Page 44 of Throwing Shade
“Not at all.” She opened another file and handed me a resume. “We’re hiring you an assistant. Isn’t that wonderful? He comes highly recommended and I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with him. Congratulations.”
The new hire did have an impressive curriculum vitae, but I’d never had any desire to supervise someone else. I’d sat in on management training that the firm provided for its lawyers. Effective delegation was one thing, but I’d be expected to be a mentor, keep my assistant motivated, and be an effective communicator.
Then again, I could off-load a lot of smaller, more tedious tasks and keep the best parts of the job.
“He seems extremely competent,” I said, and placed the resume on the desk.
“You’ll have a chance to welcome him yourself soon. He starts in two weeks.” Shirley stood up and walked me to the door.
“I’m looking forward to it.” I’d gotten my raise, and if I had to manage an assistant, so be it. But I remembered my conversation with Sadie and paused in the doorway. What would it be like to follow my dream?
Shaking it off, I headed back to the library to get my things, grateful this appointment had been at the end of the day, because I was exhausted from worrying about whether or not I was getting my raise this year.
Blake waited at the elevator for a car. He barely acknowledged me, busily chatting Addison up. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor numbers and she wasn’t responding other than to shift over when he got particularly excitable telling her how skilled he was as an amateur race car driver.
An empty elevator arrived and Addison hurried on to it, positioning herself in the corner.
Blake got on next, crowding her and continuing his monologue of the Blake Show. Addison was lower than Blake in the pecking order, not to mention she was a young woman, new to our firm. She’d put up with his behavior because it didn’t actually constitute sexual harassment, and that tiny ball of rage inside her would grow a bit larger.
I kept quiet for all of two floors until Addison pressed herself so deep into the corner that one millimeter more and she’d be in the elevator shaft.
“Blake, I’m sure Addison has had a long and busy day and simply wants some peace and quiet as she goes home. Yes?” I said.
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
“We’re just talking,” Blake said.
The young woman sighed.
“You have a law degree so you must have a brain.” I smiled sweetly. “I encourage you to use it and read people better, especially women. She’s not interested.”
“Butt out, Mara,” he sneered.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened.
“You’re right. It’s none of my business.”
“Damn straight,” he said.
His position as big man firmly established, Blake strutted out and immediately tripped over Delilah’s outstretched leg. He spilled out onto the marble lobby floor, disheveled but unhurt, attracting the attention of everyone there. Including two of our senior partners, who didn’t appreciate the spectacle.
“Have a nice night, Addison,” I said, stepping out.
At the sight of Blake splayed on the ground, his bluster gone, the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “You too.”
Petty? You bet. But intensely satisfying. Maybe there were a few perks to having magic in a world where most people couldn’t see it.
I was still smiling when I got home to change. Sadly, the kitchen hadn’t miraculously cleaned itself. I tidied up, then headed upstairs to my bedroom, pulling my dress off along the way to expediate getting my bra off. Unclasping it, I sighed in delight, rubbing the red marks across my chest, then grabbed at my stockings as the little bastards made a dash for my thighs, rolling down into a lumpy line. Shuffling knock-kneed into my room, I flopped on the mattress to pull them off, followed quickly by my Spanx.
My belly fat splayed sideways, matching my boobs who were trying to acquaint themselves with my armpits. I didn’t care. The cool air on my freed body was delicious.
I opened iTunes on my phone and cranked the volume to the opening notes of Thelma Houston’s “Don’t Leave Me This Way,” bumping and grinding around the room.
Wriggling into jeans, I struck a sassy pose and belted out the chorus, flinging lingerie out of my drawer until I found a clean sports bra. I added my favorite blue sweater, tied my hair back with an elastic I found in Sadie’s room, and crammed some leftover pesto pasta into my mouth.
Fortified as I was going to get, I drove over to Laurent’s, munching on a couple of breath mints, and texted him that I was outside. Having been cooped up indoors all day, I sat on my hood, enjoying the mild weather.
He came outside, saw my sedan, and crossed his arms. “I’m not riding in your Give-Up-Mobile.”
