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Her tone suggested that she didn’t believe my indifference. “Luke came through. You have a date tomorrow in Berkeley.”

  Oh, God.

  The last thing I wanted was to go on a date.

  “I don’t know.” My fingers plucked the leather armrest.

  “I think you should go. It’ll take your mind off things. His name is Charlie. He’s really nice.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “You’ve got to force yourself to get out there. You’ll feel better eventually.”

  “I’m going to look for jobs. You can text me his number.”

  Exhaustion settled in my limbs.

  Eventually.

  Damn, I was tired of that word.

  I chewed my lip as I searched the small, Ethiopian restaurant for Charlie. Having no idea what he looked like, my heart kept a frightening tempo behind my ribs.

  What if he’s boring?

  There was still the old standby in case things got unbearable, the transparent ‘my friend has a crisis, and I must leave immediately' routine. Jessica promised to call me with an "emergency" if I gave the go ahead.

  The aroma from all the food was mouth-watering. Steam swirled into the air from hot plates like calligraphy, and the ceiling held sweeping, colorful drapes of cloth.

  This feels more like a richly decorated tent than a restaurant.

  “Excuse me, are you Natalie?”

  A chubby man extended his hand, and I took it. He was decent looking. Brown hair and eyes. Unremarkable.

  “Yes, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Thanks for suggesting this. I don’t eat out often.”

  We sat at a cramped table, and I hid behind the menu. Already knowing that this would not work out, I decided that I was just going to enjoy a pleasant evening.

  “What do you do?”

  The boring, stilted conversa
tion of all first dates started forward on trembling legs. I could feel myself pulling back with every word. Drawing answers from him was like yanking teeth—it was as if he expected me to talk for the entire time.

  This wasn’t going well.

  The tall, thin waitress appeared at my elbow, and I ordered the lamb and an Ethiopian beer. Without the menu, there was no distraction. We looked at each other for a few brief seconds, then my gaze wandered over the artwork on the walls.

  A door opening brought in a blast of cold air and my teeth chattered. An insolent voice talked to the hostess, and I dragged my attention back toward Charlie.

  “What kind of movies do you like?”

  “Um—”

  A man walked to our table and stood in front of us. I waited for him to leave, perhaps he was only getting out of the way of a waitress. I glanced up his torso and jumped.

  It was Will.

  This time, he was dressed in a black wool sweater and dark jeans, his hair groomed back. It was amazing how handsome he looked when he put in a little effort.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He gave me a pleasant smile but didn't answer my question. Then he glowered at Charlie, who balked at the pile of hundred-dollar bills thrown in his face. My eyes widened.

  “Clear off,” he barked at Charlie.

  Charlie looked offended. “What?”

  He blew air impatiently. “Just take the money and leave. Now.”

  My heart pounded as Charlie fingered the one-hundred-dollar bills. There were five hundred dollars there. Would he take the bribe?

  I would.

  His muddy eyes slid toward mine, and I pressed my lips into a firm line.

  “Sorry.” He gathered them in his fist and stood up to leave.

  Don’t be. I was getting bored anyways.

  The dark-haired man smirked as Charlie swept from the table. He reached out and pulled the chair back and took the other man’s place. Will smiled at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world. For the love of God. He threw almost my month’s rent at my date to get him to leave.

  Is this a rich people thing?

  I couldn’t believe the fucking gall of this guy.

  “You can’t just—how did you even find me?”