The fury curdles in my gut.
“Do you want to, um…” Mandy gulps. “Listen to some music or something while we wait?”
“Where is she, Mandy?”
“I… um, I… She—”
“Mandy.”
She scuttles away from me as I advance on her. “It’s… um...”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Her back hits the wall with a thump.
“Mandy.”
Her face turns away, and she closes her eyes and says in a rush, “I’m so sorry, but I can’t get her on the phone, and I don’t think she’s coming.”
Ice. It’s like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
The port contract, the money, the glory—it’s evaporating right in front of me, all because of my stupid, useless, dumpy assistant.
No. I do not lose.
“I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it.” Her tone is pleading.
The palm of my hand slams the wall next to her head.
She lets out a little scream. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” Her eyes open wide.
“You heard me—take off your fucking clothes.”
11
MANDY
“Take off my—what? Why?”
“Why? Because you owe me. You were the one who was supposed to get me a date and you failed.”
I hate being reprimanded. I hate being in trouble. My baseline in my work is perfection. If someone is disappointed in my work quality, especially a man, it triggers an existential crisis.
Tears threaten behind my eyes. “I know I messed up. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.” The hysteria is taking hold.
“You’re going to be sorry.” The words are laced with menace.
“How is sex supposed to help this situation?” I hate how small and helpless I sound.
Guess I was wrong. Salinger is so much worse than my stalker ever would be. What will it be like? Is hegoing to be big? Is he going to do it right here? Will he even take off his socks?
“Sex?” His baritone drips with derision. “You think I want you? That you’re the type of girl I would debase myself enough to fuck.You?”
“I don’t know.” The big lump in my throat makes it hard to talk. I don’t understand what he’s doing, what he wants. Is it just to humiliate me?
